“Sure,” she said, going to the cabinet and getting down a plate. She opened several drawers until she found a knife and spatula.
“So, you get all settled?” Pop asked as he handed her a potholder.
“Yes, Jessie lent me some of her clothes, too,” she replied, taking the pan out of the oven.
“Good, good.”
The screen door banged as someone came into the mudroom. A moment later, the water in the utility sink came on.
“Steve?” Pop hollered.
“Yeah?” came the response from the other room.
“Don’t track in with those muddy boots. I just washed this floor today,” Pop yelled back.
“Okay, okay,” came the reply, along with the thud of boots hitting the floor.
A moment later, Steve entered the kitchen. “What’s cookin’?”
“I’m making my chili tonight. Thought we’d give Summer a night to settle in, before we put her to work,” Pop explained.
“Good idea, Pop.”
The screen door banged, and the water started running again. Summer looked questioningly at Steve.
“That’d be Cary. He works here. Lives out back in the little house across the field,” Steve explained.
“Boots!” Pop yelled.
“Gotcha!” came the reply from the mudroom and again the thud, thud.
Summer looked up from the corn bread she was cutting, to see the man coming through the doorway. She recognized him from last night. He was the man holding the shotgun.
“Summer, this is Cary. Do you remember him?” Steve asked, wondering if she remembered much from last night.
“Ma’am.” Cary nodded his head toward her.
“Yes. Yes, I remember.”
“Well, go on, sit down. It’s time to eat,” Pop ordered, shooing the men into the dining room. He carried the pot of chili in and set it down on a trivet.
Summer followed with the plate of cornbread. She noticed the table had already been set.
Jessie bounded down the stairs and slugged Cary in the arm as he moved toward his seat.
“Ow. Brat!” he grumbled, shoving her.
“Knock it off. You two are like children,” grumbled Steve, as he sat at the head of the table.
Pop sat at the other end. Cary sat on one side, and Jessie and Summer on the other. They all bowed their heads, and Steve said grace.
When he raised his head, he passed around a pitcher of sweet tea. There was also a mason jar of milk. He picked it up off the table and shook it. Unscrewing the lid, he poured a glass. Looking over at Summer, he smiled and offered, “Gonna try some now?”
She smiled and nodded, and he filled her glass.
Everyone passed their bowls down to Pop. He filled them and passed them back. The plate of cornbread made its way around the table.
“Steve, I checked the south fence line, and that same post is down again,” Cary stated between bites.
“Damn it. You know why, don’t you? The ground’s too soft there. We’re gonna have to dig a new hole; set it in a different spot,” Steve replied, taking a drink of milk.
“That’s a bitch. But I agree. I don’t think you have any choice, unless you want the cows out on the county road.”
“We’ll have to start on it tomorrow, then,” Steve decided, digging into his chili.
“Oh, and the lines are clogged again on the number four machine.”
“Great. Got any other good news for me?” Steve asked, a spoon of chili halfway to his mouth.
“Nope. I think that’s it.” Cary grinned.
They ate in silence for a while. It didn’t take long for the guys to finish their first bowl and pass them down for refills. Summer watched in amazement at the amount of food the men ate.
When their bowls were scrapped clean and the huge plate of cornbread was polished off, Steve leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, what’s for dessert, Pop?”
“Dessert?” Summer asked, “After all you just ate?”
“There’s ice cream,” Pop replied, not looking up from his own bowl.
“I’ll get it,” Jessie offered, getting up and clearing dishes.
Summer got up to help her. When they got to the kitchen, they looked at each other, and both started laughing.
“Do they really eat that much all the time?” Summer asked, astonished.
“That and more. This is a light night. Usually, they like roast, and potatoes, and vegetables, and biscuits, and…”
“I get the idea,” Summer cut her off. “Good Lord, what will I make for dinner tomorrow?”
“Well, I don’t know, but whatever you make, make a lot!”
They both laughed.
After dessert, Jessie went up to her room, Cary went home, and Pop went out on the front porch to smoke his pipe. Steve and Summer sat at the dining room table drinking coffee.
“You settled in?” Steve asked, leaning back in his chair, his hand idly toying with the handle of his coffee mug.
“Yes. Thank you,” Summer replied, looking down at her coffee cup.
“I thought maybe tomorrow afternoon I could take you up the road, we could take a look around and see if we can figure out what happened to you. Maybe we’ll be able to find some clue to where you came from, or maybe we’ll come across something that’ll jog your memory.”
She looked up at him. “Thank you. I’d like to do that.”
He leaned forward, folding his arms and leaning on his forearms. His eyes studied her face. “Have you had any memory at all return?”
Her eyes fell to the lace table cloth. She absently traced over the pattern with her finger tip. “No. Nothing at all.”
“Hey.” His hand reached over and covered hers, stilling it. “Look at me.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
“It’s only been a day. Give it time.”
She nodded, hoping he was right. She had to believe that in time her memory would return.
Chapter Three
The sound of the alarm clock filled the room. Summer slid one eye open and glared at it. Four-thirty a.m.
Good Lord!
She slipped one arm out from underneath the covers and hit the off button. She groaned, sat up, and turned the bedside lamp on. Blinking to adjust to the light, she tossed the covers back and threw her legs over the side. Then she stretched.
She stood up, thinking this was way too early for any human being to be up. She pulled on some clothes and glanced out her bedroom window, which overlooked the back. Lights in the barn flipped on, and she knew that the guys were already out there milking.
Summer stumbled downstairs, made some coffee, and preheated the oven. She sat at the table yawning and drinking coffee. When she finished her second cup, she got up and mixed up a batch of biscuits from a recipe she found in a cookbook.
When she had those in the oven, she started the bacon frying, and then began mixing up a batch of scrambled eggs. She turned on the radio and switched it from the farm report to a country music station.
She was singing along with Willie Nelson, when Steve, Cary, and Pop trooped in at about five-thirty.
“Hmm, something smells good in here,” Steve said, walking into the kitchen from the mudroom, where he had stopped to wash up. He went over to the cabinet, took down a mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He switched the radio back to the farm report.
Summer had the kitchen table set and was just dishing up the eggs and bacon onto a platter.
“You sleep okay?” Steve asked over the rim of his mug, and then took a sip.
Summer looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Yes, just fine.”
He winked at her. “Good.”
Carrying the platter to the table, she set it down. There was a plate of biscuits already waiting, along with butter and jelly. She also had set out a jar of milk and a pitcher of orange juice. The guys all sat down as she picked up the coffee pot and walked around filling everyone’s mug. Then she asked if there was anything else she could get them.
“No. No, this is great. Sit down and eat, Summer,” Steve insisted.
She sat down between Steve and Pop, and opposite Cary. They all ate in silence and listened to the crop reports. Summer watched as the three of them devoured everything on the table, and she had to grin.
Steve finally finished and pushed his plate away. He put his elbows on the table and picked up his coffee mug. He noticed over the rim of his cup, that Summer was smiling at him. “What?”
“Nothing. You guys sure can eat, that’s all.”
He grinned. “So, you can cook after all. That was good. What are you going to make us for dinner?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
When everyone was through eating, Summer cleared the table and poured more coffee.
“We’re gonna have to get started on repositioning that fence post before we do anything else,” Steve said to Cary.”
“Yeah. Hopefully we can get it done by noon.”
“Pop, can you work on that clogged line on number four?” Steve asked his grandfather.
“Yeah, sure.”
They all pushed back their chairs and stood up to leave. Pop and Cary walked out the door. Steve walked over to the sink, where Summer was running water to do the dishes.
“Cary and I’ll be out in the south field. If you need anything, call me on my cell phone. The number is there on the refrigerator.”
She turned with soapy hands to look over her shoulder to the phone numbers taped to the refrigerator door. “Okay.”
“Jessie should be down soon. She has to be at school by quarter to eight, so she needs to leave here by seven twenty-five at the latest.”
Summer looked up at the clock on the wall. It was almost six thirty.
“If you could make sure she’s not late, I’d appreciate it. She’s had a tardy problem. Anymore, and she’ll get a one day suspension.”
“No problem. I’ll make sure.”
“Okay. Thanks. You’ll be okay here alone?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine. Now go.”
“After lunch, we’ll make that drive, okay?”
She nodded.
He smiled and turned to leave.
Summer watched out the kitchen window as he strode across the work yard and climbed into a pickup truck with Cary. They headed down a dirt road, across the backfield, and out of sight. Summer finished doing the dishes, and then went upstairs to check on Jessie. She found her in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, putting on makeup in the small mirror hanging over it. She saw Summer in the reflection and turned to look at her. “It’s quarter after seven. Your dad said you needed to be on the road in ten more minutes,” Summer reminded her.
“I’m almost ready. I just need to brush my hair.”
“Were you going to eat any breakfast?”
“No. I usually grab something out of the vending machine between my first and second class.”
“Do I need to pack you a lunch or anything?”
“No. I eat the school lunch, or I get something out of the vending machines.”
“Okay. Well, if you need me to do anything for you, I’d be happy to help. Oh, and what about dirty clothes? I need to do the laundry.”
“They’re in the laundry basket on the floor of my closet. Oh, and please don’t wash the yellow blouse. I always hand wash that one.”
“Okay. I’ll check the labels and won’t wash anything that’s not supposed to be machine washed.”
“Thanks. Pop never checked. He’d shrink half my clothes!” she laughed, rushing out of the bathroom. Summer followed her out. Jessie grabbed her backpack off her bed and dashed down the stairs, yelling over her shoulder, “Bye, Summer.”
A moment later, Summer heard the screen door bang, then a car door slam, an engine fire up, and then Jessie was gone. She went into Jessie’s room and collected her laundry basket. Then she walked into Steve’s room to get his laundry. She stopped and looked around, never having been in his room before. She felt like she was trespassing on his privacy.
“Well, get over it, girl. You were hired to do his laundry and make his bed, so get used to it!” she scolded herself. Setting the laundry basket down on the floor, she began stripping the sheets off the bed. Tossing them into the basket, she turned to get the clothes from the pile on the floor in the corner, and froze.
There on his dresser, was a framed photograph of Rita.
Picking it up, she studied the glossy photo. It was a really sad, tragic story. How awful it must be to not know what happened to someone you loved. Setting the photo back on the dresser, Summer gathered up the dirty clothes and left the room. She got Pop’s dirty clothes and sheets next, and then the towels from the hamper in the bathroom. She took them all down to the mudroom and started the water in the washing machine. She added soap and started a load of towels and sheets.
Pop came in later, sat in the living room in one of the easy chairs, and took a nap.
Summer was on her third load of laundry when the phone on the kitchen wall rang. She picked it up and said, “Garrett’s.”
“Hey, Summer. It’s Steve. We’ll be in for lunch at noon. Sandwiches will be fine.”
“Okay. See you then.”
After lunch, Steve and Summer headed out in his pickup. He made a left out of his driveway and turned to her. “So, you came from this direction. Do you remember how far you walked?”
She nodded through the windshield to the rise in the distance. “I came out of the woods somewhere up there. I walked maybe twenty minutes before I ever came to the crest of that hill and could see this valley.”
“Okay.” He drove them up into the hills. When they crested the top and entered the denser wooded forest, he slowed down and looked over at her. “Look familiar?”
She was glancing around. “I don’t know. It all looks so different in the bright afternoon sun. Maybe if you pull over and we walk it?”
“Sure.” He pulled to the shoulder and parked. They climbed out.
She pointed to the opposite side of the road. “I walked along that side.”
He nodded and they crossed the deserted road. They headed uphill. As they walked, Summer kept stopping and turning around and studying her surroundings. Steve waited patiently each time. His eyes also searching the area for anything suspicious. Steve kept track of the amount of time they’d walked. When it was getting close to the amount of time she’d said she’d thought she’d walked, he stopped them. “This is how far you might have walked in twenty minutes.”
She looked around and pointed across the road. “I came out of the woods on that side, before I crossed to this side. But…I don’t know, Steve. It all just looks like woods.”