Summer's Desire Read online

  ––Title Page

  Summer's Desire

  —~—

  OLIVIA LYNDE

  Copyright Page

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Product names, brands and other trademarks referred to within this book are the property of their respective trademark holders. Unless otherwise specified, no association between the author and any trademark holder is expressed or implied. Use of a term in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any trademark, registered trademark, or service mark.

  Summer's Desire

  Copyright © 2013 by Olivia Lynde

  Cover photo © 2012 by Megan van der Elst

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook belongs to vzyl at 64 70 67 72 6f 75 70 forum.

  First digital edition, March 2013

  Dedication

  To you, my readers.

  Thank you.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Part II

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Note

  PART I

  Chapter 1

  Yesterday, his Mom dropped him like useless baggage at his Grams' place and bolted for parts unknown. After that incredible stroke of luck, he should've known that something nasty would soon follow. Fortune was a bitch that way.

  Proof positive: the whiny voice now filtering from downstairs to grate at his eardrums. Seth paused in the shadows at the top of the stairs until both the owner of the whiny voice and his Grams passed into the living room. Then he crept soundlessly down the staircase, avoiding the creaky spots with consummate skill.

  At seven years of age, Seth was a master of stealth, his instincts honed by a lifetime of tiptoeing around his Mom's rages—learning when to run, when to hide, when to be perfectly silent... and paying for each miscalculation in welts and cracked bones. These days, Seth never miscalculated.

  He easily identified the lowest step that was still out of sight from the living room below—the ideal spot for eavesdropping—and there he crouched down. He didn't fear discovery as he was alert for any approaching footsteps and could disappear lightning fast. Besides, even if he were found out, he didn't risk all that much. Unlike when living with his crack whore Mom and her parade of asshole boyfriends, Seth didn't have to dodge anyone's fists or kicks in this house.

  But as he well knew, no good thing ever lasted. Sooner or later Mommy dear would run out of money or get bored, then she'd return to town and he would have to go back to the hell of living with her. Or rather, it wasn't living as much as surviving, and for that, Seth needed to keep his skills sharp. Hence the spying exercise that he was currently engaged in.

  "Mrs. Lewis, you have to reconsider! We really need your help!" the social worker was saying just then.

  The hell they needed his Grams! Seth tensed on a surge of hostility. He didn't like this nosy social worker—what was her name, again? Ms. Something-or-other Owens?—who seemed to have become a fixture in Grandma's life over the past year.

  Most of all, he resented what her visit today likely meant: that very soon, he'd have yet another interloper to contend with. Why the hell did Grams have to go and be a foster parent anyway? This house was supposed to be his sanctuary. Even when he had to live with his Mom, he always escaped here as often as he could. Now suddenly, he was expected to just grin and bear while his safe place was being opened up to strangers?

  Seth released a pent-up breath, trying to push down his aggravation. At least, all of Grandma's foster kids were short-term placements. They were always gone after a few weeks and they were easy for him to ignore; beyond their status as unwanted intruders in his territory, those kids were of no interest to him.

  He focused again on the conversation downstairs as Grandma was asking in a worried tone: "But Anna, why place this child with me? If she has no living kin left and she's only five years old, wouldn't it be better for her to be adopted by some nice family?"

  The other woman sighed, sounding frustrated. "That's exactly the problem! Summer was orphaned just six months ago, and there've already been no less than three families wanting to adopt her. She's a very pretty girl. But once the families take her home on a trial basis... Well, they never want to keep her!"

  "Why wouldn't they?" asked Grandma. "What was amiss with those families?"

  "The problem's with the girl, Mrs. Lewis, not the families. You know how I told you earlier"—here the social worker lowered her voice—"that Summer witnessed her parents' murder? She almost shared their fate too! Well, all that left her with some very deep mental scars. Every night in her sleep, she lets out these... bloodcurdling screams, waking up everyone nearby and frightening them half to death."

  "Goodness me..."

  "It's terrible, really. The first family who tried to adopt Summer held up for only one week, the second for almost a month—they really wanted to help her—then the third family only lasted for a couple of weeks. But they all gave up in the end; this girl's just too damaged! Worst of all, she was disrupting their lives since they couldn't rest at night because of her screams!"

  "The poor little dear..." said Grandma. "Shouldn't she see a doctor, to help her with her night terrors?"

  "Oh, she's seen two psychiatrists already, but what's the use? She doesn't speak; not to the psychiatrists, not to me... not to anyone! She's withdrawn into herself and nobody's able to reach her. And the meds the doctors prescribed didn't help at all with her nightmares.

  "Really, Mrs. Lewis, I'm at my wit's end with this situation! But I'm thinking if Summer gets at least some stability back in her life, maybe it'll help slightly. After all, it can't be good for her: being moved all the time between so many different homes."

  This last pronouncement trailed off into an expectant sort of silence, and Grandma rushed to reply. "My heart just breaks for the little dear, but do you genuinely think that I can help her, Anna? That is, I don't know what I could do! More to the point, if she's mute, doesn't she need—"

  "No, no, you misunderstand, Mrs. Lewis! It's not that Summer can't speak but that she won't. There's no physical injury preventing her speech, only the trauma of what she went through six months ago. The psychiatrists dealing with her case assured me that she'll start speaking again, eventually. Hopefully."

  "But what about her night terrors?"

  "Mrs. Lewis, please, I'm sure you'll be good for her! You're so kind and patient. Really, if there's anyone in our foster care system who can help her at all... Well, it has to be you! Besides, you take out your hearing aid at night," Ms. Owens pointed out callously, "s
o at least she won't wake you up with her screams."

  This was followed by a long pause in the conversation.

  "All right, Anna, I'll take her in," Grandma agreed at length, her voice still laced with worry. "I just hope there won't be any strife with my Seth because of this. He's had such a difficult time of it with his mother, and he's changed a great deal during this past year. He swears a lot and keeps getting into fights." In a softer tone, she added, "I pray he'll take as little notice of Summer as with the other foster children I've had. I couldn't bear for him to make that poor girl's situation worse."

  * * *

  Three days later, Seth was digging for worms in Grandma's front garden when he clocked a taxi rounding the corner into his street and coming to a stop in front of his house. Grandma, who was sitting in her wicker chair on the veranda, rose to her feet and started for the taxi. At the same time, the car's door opened and Ms. Owens alighted, followed by the most beautiful little person that Seth had ever seen.

  She looked very small in her white sundress, clutching some incongruously huge stuffed animal at her chest, and her white-blond hair fell in waves below her shoulders. Her features were pure, delicate; her eyes—he couldn't see their color, only that they were dark and looked far too old for her age.

  The mid-July sun stood high and brilliant in the sky, but looking at the girl, Seth expertly concluded that she shone brighter than even the sun.

  He became aware that she was studying him just as intently in return, and a rush of embarrassment flooded his cheeks. He was a grown boy, smart and capable, yet here he stood like a fool, mooning over some little girl!

  Forgetting all about the worms, he whirled around and strode indoors, slamming the door behind him. Up until the very moment that he disappeared in the house, he continued to feel her eyes on him.

  * * *

  For the next few hours, Seth remained out of sight, covertly watching the new addition to the household. Not because he was curious about her, but in order to ah... gather necessary intel. Yes, of course. Since she was an unknown quantity—maybe even a potential threat (all 3'3'' of her)—and it was in his nature to be cautious.

  Surprisingly, Grandma and the social worker led the girl to the second floor and stashed her small suitcase in the unoccupied room beside Seth's. The previous foster kids had all used the bedroom next to Grandma's own, on the first floor, while the upstairs had remained her grandson's exclusive territory. Yet now he seemed to have acquired a tiny trespasser on his personal turf.

  Said tiny trespasser didn't talk at all during this time, but Seth had no doubts that she was listening very carefully indeed. Her eyes were alert and shone with intelligence, taking everything in. She seemed wary, like a startled fawn, holding her stuffed toy (which on closer look had turned out to be a scruffy teddy bear) in a desperate clasp, and Seth felt an uncharacteristic urge to gather her in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay.

  As if he could make those kinds of promises! Seth snorted. He had a shitty enough life on his own; he didn't need to take on someone else's problems as well. No matter how vulnerable that someone else looked. He clenched his fists in frustration.

  Finally, the social worker left, and Seth forced his legs back to the front of the house. There was no reason for him to go to the girl's room, now that she was alone, and study her from up close; no reason for him wanting to confirm if her hair was really as blond as it seemed from a few feet away and if her eyes were dark blue or brown or maybe even black. No reason at all.

  Instead, he went back to his worm digging; he needed to prepare his bait for tomorrow when he would go fishing at the pond.

  As engrossed as he was in his task, Seth still knew the exact moment when she stepped on the veranda behind him. She moved like a ghost—there had been no sound betraying her arrival—yet still he felt her presence as if a magnet had materialized out of thin air and was pulling him in.

  He turned his head and held her gaze until she blushed and looked down, then he calmly went back to gathering worms. He knew she was watching him, coming a bit closer, but not too close, and he discovered that he liked feeling her eyes on him.

  * * *

  That night, Seth jack-knifed awake at the sound of her first scream, his blood momentarily frozen in his veins by the horror and pain carried by that cry. With his next breath—and before making a conscious decision to move—he was already on his feet and sprinting toward her room.

  He tore through his door, then hers; a moment later he was beside her bed. She was thrashing in her sleep, her legs hopelessly entangled with the bed covers, and horrible sounds were escaping her lips, as if she was being tortured. Under the moon's glow, her cheeks were silvery with the sheen of tears.

  With a jerky motion, Seth switched on the lamp on her nightstand. Kneeling down on the edge of her mattress, he tried to gently shake her awake. "Wake up, Sunny! It's just a bad dream. Come on, Sunny, wake up!"

  Her eyes flew open, colliding with his own—her eyes... they're brown, with green flecks, a part of his mind registered distantly—and they were filled with such endless sorrow that he felt something twist painfully inside his own chest. Their gazes stayed locked to each other for a frozen instant, and both boy and girl, looking into the other's eyes, saw straight into their soul and recognized this soul as a kindred spirit.

  "You're safe here," the boy heard himself promise, and the girl's body gave a mighty jolt at the solemnly spoken words. Suddenly she launched herself at him, nearly toppling him over, and embraced him tightly, burrowing into his chest. Slowly, the boy's arms rose around the girl, drawing her even closer, and holding her felt right.

  After some time they lay down on the bed, still intertwined with each other. Soon, the girl drifted off. The boy stayed awake longer, guarding her sleep. That night no further night terrors claimed the girl, and for the first time in six months, she knew peace.

  * * *

  When Seth went on his fishing trip the next day, it instantly became obvious to him that he had acquired a tiny shadow.

  The tiny shadow was wearing a yellow sundress today, and her hair had been arranged by Grandma in a high ponytail, fastened with a big red bow. Seth's heart beat a little faster at the sight of her bathed in the morning sunlight, but he was careful not to be caught watching her.

  She was hugging to her the same stuffed bear from yesterday, and her eyes were fixed on Seth, her awestruck expression (when she thought that he wasn't looking) revealing clearly that she considered him the Master of the Universe. Seth secretly approved of her good judgment. All the same, he knew that it wouldn't do at all for her to know about his thoughts. So he made sure to throw her a few annoyed glances over his shoulder... but secretly used this opportunity to confirm that she was still safely following him.

  And follow him she did, always a few paces behind (she was too shy to come any nearer) but nevertheless sticking to him like glue. Seth furtively adjusted his longer stride to hers so that the distance between them wouldn't increase.

  At the pond, Summer took advantage of Seth's apparent immersion in his fishing to gradually glide a bit closer to him. At this Seth, who wasn't actually immersed in his fishing at all, gave her a few exasperated looks but didn't say anything.

  By lunchtime she was sitting right next to him, her left side snuggled into his right side, and she gratefully accepted the half of his sandwich Seth told her he didn't want to eat. "It's with peanut butter, I don't like it," he grumbled, lying without compunction.

  * * *

  That night, Summer's second one in her new home, Seth once again roused with her terrible screams ringing in his ears and making his heart sting.

  Once more he went to her, lightly shook her awake, let her cling to him and cry on him. Afterward he lay down with her still held in his arms, and there she slept peacefully until morning.

  * * *

  The third night, Seth had just gone up to bed when his door opened and Summer trailed in, wearing her billowy
white nightgown and dragging her big teddy behind her on the floor. Stopping next to his bed, she looked at him shyly. He silently met and held her gaze, and something flared in his eyes for a brief moment.

  Then, just as silently, Seth raised his blanket in invitation. Immediately, she slipped in and plastered her small body against his side. A moment later, the blanket's warm weight engulfed her and his arms wrapped around her, securing her to him.

  The teddy bear lay forgotten on the floor.

  There were no more nightmares for Summer. Not that night, and not any of the following hundreds of nights that she spent sleeping innocently in her protector's safe embrace.

  Chapter 2

  Two weeks later they were at the park, Seth on a stone gathering expedition and Summer following a few paces behind him as usual. Abruptly, she found her way blocked by three big boys.

  "Ooh, lookie what we have here!" one of them jeered. "It's the freak who can't speak!" All three burst into mocking guffaws.

  Biting her lip, Summer tried to go around the first kid, but the other two closed ranks and just like that she was surrounded on all sides.

  "The freak hasn't got no tongue, but at least it's got preeetty hair," one boy taunted, reaching for her locks.

  She ducked his hand and became aware of the scald of hot tears on her cheeks. The boy reached for her again—but this time he found himself forcefully shoved away. Like a ghost, Seth had materialized in front of Summer and pushed back her bully. His body was shielding her. She looked up at him in gratitude... and froze.

  Seth was vibrating with rage, his eyes blazing pure menace. He was a bit younger than the other boys, not quite as tall as them, but in that moment he seemed so strong and dangerous that she felt certain he could tear the others to shreds.