Brenda Novak - When Summer Comes

Besides, her mother would want to take care of her, would pressure her to move home, and she wasn’t ready. The doctors had given her until the end of summer. She wanted to enjoy as much of that time as possible.

Chances were good she wouldn’t die suddenly, anyway. First she’d become too ill to take care of herself. At that point, she’d come out with it. But right now, the medication her doctor prescribed kept her fairly healthy, if she was careful to eat right, get plenty of rest and manage her stress. It even kept her from looking jaundiced.

“I’m happy,” she insisted.

“So it’s not me. It’s not that we’ve...been together?”

“No.” She smiled as she touched his face. “I know you’d marry me if I wanted you to. You already married another girl just because you slept with her.” She was teasing. Their entire group teased Kyle about Noelle. First she’d used her pregnancy to get him to propose. Then she’d aborted the baby without consulting him when he wouldn’t buy her the mansion she wanted. It was the most astonishing act of spite Callie had ever seen. She still couldn’t bear to look at Noelle, who was once again working at A Damsel’s Delights, a clothing and handmade-jewelry boutique in town.

Fortunately for Kyle, that episode of his life was over. Callie thought it was also fortunate for him that she’d given up on love and marriage; she had no expectations where he was concerned. She didn’t have time to start a family. Even if she found the right man, she wouldn’t want to get romantically involved, wouldn’t want to hurt a partner by dragging him through what could easily turn out to be her death.

“The change in you...it happened about the time we first slept together,” Kyle pressed.

No, it had happened precisely six weeks after. They’d both drunk a little too much and slept together on New Year’s Eve. During the next four weeks she’d begun feeling poorly—tired, nauseous, feverish. She’d assumed she had the flu but the symptoms wouldn’t go away. Then she became jaundiced and, before people could start to remark on it, she’d decided to drive to Sacramento and get checked out at a twenty-four-hour medical center. She must’ve had some inkling that it was serious, or she wouldn’t have gone to such pains to avoid the local doctor. Still, it was a bombshell when, on Valentine’s Day, a physician from that clinic called with the news.

When she didn’t speak, Kyle said, “I can’t help but assume it’s what we’ve done that—”

“Kyle, you have nothing to worry about,” she broke in. “There’s no blame here. I want you to remember that, okay?”

She’d grown too serious. Her intensity made him even more suspicious, but before he could respond, Levi returned with her phone. Hearing his tread on the scarred wooden floor of the old kitchen, she whirled around to face him. “Any luck?”

When his eyes shifted from her to Kyle, Callie felt herself blush. She feared he already understood more about what was going on between them than the group they socialized with so often.

“The police have it,” he said. “They picked it up probably an hour before you got there.”

“Too bad I missed it. But at least it wasn’t stolen.” She didn’t ask how much the impound fees would be. She doubted he had the money to pay them and didn’t want to put him on the spot in front of Kyle. Besides, she felt partially responsible for his loss, since she was the one who’d told the officers about it.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Kyle looked at Levi. “Want me to drive you to the impound lot?”

Levi shook his head. “No need. I’m not ready to go there yet. But if you’re heading toward town, I’ll hitch a ride as far as you’re going.”

He wasn’t asking for any special consideration. That seemed to soften Kyle up. “I can take you wherever you’d like to go.”

With barely a wince to give away what the movement cost him, Levi hauled his bag over his shoulder as if he might not be coming back. “I saw a gas station a few miles back.”

“The Gas-N-Go?” Kyle said.

He nodded. “Anywhere close to that will be fine.”

Finished with the dishes, Callie dried her hands. “What are you planning to do there?”

“Find work,” he said, and turned away.

She stopped him. “You can’t work! Not yet. You’re covered in stitches.”

He didn’t seem to think that mattered. “I’ll live.”

“Wait.” She sent Kyle a glance that warned him not to interfere. “I could use some help around here.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Doing what?”

“My parents want to sell the place. I told them I’d get it in shape.”

“Which would include...”

She could tell she’d caught his interest. “I’ve been meaning to repair and paint the barn, for one thing.” Her parents had bought the paint; she just hadn’t felt strong enough to get up on a ladder. She’d been considering hiring someone, anyway. The place had sat empty for so long there were plenty of other projects for her to do. Just keeping up with her gardening and photography seemed to be a full-time job. “If you’ll provide the labor, I’ll provide room and board until you finish. I’ll also front the money to retrieve your motorcycle and get it fixed.”

He adjusted the bandages covering the stitches on his right arm. “How do you know I won’t take advantage? That I won’t fix my motorcycle and leave before I ever paint the barn?”

“Will you?” she asked, but she figured there could be worse things. Liver failure had a way of putting smaller disappointments in perspective.

There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “No. Where’s the paint?”

She chuckled. “You’re not in any shape to start quite yet. And the fees on that motorcycle are only going to go up the longer we leave it. Let’s get that taken care of first.”

* * *

Levi kept quiet while Callie drove to the impound lot in Kyle’s truck with his trailer lagging behind. The silence stretched on so long it began to feel oppressive, so she made an attempt at small talk. “Last night you said you’d been in the military. Where’d you serve?”

When he glanced over, she could see him weighing whether or not he wanted to engage in this conversation.

“Is where you served classified information?” She grinned, trying to tempt him into lowering his guard, but he didn’t even crack a smile.

“It’s pointless to go through the usual rituals. We won’t know each other long enough for any of it to matter.”

“It’ll take a week to finish the barn, and that’s only if you’re a fast worker. So humor me.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Afghanistan.”

“That must’ve been tough.”

No response, but she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about such a difficult post.

“Where are you from?”

“Seattle.”

“Do you have family there?”

He wasn’t looking at her. He’d gone back to staring out the window. “Some.”

“A wife? Kids?” She’d seen no ring on his finger, but she knew that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t committed.

A muscle jumped in his cheek, giving her the impression that she’d just struck a nerve.

“Neither,” he said, the word falling like an ax.

Curious as to why he’d be sensitive on this subject, she asked, “So you’ve been married?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, but eventually he managed another word. “No.”

“Neither have I.” She leaned forward to catch his eye. “In case you were wondering.”

He made no comment, which led her to believe he hadn’t been wondering—or wasn’t willing to admit it if he was. He’d have to open up if he was going to ask any questions about her, and that would risk her asking even more questions about him.