That Certain Summer (23 page)

She knew the one he meant. It was a special-occasion kind of place—meaning she hadn't gone there often. But if a new job and successful solo debut didn't merit a trip there, nothing did.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

His smile broadened. “Great. We can take my car.”

Alone with Scott in his car. In a rainstorm. Insulated from the world, with lots of electricity flying.

Not the best idea.

She needed to get her act together on the romance front before she took that kind of risk.

“Actually, it will be closer for me to go home from there than to come all the way back here to get my car.” She kept her tone matter-of-fact. “Why don't I meet you?”

He acceded with a nod. “Okay. I'll see you there.”

Fifteen minutes later, as she dashed in from the rain, he was waiting inside the door.

“What a downpour!” She closed her umbrella and shook it out.

“But we won't let it dampen our party.” He took her arm and guided her between the tables as they followed the hostess.

His touch was polite, nothing more—but still, a little tingle ran up her spine.

Once they were seated at a candlelit table, a server arrived to take their order.

Scott perused the menu. “What would you like?”

“They have a fantastic green apple cobbler here, with a wonderful sauce. It's totally decadent—but I'm not inclined to worry too much about calories tonight.”

“You don't look as if you need to worry about them, period.”

“That's because I do—and some days it's a struggle.” Yet all at once, the forfeited Fritos and denied desserts didn't seem such a big sacrifice.

“Two green apple cobblers.” Scott handed their menus to the waitress.

“Good choice. That's our house specialty.” The waitress noted the order on her pad. “But I have to warn you, they're baked fresh. It's about a thirty-minute wait.”

Scott looked at Karen. “I don't mind if you don't.”

“I'm game.”

As the waitress headed back to the kitchen, Karen shook her head. “I'll pay for this late night tomorrow—but rules were made to be broken, right?”

“Throwing caution to the wind, are we?”

“I'm too practical for that. But every now and then I go a little wild.”

His lips twitched. “Staying up late and eating a fattening dessert hardly qualify as wild.”

“They do for me.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Are you saying you've led a sheltered life?”

“Quiet might be a better word.”

“Is that bad?”

“It is when you let people walk all over you.”

“You don't strike me as that kind of woman.”

Nice to hear.

She rested her elbows on the table and linked her fingers. “I'm not anymore. But for most of my life, my decisions were designed to please other people. My mother. My husband. My daughter. My friends. I'm learning, though, that there's a fine line between selfishness and self-esteem. It took me a lot of years to recognize that my value isn't based on my ability to meet the expectations of other people.”

“Sounds like a healthy attitude to me. Now tell me how the new job came about.”

She gave him the details, answering his occasional questions, and finished with a shake of her head. “To be honest, I'm still in shock at how things worked out.”

“Why?”

“I didn't know I had it in me to be that assertive. But I've learned a lot from Val this summer. She's always been confident and self-assured, and she never lets other people dictate how she behaves. I wish I'd followed her example years ago.”

“Personally, I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.”

At his slow, intimate smile, she changed the subject. “All we've done is talk about me. What about you? Tell me how it's been going with Steven.”

He took her cue, and they were still chatting about his pupil when the waitress delivered their desserts.

“That looks great.” Scott eyed the cobbler and wasted no time picking up his fork.

“It is.” She dug into her own dessert. “So have you given any more thought to where you'll go from here? Especially now that you're playing the sax again.”

“Believe it or not, I'm toying with the idea of staying in Washington.”

Her spoon froze halfway to her mouth. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? It's a nice town, and St. Louis is a manageable commute for occasional performance gigs. I've also discovered I like teaching. There might be enough work here to keep me busy. What do you think?”

She lowered her spoon to the ramekin and made a pretense of scraping out some of the crust.

This was more than a discussion about locales.

Scott was asking her if she wanted him to stay, telling her he was interested.

And she was.

She knew that in her heart even if her mind hadn't yet come to grips with it.

Pulse accelerating, she gave him a steady look. “That sounds like a reasonable plan.”

He searched her eyes, then sent her a smile so warm it curled her toes. “I'll have to give it serious consideration, then.”

After that, their conversation moved on to less personal topics, and their parting when he walked her to her car was friendly, nothing more.

But as they said their good-byes in the fresh, rain-washed air; as he took her hand in his firm clasp and gave it a gentle squeeze; as a star peeked through the dispersing clouds to twinkle down on them; she knew much had changed this night.

And what had started out as an ordinary day was ending with extraordinary possibilities she'd never even dreamed of a few short weeks ago.

“Hi, Mom! I'm home.”

At the upbeat greeting, Karen wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed for the foyer. Kristen must have had fun with her father on her two-day visit to St. Louis. A visit enhanced, no doubt, by Stephanie's absence.

To her surprise, Michael had followed Kristen in.

“I can take that, Dad. I'm fully mobile again.” She shook her cast-free leg as she reached for her overnight bag. “Thanks again.” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek.

“I'll call you soon, sweetie, and we'll schedule another visit before school starts.” He gave her a longer-than-usual hug.

“Cool.” She bounced over to Karen and planted a quick kiss on her cheek too. “Anything new?”

“Erin and Steven called this morning when they couldn't get you on your cell.”

She made a face. “The battery died. I forgot to recharge it last night.”

“Well, they both sounded anxious to talk with you. I left the messages in your room. Do you want some dinner?”

“Nope. We got a burger on the way home. See you later, Dad.” With a quick wave, she disappeared down the hall.

Karen smiled after her. “I'd say she enjoyed her visit.”

“She's a bundle of energy, no question about that. I'm worn out.”

Turning back, she took a closer look at him. He did look tired. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and grooves of weariness radiated from their corners. He'd lost weight too. His custom-tailored clothes, always impeccably fitted, hung too loose on his frame.

His breakup with Stephanie must be taking a serious toll.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “How about having that cup of coffee we never got around to on my last visit?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “I don't see the point. We finished that discussion.”

“This is a different subject. And it affects Kristen.”

At his serious tone, Karen frowned and checked her watch. “I need to be at church in less than an hour for a meeting.”

“We'll be done long before that.”

A tête-à-tête with her ex hadn't been on her agenda, but if it involved Kristen . . .

“Okay. I'll put the pot on.”

“Not here. Let's run down to the diner. You can go to church from there. I'd rather discuss this in private.” He inclined his head toward Kristen's room.

A flutter of unease rippled through her. “What's wrong?”

“Let's talk about it over coffee.”

She wanted to press, but the firm set of his mouth told her that would be fruitless.

“Okay. I'll meet you there.”

In the ten minutes it took to gather up her purse, run a brush through her hair, and drive to the diner, her concern escalated. What could Michael have to tell her that affected Kristen? Her daughter had seemed happy and carefree when she arrived home—but had something worrisome happened during the father-daughter visit?

By the time she joined him and slid into the opposite side of the booth, she was in no mood for small talk. “What's this all about, Michael?”

“I had some bad news about a week ago.” He pushed a mug of steaming coffee toward her and gripped his own. “I'm struggling with how to tell Kristen and thinking maybe we should do it together.”

“What kind of news?”

“I have pancreatic cancer. Advanced and inoperable.”

She stared at him, seconds ticking by in silence while she wrestled with his news, the buzz of conversation in the diner receding into the background.

Michael was dying?

It didn't compute.

“Is this . . . confirmed?”

“I got a second opinion.”

She took a deep breath. Tried to process his announcement. “I'm sorry.” Even as she uttered the words, they sounded lame.

“Yeah. Me too.” He gave a brief, mirthless laugh. “So much for all those hours I spent at the gym, trying to stay healthy.” He wiped a hand down his face. “But my main concern now is Kristen.”

Kristen.

Karen's throat tightened. “She'll be devastated.”

“That's why I wanted to talk to you about it first. See how you thought we should handle telling her.”

“I . . . I don't know. I'll have to think about it.”

“It can't wait too long, Karen. They're only giving me six months. At best.”

She swallowed. “That fast?”

“Yes.”

“There's no treatment?”

“Nothing that will extend my life by any appreciable amount. I'll stay independent for as long as I can, but I expect at the end I'll have to go to a hospice.”

Hospice.

Michael.

That concept was almost harder to grasp. With his strict diet and exercise regime, she'd expected him to live into his eighties, as his own father had.

“That prognosis brings me to a favor I'd like to ask. I don't want an answer tonight. Pray for guidance, if you want to, but please consider it.” He took a sip of coffee. Some of it sloshed out, and using both hands to steady the mug he set it carefully back on the table.

“I'll just cut to the chase. I have no real family to help me get through this, as you know. Just that distant cousin in California, and we don't keep in touch. So I need someone to see that things are done properly when I'm no longer able to make decisions on my own. Someone with good values, who can temper compassion with practicality.” He paused. “Someone like you.”

She gaped at him. After all that had happened between them, he'd ask her to take on a chore like this, with all its attendant responsibilities and demands?

What was he thinking?

Yet . . . how often had she talked about the importance of compassion to Kristen? Wouldn't helping the father her daughter loved in his greatest hour of need demonstrate a practical application of that virtue? And maybe her willingness to assist might help her daughter get through what was sure to be a profound trauma.

“I don't expect an answer tonight.” Michael leaned forward. “All I ask is that you consider it. Please.”

She wrapped her hands around her mug, letting the warmth seep into her cold fingers. “All right. I'll think it over.”

The tension in his features slackened. “Thank you.” He moved his mug aside and rested his hands on the table. “I also want you to know I've been thinking a lot about our last conversation—and about our marriage. You were right. I was the one who had a good
thing. I'm sorry I never treated you as a partner. I'm also sorry I mocked your religion. In all honesty, I wish I had your faith now. It must be comforting to believe there's a higher power in control and a greater purpose than we can often discern to the events of our lives. I realize it's too little, too late, but I want you to know I'm truly sorry for all my mistakes.”

“I appreciate that. And I'll let you know my answer in a day or two.”

“Thank you.” He glanced at his watch, took a final swallow of his coffee, and reached for the check. “You need to get to church. Go ahead. I'll flag the waitress down.”

With a nod, Karen slid from the booth and exited the diner.

Reeling.

Michael was dying—and he wanted her to be there for him through all the minutia of his disease . . . and his death.

Selfish or not, her inclination was to refuse.

But she had to think about Kristen. While the divorce had been hard on her, Michael had remained part of her life. This separation would be final—and Kristen's world would once more be turned upside down. No matter her personal feelings, she had to factor in the effect of her decision on her daughter.

Because despite what she'd told Scott about learning to consider her own interests, this time Kristen came first.

Karen kept the news about Michael to herself until her Saturday coffee date with Val. And when she shared it, her sister's stunned expression mirrored her own reaction.

“But he's only . . . what? Fifty-one? That's way too young to die. I may not be Michael's biggest fan, but this is rotten.”

“I know.” The coffee grinder behind the counter echoed the churning in her stomach.

“Does Kristen know yet?”

“No. Michael and I talked on Thursday night about how to tell her. We decided to think about it for a few days.”

“It'll be tough, no matter how you do it.”

“Tough” was a perfect description for her next revelation too—but she needed to talk it through with someone. “He also asked me for a favor.”

“He isn't pushing you to get back together, is he?” Val's eyes narrowed. “Sort of a dying man's wish and all that?”

“Not in the way you mean. But he's alone, and he asked me to take care of his affairs when he . . . after he can't do it for himself anymore.”

Val snorted and shook her head. “He's got nerve, I'll give him that.”

She gripped her cup tighter. “The thing is, I'm thinking of saying yes.”

Her sister's eyes widened. “You can't be serious.”

“Yes, I am.”

“But why? After what he did to you, you don't owe him a thing.”

“Maybe not, but Kristen loves him, and the next few months will be difficult enough for her. It might help if I put my animosity aside and give her an example of Christian love and charity in action. Let her know I've accepted her father's apology and forgiven him.”

“Have you?”

“I've accepted his apology. I'm still working on the forgiveness part—but I'll get there.”

For a few seconds, Val studied her. Then she shook her head. “All I can say is you're a far better person than I would be in the same circumstances.”

“What would you do?”

“Tell the bum to get lost.”

A smile flickered on her lips. “Don't hold anything back. Tell me how you
really
feel.”

“Sorry. I don't mean to be heartless. But he doesn't deserve your compassion—or the sacrifices you'll have to make.”

“We didn't either, when the Lord came to offer us salvation and redemption. He did it out of selfless love. That's the example I'm trying to follow.”

“A hard argument to counter.” Val leaned closer. “Listen, do what you need to, okay? And don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Talk to Reverend Richards about it, if you think that will help. He strikes me as a man who has his head on straight.”

“He does—and that's not a bad idea.” She sipped her drink. “And since we're on a church-related topic . . . I'm glad you started coming to services with us.”

Val made a dismissive gesture. “I don't have anything else to do on Sunday mornings.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Her sister swiped at a stray drop of caramel on the table. “There might be one or two others.”

“Hmm.” Karen leaned back and pretended to consider that. “David's in the congregation. Could he be one of them?”

“That wouldn't be a very noble reason to go to church, would it?”

“You're avoiding the question.”

“Uh-huh.”

Karen grinned. “Well, whatever the reason—or reasons—I know God is glad you've rejoined the fold.”

“I'll probably return to my old ways once I'm back in Chicago.”

“Oh, I don't know. You might be surprised. Maybe your visit to Washington will have a longer-lasting impact than you think.”

A beat of silence passed between them, charged with some taut emotion Karen couldn't identify. It lasted only an instant before Val picked up her drink and redirected the conversation to their mother's progress, but Karen sensed her comment had touched a nerve.

Something was going on with her sister.

Margaret's illness might have been the catalyst for the return of the prodigal daughter, but was there more to Val's homecoming? After all, she'd disappeared several times without explanation and
returned shaken. Cut off discussions about her love life. Started attending church again.

Why?

Karen hadn't a clue.