Read Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1 Online

Authors: Allie Boniface

Tags: #summer;small town;New York;Adirondacks;stalker;ex-husband;flashbacks;amnesia;repressed memory;accident;inheritance;carpenter;renovation;Victorian;museum curator;guitar;songwriting;sweet;sensual

Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1 (7 page)

BOOK: Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1
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“The McCready place.”

“Heard that too?”

“You know how people talk.” Kind eyes met hers and held them. “How long are you staying?”

“Only another few days. Long enough to list the place with Sadie Rogers. Then I’m heading back to San Francisco.”

“Ah.” The rescue truck roared to life. A lanky arm waved from the driver’s side window, and the horn beeped. Gabe raised a hand in acknowledgement. “Guess I’d better go.”

Summer nodded, not sure if relief or disappointment kept her from speaking.

“Do you…” His expression sobered. “Do you want to get together? Maybe have a drink or lunch or something?”

Her chest tightened. Peel back the layers of ten years? Make conversation about the present while the past sat on the table between them and waited for attention? The hazy flashbacks swarming her waking hours were one thing. Facing the one person who could bring them all to life was something else altogether.

Gabe spoke again before she could answer. “Never mind. Probably better we don’t. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do before you go back anyway.”

Summer nodded as he walked away and thought that was the smartest thing anyone had said to her in a long time.

Chapter Seven

“Can I help?” Dinah perched on the curb as Damian unloaded bags of supplies from the trunk of the car. She jumped on first one foot and then the other, across the sidewalk and back.

“Not with this, ladybug.” He juggled two bags of supplies and set them on the ground. Reaching inside the front door of the Camaro, he pulled out a smaller paper bag. “But you can carry lunch.”

The girl wrapped both arms around it. “What is it?”

“Sandwiches from the deli. Turkey and tomato, your favorite.”

Dinah grinned.

“And salami with lots of peppers and onions for Mac,” Damian added.

“’Bout time too,” a gruff voice called from the front lawn. “I’m starving.” Mac stuck his head through the hedgerow and winked at Dinah. “So you’re the one with the food, little lady?”

She nodded, her face aglow. “Right here.”

“You get pickles?”

“And soda and chips.” Carrying the supplies, Damian followed his boss and Dinah around to the back porch.

The three sat in their usual spot on the steps. Mac dug into the bag and passed around cellophane-wrapped sandwiches, and Damian broke open the bottles of soda and handed Dinah a stack of napkins. Within a minute, a moustache of mustard spread across her freckled face.

“Is that mine?” He pretended to reach for the sandwich she held, but Dinah jumped to her feet and dashed down the steps and around the side of the house. At the corner she stopped, one eye on her brother, and ate the rest of her sandwich through giggles.

“Damn, she’s cute,” Mac said around a mouthful of pickle.

Damian nodded.

“How’s your mom?”

“Pretty good.”

“She working?”

“She did the books for a place in Silver Valley, few months back. Didn’t work out.”

Mac stood, one hand massaging his left knee.

“You all right?”

“Huh?” Mac grimaced. “Oh, yeah. Too many tackles in high school. Left me with no cartilage in either knee. Course I didn’t care back then. Told coach to wrap me up, and I’d play ’til I couldn’t move.”

“And now you really can’t.”

Mac laughed. “Hell, who thinks about that when you’re in high school?”

Damian scanned the lawn. “Where’s Dinah?” He didn’t like it when she disappeared, even for a few minutes. Made him nervous to have her out of his sight. He supposed it wasn’t really fair to his sister, watching over her shoulder all the time, calling her back and interrupting her games of make-believe, but he couldn’t help it. He knew what T.J. was capable of.

Mac hobbled down the steps and looked around. After a minute, he pointed to a grove of small pine trees. “Over there.”

Damian shaded his eyes and saw the tiny figure. She waved her hands and talked to a chipmunk that sat on the ground beside her. He let out a tense breath.
So quiet. Too quiet.
Sometimes he wished she’d just run screaming in circles. Even on the soccer field, Dinah stood apart from the others, a silent statue who waited for the ball but never slapped her teammates in high fives or cried out when she twisted an ankle. He supposed she’d learned the silence from their mother. He didn’t like the idea.

“Hello?” The voice came from somewhere around the front of the house.

Mac looked up at Damian and winked. “Back here, Summer!”

Damian ignored his buddy’s knowing glance and leaned against the railing as she approached. Part of him wanted to disappear inside the house. The other part wanted to pick up where they’d left off the other night, after the kiss and before the anger. He cleared his throat and ran one hand along the banister. She looked as good as he remembered. Better, even. One strap of her green tank top had slipped off her shoulder, and he stuck his hands in his back pockets to resist the urge to slide it up again. Or down.

“Hi there.”

Summer fixed the strap herself, juggling two white Styrofoam containers. “I brought some goodies.” She met his gaze. “Peace offering.”

You can’t buy me off with brownies
, he wanted to say, but the comment made him sound like an ass even inside his own head.
Get over it. Not her fault she’s gotta sell the place.

Mac had crossed to her before the words were out of her mouth. “Lanie’s? All right.” He dug into one container and came out with an enormous chocolate chip cookie. “Thanks,” he mumbled. The crumbs fell from his mouth.

She offered the other one to Damian, and when he took it, he let his fingers brush against hers. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” she said under her breath, and Damian’s throat closed. God, she had bottomless eyes. Fifty different emotions shimmered under their surface, and for an instant he wanted to lose himself there, just plummet down into her invisible ocean and find a place to float.

She stepped back after a long moment of silence. “Wow.” She leaned back. “It looks good. I didn’t get a chance to see the roof the other day.”

“Sure you want to sell it?” He hated himself for asking, but he had to try. So much lay at stake if they had to pull up roots again.

Her glance skittered away. “What choice do I have?”

“You could subdivide it. You talk to Sadie about that? Maybe we could work something out. I could buy the piece with the farmhouse on it, and…” He’d stayed up thinking about it last night, trying to work out the finances in his head. It was the best solution so far.

She looked away, across the tree line. “I did.”

“And?”

“Damian, it would take weeks. Months, maybe. I’d need an engineer. Someone to draw up new blueprints. Someone else to do an environmental study.”

He stared at her. “So it’s not worth it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Maybe not exactly. But it’s too much work for you, and—”

“And I don’t have that kind of time or money.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Believe it or not, I’m not doing this to try and ruin your family.”

“You don’t know my family. Or anything about me.”

Her eyes blazed. “Goes both ways.”

“I know that half the reason you’re running back to San Francisco so fast is because your father told you—”

“Be very careful what you say next.” Her voice, low and threatening, seared him straight through the gut.

He lifted both hands and backed away. “Fine. Let’s just make a deal not to talk the rest of the time you’re here.”

“Fine.”

“You have any kind of paperwork for me, put it in the mail. Or give it to Mac.”

He thought he saw tears rise in her eyes, but he turned away before he could see for sure.

“Damian—”

“I have things to do.” He headed for the nearest scaffolding. Hand over hand, he hauled himself twenty feet into the air. Without a look behind, he pounded nails into shingles until anger and fatigue drove thoughts of Summer Thompson, and that damn green strap sliding down her shoulder, from his mind.

* * * * *

Summer stood in the middle of the lawn, stunned. She’d brought them cookies. She’d apologized and tried to explain herself. And Damian had thrown her words back in her face and then ignored her. If he’d slapped her, it might have hurt less.

Well, fine. I won’t bother talking to you again, that’s for damn sure.
She dusted crumbs from her hands and turned to go. But then she saw a little girl sitting under the trees a few yards away. “Hey, who’s that? Mac?”

The stocky man adjusted his tool belt. “Ah, that’s Damian’s little sister. Dinah. She hangs around here sometimes.”

Dinah?
Summer glanced up to where Damian worked above them. The one he’d mentioned the other day. The one she’d thought was his girlfriend, his fiancée even. Not his sister. She glared at his back.

“I don’t know your family, huh?”

Summer strode across the lawn, watching Dinah sing and trace patterns in the grass as she approached. The girl’s hands moved in circles, fingers fluttering. In her lap lay a pile of daisies and dandelions. She seemed to be enjoying herself, but she didn’t smile. Rather, a serious look darkened her face, making the expression in her eyes appear much older than the seven or eight years old Summer guessed she probably was.

“Hi there.” Summer knelt beside her. “I’m Summer Thompson.”

Dinah didn’t say anything for a minute. Her hands continued to orbit an imaginary sun above the grass, skimming the surface in rhythm to her humming. Finally she raised her head. “Hi.”

“What are you playing?”

Dinah placed her hands on her knees and looked at her lap. “Just a game I made up.”

“What’s it called?”

The little girl exhaled at the question, and Summer recalled how she herself had been as a child, impatient of adults who tried to understand her language or pretend they remembered what it was like to be young and alone.

“It doesn’t have a name.”

Summer leaned back on her heels.
She’s carrying around the weight of the world with the emotions of someone twenty years older. Why?

“Are you going to make us leave our house?” Dinah looked up from her game. “Damian said some lady was going to sell it and make us leave.”

Guilt stabbed Summer in the chest. “Oh, sweetie. No, I’m not. Not if I can help it.”
Terrific.
Now she’d just lied to a little girl. She thought a minute. “Hey, have you seen the inside of this house? The one your brother is working on?”

Dinah shook her head, but curiosity filled her wide brown eyes.

“Would you like to?”

“Okay.”

Summer stood and held out a hand. The girl pushed herself to her feet but didn’t take it, and she kept her distance as they walked back to the house. Summer put her hand in her pocket instead and watched the girl’s thin back and long legs move in silence. Something about the way Dinah carried herself, the shift of her shoulders and the jut of her chin, reminded her of Damian. An old, familiar ache pulsed inside her—the wish for a sibling still living. The wish for two parents or a close-knit family like the Hunters’. Funny how a few days back in Pine Point could set those old bruises to hurting.

A cell phone rang as she and Dinah neared the house. Summer checked her pocket, but she’d left her own in the car.

Two stories up, Damian answered his. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

The concern—no, the almost-fear—in his voice jerked her attention upward. Damian stuck his hammer in his tool belt and was on the ground in less than ten seconds. A combination of panic and anger contorted his expression. “Slow down. Dinah’s right here, with me. Of course I’m sure. I’m looking at her.” He wrapped an arm around his sister and drew her close.

“Did you call the police? Well, call them right now. Did you lock the doors? Did you get the number off Caller ID? I’ll be right there.” He dropped the phone into his pocket. Without looking at Mac, he yelled up, “Gotta take Dinah home and check on my mom, okay? I’ll be right back.”

From the balcony, Mac grunted assent.

Damian pulled off his tool belt and ran a rag across his forehead.

“Everything all right?” Summer asked, though clearly it wasn’t.

He didn’t answer.

Dinah’s lip trembled. “Is Mom okay?”

Her brother smiled, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. “She’s fine. She just got a phone call that made her nervous, so we’re going home to make sure she feels safe.” He took his sister by the hand and led her toward the path that wound around the property to the farmhouse. Urgency hovered over them, a cloud of tension that grayed the day. In another moment, they were gone.

Summer shaded her eyes. “Hey, Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that all about?”

He leaned both arms on the balcony railing. “Not sure. Damian’s mom has an ex who’s bad news. I know they moved here to get away from him, but…maybe he’s back in the picture.”

Summer’s shoulders sagged as the guilt around her heart deepened. “Really?”

Mac nodded. “He keeps telling his mom to get a restraining order, but I guess she hasn’t yet.”

She shivered. No wonder Dinah walked around scared of her shadow; no wonder Damian kept one eye on home.
You can’t read this place
.
Closed doors hide so much.

Summer made her way back to her car, turning over possibilities inside her head. Maybe she could work something out with Sadie or an engineer after all. She couldn’t turn the Knights out of their house, not if some crazy ex-husband was stalking them. If they’d found safety here in Pine Point, why should she rip that away from them? Dinah’s solemn face appeared in her mind’s eye, and her heart broke a little. She knew enough about ghosts to know they never stopped haunting you.

She stared at the mountains. Why couldn’t the lives people built here match the idyllic hills or the green lawns that formed such perfect patchworks when seen from the highway? Why did shadows always have to carve things up into an ugly, fractured mosaic? Why did pain always ride on the heels of happiness?

And why the hell did she care so much about someone she’d met less than a week ago?

BOOK: Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1
2.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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