Feels Like Summertime

  I laugh. “No take-backs. I promise.”

  It’s all a little too wonderful to be believed.

  Jake fiddles with his phone until a new song starts. “Oh, I remember this one,” I cry. I lean over and turn it up some. Jake starts to sing along.

  “You sang this to me while we danced by the campfire. Do you remember that night?” I turn to face him more fully.

  He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear with tender fingers. “Yep. Why do you think I downloaded it?” He sits quietly for a moment. “What was playing the first time you danced with your husband?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t remember.”

  He nudges me. “You do too.”

  “No, really. I don’t. I remember other things, though.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the snowball fight when he won me over. I had to save him from a whole group of women who really wanted his attention. So I put myself in front of him and took the snowball to the face.”

  Jake winces. “Ouch.”

  “It didn’t hurt.” I smile at the memory. “It was worth it.”

  “I’d take a snowball to the face for you.”

  “I know you would.” I bury my face in his neck and breathe in the scent that’s all Jake. “You smell so good.”

  “So do you. You used to always smell like Love’s Baby Soft.”

  I laugh. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yep. Even now, every time I smell that kind of perfume, my dick gets hard.” He chuckles.

  I reach over and take his hand. “Is that happening now?”

  He groans and adjusts his big body in the seat. “Change of subject.”

  I stare hard at him. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Jake,” I say quietly.

  He stops breathing. Then he squeezes my hand and says, “Really now...”

  “When summer is over, are we going to write a few letters and then forget about one another?”

  He shakes his head. “When summer’s over, I’m going where you’re going, if I can’t talk you into going with me.”

  My heart goes pitter-patter. “What if I’m really bad in bed?”

  “That’s not possible,” he whispers.

  “What if I snore really loudly?”

  “I’ll buy earplugs.”

  “What if I—?”

  “Katie,” he argues, “there’s nothing you can do to turn me off right now.”

  Hank lets out a cry from the back seat.

  “Well, that might work,” he says. He reaches over and starts the truck. “We had better get home.”

  I slide over to my spot and buckle back up. I grab his phone and cycle through his songs. He has a whole playlist called “Katie.” “I like this one,” I say as a new one starts. “We listened to this one when we were washing your car one day. You sprayed me with the hose.”

  He chuckles. “I could see right through your t-shirt.”

  “It all goes back to the boobs, right?” I laugh too, though. “Hey, speaking of your car, will you take me out in it? Or did you leave it in New York?”

  He clears his throat. “About that,” he says as he pulls back out onto the road.

  “What about it?”

  “So my wife is bringing me the car this weekend. She’s driving it down here.”

  My gut clenches. “You mean your ex-wife, right?”

  “Um…” He scratches his chin. “Not quite yet. We haven’t finalized things yet.”

  “You mean to tell me you’re still married?”

  “Technically,” he says, as he puts on his turn signal and turns onto his dad’s property.

  “Jake,” I say quietly, “you lied to me.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he insists.

  “You told me the woman in the picture used to be your wife, and she wasn’t anymore.”

  “Well, in the practical sense, she’s not.”

  “Legally, she is! I can’t believe you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie.” He stops the truck in the driveway, and I scurry out as fast as I can. Tears are about to betray me, and I want to get away from Jake before the waterworks start.

  I take Hank’s car seat out of the back of the truck and run into the house. Dad and Adam both look at me funny.

  “What’s wrong?” Adam asks.

  “He’s married,” I say quietly, so that my kids won’t hear. They’re watching a movie in the other room.

  “Katie, would you listen to me?” Jake says from behind me. But I walk out onto the porch, lift Hank from his carrier, because by now he’s putting up one hell of a fuss, and sit down to nurse him.

  “Well, you fucked that up,” I hear Mr. Jacobson say.

  “Oh, be quiet,” Jake grouses.

  Jake doesn’t come out to talk to me, and I’m glad of it, because I have no idea how I should be feeling right now. My head is warring with my heart. I want the big prize. I want the happy family and the man who loves me. But Jake still belongs to someone else.

  38

  Jake

  The first time I ever danced with Katie Higgins, we were swaying together by a roaring campfire. Both her parents were there, and my dad was playing his guitar. The fire was so tall that I could barely see over it, and it was so hot it made my shins itch. Most of us sat in lawn chairs, but some people were on overturned buckets and a fallen log that had been dragged over near the flames.

  Pop didn’t play often, but when he did, people came from all over the complex to hear him. That night, he’d invited a friend of his from town to come and play as well, and where his voice was so deep it resonated within your soul, hers was as light as air, and she filled in all the cracks he left behind.

  Katie jerked her stick back from the fire when her marshmallow went up in flames. She blew frantically to put it out.

  “Pass it here, Katie girl,” Pop said. “The burnt ones are my favorite.”

  Katie smiled and extended the stick toward him. Instead of peeling the marshmallow off the stick, he grabbed the stick in the middle and bit the whole thing off, sliding it from the stick with his teeth. He hummed and blew out his breath, trying to cool it. “Perfect,” he said, after he swallowed. He wiggled his fingers at her. “Didn’t want to get my fingers sticky. Burn me another one, will you?”

  I rolled my eyes and passed Katie another marshmallow. She stabbed it with the stick and leaned toward the fire.

  “Like this,” I said, and I caught her wrist, showing her how to lift the marshmallow just a little higher, letting it toast at the top of the flames.

  Katie leaned into me, and the soft, sweet scent of her filled my nose. And all the rest of me.

  “You smell good,” I murmured near her ear.

  She laughed. “I smell like wood smoke and bug spray.”

  “You smell like you,” I whispered.

  Katie’s dad cleared his throat loudly. “You need some help finding your own stick, Jake?” he asked.

  I backed away from Katie. Her dad had a way of making me feel like such a child. “No, sir,” I mumbled.

  Katie’s dad was cooking a dough doggie at the edge of the fire. Pop kept special sticks just for the dough doggies. They were wide and blunt at the tip. You had to wrap a canned biscuit around the stick, and then cook it over the fire until it was toasted through. When it was done, you could slide it off the stick and fill it full of jelly or cream or just about anything sweet.

  Katie passed Pop a newly burned marshmallow and he ate it off the stick, and then she gave her stick to someone else. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She shivered a little.

  “Are you cold?” I asked.

  Our chairs were so close together that if I pressed my leg an inch to the left, my naked skin would touch hers. Katie turned her head and looked into my eyes as she inched her leg closer to mine. It was subtle and slow, and the look in her eyes was so damn hot that I didn’t even need the campfire to stay warm. “No, I’m fine,” she said quietly.

  Well, I was fine un
til right that second. But suddenly, Katie was my whole world. “I think I love you,” I said quietly to her.

  She grinned. “Good.”

  She didn’t return the sentiment. But I didn’t need for her to.

  Pop started to play a slow song, and his friend began to sing. A few couples got up to dance, and I saw Fred hold his hand out to a girl on the other side of the fire.

  “Want to dance with me?” I asked Katie.

  She nodded and put her hand in mine, and we got up and danced under the moonlight by the warmth of the flames. But I didn’t need the fire. I had Katie.

  I had her until the end of summer, at least.

  39

  Jake

  It’s rather fitting that Laura arrives in the pouring rain. Thunder claps loudly and lightning streaks across the mid-day sky. Headlights flash across the screen door at the front of the house, and I get up to go see who it is. I recognize the headlights immediately. Is it terrible that I am happier to see my car than I am to see Laura?

  “Better go get her,” Pop mutters at me.

  Katie is with her family at Cabin 114, so it was just me and Pop today. Pop has spent his rainy afternoon absorbed in a jigsaw puzzle.

  “Do I have to?” I mutter back.

  He looks up from his puzzle. “Take an umbrella.”

  In all the years we were married, Laura has only been here twice. She didn’t enjoy the lake; she liked the beach a lot more, so when I would come to visit Pop, she would go away with her girlfriends.

  She doesn’t get out of the car, since the rain is coming down in sheets. Or perhaps she’s just stalling. I’m not sure which.

  I grab an umbrella from the mud room and step out onto the porch. I open it and walk slowly down the steps. Now I know what a man might feel like when he’s walking down that long hallway toward an execution room. It’s awful, terrifying, and my palms are sweating by the time I get to the car. I hold the umbrella open over the car door and she manually rolls the window down. It jerks a little.

  Laura smiles at me. “Hi,” she says.

  “You want to get out?” I ask.

  She nods, and takes a deep breath. Then she rolls the window back up. She holds tightly to the steering wheel for a moment and bows her head. Then the door opens with a creak.

  “Thanks for bringing the car,” I say as she stands up. She’s a lot taller than Katie. God, I shouldn’t be comparing them. I can’t help it. They’re polar opposites.

  “You’re welcome,” she says as she reaches back to grab her purse, and a big brown envelope. Her hand shakes as she holds it out to me. “I brought the papers you wanted me to sign. I had them notarized and everything. So all you have to do is file them.”

  I take the envelope from her. “Thanks. You want to come inside?” I lean my head toward the big house.

  “Is your dad here?” She smiles what I think is probably a genuine smile. I never could tell about Laura’s smiles.

  “He’s inside working on a puzzle.” I take her elbow. “Come in. He’ll be happy to see you.”

  “If you’re sure,” she says hesitantly.

  “I’m sure.” I hold the umbrella over her head as we go up the steps. She stops on the porch and kicks off her wet shoes. She always did that at home, too. Wet shoes never mattered to me, but they did to her.

  She comes in, and I stop to shake the water from the umbrella as she greets Pop. She hugs him and admires his puzzle from over his shoulder, and then she picks up a puzzle piece and puts it in place. Pop grunts and covers her hand where it’s resting on his shoulder. He pats it and she smiles. Her eyes meet mine.

  “You want something to drink?” I ask as she loiters around the kitchen.

  Pop looks out the kitchen window. “The rain is slowing down. Why don’t you two take a walk?”

  I look at Laura. She shifts uncomfortably on her feet and shrugs her shoulders. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say. I walk to the door and Laura follows me. She stops and puts her shoes back on.

  We walk in silence side by side. “Where’s the baby?” I ask. I didn’t even think of her child when she got here. What kind of husband does that make me? The kind that didn’t father her child, apparently.

  “Oh, she’s with Freddy,” Laura says. She looks down at her watch. “He should be here in about an hour. I hope that’s okay. I needed someone to pick me up.”

  I stumble over my own toe. “Fred’s coming here?”

  She nods. “Is that all right?”

  Hell no, it’s not all right. “Sure. Whatever.”

  She stops and turns to face me. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” I look everywhere but at her.

  “I should have told you. I should have given you some warning. But…I couldn’t. I tried so many times. But I didn’t want to hurt you. There was a tiny little part of me that hoped desperately that the baby would be yours.”

  “You should have warned me.”

  She stares up at me and I finally allow myself to look into her eyes. “To be honest, there was also a part of me that hoped the baby wasn’t yours.” She sucks in a breath. “Through the years, my feelings for you changed.”

  I nod. I can’t think of a single word to say.

  “I thought a baby would fix everything, but then we had such a hard time getting pregnant, and with all the babies we lost…” Tears fill her eyes and she doesn’t try to stop them. “We stopped loving one another. And all I had left was the idea of a happy family. I wanted one desperately. Each child we lost made me want it more.”

  I swallow hard. “Why would you turn to Fred, of all people?”

  “I met Freddy before I met you,” she says. “Do you remember that night?”

  I nod.

  “He was sweet and charming and quiet, and he seemed so steady. And then I saw you. And you eclipsed the sun, Jake. You were vibrant and outgoing, and you were so strong. I thought what I wanted was strength. But it’s not. You didn’t just eclipse the sun. You eclipsed me. I could never keep up with you. You wanted action and I wanted to sleep. You wanted movement and I wanted silence. You couldn’t sit still and I couldn’t take enough breaks.”

  “I resented the hell out of you then,” I admit.

  She sighs. “You probably still do.”

  I nod and an ironic chuckle escapes my lips. “I have lately, that’s for sure.”

  “I should have told you how I felt.”

  “But Fred, of all people? How did that happen?”

  She shrugs. “He dropped by one night when you were gone. You might have even been here.” She stops and looks toward the water. “This was where you always wanted to be.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, he came to bring back something he’d borrowed from you, I don’t even remember what it was, and he stayed and talked to me. And before I knew it, we’d finished off two bottles of wine and we’d— Well, we’d betrayed you. We woke up the next day wrapped up in blankets and regrets.”

  “Did you at least change the sheets?” I ask sarcastically.

  She lets my comment slide. “Freddy was furious with himself. He couldn’t believe he’d let it happen. You were his best friend, and he was beside himself with worry. He wanted to tell you right away, but I wouldn’t let him.”

  I start walking toward the water again, because I don’t want to hear about Fred’s guilt. I just don’t.

  I step onto the dock and walk to the end. She follows me. I finally turn to face her.

  “Hate me. Don’t hate him,” she says. “I take all the blame.”

  I reach up and push a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “I think I’ve done quite enough hating the both of you. I think I’m ready to be finished with that.”

  “Can you forgive us?”

  I nod and shove my hands into my pockets. “Yeah, I can.”

  “I was so worried I’d come here and find you still angry at me. And at Freddy.”

  “Are you together now?”


  She nods. “Yeah, we are. We’re trying it out. Seeing where it goes.”

  “Well, you do have a baby together.” I try out a laugh, but it falls flat like a dead fish on the dock.

  “There’s that.” She laughs too. Another dead fish.

  “Does your baby still have all that red hair?”

  She laughs again and a real smile lights up her face. “She does. I try to put little barrettes in it, but she just pulls them out. It’s not meant to be tamed, apparently.”

  I nod and stare over the quiet water. Now that the storm has passed, the air hangs heavy with dampness and the water is completely still.

  “Our lease is almost up at our apartment,” she says. “I thought I might start to pack things up.”

  “I can come and help you.”

  She lays her fingertips briefly on my arm. “That’s okay. I can do it. I’ll ship your things.”

  “Take the baby stuff with you.”

  She grins. “Well, it’s not like you have much use for it.”

  I don’t tell her about Katie. The feeling of calmness between us is too new. It’s too raw. I don’t want to break it. I don’t want to rip the bandage off a second time. “True.” I turn in a circle, staring out over the water. “I think it hurt me more losing Fred than it did losing you,” I admit. Then I wince, because I know that sounds crass and intentionally hurtful.

  “Well, that should tell us both something.”

  “I want you to be happy,” I tell her.

  “I want that for you too, Jake. I want you to find someone who fills up all your empty places.”

  “Does Fred fill yours?”

  She smiles. “Yeah, I think he does.”

  Katie and her family fill mine. I never realized I had any until now.

  I see a familiar head of red hair coming toward us, and recognize Fred. I’d know his lumbering gait anywhere. In his arms, he’s holding a baby with the same shockingly-red hair. He stops at the end of the dock.

  “Is it okay if he comes to say hi?” Laura asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “The more the merrier.”

  She motions him forward.