Feels Like Summertime

  My belly did that fluttery thing that always happened when I was nervous. Times one hundred. Uncle Adam got up and moved to the other side of the picnic table, leaving a place next to Jake. “Hi,” I said to him. I set the pie on the table and sat down next to him.

  Dad dished out some pie and passed the rest of it down the table to the others waiting. “So, you were busy today, huh, Jake?” Uncle Adam asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Jake replied gruffly. “Pop had me cleaning the bath house. With a toothbrush.”

  Dad snickered. Uncle Adam elbowed him in the side. He jerked a thumb toward Dad. “He’s laughing because he had to do that very same thing once or twice when he was young.” He grinned. “I vaguely remember someone borrowing Old Man Jacobson’s canoe and flipping it over. His tackle box sank to the bottom of the lake.”

  “Old Man Jacobson turned ten shades of red, and then he went to my mom and told her what I did. She shoved me toward him and told him to do his worst. Five days of cleaning toilets and floors with a toothbrush. I never borrowed anything else. Ever.” Dad smiled about it though. “I learned my lesson,” he said. He leaned toward Jake like they were sharing secrets. “So, what did you do?” he whispered dramatically, wrapping his hands around his mouth.

  Jake murmured out of the corner of his mouth, “I’d rather not say, sir.”

  Uncle Adam laughed. “It wouldn’t happen to involve a six-pack of beer and a fall from the dock, would it?”

  Jake’s cheeks turned pink and his gaze shot all over the place.

  “Ha!” Dad cried. “I told you!” He held out a hand and Uncle Adam slapped a five-dollar bill in it. “Thank you very much,” he crowed as he shoved the bill into his back pocket.

  “That doesn’t sound very fair,” I protested.

  “No, I deserve it,” Jake said.

  Dad and Uncle Adam’s eyes met and I saw something pass between them. It was either an “I like this kid” kind of look or an “I’m not sure how to feel about this kid” kind of look. I couldn’t tell which. And that part made me nervous.

  “When do you get off restriction?” Dad asked.

  “I’m free now.” Jake smiled as he ate the last of his pie. “I was wondering if I might be able to take Katie for a walk with me?”

  Dad looked up at the setting sun. “In the dark?” He pointed toward the waning sun. “Absolutely not.”

  “Dan,” Uncle Adam chided, “it’s not even dark yet.”

  “Fine,” Dad conceded. “Have her home by dark.” He pointed a finger at Jake and I saw him wither. “I mean it.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. He got up and held a hand out to me. “Take a walk with me, Katie?” He waited, holding his breath. I slipped my hand into his, and he gave it a squeeze, and that’s how I ended up holding hands with Jake Jacobson for the second time. And it was amazing.

  He didn’t try to kiss me that night, but holding hands was better. My heart was all a-skitter, bouncing all over the place as we walked on the shoreline hand in hand.

  18

  Jake

  My gut is all a-whirl trying to figure out how to talk to Katie. I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake. I’ve interrogated men of all sorts. I should be able to talk to a woman. But for some reason, I’m skittish as a newborn colt when it comes to her.

  “I saw Alex early this morning,” I suddenly blurt out.

  “Alex?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “Where?”

  “Pop sent me out in the old canoe to fix the floating dock, and I was out there, on the water, when I saw Alex on the dock.”

  She points with emphasis to the ground under our feet. “This morning?”

  “Yes.” I stare at her. “You didn’t tell him he could go?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I went to the store for food and left Gabby in charge. The little ones were still sleeping.”

  “He tossed this into the lake.” I hold out the note to her. “It was inside a plastic bottle.”

  “Oh,” she breathes out. She sinks down on the bottom step. “I didn’t know he was still doing this.”

  I sit down next to her. “You know what it is?”

  She scrubs a hand down her face. “It’s probably a plea to God to bring Jeff home.” Her gaze finds mine. “Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought he was done with that.”

  “What’s that all about?” I ask. I watch her face. You can tell a lot about people by watching their faces.

  But with Katie, it’s like someone has drawn the shutters. You can’t see in the windows. You can’t get a hint of what’s going on inside.

  “The last time his dad left for a deployment, he told Alex that he could write a note, fold it into a paper airplane, and send it over the back fence. That way whatever he wanted to say to his father would get to him.” She heaves a sigh. “He’s still doing it, apparently.”

  I stay quiet. For some reason, I don’t think my words are needed here.

  “I used to go and collect the notes every day, and then I would take pictures of them and send them to Jeff by email. Then the next time he got to talk to the kids, he would mention them, so Alex would know that his thoughts and ramblings actually made it to his dad.”

  “So, are you going to take a picture of this one?”

  She groans. “What good would that do me? Or Alex for that matter?” She lumbers to her feet, pressing her belly forward. “Thanks for letting me know he’s doing it here. I wasn’t aware.”

  “He asked for help, Katie.”

  “I know that, Jake.” She stares into my eyes. And her blue ones are full of something I can’t quite pinpoint.

  “What can I do to help you, Katie?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

  “We don’t need for you to take care of us, Jake,” she says on a heavy breath. “I just need to be here. I need to stay here and not feel like someone is trying to jerk my soul out of me every time I take a breath.” She presses her fist against her chest. “I just need to breathe, Jake. That’s all I need. If you can’t let me breathe, then get the fuck off me and stay the hell away. I’m not leaving. Please don’t make me miserable.”

  Then she stomps up the steps.

  I sit there, absolutely stunned. And hurt. And angry.

  My gut wants me to follow her, to find out what’s really going on. But my head…my head is telling me to take it slow, to let it unravel. My heart… That bastard is telling me that this is exactly how I messed everything up back home.

  “Get a dog,” I mutter to myself. Because that worked out for me.

  “Get yourself together, Jake,” I mutter again.

  “Jake!” a voice yells from inside the cabin. The door flies open and Katie’s kids run out.

  One of them screams. I step inside to find Katie standing on the center couch cushion. She has a frying pan clutched in her hand.

  “What the hell?” I say. There’s no one in here but her. “What are we trying to kill?”

  She points with a frantically shaking finger to the edge of the kitchen counter. “That! Get that. That.”

  I look over and find a tiny little mouse nibbling on the corner of a piece of cheese. “That?”

  “Yes! That!” she shrieks.

  “I can get it!” Alex yells through the door.

  “No!” Katie yells back. “Stay outside.”

  “It’s just a mouse,” I say. I walk toward it, and take a bowl off the counter very slowly.

  “It’s a rodent!” Katie shrieks, making my ears ring.

  “It’s just a tiny little mouse. All he wants is a piece of cheese.”

  “Get it out of here, Jake!” she screams.

  “Okay, okay,” I say calmly. I slowly lower the bowl on top of the unsuspecting mouse until I have it safe within the tiny dome. The mouse doesn’t seem to care. He nibbles his piece of cheese.

  “Now what are you going to do with it?” she asks. She steps warily down from the couch cushion.

  Hell, I have no idea. “I’m going to…take it ou
tside.”

  Katie has a wide envelope lying on the counter. I pick it up and slide it under the edge of the bowl, slowly inching beneath the tiny little beast until I have him carefully trapped.

  “He’s actually kind of cute,” I tell her.

  She leans close to me, and the scent of her shampoo tickles my nose. She used to smell like Love’s Baby Soft. Now she smells like Love’s Baby Soft and comfort. She’s really, really pregnant, I have to remind myself. Because being this close is like shooting a lightning bolt straight to my middle. And lower. And that’s just wrong. Katie’s not available. Not by a long shot.

  “He’s cuter now that he’s in the bowl,” she says, calmer now. She’s still leaning against me though, with her hand on my arm. “Thank you, Jake.”

  “You’re welcome.” I have this irresistible urge to lean down and kiss her. “I really want to kiss you right now,” I whisper.

  She looks up at me for half a second. “I really want to be kissed,” she whispers back. Then she takes her hand off my arm and rubs a tiny circle over her belly. “But I’m not quite ready for anything like that.”

  “Can I kiss your forehead?” I ask, a grin tugging at my lips.

  Her brow furrows. “You want to kiss my forehead?”

  “Yeah, I do.” I hold out the bowl and envelope to one side. “I did catch the beast with the gnarly fangs that was out to do you great harm. Your kids too. I saved the day.” I shrug. “I think I earned it.”

  She leans close and pulls her dark bangs back from her forehead. I bend down and press my lips firmly to her soft skin, lingering a bit longer than I should, but I can’t help it. It’s Katie.

  “I won’t ask questions, Katie. I promise. If I don’t ask questions, can I still come and see you?”

  Her eyes jerk up to mine. “Yes. I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

  “Okay.” I kiss her forehead again. “I’ll stop asking questions you don’t want to answer.”

  “Okay.” She breathes out and visibly relaxes. “Thank you for catching the gnarly beast who was bent on death and destruction.”

  “I’m going to take it outside.”

  “Don’t let it eat my kids.”

  I chuckle. “I promise.”

  “Do you want some eggs?” she asks. Then we look over and realize that the whole time we’ve been talking, Sally has been eating every bite from every plate, including every last egg on the serving platter. “Well, I can make some more.”

  Sally gets down from where his big body was leaning across the table. Katie laughs. It’s the great big belly laugh that I remember from when we were kids. When Katie laughed, the world stopped to listen.

  “He’s really a good dog,” she says, shaking her head. “I guess he just likes eggs.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I admit. I’ve seen him for all of what seems like five minutes since I got him.

  “He slept in the bed with Trixie last night.”

  “That’s nice of her, to share her bed.”

  “She slept all night. No nightmares or crying. It’s been a long time since she’s done that.” Then she remembers I’m still holding the mouse. “You want to get that thing out of my house, Jake?” She nods toward the bowl.

  “Yep.”

  I go and take the mouse outside. Her kids help me by finding the perfect spot to set it free, but I don’t tell Katie that. Let her think her hero vanquished the monster. Then Katie makes more eggs, and I join them for the loudest, goofiest breakfast known to mankind.

  But in the mania, there’s a sort of peace, too.

  19

  Katie

  Jake, Mr. Jacobson, the kids and I settle into a sort of rhythm during the next two weeks. They show up for dinner, bringing all the food with them, and they cook it on our grill. Then Jake and I wash dishes after dinner and talk about nothing and everything while Gabby beats Mr. Jacobson at cards. Trixie puts bows in Sally’s fur, paints his nails, or brushes him until he gleams while all this is going on. Alex is the only one who’s left out.

  He’s still throwing bottles into the lake with notes to God in them. Jake brings them to me. He doesn’t say anything. He just passes them over and I take them. They all say the same thing. They’re beseeching God to send his dad back because he thinks we’re in trouble.

  And we are. The longer we’re here, the more I feel it. He’s going to come. He’s going to wreck the peace I’ve built here.

  “Hey, Jake,” I ask as I dry the last glass after dinner.

  “Hey, Katie,” he replies with a smile.

  “Do you have Wi-Fi at the big house?”

  He nods. “Sure do.”

  “Do you think I could come and use it?” I have it on my phone, but of course I didn’t bring that with me.

  “Sure,” he says. He stares hard at me. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I respond, shrugging off his concern with a breezy wave. Over the past two weeks, Jake has stopped looking at me like I’m a puzzle he has to figure out. He’s become my friend again. A friend who occasionally places lingering kisses on my forehead, or sits on the couch next to me with his hand on my belly, trying to get the baby to bop his palm. “I just want to do some Web searching.”

  “You can go now, if you want,” he says, nodding his head toward the big house. “I’ll stay here with the kids.”

  “Oh, Gabby can watch them.”

  “Gabby is currently winning every last dollar in Pop’s wallet.”

  “I’m going to make her give it all back. I promise.”

  “Are you kidding?” he says on a laugh. “This is the most fun Pop has had in a long time. Don’t you dare make her give it back.”

  I shake my head. “She can’t just keep it. It’s not right.”

  “It’s right. She deserves it. She should get a babysitting fee just for keeping the old man entertained. Since she’s started playing cards with him, I haven’t had to go to the bingo hall and get him out of bingo jail even once.”

  “Bingo jail?”

  “It’s where they put old men who get grab-ass-y. Bingo jail. I’ve had to bail Pop out more than once.”

  “He always was a pistol.” I place the last dish in the cabinet. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go to use the Wi-Fi?”

  “Positive,” he says. “Go ahead. The door is open and the password is on the back of the modem on the kitchen counter.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” Impulsively, I step onto my tiptoes, put my hand on his shoulder, and kiss him on the cheek.

  He leans in to kiss me on the cheek too, but accidentally grazes the corner of my mouth. My heart begins to beat double time. “You should go,” he whispers, his cheek lingering close to mine.

  “I should go,” I say. But I don’t. I stand there next to him, breathing the same air as Jake, enjoying the moment.

  Suddenly, the door opens and we spring apart. “Hey, Jake,” Alex says, tossing the football up in the air and catching it. “Want to toss the football around?”

  “Hell yeah,” Jake says, and he dries his hands on a towel. Then he opens his arms and Alex tosses him the ball. “Go ahead, Katie,” he tells me. “Take the golf cart.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” I get my computer from the bedroom and take Mr. Jacobson’s golf cart to their house.

  It’s a big house set on a hill, with a fantastic view of the water. I set up the Wi-Fi and open my computer, then check my email.

  There are hundreds of emails, mostly from him. The one person I don’t want to talk to is the only one who seems to want to communicate with me. The emails go from pleading and sweet to venom and loathing. They’re threatening, then apologetic, then loaded with curse words and swearing. He swears he will find me. He swears he will love me. He swears he will never stop looking. He swears he will be a better person. He swears he will change. He swears he will get help.

  I believed that one. Once. I believed he could.

  Then, the very last email, which was sent four days ago, opens up in my inbox.

&
nbsp; Dearest Katie,

  If you don’t come home, I will find you and kill you.

  With utmost affection,

  Me

  I drop my head into my hands. Then I forward all the emails, every last one, to the agent back home who is assigned to my case.

  The baby kicks, and I suddenly have to pee.

  I leave the computer open, because I still haven’t done the Web searches I wanted to do. I wanted to check the newspapers back home and see if there’s anything I need to be aware of. There’s always the tiny chance that he has done something stupid and he’s in prison again. That would be a blessing. But the agent assigned to my case would have gotten a message to me by now if that had happened.

  I wander down the hallway, trying to remember the way to the bathroom. I open the first door I come to and stop when I realize it’s Jake’s room. It hasn’t changed. His baseball trophies still line the shelf and he has pictures stuck to the corners of his dresser mirror. I step closer and see one of him and Fred when they were young. Fred came here every summer, from what Jake told me. They were pretty close, partners in crime. They got into more trouble than two people should be allowed to get into. The picture of Fred with his bright red hair makes me smile. We had a lot of good times together, the three of us.

  But what makes me stop, heave in a breath, and clutch my heart, is the picture in the frame on the edge of his bedside table. It’s grown-up Jake. And a woman. He has his arm around her and she’s glowing. So is he. She has golden hair that hangs past her shoulders, and her face is radiant in the sunshine. She’s also very, very pregnant.

  “I was supposed to be a dad,” a voice says from behind me.

  I startle, and Jake walks up behind me.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” he says, his voice heavy and full of emotion. He swallows hard.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You first, Katie,” he says. He jerks a thumb toward the kitchen. “I saw your computer.”