A Perfect Love

Summer tried to muster up some enthusiasm as she glanced around the homey L-shaped apartment. “I’ve got wireless, but that’s convenient.”

Martha rushed across the sitting room/kitchen combination. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

Summer never could hide anything from her shrewd grandmother. “Nothing, Memaw. I’m just tired…and all of this is a bit overwhelming, I guess.”

“I told Jesse we should have called you and told you about selling the farm, but it was kind of spur of the moment. Then once we got here, well, we’re always going and doing.” She shrugged, shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Summer said, finishing her unpacking with a slam of the last drawer. “I haven’t exactly been faithful in the calling-home department.”

Martha came to stand next to her, her arm going around Summer’s shoulders as they stared at their reflections in the oval mirror over the dresser. “But we always knew you were there if we needed you.”

Summer looked down at her petite grandmother, love pouring over her. “Why didn’t you…call me? I mean, if you needed money or a place to live—”

“Oh, honey, we’re all right, money-wise. Your grandfather, Lord love him, he saves money with a frugal vengeance. And whether you want to believe it or not, your parents have always helped us out. They just don’t make a big fuss about it.”

Summer scoffed, then laughed. “Oh, not like they make such a big fuss about everything else? The trips, the houses and cars, the celebrities they hang out with.”

“They’re not as bad as all that,” Martha said, a touch of censure in her voice. “They just like to enjoy life. I do wish you’d make your peace with them.”

Summer walked into the compact kitchen, then stood staring at the stark white counters and cabinets. A wistful ache pulsed through her heart. “Oh, I’d love to do that, if I ever saw them.”

Her grandmother gave her a knowing, gentle look. “Didn’t they visit you last time they were passing through New York?”

Summer raised her chin. “Yes, in the airport restaurant at JFK. That was a charming visit, let me tell you.”

“But they did make the effort, right?”

“Right,” Summer replied, her defenses up. “So I guess they should get the Parents of the Year award for that little layover?”

“No, but you could cut them some slack,” Martha said, a twinkle in her eye.

“Okay, I’ll try, for your sake at least,” Summer retorted. “But…it’s just too hard to explain.”

Martha pursed her lips. “Well, I can’t squeeze blood from a turnip, so let’s change the subject. Tell me what brought you home for this special visit.”

Summer wanted to pour out her heart to her grandmother, but the day had just been too full of surprises for that. She needed time to think, to comprehend all the things that were going on around her. She needed time to absorb all the country charm of Golden Vista. Right now, it was screaming just a bit too loudly for her to fully appreciate it.

So she turned to her grandmother, determined not to put one speck of worry on those loving shoulders. “I just wanted to see y’all, is all.”

Martha came around the counter and took Summer into her arms. “Well, I’m so very thankful for that. I pray for you every day, honey. I pray for you to find love and happiness, and I pray for all of you girls to be safe up there in that big, scary city.”

“Well, only two of us are left,” Summer pointed out. “April is staying in Texas. We’ve got a September wedding to attend, Memaw.”

“Oh, that’s so precious,” Martha said, clasping her hands together. “April and Reed belong together.” Then she hugged Summer again. “I hope you find that kind of happiness one day.”

Summer allowed her grandmother’s sincere love to envelop her like a warm blanket. She closed her eyes and sank against the soft security of her grandmother’s embrace, sending up her own thanks to the God she was so mad at right now. “I love you, Memaw.”

“I know, darling. And I love you right back.” Then Martha let her go, but held onto her arms, her eyes going big. “So…what do you think about our Mack?”

“Mack Riley is a pushy, overbearing, overrated gardener,” Summer wrote in an e-mail to her cousins later that night.

Well, actually he’s not so overbearing, and he seems to be a good groundskeeper, but I don’t like the man. I didn’t like him on sight, even though I must admit he’s easy on the eye. Attractive in a rugged, outdoors kind of way. But I’m not interested. Not one bit. Even if the man did give me a ride and call a tow truck for my car. I’m not so helpless that I couldn’t have handled that myself, but it was nice to have someone step up and do something thoughtful. But then, that same man now lives in my grandparents’ house. And that’s just not right. Never mind that Memaw and Papaw act as if they’re on some sort of permanent vacation. I think they’re just putting on a good show. I can’t imagine that they’d actually be happy in this overblown old folks’ home. I came home expecting to find everything the way I’d left it. But everything has changed so much. Too much. I don’t know if I can handle this. Or Mack Riley.

Summer finished the e-mail, hitting the send button with a defiant punch to her mouse. She pushed away from the tiny kitchen desk and glanced up at the clock over the sink. It was past midnight, but she didn’t think she’d be sleeping any time soon. A deep fatigue pulled at her, making her wish for a long rest.

“If I could just be in my bed at the farm,” she said out loud to the quiet, efficient apartment. This little cracker box was clean and comfortable, but it didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right.

Her gaze fell across the little white Bible lying on the coffee table. A wave of guilt hit her, making her look away. “I don’t want to talk to You right now, Lord.”

But the Bible’s gold-etched cover drew Summer. She plopped down on the floral loveseat and grabbed the Bible, thumbing through it at random. The pages finally stopped at 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13. “Love is patience; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.”

Summer closed the book, then stared down at the cover. “I guess I’ve messed up in that department.” But then, she didn’t believe in a perfect kind of love. Love only caused pain and heartache.

She got up and went to the curtained glass-paneled door that opened to a small outside patio. Maybe some fresh air would calm her frazzled nerves. Tentatively, so as not to wake up any of the old people sleeping all around her, Summer opened the door and stepped out onto the rectangular patio. Putting her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she took a deep breath and willed herself to find some of that love and peace she’d just read about.

“Nice night.”

Summer jumped at hearing the deep, masculine voice a few feet away from her. Squinting, she saw him there in the moonlight. Mack Riley was sitting in a large white wooden swing underneath an arched rose trellis.

Summer’s peace was shattered and frayed. Gone. “You scared me,” she said, her gaze taking in the circular pavilion centered between the apartments.

“Didn’t mean to do that.”

“Don’t you ever go home?”

“I do. But I told you, I’m renovating the house right now. It’s a mess. I have an apartment here, too, remember? I stay over sometimes when I’ve got an early day ahead. Just until I get the house finished, though.”

Great, Summer thought. She’d have to see him night and day, hovering around all over the complex. Maybe she could keep busy and avoid him. “So that line about allowing me to have the house all to myself was just for show then?”

His foot stopped pushing and the swing creaked to a halt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you knew you had an apartment here when you made the offer. And here I was thinking you were being so gallant.”

“I told you I stay out there at the house sometimes, and here sometimes. If you’d decided to stay there, I couldn’t have done that. So, yes, I was trying to be considerate.”

She shifted then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it. I’m all unpacked here and things are just dandy. So how many apartments does this place have?”

“All told, over a hundred. That’s just the first phase though.”

Summer leaned against the wooden porch rail. “Well, I didn’t realize there were so many senior citizens in Athens, Texas.”

“They come from all around, looking for a good climate and a safe environment near the big medical centers. It’s a long-term answer to retirement.”

“I’m so glad you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I’m just here to do my job.”

She wondered about that, about how he’d wound up here of all places. But she’d save that for another day. “So what are you doing sitting out here in the dark?”

“Taking in the night air.” He patted the space on the swing next to him. “Want to sit with me?”

“No, I don’t. I came out here to…take a breath before I go to sleep.”

“Uh-huh. You couldn’t sleep either, right?”

She put her hands on her hips. “And how do you know that? Were you spying on me through the windows?”

He pushed his feet against the flagstone platform underneath the swing, causing the swing to creak as it moved back and forth. “No, I most certainly wasn’t. I didn’t even know you were in that particular apartment.”

“Yeah, right. You’re the yard boy, and you did take me to the office to check in and get a key. You probably know every nook and cranny of this place.”

“I wasn’t spying on you,” he repeated, a hint of irritation in his words. “I don’t have to resort to spying to be around pretty women.”

“Oh, and I guess you know lots of pretty women.”

He got really quiet after that. Satisfied that she’d shut him up, Summer stared off into the distance, the buzz of hungry mosquitoes reminding her it was summer in Texas.

“Not anymore,” he finally said. “I used to know lots of women, back in Austin. But I’m on a self-imposed bachelor’s hiatus right now. No women, no complications. And I’m happy as a clam about it.”

“Well, that’s nice. I’m glad you’re so happy. So you decided to give up women for…senior citizens?”

“I like old folks, and the pay is good.”

“That’s wonderful, a real win-win situation. I guess somebody had to take care of all these flowers and shrubs.”

“Yep. Don’t you feel closer to God in a garden?”

“Not really.” Summer turned to go inside, where she’d be farther away from Mack Riley.

“Hey, I don’t bite.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m just tired.”

“So come and sit with me. Relax and enjoy the night.”

“I can’t relax with you around. Don’t you get it? You’re not exactly on my A list.”

“How can I remedy that?”

“By going away.”

“I was here first.”

“Then I’ll go away,” Summer said, her hand reaching for the door.

He was there, his hand holding hers. “Look, I’m sorry about…the farm. I lost my own grandparents when I was young, so I know it’s tough seeing yours in a different place. Grandparents represent home and love and all that stuff. I hate you had to come back and find all of that gone. But…your grandparents are still right here, and anyone can see they love you.”

Summer refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge the heated warmth of his hand over hers, or the sincere kindness in his words. “Well, there is no place like home, unless of course someone comes along and takes it all away.”

“I didn’t take anything. I received a very nice old house and some land, and gave your grandparents a chance to rest and have some fun in a good place.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

“By forgiving me. By understanding that I’m not at the root of all your problems.”

“No, but you’re right there in the thick of things.”

He dropped his hand away, but she could feel his fierce gaze on her. “How’d you get so sarcastic and cynical, anyway? Does living in New York do this to a person?”

Summer managed to open the door even though her hands were shaking. “No, but dealing with battered women does. I’ve seen it all, Mack. I don’t believe in love or faith anymore. I’ve learned that I can depend only on myself.”

“Well, you’re doing a lousy job of that, too, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you, but thanks so much for your compassion and understanding,” she said, just before she slammed the door in his face. Then she made sure all the curtains and blinds were closed and shut. If only she could shut her mind down and close it up tight, too.

But she couldn’t. So Summer lay in the crisp white sheets of the comfortable bed and thought about Mack Riley out there in that swing. And she thought about what he’d said to her. After pouting with each toss and turn, she wondered if maybe he wasn’t right. Maybe she wasn’t handling things so well on her own.

She punched her fluffy pillow. “And that ain’t the half of it, buster.” She would never tell him the whole sordid story. Summer was having a hard time dealing with all the details of that herself. Which, she imagined, is why she’d tucked tail and run home to Texas. She just couldn’t face her cousins or her coworkers right now. She’d failed everyone, including all the women she’d tried so desperately to help.

“But I’m not telling you a thing, Mr. Mack Riley—Mr. Golden Vista Poster Boy, Mr. This Old House and Curb Appeal all rolled into one.”

She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right, of course. And she wasn’t ready to set him straight by giving him all the intimate details of her sad life. So she slammed at her pillows and told herself she was just fine, thank you. Then she got up and checked her e-mails, pouring her troubles out to her cousins until she was exhausted and bleary-eyed.

But Mack Riley still stood out like a thorny blackberry bush in her buzzing, confused brain. And she had to wonder if there wasn’t more to his story, too. That nagging inside her gut told her to keep digging, to find out what flaws lay beneath that outdoorsman appeal and lethal smile.

Everybody had secrets. Mack Riley was no exception.

Chapter Five

Summer woke up to the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing. Her stomach growled hungrily. Rolling over, she glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock. After tossing and turning for part of the night, she’d finally fallen into a deep sleep. Stretching, she had to admit this bed was comfortable and this little apartment had wrapped her in a cozy cocoon.

Now the sun was streaming through the white blinds of her window. Time to start her day. “What now, Lord?” she asked as she rolled out of bed. “Do I go make crafts or play a mean game of Scrabble in the rec room?”

Right now, she just wanted to find that coffee.

After taking a quick shower and blow-drying her hair until it was just damp, she put on fresh jeans and some lip gloss, then headed up the carpeted hallway toward the dining room. It was crowded with a variety of senior citizens, some smiling and chatting, some sitting alone, cranky and cantankerous.

Since Summer felt like the latter group, and since she couldn’t find her grandparents, she poured herself some coffee and grabbed a fiber-filled banana bran muffin, then headed to the brooding corner of the room.

“Who are you?” a white-haired man asked as she passed his table. He wore a Texas Rangers baseball cap and a big scowl.

Summer tried to smile. “I’m Summer Maxwell. I’m here visiting my grandparents.”

“Who are they?”

“The Creswells—Martha and Jesse.”

He nodded, then leaned forward. “Hey, wanna go out with me Saturday night?”

Shocked and appalled, Summer shook her head. “No, thanks. I might not be around that long.”

He thumped his chest. “Hmph. Me neither.”

Sliding as far away as she could, Summer thought maybe he was just lonely. “You always eat alone?”

“Nah. Sometimes I have family come to visit. When they can find the time, that is.”

He looked sad for a minute, until the next available female came by, this one much closer to his age.

“Hey, Gladys. Wanna go out with me Saturday night?”

Gladys was carrying a wonderfully aged Louis Vuitton purse which she held very tightly to her middle. Fingering her double strand of pearls, she gave him a look that would have flattened lesser men, then huffed a breath. “I don’t think so, Ralph. Especially since I heard you took out Bullah Patterson last Sunday night.”

“We’re just friends,” Ralph insisted, waving a hand at her. “It was just a gospel sing, not a lifelong commitment.”

Gladys kept on walking, her purse held to her side as if she were the Queen herself.

Ralph shrugged, bit into a piece of toast and stared ahead for the next conquest.

“I see you’ve met Mr. Maroney.”

Summer looked up to find Mack Riley standing there with a tray full of food in his hands. Noting that he looked as fresh as a daisy in his clean jeans and faded red T-shirt, she wished she’d bothered to finish styling her hair and had applied a bit more makeup. Too late now. And why did she care anyway?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.