Summer Storms (Seasons of Faith Book 1) Read online

  “Lizzie, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I know, but it’s better than going home, wondering if he is lurking outside.”he offered.

  “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “It’s not a bother. Now, let me check-in the Pearsons and you finish your nap.” Stephen snagged the folder and scampered back to the desk.

  Lizzie cleared the center of her desk and pulled a rolled up blanket from her bottom drawer. She rested her head on the blanket and tried to sleep again, but her mind was jumping like a child in a bounce house. She stood and paced around the small office, anxious to get home. She thought of Ralph Anderson prowling around, peering inside her windows, searching for ways to get her alone again, and a shiver ran down her spine.

  The office door opened and she turned. Stephen shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over a chair.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Twilight had descended and neon signs flashed further up the road. Stephen walked Lizzie to her car and checked to make sure no one was inside before slipping into his own vehicle. She followed him out of the parking lot, down Washington Avenue. Stephen parked on the side of the road and jumped out of his car, flashlight in hand.

  He stepped up to Lizzie’s window. “Why don’t you wait here while I take a look around?”

  “Okay.”

  Stephen swept the flashlight in a wide arc as he circled the house. He paid close attention to the shrubbery and large trees in the backyard, pausing when he came to the swing. The image of Lizzie curled up in a ball filled his mind, shooting adrenaline through his body. When he was certain Ralph Anderson wasn’t on the property he returned to the driveway.

  “All clear,” he announced.

  Lizzie opened the door and stepped out. “Would you mind checking inside too?”

  “Sure.” He followed her and stepped inside once she unlocked the door. Lizzie followed close behind through each of the rooms, leaving the lights on as they moved. Satisfied the house was secure they returned to the living room.

  “You going to be okay tonight?”

  “I’m going to have to be,” Lizzie said with a nervous laugh.

  “I could stay awhile if you want.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I don’t have any plans. Let’s see what’s on TV.” Stephen flopped onto the couch and reached for the remote control.

  “I’m going to make some hot tea, would you like anything?” She opened a cabinet and pulled down a coffee mug.

  “Water’s fine.” Stephen flipped through the channels. Lizzie filled her mug and popped it in the microwave for two minutes. When it was ready, she returned to the living room with a bottle of water and her tea.

  “Thanks.” He accepted the bottle. “That smells good, what kind is it?”

  “Blueberry and pomegranate. It helps relax me.” Lizzie curled up in her leather chair and pulled a blanket around her. Stephen came across a home improvement show and laid the remote back on the coffee table. The pair watched in silence as a couple tackled a kitchen remodel. When the show ended, Stephen turned to find Lizzie asleep in the chair.

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  With each passing day, Lizzie’s fear diminished a little. Ralph Anderson hadn’t shown his face in her neighborhood since being released and Jacob Phillips even stopped by to apologize for his stepson’s behavior.

  “You’ve done an amazing job here,” Jacob commented. He stood in the center of the house after the brief tour.

  “Thanks,” Lizzie beamed.

  Jacob walked to three framed photos and stood before them for several minutes.

  “What are these pictures of?”

  “They’re drawings I found on the walls.” She stepped closer to admire the photos as well.

  “I think my mother may have drawn them,” Jacob said in a sad tone. “She was an artist and told me she’d gotten her start on her grandmother’s walls.”

  “Would you like to take these to her? Maybe she would like to have them.” Lizzie reached for one of the frames but he stopped her, shaking his head.

  “She died two years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. I want you to have the photos, in honor of your mother.”

  “I couldn’t. You’ve already done so much.” He turned to look around, taking in the living room, dinning room, and kitchen. “It’s more beautiful than the photos she used to show me. She would love this.” He gave Lizzie a weak smile. “I’m sorry we allowed it to get so run down.”

  “I insist. The pictures mean more to you than they ever could to me. Besides, they’re digital. I can print more.” She gave him a warm smile as she pulled the frames off the wall. Jacob took them from her outstretched hands.

  “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “Ralph shouldn’t be bothering you anymore, but if you should see him again, please call me and I will take care of it.” He strode out of the house to the awaiting limousine.

  Lizzie watched the car turn the corner before walking out to the mailbox. She flipped through the pile of mail as she returned to the house, turning at the sound of a car slowing behind her. Ian waved and her stomach fluttered. As he jogged toward her, she noticed the bruising on his face had faded to an ugly green.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked with concern.

  He grinned. “It’s just some bruises, no big deal. How are you?”

  “Fine.” They reached the front door and she ushered him inside. Ian circled the living room while Lizzie poured two glasses of iced tea.

  “What happened to your pictures?” He asked, taking the glass she offered. She told him about Jacob’s visit and the revelation that his mother had done the drawings.

  “That was nice of you.” Ian took a seat on the couch, his tall frame folding like an accordion, and took a long gulp of tea. Lizzie wanted to say something, to let him know how much she appreciated him saving her, but she couldn’t find the words. The silence between them stretched on.

  “Would you like to go out to dinner?” Ian blurted out.

  She nearly dropped her glass as she reached to set it on the table. “Tonight?”

  “Sure, if you’re free.”

  He leaned forward his hands reaching across the coffee table. “I’m sorry I haven’t called or come by since the party. I should have. I just…” He stood and walked to the opposite end of the room and back, Lizzie’s gaze following him.

  “I like you, quite a lot actually.” He came to a stop in front of her and dropped to his knees, grasping her hands. “I didn’t realize how much until I saw that man standing so close to you. I was jealous and sad, then I saw you were afraid and I was furious. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d hurt you.” Ian’s voice trailed off as his eyes met hers. Lizzie felt like she could look into those eyes forever. She squeezed his hands.

  “But he didn’t hurt me, you saved me,” she whispered. She leaned forward her forehead touching his. A pair of dogs barked at a passing car, crickets chirped in the sultry afternoon, and they sat unmoving. Slowly Ian lifted his head until his lips met hers. His hands moved up her arms to her neck, which he cradled. She leaned into the kiss, twisting her fingers in his thick black hair. After a minute, he leaned back and smiled.

  “Does this mean you’ll have dinner with me?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  Ella Fitzgerald crooned on the stereo as Lizzie opened her closet door. She shuffled through the hangers searching for the perfect outfit. A flowing black skirt caught her eye and she pulled it out, laying it on the bed alongside a pair of black pants and a red dress. She reached for a deep blue tunic and a white button down with three-quarter length sleeves. She eyed each of the outfits critically, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, she chose the red dress, a sheath that hugged her curves, and silver sandals.

  She touched up her make-up and shut-off the bathroom light ten minutes before Ian was scheduled to arrive. She wandered around the
house, too excited and nervous to sit. Every five minutes she paused at a window, pulling the curtain back to check the driveway.

  At precisely eight o’clock headlights panned the windows. She opened the door before he could knock. He came up the steps wearing a black suit coat and dress pants with, a cornflower blue shirt, and bold red tie. He stopped the moment he saw her. Lizzie recognized the appreciation in his eyes and the motion of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzie demurred, her gaze dropping to the ground, a light flush coloring her face. Ian offered her his arm and walked her to the car. She waited as he opened the door for her. When she was tucked inside, he shut the door and moved around to the driver’s side.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he backed into the street.

  “It’s a surprise.” He grinned and refused to tell her anymore. She watched out the window, taking note when Ian got on I-4 westbound, her brain ticking through the possible restaurants in this direction, an endless list to be sure. When he exited on Sandlake Road her list narrowed, sifting through her memory of all the eateries in Dr. Phillips.

  “Seasons 52?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Roy’s?”

  Ian laughed. “We’ll be there in a minute.” He turned into Plaza Venezia and drove through the large parking lot, passing several restaurants, pretending to park then pulling through to the next aisle.

  “Stop it,” Lizzie exclaimed, her laughter bringing tears to her eyes.

  He maneuvered the car into a spot outside of the Samba Room and Lizzie squealed with delight.

  “I’ve been dying to come here.” She bounced in the seat with excitement. Ian came around the car to open her door. They walked into the restaurant arm in arm and were seated within a matter of minutes. They talked about their childhoods, their dreams and passions, and the events of the past few months.

  When they finished their meals and the dishes were cleared, Ian took her hand and pulled her up. “Now it’s time to see how you dance.”

  “Oh I don’t know. I’m not very good.” She tried to resist but his smile melted her resolve. The salsa music was fast and infectious. The couple stepped on each other’s toes several times, breaking into new gales of laughter with each misstep, but before long they found a rhythm and spun around the dance floor like pros.

  Two hours later, they tumbled out onto the sidewalk, the air cool on their flushed skin. Lizzie couldn’t remember feeling this happy before. She slipped her hand into Ian’s. He gave her a tender look and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close. She breathed in his cologne, the scent of pine and spice filling her nostrils, and knew this aroma would always recall this night.

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  Jeffrey swirled mouthwash, gurgled, and spit. He looked in the mirror and fussed with his hair, pulling individual strands into place. He wore jeans, a black polo, and black loafers. A knock on the door alerted him to Wally’s arrival. He flicked off the bedroom light and grabbed his keys as he passed the coffee table.

  Stepping outside, he greeted Wally. “We gotta hurry, the band starts at eight.”

  “Why are we doing this again? No good bands start before ten,” Wally grumbled.

  “Because Michelle isn’t returning my calls and I need to talk to her.” Jeffrey opened the passenger door of Wally’s truck and slid inside.

  “You can get any chick you want, what’s the big deal with this girl?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeffrey admitted. “But she’s cool, not like most other girls, and I think it’s time I change the kind of girl I’m interested in.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with the other women you’ve gone out with. They’ve all been pretty hot if you ask me.”

  Jeffrey didn’t respond and they rode the rest of the way in silence. They found a parking spot several blocks from the club and joined the throng strolling along Orange Avenue, surprised by how many people were out this early. When they reached the Loaded Hog, a crowd spilled out onto the street, making it nearly impossible to get inside. The band was already playing and the crowd seemed to be there specifically to see them. They danced to the music and cheered. Jeffrey was surprised to see several spectators singing along.

  He recognized the song from the last time he’d seen Michelle play and knew she must be thrilled with this crowd. It took him thirty minutes to reach the bar and he wondered what had happened to make the band so popular. When the set ended, the audience erupted in cheers. He caught glimpses of Michelle’s face through the bobbing heads and saw her smile, her eyes dancing with delight. The crush of people thinned some and Jeffrey moved toward the back door hoping to catch Michelle on the way to her car.

  “Michelle,” he called as she lifted her guitar case. She glanced his way but didn’t acknowledge him. He called again. She said goodbye to her bandmates and headed toward the door.

  “What do you want?” she snapped when she met him.

  “I just want to talk,” he said.

  “I don’t know what there is to say.” Michelle pushed the door open and walked past a garbage dumpster. Jeffrey grabbed for her arm but she shook him off.

  “I’m sorry. I was a jerk, more than a jerk.” He stood by as she placed the guitar case in her trunk. “I like you and I was hoping you might give me another chance.”

  “I’ve dated guys like you before. You think you own the girl you’re with.” She touched the scar on her eyebrow. “I’ve learned my lesson and I’m not going down that road again.” She slammed the trunk closed.

  “No, that’s not me at all. Really. I don’t know why I acted the way I did. I’ve never done that before and I would never hurt a woman.” He felt desperate, needing her to understand him.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it.” She started back toward the club. Jeffrey stood rooted to the spot, watching her back disappear. He kicked a beer can across the dark lot, shoved his hands into his pockets, and went to find Wally.

  “Come on, I need a drink,” he barked when he found his friend.

  “Why can’t we have one here?” Wally asked. Jeffrey glared at him and made for the door. On the sidewalk, he moved fast and Wally struggled to keep up.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jeffrey crossed the street and ducked into Bar BQ Bar.

  The men spent the next several hours bouncing from one bar to another, Jeffrey never satisfied with one location for more than thirty minutes. Each time Jeffrey said it was time to move on Wally grumbled but followed his friend. When they reached Casey’s, the bar was sparsely populated, a jukebox in the corner blared pulsing music, causing the patrons to shout at each other. They ordered drinks and turned to scope out the women. Jeffrey leaned on the bar, his shirtsleeve sticking to the surface.

  Wally found a lady he liked and scurried across the room. Jeffrey watched Wally chatting up a woman in a pair of tight leather pants and tiny top that displayed her midriff. The smell of urine, beer, and stale cigarette smoke was overpowering. He twirled an empty glass in his hand, surprised at how sober he felt, and disgusted by the desperate charade surrounding him.

  He felt disconnected from his body, as though he was watching the scene from above. His disembodied gaze traveled from face to face searching for answers. He saw himself facing a beautiful woman, her lithe frame leaning into him but he appeared oblivious to her attention. She ran her soft finger along his cheek and he flinched, brought back to himself. He took a step away from the woman and glanced toward Wally who was still engrossed with Miss Leather Pants. Jeffrey dropped his glass on the counter and made his way out of the bar.

  Outside, he stood on the street corner drawing in deep breaths, trying to cleanse the putrid odor of the bar from his nostrils. Even out here, he could smell the stench of desperation, now mingled with fried foods, car exhaust, and pine. He looked up the street toward Orange Avenue catching a glimpse of white lights crisscr
ossing the courtyard between The Globe and the Wall Street Cantina. The lights blurred and he stumbled forward, the screech of tires stopping him in his tracks. A black Mustang thumping with loud bass music swerved to miss him; the driver laid on the horn and cursed out the window as he passed.

  Before stepping off the curb again, Jeffrey checked in all directions and moved across the street, away from the crowds. He passed though the park at Lake Eola, hands shoved in his pockets, head down, careful not to make eye contact with the homeless seeking handouts. All the tables outside the restaurant, Hue, were filled with late diners, the laughter bellowing like church bells.

  The sidewalk grew darker as he left the party behind, moving into the more residential area of downtown. Fifteen minutes later he stopped. The street was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves. The windows were dark, curtains pulled tight, protecting the inhabitants from prying eyes. Jeffrey turned up a walkway lined with Gerbera daisies in shades of red, yellow, and orange, cheerful and inviting even in the darkness. At the front door, he hesitated before raising his fist and rapping. He waited then rapped again, this time with urgency.

  The front porch light flicked on and he noticed a motion at the window before the door opened. Lizzie stood in the doorway wearing a thick robe cinched around her slim waist. She squinted at him and pulled the neck of the robe closed.

  “Jeffrey?” She clung to the door as if to steady herself. “What time is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” He stammered. He twisted his wrist to glance at his watch and found it was one fifteen in the morning. “I didn’t think about how late it is.” He took a step back turning to leave.

  “I’m up now,” Lizzie replied. “Is something wrong?”

  He dropped his head to his chest his gaze following the toe of his sneaker as it drew circles along the wooden planks of the porch. He could sense Lizzie watching him and growing impatient.

  “I was out with Wally,” He started, then paused. “I’m not feeling like myself, do you mind if I sit down?”