That Summer Thing

“Of course.”

“Good. As much as I respect Ed, he is her brother.”

“Yes, and for that very reason he’ll do what he can to get this legal stuff taken care of as smoothly as possible. He knows our situation. As soon as Beth comes home, she’ll sign the necessary papers and that will be that.”

His words stilled Lucy’s hands, which had been busy rearranging the condiment tray. “Beth is coming back to Riverbend?” she demanded. “When?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How long is she staying this time?”

“I don’t know,” he said, which was the truth. Despite the divorce, he and his ex-wife’s brother had managed to remain friends by not talking much about Beth. As much as Charlie had been tempted to ask Ed the details concerning her visit, he had kept his questions to himself.

Lucy wouldn’t let the subject rest.

“I wonder why she’s even coming. She doesn’t want to be here. Not that I blame her. She’s made a new life for herself. She doesn’t fit in here anymore.”

Talk of Beth made Charlie’s breakfast stall on its journey to his stomach. The food seemed to stick in the middle of his chest. He took a sip of his coffee in an attempt to wash it down. “You’re sounding like Mom again.”

Lucy threatened to smack him with her order pad. “Oh, hush!”

“It’s true. Every time Mom hears that Beth is coming back to Riverbend, she starts saying things like, ‘Beth doesn’t belong here, she doesn’t like it here’—as if she needs to remind me that Beth’s never going to be a part of my life again.” He pointed at her with a strip of bacon. “In case you and Mom haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly been losing sleep all these years over my ex-wife. I have a life.”

“Of course you do, and the reason Mom and I say those things is that we don’t want your life getting messed up by her again.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he stated firmly.

“I hope not. She was all wrong for you, Charlie.”

“I agree. Now can we drop the subject? I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

She looked as if she wanted to continue the discussion, but the bell rang again, indicating more food hot off the grill.

When she had gone, Charlie took a bite of the whole-wheat toast. It tasted like cardboard. What little appetite he’d had when he’d come into the diner had disappeared, thanks to Lucy.

It wasn’t really fair to blame his sister, he knew. She hadn’t said anything he himself hadn’t been thinking the past week. Ever since he had learned that Abraham Steele had left the houseboat to him and his ex-wife, he’d been bothered by memories of Beth. He knew what his mother and sister said were true. Even Beth’s brother had voiced pretty much the same thing. Beth had made a life for herself that didn’t include Riverbend. Or him.

And that was fine. He didn’t want to share the houseboat with her, anyway. According to his attorney, there was no need for them to see each other. Papers could be signed without any contact between them.

“Are you thinking about her?” his sister’s voice interrupted his musings.

“Who?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

She gave him a disbelieving look as she refilled his coffee cup. “If you’re lucky, this visit will be no different from the others. It’ll be short, and neither one of us will be on her calling card.”

“Hearing you talk, no one would ever guess that you and Beth used to be best friends,” he said dryly.

“That was a long time ago. People change.” A spoon fell to the floor and she bent to retrieve it. “I don’t plan to see her and neither should you, especially not now.”

“Why not now?”

“You’re vulnerable.”

He looked at her over the rim of his cup, trying to hide his amusement. “I am?”

“I’m not stupid, Charlie. I know that men have certain…needs.”

He chuckled. “You think I’m going to fall for Beth because I’m lonely?”

“She’s always been able to do a number on you.”

This time he laughed out loud.

Lucy planted her hands on her hips. “I’m serious. I’m worried about you. Owning this boat with her…well, it could present all sorts of problems.”

“None I can’t handle,” he assured her.

Her sister harrumphed. “She hurt you once. What makes you think it won’t happen again?”

“I learned a long time ago that even if I could ride a white horse, they don’t make shining armor in my size.”

Charlie was spared Lucy’s reply when a customer signaled for her attention. He ate as much as he could of the breakfast and finished his coffee.

With luck he figured he could exit the diner with a simple wave in Lucy’s direction. But luck wasn’t with him. As he paid the cashier, his sister caught up with him.

“Here. Let me give you a hug for good luck at the hearing today.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

“Thanks. By the way, I’m going to be gone for the weekend. After I get this stuff straightened out with Nathan, I’m going to Indianapolis.”

“Who’s in Indianapolis?” she asked, her eyes widening with interest.

“Not who. What. A trade show. Mitch Sterling and I are going.”

As he left the café he glanced back through the plate-glass windows and saw his sister chatting with Evie Mazerik, the cashier. As much as he wanted to think Lucy was talking to the older woman about work, Charlie had a pretty good idea the two were discussing the one subject he didn’t want to share with the town. Beth.

BETH PENNINGTON breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed the Illinois border into Indiana. At least twice during her trip from Iowa the engine light had come on, giving her cause to believe her car had mechanical problems. At least now she was close enough to Riverbend that she wouldn’t feel guilty about calling her brother, Ed, if she needed help.

As she left the gently rolling farmland behind and the brick buildings and treed streets of Riverbend came into view, she was surprised by the nostalgia that washed over her. Seeing her hometown sent a shiver through her—and not an unpleasant one.

Just the opposite, in fact, which was why it caught her off guard. She didn’t expect to feel good about coming home—although she really couldn’t call it home anymore. Once she’d crossed the Sycamore River she took a right, instead of proceeding straight through town, inexplicably wanting to drive through her old neighborhood.

She felt a catch in her chest at the sight of her childhood home. It was a two-story frame house, nothing fancy, but full of memories. Most of them good, but a few painful. Along the walkway day lilies bloomed in a profusion of orange, a legacy of her mother, who’d planted them only a few weeks before she’d died.

“You’re still here, Mom,” Beth murmured quietly. As a nine year old, she’d taken her grief out on any weed that dared to pop up in that garden, tugging at it with a vengeance and tossing it aside. Every spring and summer that followed, she’d nurtured those lilies with the same tenderness her mother had nurtured her, knowing that when the flowers bloomed, she’d feel her mother’s presence again.

As Beth glanced at the wooden porch, she imagined her father lying in his hammock, the newspaper propped on his belly. How many times had she and Lucy Callahan run past him in a hurry, slamming the screen door on their way inside, only to have her father holler, “Where’s the fire?”

Up the stairs to the second floor they’d race, eager to plop down on her double bed and dissect everything that had happened at school that day. Although Lucy was the same age as Beth, she’d been a year behind her in school because Beth was in the accelerated program. That hadn’t stopped them from being the best of friends, sharing their fears and disappointments, along with their hopes and dreams.