A Long Walk Home. Diane Amos
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names?”
“Right after she found out you’d never driven my Porsche.”
“It sounds as though you think more of that damn car than me.”
“I never knew you wanted to drive my Porsche.”
“I didn’t…but now I do. Very much.”
“Then let’s go for a spin.”
This was silly. I really didn’t care about driving his car.
It was the principle.
Plus it had a stick, and I was no good at shifting.
I had to be sure he trusted me with his precious car.
He took his keys and slapped them into my palm.
I had my answer. I grabbed the keys, but after a few seconds, I handed them back to him.
He shook his head. “I thought we were going for a ride.”
“I just needed to know you’d let me drive your Porsche. I feel better now.”
When he nabbed the keys, his fingers captured mine. “Nothing is more important to me than you.”
“Not even your Porsche?”
“Let me think about that for a minute,” he said with a teasing grin.
I reciprocated with an elbow to his ribs. But it was all in jest. Because he’d proven to me that I mattered most.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—would he still have been smiling if I’d really taken his pride and joy for a ride?
We sat and ate pizza, discussed my job and his. He wouldn’t know for another week whether his firm got the bid for the mall. It was almost midnight when he stood to leave. I walked him to the door and leaned against him.
We held each other and kissed.
“Last chance for that quickie in the back of my car,” he whispered into my ear.
I sighed. “There’s not enough room.”
A deep sexy laugh rumbled from his chest. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
CHAPTER 5
A round midnight, wearing my comfy flannel nightgown and slippers, I crept up the stairs and listened outside my niece’s bedroom. Silence. My gut wrenched. Was Summer sleeping or had she escaped through the window?
How would I explain to my mother that I’d lost her granddaughter?
As I imagined all sorts of gruesome possibilities, I pushed the door open and was relieved to see her curled up in bed. I tiptoed across the room. The light from the bathroom slanted across the bed. I saw wet bath towels on the tiled floor beside the tub.
Typical teenager. Didn’t pick up after herself.
This revelation gave me hope.
Along with the fact she’d removed her makeup and looked less intimidating. She sighed softly. I wanted to sit next to Summer and take her into my arms. But I didn’t dare wake her.
Such a pretty girl.
Yet so confused.
As I admired her long eyelashes sweeping her tear-streaked face, I noticed her right hand curled under her chin, fingers clutching the little moose Vi had given her. I spotted part of a plastic bag sticking out from under the sheets and the ribbed neck of the oversized bright yellow nightgown I’d bought for her.
When I’d picked Summer up at the airport, I instantly regretted purchasing the nightgown and had never expected her to wear it.
A child of contradictions.
I’d also selected several T-shirts, which were no longer on the bureau. Had she tucked those into her bag? Compassion swelled in my chest for my niece who felt she had to guard her possessions.
I bent and brushed my lips against her cheek that smelled like Ivory soap. I considered turning off the bathroom light but remembered that at eight years old, she’d insisted on leaving a light on while she slept.
Summer put up a tough front, but inside, I suspected she was still a frightened little girl.
I’d need to remember that tomorrow, if confronted by the angry teenager clad in black, her face masked in white.
The next morning, determined to get reacquainted with my niece, I jumped out of bed, threw on jeans, a T-shirt and slid my feet into my slippers. I called my supervisor and explained I’d need some time off due to a family emergency. Once I’d taken care of that, I checked with the hospital to see how my sister was doing. The nurse in charge let me speak to my mom.
“Hi, how’s Dana?”
“She’s doing much better, but she’s suffering from malnutrition.”
“Will she be all right?”
“The doctor says she’s had a close call. She might not be so lucky next time.”
“I wish I could be there with her.”
“I know that, dear. How’s Summer?”
“She’s still sleeping. We had a bit of a rough start yesterday, but I’m certain we’re going to get along fine.”
“That’s a relief. Say hi to her for me.”
“Will do.”
“What’s the phone number to Dana’s room? The woman at the switchboard wouldn’t give it to me. I’m sure Summer will want to talk to her when she wakes up.” I’d hoped speaking to her mom would ease Summer’s worries, and maybe lessen the strain between us.
“To be perfectly honest, Dana doesn’t want to deal with Summer right now. Your sister needs to focus on herself and getting well. I hope you understand.”
I didn’t. “Dana has focused on herself for her entire adult life.
My mother issued a low groan. “Don’t be too hard on your sister. She has her faults, but right now, she needs our support and understanding.”
My sister needed someone to kick her butt, but we’d never agree. “Tell Dana that Summer and I send our love.”
“I’ll do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Take care.”
“You, too. Bye.”
I hurried into the kitchen and took down the pancake mix from the cupboard, measured out two cups into a bowl and added milk and eggs. I took out my frustration by beating the mixture by hand. I knew that Dana was weak, but I couldn’t understand her not wanting to talk to her own daughter. It was the epitome of selfishness. Not only had Dana chosen drugs over Summer, but she’d also turned her back on her child when Summer needed her the most.
The scrape of heavy boots against the tile floor heralded Summer’s arrival.
I turned to greet her. “Good morning.”
She’d hidden her face with white makeup and painted tiny black stars at the corners of her eyes lined with black. I inhaled a fortifying deep breath. Nothing today would mar my good, positive mood. Well, except for Dana’s selfishness. Today I’d break the hardened shell Summer had erected around herself. Today we’d become friends.
Picturing the lost little girl I’d seen curled in bed last night, I gave her a bright smile. “I just got off the phone with your grandma. Your mom is feeling much better this morning, but she has strict orders to rest so we can’t call her. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to talk to her.”
“Whatever,” Summer said, waving her hand, her frown deepening.
“I’m sure your mom misses you a great deal.”
She shrugged. Disbelieving eyes met mine.
I’d