Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1 (15 page)

“Here.” Dinah presented her with a fistful of wildflowers. The stems were still damp. Purples and yellows and pinks poked out in all directions.

Summer took the bouquet and felt a tightness in her chest. “These are for me?”

Dinah nodded.

“Thank you, sweetie. They’re beautiful.” An odd lump rose into the center of her throat.

Dinah beamed. Her gangly legs stuck out from her denim shorts, and her bony elbows were scuffed with grass stains.
Only their eyes are different
. Unlike Damian’s dark blue ones, which matched the color of Pine Point Lake at dusk, Dinah’s were a deep brown, almost ebony, and her lashes endless.

She crouched to a seat beside Summer. “The porch looks really good.”

Summer laid the flowers on her lap and ran one hand along the smooth wooden step. “Yes, it does. Your brother did a good job.”

Damian and Mac had finished the front porch over the weekend. Dinah was right: it looked good. Actually, Summer thought, it looked more than good. It looked magnificent. The wide steps, the intricate carvings at the tops of the columns, the long lines of the porch as it stretched from end to end of the house—it all almost took her breath away. She’d gotten so used to entering and exiting through the back door that she’d almost forgotten about the front. This entrance seemed too fine to use everyday. She glanced behind her. Yesterday the double front doors that her father had special-ordered from Chicago had arrived, and Damian had stayed late to hang them. The entire façade of the house was complete.

Dinah leaned against Summer’s knee, and Summer found herself rubbing the girl’s back. Her fingers felt every bump in Dinah’s spine.
Skin and bones
.
I used to be exactly the same way
. Skinny as the day was long, she hadn’t blossomed until tenth grade, when all the other girls—the Hadleys, anyway, and their friends, the girls who really mattered—had been wearing size 34B bras for years, along with miniskirts that showed off womanly hips and thighs. Summer, on the other hand, had stared into the mirror every day from the moment she turned thirteen, wishing on the stars for curves in the right places. She hoped fate would be a little kinder to Dinah. Sometimes nature wasn’t very nice.

Summer bent down and whispered into the girl’s ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

Dinah’s head swiveled around. “What is it?”

“It’s upstairs. It’s a secret.” And really, it was. Summer had discovered it just that afternoon, in her wanderings through the east wing of the third floor. The guys hadn’t tackled that floor yet, because it needed the least amount of work.

Dinah followed her upstairs, one small damp hand in her larger one. The sun slanted across the floor and Summer wondered again about the people who’d lived here all those years ago. Along this hallway, a smooth groove had been worn in the wood. A chip nicked the otherwise clean lines of the wall. A crack worked its way down the length of the banister.
Marks from another lifetime
,
kind of like the ones that scar your heart across the decades.

“Here.” At the back of the far bedroom, Summer slid her fingers along the wall until they found a seam. She reached up with one hand, down with the other, and pushed.

A door slipped open.

Dinah’s jaw dropped. “What’s that?”

A cracked round window at the back of the space cast a thin line of sun into the shadows. Summer had tested the floorboards earlier. Though dusty and warped, they held solid. “It’s a secret room.”

In her youth she’d heard stories about the house harboring fugitives on the Underground Railroad. Though pretty far north, the town of Pine Point would have made a good final stop for slaves fleeing to Canada. She looked around the room. If it were true, she’d just uncovered a gold mine in the eyes of potential buyers. Most homes that could prove a connection to that historic period were listed on national registries, protected and valued far above regular market price. She’d have to do a little more digging downtown and see what she could find out.

“Neat, isn’t it?”

The ceiling slanted low as it met the eaves. From the outside, Summer suspected, it would look as though this back bedroom simply extended the full space; since the hideaway was merely ten square feet, the naked eye would never be able to tell the difference. A familiar thrill coursed through her. She loved discoveries. She loved history that took shape in actual things, wood and stone you could put your hands on. She’d spent her life researching places like this. To own a slice of the nineteenth century, even for a few weeks, was the closest she could ever hope to be to nirvana.

Dinah wandered from one end of the small room to the other. She ran her fingers over some ancient marks carved into the wood. “Did people live in here?”

Summer cocked her head. Eight might be a little young to be hearing about the cruel side of the slave trade, she decided. “More like kids played in here. Hid from their parents. Made up stories and games on rainy days.”

Dinah grinned. “Like me.”

“Just like you.” Summer rubbed the dust from the streaked glass window. From here she could make out only a square of grass and an arc of sky. Something like a chill passed along her arms. Yes, history had taken its toll here. She could feel it.

“I like it,” Dinah said from behind her.

“Me too.”

“Can it be just our secret?”

“Absolutely.” She dropped a kiss onto Dinah’s messy hair. “And now I think it’s about time for our tea party.” They slipped back into the bedroom, and Summer’s lungs expanded with fresh air. A little too claustrophobic for her taste. She wondered if she’d made a mistake, showing it to the little girl.

But Dinah giggled to herself as they descended the stairs, and the secret room seemed long forgotten by the time they reached the first floor. Her smile changed. “I invited someone else to our tea party.”

“You did?” Summer put a hand on Dinah’s shoulder as they stepped over boxes. “Who?”

But when they stepped onto the porch, she had her answer. Twenty yards away, Damian was grilling burgers on a portable grill, stainless steel and shiny in the sun. She’d never seen it before. He looked over at her and winked. Butterflies swooped inside her stomach. He lifted the grill cover, and trails of smoke escaped, floating up to the sky.

“They’re done,” he said.

“I’ll get the salad,” Dinah piped up.

Salad?
Summer looked from the girl to her brother and back again.

“Dinah, go wash your hands at the hose out back first.” Damian approached the porch.

“She doesn’t have to use the hose.” Summer laughed. “Come inside and use my bathroom.”

“Okay.” Dinah slipped inside.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Damian climbed the first two steps and stopped.

“She’s a
girl
,” Summer said with mock condescension. “She shouldn’t have to use the hose the way you guys do.” She crossed her arms. “Savages.”

Damian laughed out loud and his dimples winked in the sun. She loved the way it sounded, carefree and full, from way down deep in his belly.

“Yup, that’s me. Guess I’ll go clean up out back, then,” he said, “with the other savages.”

Summer dropped her arms. “I was kidding.”

Dinah stood in the doorway, cheeks pink. “Summer?”

“What’s up, ladybug?” Adopting the nickname she’d heard Damian use, she slung an arm around the girl’s shoulders. Dinah wrapped her own arm around Summer’s waist, and together they walked into the kitchen.

“Do you like my brother?” she asked.

Summer pulled open the refrigerator door. Inside sat a wooden salad bowl, overflowing with greens.
When did they plan this?
She saw a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and wondered if Hannah was in on the secret tea party-slash-BBQ dinner as well. She bumped the door closed with her hip. “Of course I like your brother, sweetheart. Why?” She steadied her voice.

Dinah leaned against a counter and studied Summer with thoughtful eyes. “I think you should be his girlfriend.”

Summer kept her face averted as she rummaged in a drawer for some utensils. “Oh, I can’t be Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

How did she answer that?
Because the way he makes me feel scares the hell out of me. Because he thinks I still have feelings for another man.
“Because I’m only in town for a little while.”

Dinah pouted.

“But your brother and I are good friends,” Summer lied, “and that’s better than being a girlfriend, because friends can be friends for a very long time.” An eight-year-old couldn’t read her face the way her twenty-six-year-old brother could, Summer hoped. She found some paper plates and napkins and hefted the salad bowl under one arm. Through the back windows she could see Damian rinsing off his arms and face. He’d removed his T-shirt, and a broad, bare chest glistened with heat and wetness. Water flew everywhere as the hose snaked through his hands. She almost dropped the salad tongs.

“But do you think you would be Damian’s girlfriend if you lived in Pine Point for real?” Dinah followed Summer back through the house and out onto the porch again.

“You have a lot of questions today.”

“Dame says it’s good to ask questions,” Dinah retorted as she laid the cookies on a paper plate. “It means you’re smart.”

“Well, your brother is right,” Summer said, “but—”

“Right about what?” Damian scooped up the burgers onto paper plates, handed them to Summer and Dinah and joined them on the porch.

“Nothing. Your sister and I were having a girls’ talk, that’s all.”

Dinah beamed and inched as close to Summer as she could without actually climbing into her lap. For a while, the three sat without speaking as the last rays of sun glowed down on them. Summer glanced at brother and sister. Even the way Damian and Dinah crossed their legs and balanced their plates on one knee, the left one, matched. A sudden sadness seized her.

“That’s Mom,” Damian said when a horn beeped. He glanced down at his watch. “Time for you to go, ladybug.”

Summer’s breath caught, and she almost wanted the girl to stay, just to run interference. She bit her lip instead and patted Dinah on the back.

Dinah helped herself to two cookies. “Okay.” She reached over and hugged Summer. “Bye.”

Summer’s heart warmed at the unexpected embrace. “Bye, sweetheart.” She spied a small yellow car idling beyond the shrubbery. “Tell your mom I said hi, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

Dinah skipped down the last four steps. An unruly ponytail bobbed at the back of her neck as she ran across the lawn. “Hi, Mom.” Her faint, cricket voice floated on the air and was lost in the rumbling of the engine. A door creaked open and then slammed shut. The car pulled away from the curb, and they were gone.

Summer sat on the top step and stared up into the sky. Damian had disappeared inside, but she didn’t really mind. She needed a few minutes to collect herself and calm her racing pulse. She could still smell his cologne in the air beside her and feel the warmth of his body only inches away. If he hadn’t gotten up, she would have peeled off her clothes just to feel his skin on hers.

She inhaled, taking in a good long breath of clear Pine Point air. This she would miss. The air and the view of the stars at night. A San Francisco skyline could never take the place of bright white dots skating to eternity in the black above you. She raised one finger and moved it through the growing darkness, tracing the constellations she knew so well. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she peered again toward the street. Nothing but faint streetlights winked back.

The front door opened and closed. “You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking about how good this place looks,” she lied. “About how much you and Mac have done this summer.”

“Well, we had some help. But my mom says the same thing. She’s even talking about buying a place of her own and redoing it.” He paused and then sat beside her. “She loves coming over here.”

“She’s terrific. She has so many ideas for the house. We were talking about the bedrooms upstairs, and the library…” She didn’t speak for a few seconds. “It’s meant a lot to me, to spend time with your mother and Dinah. To feel…” She paused again. “…like I belong here.”

“They both think you’re great.”

Summer reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “And you,” she added. “I like spending time with you.” She left her hand there for a moment, and he laid his own on top of it, gently, as if with too much pressure he might burst the bubble they hovered inside.

He swallowed. “What about Gabe?”

“What about him?”

“You get things sorted out?”

She nodded, not really sure how to answer. “I think so.”

“I hope so.” He laced his fingers through hers and didn’t speak again.

“Think you’ll ever build your own place?” Summer asked after a few moments of silence. “You’re good at it.”

He smiled. “I don’t think I’ll build from scratch. I’d like to restore one, maybe. Do something like this.” He flushed. Even in the half-light Summer could see it, a darkening of the cheeks, a shine in the center of his eyes. “Well, not exactly like this. Something on a smaller scale.”

“I know what you mean.”

Summer thought she heard something scuttling in the shadows behind her—a mouse? a squirrel looking for a spot to bed down?—and she turned to look over her shoulder. A bulky outline in the darkness startled her. It looked almost like a person, and she jumped.

“Is that—is that a guitar?”

He followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. I was playing a little for Dinah, earlier.”

“I didn’t know you were the musical type.” It seemed like a silly thing to say—after all, what did she know about him? A few puzzle pieces, a story here and there, not enough to put together the whole, complex person Damian Knight seemed to be. “Would you play something for me?” She didn’t know where the request came from and was surprised when it left her lips.

“Sure.” He moved past her, and the warmth from his sleeve touched her bare arm. She shivered in the hot night air.

Damian took the instrument from its case and cradled it in careful arms. Tuning, tweaking, he strummed a few chords and began to play “Yesterday” by the Beatles. At first it was only instrumental melody, the strings of the guitar humming the poignant song. But after a minute he began to sing along. His voice was husky but certain, caressing the words as if he’d sung them a hundred times.