One Summer’s Knight

“Mrs. Starr? Everything okay there?”

“Just a minute-someone’s coming.” She tried not to sound breathless; she really didn’t want the FBI man to think she was afraid, especially if it turned out to be nothing. With the cordless phone pressed tightly against her ear, she tiptoed through the darkened living room and peered out across the front porch. Her heart pounded as she watched an unfamiliar car pull in and park beneath the oak trees at the edge of the lawn. Lights and motor were turned off. There was a long and suspense-filled pause… and then the door opened, briefly-too briefly-illuminating the driver inside. Mirabella’s breath caught.

“Mrs. Starr? You okay?”

The car door closed, and a lone figure started toward her, walking with purpose, angling across the grass. She gasped, “Oh, my God-”

“Mrs. Starr?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She was laughing, maybe half crying, too. “I have to go now. It’s my sister-she just arrived. My other sister-Evie. Agent Redfield, I’ll call if I hear anything-I will, I promise. But I have to go now. Bye!” She punched the disconnect button and threw open the front door. “Oh, my God-Evie!” She flew across the porch and down the steps. “I can’t believe this-you have no idea- where on earth did you come from?” And then she was enveloped in her older sister’s arms, and in the warmth of her throaty chuckle.

“Hey, Bell-wow, this is some reception. Sorry I missed the big anniversary celebration.”

“Never mind-I’m just so glad you’re here. You have no idea…but what are you doing here? I thought you were in Las Vegas.”

Her sister dismissed that with an airy wave. “Oh, I was. Now I’m on my way to Savannah, actually. Gotta meet my crew there day after tomorrow. That should give us a day or two to get set up-”

“Set up for what? You’re filming in Savannah? What’s in Savannah?”

“The hurricane, of course! Don’t you watch television? Hurricane Angela’s supposed to be on course to make landfall somewhere between Savannah and Charleston in the next couple of days-nobody knows for sure, of course. But hey- wherever and whenever it hits, I plan to be there right in the middle of it.”

Mirabella gave her head a shake, already feeling overwhelmed. Evie had that effect on people. “You could at least have called-”

Her sister waved that aside as well. “Oh, God, I’ve been so busy. Just swamped-you have no idea. Besides-” she gave a cackle of laughter “-this news just had to be delivered in person.”

“News? What news?” Mirabella paused, frowning suspiciously, only to be spun around and gripped by both arms as her sister, taller by a head, bent in an exuberant crouch and resoundingly kissed her cheek.

“You’ll never guess-never, in a million years.” She paused, and in the light spilling from the kitchen windows, Mirabella could see her eyes light with excitement.

“What?” she breathed, already caught up in it herself. “Tell me!”

“You’ll never believe it, Bell, after all these years! I never thought it would happen, but it has-I’m getting married!”

The police were finally leaving. Summer stood in her children’s bedroom and watched the lights of the patrol car grow smaller down the curving lane and wink out beneath the canopy of live oaks. Behind her all was quiet The children were in bed, though probably not yet fully asleep, with Beatle nestled alert and on guard on David’s pillow, for a change, instead of snuggled down with the covers tucked up to her chin.

Downstairs, Cleo-whom they had found backed into a corner of her cage with her wings upraised like a gargoyle, screaming “Get out, get out!”-was brooding and muttering beneath her night cover, and Peggy Sue, pacified with a quarter can of water-packed albacore tuna, had stopped pacing and growling in front of the morning-room windows. Beyond the windows, lightning bugs winked, insects screeched and frogs resumed their interrupted love songs. Out there, the air was hot and oppressively still. Inside the air-conditioned house, Summer hugged herself and shivered.

A cup of hot Postum, she thought; that’s what I need. It had been a roller-coaster kind of a day. She felt tense and on edge. Her skin felt sensitized, as if all her hair were standing on end. Maybe something sweet and warm would soothe her.

She had just reached the top of the stairs and was starting down when she heard Riley come in. She hesitated, thinking he might go straight to his study, but instead he came on through the kitchen and into the hallway, turned and started up the stairs. Took two steps, looked up and saw her, and halted, one hand on the banister rail.

Two steps down from the top she waited, then said softly, “I saw them leave. Is everything all right?”

He made a restless movement, something between a nod and a shrug. “They think it was probably just some kids-climbed the fence just to see what was on the other side.” His eyes remained on her as he climbed two more steps. “How ’bout you? Everyone okay in here? The animals seemed pretty upset.”

She descended two more steps, waved a hand and gave a low laugh. “They’re fine. They were definitely spooked, but that could just as well have been because of all the strange people tromping around out there with flashlights.”

He shook his head and, as he came up several more steps, said dryly, “With those three around, who needs a security system?”

Summer had no reply to that. She continued on down the stairs, sliding one hand along the rail, her heart beating like a trip-hammer. She didn’t look at Riley as he came up to meet her, closer…and closer. But she could feel him. It was as if he’d brought the outside in with him-the heat and humidity, the heaviness and tension-so that the warm summer night seemed to rise as he did, and engulf her like a fog.

They met somewhere just below the landing, and as they drew even Summer said in a stifled voice, “With any luck you won’t have to put up with us much longer.” His hand shot out and caught her by the arm, and she gave a little gasp. She had no choice but to stop then; he wouldn’t let her continue. But she still wouldn’t look at him. There was so much tension in his fingers…in his voice. She couldn’t bear to see his face.

But she couldn’t bear the silence, either. She licked her lips and said with a tight laugh, “Don’t try to tell me you aren’t going to be glad when this is all over and everything’s back to normal again. Just think-you’ll have the place to yourself… peace and quiet,…”

“For God’s sake, what kind of man do you think I am?” His voice sounded scratchy, but oddly thickened, too. His fingers gripped her arm like steel bands, urging her to turn and face him.

But she resisted, and instead turned her head and looked at him along her shoulder. “One who lives alone,” she said softly.

He made an impatient sound. “I live alone. That doesn’t mean I prefer to be alone.”

She didn’t answer, and the silence between them sang with tension. She wanted to cover her ears and run.

He broke it finally with a whisper, one so soft it was like the brush of an owl’s wings on the night wind. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s been happening to us.” And her small, distressed cry was like the sound the mouse makes in that final instant she knows she’s been caught. Ruthlessly he continued, “Don’t pretend, Summer. Don’t lie. The other day, on the beach…”

She felt a sob rising in her throat, but swallowed it and whispered, “You kissed me-that’s all.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted to, before and since?” She shook her head, meaning many things. But his fingers on her arm…the pressure was inexorable. She could feel herself weakening. “Tonight, when we danced…you were trembling.”

“I was nervous…”

“You’re trembling now.”

So was he. And how did she know that? Because somehow, unbeknown to her, the same arm he held so tightly had bent at the elbow and her hand had found its way to his waist, where it rested now, palm flat against the pulsating warmth of his belly.

“You’re trembling…don’t deny it.”

“I won’t…I can’t-”

“Nervous?”

“No…” she whispered as his mouth came down to meet hers. “I can’t-”