When Summer Comes (18 page)

Levi, hair damp from his shower, appeared in the kitchen smelling like her beauty soap.

“Vanilla, huh?” She grinned as she heard his tread behind her but didn’t look back. She was too busy pulling the bread from the oven. “Smells good on you.”

“If I wanted to get clean, perfumed soap seemed to be my only choice.”

“You could’ve asked me for something else.” She set the pan on top of the stove.

“It’s okay. It’s not like a flowery scent. Why
can’t
a guy smell like homemade cookies?”

She could tell he was teasing. “At least you’re comfortable with your masculinity.”

“It seems pointless to be any other way. So...what do you think?”

After closing the oven with her foot, she turned to see that he was wearing his new shirt. She thought it was perfect. But she didn’t want to act
too
pleased. “It fits. Do you like it?”

“I do. But it’s too hot to wear tonight.”

They were experiencing higher temperatures than normal, even for summer. She had the windows open and a fan whirring in the living room, like her grandparents had always done in the warmer months. “It’ll keep.”

Rifle approached Levi, tail wagging. Her dog craved his attention as much as she did, she thought wryly.

“Hey, boy.” Levi crouched to acknowledge him. “Do I smell like Callie?”

“Maybe
that’s
why he likes you.”

“He liked me before.”

When he began to strip off the shirt, Callie paused to stare.

He raised his eyebrows when he noticed, and she shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to look,” she said with a laugh, but then she made herself turn back to the counter and start dishing up the food.

By the time she faced him again, he was wearing the clean T-shirt he’d brought in with him and was sitting in his usual place.

“I’m starved,” he said.

The longer she was home, the better she felt. He seemed relaxed and content, too—far more relaxed and content than he’d been when he’d awakened here last Tuesday.

“You get much done today?” she asked.

“Nearly finished the roof. That old wood was more deteriorated than I realized. I had to remove a huge section of it.”

“I’ll pay you for the extra hours.”

“There’s no need for that. I’m satisfied with our trade. I just wanted to let you know why it’s going to take longer than I expected.”

For a change, Callie was hungry. Sitting across from him, she ate instead of just watching.

“Finally,” he said.

“What?”

He motioned to her plate. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you eat.”

“Glad I could make you happy.”

“I’m easy to please.”

She thought maybe they’d fall into the silence that had marked their earlier meals, but tonight he wanted to talk. He avoided certain subjects—or perhaps she just imagined he was avoiding them because she was sensitive about asking certain questions—but he seemed willing enough to share details about the places he’d visited since returning from Afghanistan. He’d been to almost every state, appreciated something about all of them. But he was particularly enamored with southern Utah.

“Have you ever been there?” he asked.

“No. What’s so great about it?”

“There’s Zion National Park, Arches National Park, Moab and the surrounding area, which they call Canyonlands.”

“I’ve been to the Grand Canyon in Arizona. We went on a long driving vacation the summer I was fourteen.”

“I like the Grand Canyon. But I already knew it would be spectacular. Southern Utah came as a surprise.”

“Did you get to do much traveling as a kid?”

“Not really.”

“You grew up in Seattle, right? Is that where your folks are?”

She knew this was a personal question, the kind she recognized as more or less off-limits. But Callie couldn’t resist. He’d helped her the entire night she’d been sick—even slept in her bed—yet she didn’t know the most basic facts about his life or background.

His hesitation made her self-conscious about having asked, but then he answered, “I don’t know where my mother is.”

“Because...”

“She took my baby sister and got out while she could.”

The food in Callie’s mouth sat there, suddenly tasteless. She took a drink of water so she could swallow it. “How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“How old was she?”

“Ellen? Or my mother?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Ellen was four. My mother must’ve been about...my age,” he said as if he was slightly surprised to make that connection.

“And you are...”

“Twenty-seven.”

Five years younger than she was, like she’d guessed. “She had you when she was
seventeen?
”

“Yes. My father was eighteen. They married right out of high school, when I was one.”

“But the marriage didn’t work.”

He chuckled bitterly. “No.”

She moved some of the celery from her salad around on her plate. “Why didn’t your mother take
you
when she left?”

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Because she knew my father would hunt her down and kill her if she did.”

Callie set her fork to the side of her plate. She hoped he didn’t mean “kill” in its literal sense, but she got the impression he did. “Was he violent?”

“He could get physical. He was also controlling.” He shook his head. “Impossible to live with.”

“How did she get away with taking his daughter?”

Levi stopped eating, too. He seemed to be looking at his past life like something he’d buried long ago and just unearthed, something he hadn’t particularly treasured but about which he felt a mild curiosity. “He wasn’t all that excited about having a girl.”

“You meant more to him?”

“Only because I’d already shown an aptitude for martial arts.”

“Why would he care so much about that?”

“He’d always wanted to be a champion, a recognized force in the industry. But an old injury kept him from going very far in competition. So he decided to make his mark a different way. He opened his own dojo and started to train others, was determined to turn out some of the world’s best fighters.”

“And you were one of them.”

“I was winning and providing him with the championships he needed, yes.” His smile took on a bitter slant. “He was never prouder than when I took home another trophy. We barely had enough for groceries, yet he spent thousands having special cases built at the dojo just so he could display them.”

“You must’ve made him look like a great sensei.”

“He
was
a good sensei. He just wasn’t a good dad.”

Callie wished she could touch Levi, let him know he wasn’t as alone as he probably felt. He seemed so isolated, sitting there mired in such dark memories. “Did you like competing?”

He shrugged. “For the most part.”

The sun was going down. She leaned forward to light the candle she’d put on the table. “So why’d you join the army?”

“To get away from him.”

The flame on the end of the candle flickered and cast moving shadows on his lean face. “Was he abusive with you, too?”

“Absolutely. Nothing too bad, like broken bones, but he certainly got violent. That’s not why I left, though. I was afraid I’d turn on him someday, hurt him—maybe even kill him. I had to get out before that day came.”

Obviously, he was dealing with a great deal of anger and resentment. She’d guessed that from his situation. She just hadn’t known the cause of it. “I see.”

He nursed the glass of chardonnay she’d served him. Because of her condition, she had to avoid alcohol as avidly as she avoided salt, but she liked to keep a bottle of wine on hand for her friends. She knew they’d guess something was up if she didn’t. They’d always shared a bottle when they had dinner in the past.

“What about your parents?” he asked.

His bottom lip, wet from the wine, drew her attention. He had a nice mouth—not that she was wise to notice. That fell into the same category as buying rubbers.

“They’re great.” She got up and carried her plate to the sink. “Very loving. Just saw them today.”

“Any siblings?”

“Nope. I’m an only child. Due to fertility problems, my parents had me late in life. I’m their ‘miracle,’ the answer to their prayers.” She indulged in a sentimental smile. “They’ve doted on me my whole life.”

“Doesn’t seem to have spoiled you.”

“I don’t think you can ruin anyone with love.”

For a few seconds, only the water running in the sink and the thump of Rifle’s tail hitting the floor where he lay in the corner broke the silence.

“So...what’s the hardest thing you’ve ever dealt with?” Levi asked.

She almost laughed. He’d said that as if he expected her to struggle for an answer. He’d grown up without a mother, and he’d had an abusive, controlling father. Then he’d gone to war and, if those names on his arm were as significant as she assumed, he’d watched several of his friends die. But at least he’d survived. At least he was finished staring death in the face and now had his whole life ahead of him.

“You can’t think of anything?” Levi prompted when she didn’t reply.

Not that she wanted to share... “I guess I’d have to say...what I’ve done with Kyle.”

“You wish you hadn’t slept with him?”

She shut off the water and turned toward him. “It was a mistake.”

“Because...”

“It didn’t happen for the right reasons.”

He seemed to consider that. “Why’d you do it?”

“A number of factors led up to it.”

Leaning back as if he was all set to listen but skeptical he could be convinced, he folded his arms. “Like...”

“A lack of options, for one. This is a small town.”

“That means you have to sleep with your friends?”

She flushed at his facetious tone. “No, but there aren’t a lot of romantic options here. So we’ve got two close friends, male and female, spending a great deal of time together in a town where there aren’t that many people to date. The guy has just come through a nasty divorce and is reeling from it. The woman knows he needs love and attention and that he’s everything she should want.”

Levi balanced his chair on its back legs. “Basically, you considered him.”

“I
what?
”

“You thought you might like to become more than friends.”

She dried her hands on a dish towel before tossing it aside. “I think he and I both felt that way at various points. It would’ve made life so easy if we could fall in love. We’re ready to settle down. We want children before we get too much older. We know the other is a good person, a trustworthy person. The only problem is that the nature of our love didn’t change just because we went to bed together.”

“So why can’t you forget it? You tried. It didn’t work. Move on.”

Typical guy. Practical in the extreme. “Because every time we see each other I’m reminded. I’m also afraid he might expect another...encounter, and that it’ll be hard to explain why my answer has to be no when it was ‘yes’ just a few weeks ago.”

“Can’t you avoid him?”

“No.” She knew he was teasing, but she explained, anyway. “He’s one of my best friends. Hence, the problem.”

He dropped his chair on all fours long enough to scoop the last of his lasagna into his mouth. “Was he your first?”

“At thirty-two?” She chuckled. “I’ve lived a sheltered life but not quite
that
sheltered. No, he wasn’t my first. But I wish he had been.”

“He was that good?”

“My first was that bad.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Peter was...a surprise. And definitely not a pleasant one.”

“This is getting more interesting by the minute.” Levi poured himself another glass of wine. He lifted the bottle to offer her some, but she shook her head. “Man, you eat healthy,” he said. “When you eat at all.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“Anyway, what was so surprising about Peter?”

“At first, I didn’t think there was anything unusual about him. He was two years older than me. Very suave. Very popular. Great tennis player. I fell head over heels.”

“Until...”

“He told me he was gay.”

He gaped at her. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“And you had no clue?”

“None. I mean...I knew he wasn’t that interested in making love. He’d be very affectionate in public, which would make me think all was well. But once we got behind closed doors he’d withdraw. I had to instigate almost every encounter, and he didn’t do a very good job of participating when we did have sex.”

Holding his glass loosely in both hands, he propped his elbows on the table. “Meaning...”

“You can’t guess?”

“Spell it out for me.”

She thought she detected a hint of humor in his voice, but answered, anyway. “It was difficult to arouse him.”

“What did he say when he couldn’t get it up?”

“He’d blame it on me. He’d complain that I didn’t know what a man liked. That I wasn’t skinny enough. That I was too forward. He hinted I was oversexed. You name it.”

“Most men would consider themselves lucky to find a woman who’s oversexed,” he joked. “How old were you when you were with him?”

“Twenty.”

“And how long were you together before you learned the truth?”

“He came out when he broke up with me. We’d been dating nine months.”

He hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “That must’ve been a terrible day.”

“Then why are you laughing?” She tried to act mad, but his laugh was so rare she couldn’t help responding with a grudging smile.

“I just can’t imagine someone who’s gay getting with someone who...”

“Who what?” Curious now, she quit smiling.

“Who looks like you, has a body like yours. It’s what fantasies are made of.”

Even
his
fantasies? Because he didn’t seem particularly interested. She doubted his reasons for not wanting to touch her were the same as Peter’s. The way Levi looked at her was completely different. But there was
something
holding him back.

“Maybe that’s why he told me I should be flattered,” she said. “When I asked him why he got with me in the first place, he said he thought if any woman could turn him on, it would be me.” Tempted to break down and have a drink, she eyed the wine bottle. If she was going to die, anyway, it seemed pointless to abstain. But she couldn’t extinguish that small hope....