Summer Burns Read online

  God, I was an idiot. Here I was, the first time I'd talked to any guy, really, outside of work, and now my daughter was attached to him, almost instantly, because of a damn smell.

  It seemed so important at the time.

  "Now I feel like the fuck up," I muttered.

  "Language," Mom said.

  I raised my eyebrow.

  She came over to me and put her hand on my arm. "You'll make the right decision. I know you will. Just don't try to replace Jake, okay? Be certain that whoever you're with is because you want to be there, not because you're trying to fill a void."

  Was that what I was doing?

  Filling a void?

  I didn't know. It confused the hell out of me too.

  "I know," I said. I put my arm around her. "Thank you."

  "He's not Jake. So don't treat him like Jake."

  "I know he's not," I replied. "He was Jake's friend. Kind of. And he knew both of us. But you'd think, if I was looking for Jake then Hennessey would make me think of Jake. He doesn't. He's a friend."

  "If that's all..." Mom's words trailed off.

  "It is."

  She nodded and walked out of the kitchen.

  "If I'm causing a problem," Matthew said.

  I spun around, surprised he'd escaped Emma and the movie. "Oh! Hi. Sorry. I was coming back."

  He grinned. "I doubt that."

  "Maybe."

  "I really should go, though," he said. "I have to work early, and I figure you've had enough of me tonight."

  "Not at all. You were great. You freed her teddy."

  "We all did it," he said.

  I smiled, because he spoke the truth--kind of weird way to spend an evening, winning a teddy bear, but we all had worked together to get it.

  And it made Emma so happy. My gaze darted to my daughter, who was riveted to the movie, and even from the kitchen, I could hear her sniffling over the ending.

  She was my daughter, that's for sure.

  "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Summer. If being around me makes it harder, then I'll be on my way."

  "It's not that." And it wasn't. But it was. Just standing there, alone with him, well as alone as possible, awoke sensations in me that I thought long ago died the day Jake did.

  "Well, let me make it easy for you."

  He stepped closer to me, so close, I thought for, a second...

  I turned my head to his. Our eyes locked, and I leaned into him. Was he, uh...

  He snagged a piece of paper from the stack behind me, and a pen.

  And he stepped away.

  I felt like a moron, and I looked away. Good grief, I thought he was going to kiss me.

  "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. Even if you want to talk." He handed me the paper with his phone number on it. "But if you don't, no hard feelings, okay?"

  I mustered up some dignity to look back in his eyes, and spread a smile on my face. "Thank you."

  "I mean it."

  "I know you do." That's the problem.

  With that, Matthew said good-bye to Emma and walked out of the house.

  Chapter Six

  Friday Night

  Matthew had just cracked open a beer when his cell phone rang.

  He sighed. What did the rookie from the base want now? He'd put in his time with the kid all week. He didn't want to go out to the bar to drink away the work week, and-- "Hennessey." He growled into the phone.

  "Matthew?"

  It was not the rookie.

  "Summer?"

  "Hi, um... Hi."

  He straightened in his chair and his feet hit the ground with a thud. "What do you need?" He sat his beer on the table, glad he'd not touched it yet. Didn't want to drive if he'd been drinking.

  If she needed some help--

  "Nothing. That's not why I'm calling."

  Huh? He told her if she needed anything to call. "Oh." Well, why else would she call? He'd heard part of her conversation with her mother last night, and figured he'd never hear from her again.

  She sounded so conflicted about him being there, so he decided to take off. Get out of her hair, make it easier for her.

  And for Emma.

  Rip the bandage off clean. It would sting, but then it would be done and over.

  Didn't matter that he'd been so tempted to kiss her, right there, in front of her daughter. Fortunately, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a picture of Summer and Bettes, and his want cooled pretty quickly.

  Stick to the mission.

  Make sure she's okay, and be done.

  "No, um, really, I was just calling to tell you that, um, well." She sighed into the phone. "Geez, ever get ready to do something, and be sure it's the right thing, and then when you get there, you feel like a bumbling idiot?"

  "Yeah." That was pretty much how he felt Wednesday when he went to speak to her.

  "I'm sure you have. Wait. I mean... Ugh. What am I, twelve?" The last part she muttered more to herself.

  "I would hope not," he answered.

  She smirked. "Look, before I make this into something ridiculous, I just called to say thank you for last night."

  This made him smile. He had rather enjoyed the evening as well--a family type experience, something he hadn't had in a very long time. It had been a bright spot for him. "You're welcome."

  "Emma hasn't stopped talking about you. She even asked at breakfast if you could have a play date with her this weekend."

  He laughed. "A play date, huh?"

  "What do you do, she's six. I guess she liked having someone new to talk about Frozen to."

  "Guess so." It was a cheesy kid movie, but he'd gotten a kick out of the little girl's enthusiasm over every little nuance--which she was happy to explain to him in every scene.

  Silence spread between them. He wasn't sure what to say on a social call. One of the things he'd found hardest about being back in the civilized world was making small talk.

  It had never been hard before, but now, it felt like the words lodged in his throat and he couldn't get them to come out.

  He'd have thoughts--ideas about things to say.

  But he couldn't put them into words and actually say them.

  She cleared her throat. "Okay, so that's what I was calling about. I guess I'll see you around, then?"

  "Yeah." He didn't want to let go of her yet, though. Her voice soothed him. "Um. How was your day?" he asked. That's a proper thing to ask, right?

  "Super busy at the salon. But Fridays always are. Lots of little old ladies getting their hair done for the weekend's festivities."

  "Weekend festivities?"

  "Church, family dinners, all those things. They all like to look pretty for their appointments."

  He thought of the lady he'd opened the door for on Wednesday and wondered how those elderly ladies had bigger social lives than he did. "They must stay busy."

  "Some of them do, that's for sure. I hope I'm half as active as some of those ladies are when I'm their age."

  "We can all hope. But at least it's the weekend, right?" That's what the rookie said to him tonight, trying to get him to come out for a beer. Sounded good for this situation, anyway.

  "For most people. I work on Saturdays. Usually all day long. It's one of the busiest days for a hair stylist." She coughed a little as she finished.

  "You okay? Coming down with something?"

  "Work. Lots of hairspray in the air doesn't make my asthma very happy."

  "I didn't know you had asthma."

  "All my life. It's not a big deal."

  "I wouldn't say that," he replied. Asthma was a big deal--breathing was rather elemental in survival.

  "Well, it's something that I have learned to live with. I think it's scarier for my mom than it is for me."

  "What about Emma? Does she have it?"

  "She might, eventually, but so far, she hasn't shown any of the signs, thank goodness. Hopefully she got her father's lungs and not mine."

  "Well, she sure looks
like him."

  "I think so too. A lot of people say she looks like me, then they see a picture of Jake, and they see her resemblance to him." There was a pause, and this time, it sounded like she sniffed or something.

  Great. He made her cry.

  Good going, asshole...

  He opened his mouth to say something--apologize maybe, but she started talking again.

  "So what are you doing tonight?"

  "Nothing. A beer after work, and then some Netflix."

  "Oh yeah? What are you watching?"

  "Several things. I'm trying to catch up on the stuff I never got to watch." They started chatting about different shows, and he was surprised to learn that she liked to watch dramas and action movies when Emma was in bed.

  "I would have thought you'd like those girly shows."

  "Like what girly shows?"

  "Oh, romantic comedies and stuff."

  She laughed. "I do. I just don't watch them much anymore."

  "Why not?"

  She sighed. "They make me sad."

  And it dawned on him what she meant. "I'm sorry." Of course they would, she's lost her husband.

  And she sniffed again.

  Ugh. He wanted to kick his own ass. How many times was he going to make her cry? Maybe he shouldn't have given her his number. Just walked away and been done. Yet it had seemed the right thing to do at the time.

  "It's okay." She jarred him from his thoughts. "I like action movies better anyway. Even before, I'd cry over romantic comedies. Jake used to make so much fun of me over it."

  What was the proper response here? "Um, I'm sorry."

  "Don't worry about it. You'd probably make fun of me too."

  "No I wouldn't."

  This did make her laugh. "You haven't seen me all blubbery over a commercial. Jake said it was hilarious how I would cry over anything. Commercials. Sappy movies. Hell, I cried when I saw the reboots of Star Trek."

  "Nothing wrong with connecting." At least she connected with something. He wasn't sure he knew how anymore. He could do the right thing, knew the morally correct response to circumstances, what was expected, but his emotions, those were something he'd left behind a long time ago.

  Emotional investment was something a soldier couldn't afford.

  Made for shitty decisions.

  "What do you connect with, Matthew?"

  "I don't know."

  "I see."

  "No, you really don't."

  "You might be surprised."

  Another silence spread between them.

  Had he done something wrong? He wasn't sure.

  "Well, Mom is waving papers at me, so I probably should let you go," Summer said.

  "Waving papers?"

  "We're going over the stuff for the fundraiser next week at Emma's school."

  "Isn't school out for the summer?" Had they converted to a year-round schedule here?

  She laughed. Man, that was a cool sound.

  "It is. We're doing a fund raiser because of the state wide education cutbacks, in hopes to raise some funds and supplies for the teachers and needy students. We're doing a haircut booth next week where people can donate money or school supplies for haircuts. We did one last year, and it did pretty good. We managed to raise about five hundred dollars and a bunch of extra supplies. We're hoping this year we can raise seven hundred fifty to help out."

  "Is it just haircutting?"

  "Yep. Our salon is partnering with O'Toole's Barber Shop to do it. In fact, I need to call Steven, and check on a few things." It sounded like she was writing something down. "I probably should let you go."

  "Sure. Work is important."

  "Yeah, if you need a haircut next week, you should stop by. It'll cost you a box of crayons and dry erase markers, but I'm sure someone could hook you up."

  "I probably am ready for a haircut." He ran his hand over his hair--it felt long and shabby. For so long he'd worn it shaved, now that it's grown out, it felt entirely too long.

  They said their good byes and he disconnected the call.

  And he started wondering if he knew anyone else who needed a haircut. Like that annoying rookie at work.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday Evening

  I bundled my hair into a bun in the car before I climbed out to get Emma. I was so hot, I couldn't get cooled down fast enough. It didn't help that my air conditioner was on the fritz again--or it could be the one-hundred-degree weather.

  Ugh. Summer. My namesake, and the bane of my existence. I would much rather be cold than hot any day.

  I grabbed my purse and headed to the door of Jake's mother's house--Paula Bettes.

  I appreciated all the help from Grandma Bettes with caring for Emma, we had to be careful. She tended to overly-spoil Emma. I don't say anything, because Emma was all she had left of her son.

  I empathized with her--it still hurt, three years later, that Jake was gone, and he was my husband. I couldn't imagine what the pain must be like to lose a child.

  I prayed that I never did.

  So, Paula spoils Emma. I live with it.

  She'd never done anything to undermine my parenting, but occasionally she took it a little bit too far.

  Case in point--my child as she bolted out of the front door.

  She wore a blonde Elsa wig and blue dress, screaming "Let it go Mommy!" and waving her arms around like she was casting spells.

  I couldn't help smiling. Of course Paula would buy her dress up clothes and wigs. An expense I just couldn't justify, when I was trying to save for a house. While there was no rush, according to my mother, I was still over thirty, and living with my mother.

  It was a pride thing.

  Yet seeing Emma so giddy made me feel rather crappy that I wouldn't buy her dress-up clothes. Maybe I needed to loosen the purse strings.

  I rubbed my arms, and pantomimed throwing away what I was wearing.

  She giggled as Paula came to the door. Emma continued singing, but paused long enough to twirl in front of me.

  "I bet Mister Maffew will love this!" she said as she ran back into the house.

  "I'm sure he will." I smiled and wondered what Matthew would think of her dress, but brushed off the thought as I reached the porch. After all, it wasn't like we were dating. I wasn't sure I'd call him again.

  I'd thought about him off and on today, but it was mostly just random stuff. And every time the thoughts brought a smile to my face.

  He didn't call or text, so maybe I really was better to let it go.

  When I reached the porch, Paula stood there, giving me the stink-eye. Emma had gone inside, I guessed to get her things from her overnight with Grandma.

  "Who is this Mister Matthew she's been talking about all day? Mister Matthew this, Mister Matthew that. Is that her teacher in summer camp?"

  Uh oh, here we go. I was hoping that Emma wouldn't mention him to her grandmother, but evidently, her finding a new friend was worthy news to pass on.

  "He's an old acquaintance that had dinner with us Thursday night." I smiled, hoping she wouldn't take it for more than it was.

  "Are you dating this boy?" she snapped. Evidently I was wrong.

  I shook my head. "He just came into the pizzeria and joined us."

  "Sounds like a date to me."

  I was about to retort, but she kept going as she shook her head. "You have to be careful, she's already far too attached to him. She even asked me if he was going to be her new daddy today. Little children connect too easily. You can't be introducing her to a string of men willy-nilly."

  Maybe it was the heat or the long day, but I wanted to scream. How dare she tell me what I can and can't do? Yet all that came out was: "I'm not."

  In twenty minutes, I'll have the perfect comeback. I know I will.

  "I know you're young, and I don't expect you'll never date again," she drug out the last few words like she really did expect me to do just that. "But you should honor Jake better, and not introduce Emma to every man you meet. You
want her to have a string of daddies in her life? Besides, what do you know about this guy? He could be a child molester."

  "Okay, stop right there, Paula." I took a deep breath, and shifted gears back to hairdresser-dealing-with-a-difficult-client-mode. Not terribly hard, because I had several today. Still not what I wanted to be doing right now.

  I just want to get my kid and go home, maybe have a glass of wine while I prepared macaroni and cheese with hotdogs in it.

  Not deal with judgy people.

  "Number one, I think I know how to handle my daughter. Number two, while I appreciate your concern, I'm not dating anyone. Matthew Hennessey is a friend from high school who served with your son in Iraq. He paid his respects to me last week, and when I saw him in the pizzeria, I invited him to join us for dinner. He's not a child molester, he is a soldier."

  "That doesn't mean he couldn't be," she said, her voice a snarky whisper.

  I rolled my eyes. "You need to quit watching the true crime shows. I'm not marrying anyone. I'm not even dating anyone. Including Matthew."

  "Well then you need to have a talk with your daughter." With that, she spun and walked back into the house.

  I rubbed my temples.

  Seriously? This was way more attitude than I could stand. Between bitchy clients who had me running around like a lunatic today and now this, um, no thank you. I followed her inside, where she was hugging Emma. Emma still wore her dress.

  "Emma go put that away, and then we'll go."

  "But Grandma said I could take it home," she whined.

  "Please take it off, and we will take it home. It's hot in my car, and I don't want you to get all sweaty in it."

  "Okay fine," she stomped off.

  "She didn't have to take it off," Paula said.

  I turned my glare on my mother-in-law. "We need to finish this conversation."

  "I have nothing more to say on the matter," Paula said, her arms crossed.

  "Right now, if I plan on going on a date, or spend some time with a guy, that's not your concern."

  "I beg to differ."

  "No, you had your speech, I get mine now." I inhaled a breath so I didn't rip into her like I wanted to. "I get that you just want to make sure Emma's not hurt. And I appreciate that. But you have no right to tell me how to handle any dating situation. I'm not some stupid kid who would date anyone who would hurt my daughter. If I want to spend some time with him, or any man, that's my choice. Will we go on a date? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. But that's not for you to decide. It's been three years, Paula. I love Jake. I miss him every day."