4. More Than A Memory
4
MORE THAN A MEMORY
H er parents' house practically glowed in the sunlight. The small Victorian had a fresh coat of robin egg blue paint and bright white for all the decorative trim. It looked alive and happy. Summer knew her parents hadn’t done this because they would have mentioned it.
It wasn’t cheap to refresh a house with so much architectural detail, and they didn’t have the money, especially after staying overseas with her for so long. And yet, the lattice around the bottom, the lacy railings, and the decorative dental molding lining each peak looked as new as the day the house had been built. And that was saying something since it was built in the nineteen-fifties.
But it wasn’t the fresh paint that held her gaze. When she came home last September, her dad had pulled out all the landscaping. Her mom planted new bulbs in October, but there was no way they had done enough to merit the glorious color before them. Bright yellow, pink, purple, and white mingled in vast mounds of flowers backed by the deep green of the bushes closest to the house. The layers and levels drew her eye and kept her busy trying to discover everything there was to see.
“Mom, Dad, how did you do this?” she asked .
Her mom twisted in her seat to meet Summer’s gaze. “We didn’t, sweetheart. Someone else has been caring for the house while we were gone.”
Of course, they had been, but it wasn’t something she’d given any thought to over the last few months.
“May?” Summer’s younger sister had just graduated college. “But she had that job offer.”
“It’s not May or Autumn,” her dad answered.
Summer’s heart relaxed with relief. Autumn was married and living in Connecticut with her husband and their baby. It would have killed her if either of her sisters had given up their lives to do this.
“I know it wasn’t Hunter. His wife wouldn’t let him spend the money on something that didn’t benefit her.” Summer knew she shouldn’t have said something unkind about her sister-in-law, but she’d never liked her brother’s wife. The woman was snooty and only cared about herself and her image. She never came with Hunter when he visited.
“Summer,” her father admonished.
“It wasn’t Hunter,” her mom added.
“Then who?” Summer asked. “Did you hire someone? I know you can’t afford that.”
“No. Someone offered to watch the house for us, and we accepted,” her mom answered this time, but she still didn’t give Summer a name. “We didn’t know he would do so much.”
Why didn’t her mom say who had cared for the house? The heat built in the car since her dad had shut off the air conditioning. It was suffocating. Summer wished the turmoil inside her had nothing to do with the unknown or the sensation her parents were purposely holding back information. Why couldn’t she trust the people she loved?
Griff shifted in the seat beside her. “One of these days, you’ll have to trust someone and give up your need to be in control. Start with your family.”
“It’s too scary,” she mumbled, reaching for the door handle.
“What was that, Summer?” her mom asked .
“Nothing.”
“You let the Army control your life, and you know they didn’t love you as much as your parents,” Griff continued.
That was different , she thought as she climbed out of the car. Then, out loud, she said, “Whose car is that?”
Summer pointed to a nice-looking black sedan in the drive.
“Summer, there’s something you should know.” Her dad exited the car and placed a hand on her arm.
“Why do I get the feeling I won’t like whatever you’re going to say?” she asked.
Her mom joined them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Before either of them could say anything, the front door opened, and a man stepped onto the porch.
“Summer?” Brandon Fletcher ran down the steps like a kid full of excitement.
She knew the moment he reined himself in because he jerked to a stop several feet from her. He wore white dress shorts, a brown leather belt, and a grey polo that brought out the blue in his eyes. Not that she could see them from where she stood, but she had plenty of memories to draw from. He’d grown a beard since she last saw him in September. It was neat, trimmed, and suited him in a way she hadn’t expected.
All those thoughts flashed through her mind instantly before reality set in. Brandon was at her house. Her parents didn’t look surprised or worried, and he had come from inside. His eyes drank her in as if she was the only thing that mattered in his world.
Several choice phrases from her time in the Army ripped through her mind. Brandon had painted the house and probably paid someone to plant all the flowers. He knew how much she would love them.
“It’s good to see you,” Brandon said. “I like the haircut.”
Summer didn’t respond, but Griff laughed beside her and whispered, “This is going to be good.”
Summer barely stopped herself from growling at her friend. How could she deal with this if Griff kept a running commentary ?
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep quiet. I’ll even close my eyes if you need a private moment to say a proper hello,” he continued.
Shut up, Griff . Summer knew she could never let herself be alone with Brandon. Last fall, he had followed her to the car and held her while she cried. For a brief moment, she felt safe and loved. It had taken every bit of determination to drive away from him.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Griff said.
Ignoring the dead man, she turned to the living problem. “Why are you here?”
Brandon’s smile dimmed as he ran a hand through his thick hair, which was longer on top and almost military short on the back and sides. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
“I wanted to help,” Brandon replied.
“Why?” Summer asked.
“Because you needed your parents. I didn’t want them to worry about anything but you.”
“It looks like you did more than collect the mail,” she accused.
Why was she upset? Summer hated that her first response was to turn confrontational. For his part, Brandon didn’t say anything. He looked at her with so much emotion. How would she handle this without running away? Coming home was a bad idea.
“No, pretty girl,” Griff whispered. “This is exactly what you need.”
When Brandon first saw Summer, all he could think about was rushing to her side and making sure she was okay. It took all he had not to reach out and pull her into his arms, but her expression killed his forward motion. It was clear she wasn’t happy to see him.
The disappointment and hurt wiped the smile from his face. She hadn’t been happy to see him last time either. Maybe he had been fooling himself that they could fix whatever had broken between them. A little paint and a few flowers obviously weren’t enough to show her he still cared.
Brandon shoved his fisted hands deeper into his pockets. Even the feeling of rejection pounding in his chest didn’t remove the need to touch her and confirm she was real. He might be an idiot, but seeing her again filled something inside that had been missing, but it also highlighted a longing for things he’d missed out on for the last decade—his best friend, a hand to hold, soft lips to kiss. It was clear that none of those thoughts crossed Summer’s mind.
Still, she looked good, considering what she’d been through. Her dark brown, almost black, hair had been cut short and didn’t quite touch her chin. She wore jeans that molded to her legs and a plain red V-neck T-shirt. The tennis shoes looked new. What really drew his eye was the splatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks. They were like tiny constellations that gave her cheeks a ruddy look. She’d always hated them, but he loved them. Her naturally pink lips were as kissable as ever, even in their downward tilt.
“Brandon.” Mr. Blakely stepped closer and patted his shoulder. “Thank you for your help these last few months. I can’t express what it means to us.”
Brandon shifted his attention from Summer to her father and shrugged. “Anytime, Mr. Blakely.”
The man pointed over Brandon’s shoulder at the house. “Looks like we need to have a chat.”
“No, sir. Austin and Evan helped, so it didn’t cost a thing.” Brandon glanced at Summer, who watched him, her lips tight and her body stiff and unyielding. He had hoped to show her how much he cared by doing little things around her family home, but from her expression, he realized it might not be easy.
“You bought a lot of paint, and what about all these plants?” David continued.
“It gave me something to do.” Brandon lifted one shoulder again and almost cringed at how uncomfortable he acted. “You don’t owe me anything. I’ll get out of your hair so you can settle in.” He held out the Blakelys’ keys to David, wondering if he had done enough for Summer to talk to him the next time they saw each other. “I’ll see you around?”
He paused a moment, but Summer didn’t say anything. Brandon nodded, accepting that she wouldn’t jump into their old friendship, but it still hurt. He pulled his keys from his pocket and waved to Mr. and Mrs. Blakely.
Summer might not have acted happy to see him, but she watched him walk down the driveway to his car. Her expression was hard to decipher, but she didn’t appear angry. Confused maybe? She was still watching when he glanced in the rearview mirror.
She hadn’t smiled once. That was so different from the girl he had known all his life. The Summer he knew and had loved could always make him feel better.
He remembered when they were ten years old, long before they’d felt anything more than friendship, and Summer had found him hiding under the slide at school. It had been a bad day all around. The family dog had died the night before, and some of the guys had made fun of him for being sad over it. Brandon had tried not to cry, but he’d never lived a day without old Butch.
Summer crawled under with him, both of their legs poking out the side.
“What you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Your eyes are red. Are you sad?”
He nodded.
“Why?” She scooted closer and wrapped one of her thin arms around him.
“Butch died.” He choked on the words.
“I’m sorry.” She rested her head on his arm.
“You don’t have to stay here.” He was too embarrassed to cry in front of her.
“I don’t mind.” She was quiet for a few minutes, and then she said, “You remember when Butch knocked me down and licked my face?”
The image flickered through Brandon’s memory. Summer had been seven, and Butch was half her size. The dog had been so happy to see her that he ran and tried to jump into her arms. The petite girl had flown backward like a ragdoll. Butch stood on her and licked her while she giggled like crazy .
“Yeah,” Brandon said, and one corner of his mouth twisted as if it wanted to smile. “I thought you’d be mad, but you laughed.”
“That’s because he was a good dog.”
They stayed under the slide, sharing their favorite stories about Butch until the bell rang, and they had to return to their separate classrooms. Brandon had felt better after that. He still missed his dog but hadn’t felt alone in his sorrow. Summer missed him, too.
There had been so many times when they stood next to each other. Sometimes, it felt like the two of them against the world, but Summer always took his side, and he hers. How had they lost that?
“God, help Summer find her joy again. And if it isn’t too much to ask, help us be friends if nothing else.”