He quieted for passing seconds, not sure what to say. “I can’t wait.”
“Sure you can. There is doubt in your eyes, but I’ll show you.” She reached over and stole a fry.
He shifted his plate her way. “You know you want another one.”
Summer sighed. “Yes, I love his fries. But don’t give me anymore, okay?” She snitched one more and sat back with her empty hand in a stop motion.
Tom grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, moaning as the flavor hit his tongue. “Don’t tell my grandmother, but oh man, this is the best.” Regardless to what she said, Tom was saving his fries because Summer would eat every one.
Myrna stopped at the table, plunked down a coffee cup, and filled it in a flash, then she was gone again.
“I’m going to paint her.”
“Since when did you start painting people.”
“Only rarely, but I’m regaining an interest.”
There was a flash of something in her eyes, but Clem interrupted them. “Here’s Terry’s meal. Threw in some extra stuff for him to warm up for breakfast. Tell me if the fund is short for groceries. I’ll kick in.” Clem stepped away, stopping at the call from another patron several tables away.
Summer widened her eyes in interest. “Can I go with you to deliver his meal? It would be nice to get involved in this community stuff.”
“Sure.” Surprised, yet pleased, he took another bite. She didn’t think she belonged here. Oh, she was so wrong, but she seemed to be sorting her way through the belief. Maybe in the process, she’d resolve her anger at her grandfather.
She smiled, pleased with his answer. “It’s a date. Finish your dinner.”
“We have to elevate your definition of a date, sweetheart.”
“Even ordinary time with my husband matters. Shut up and finish.”
She gathered her drawings and cleaned up her mess.
He cleared the remains of his sandwich and gulped his coffee.
Yes, the French fries were eaten, too.
Chapter Five
A couple days later, Summer gazed at the Good Shepherd Community Church on Oak Street and questioned why she’d never painted this church. The lines, the colors, the character stood out. She remembered each and every brush stroke from painting the Lutheran and Methodist, but had quit on the churches after they were complete.
Out for a walk with her camera, she was hoping to snap some secret photos of Tom to aid her memory. She already sketched out the structure of his drawing, but this gift was special, connecting their past to their future. She didn’t have a lot of time to tinker with it. Given how much Tom sacrificed on a daily basis to keep her painting, she wanted to be sure this gift showed him what he meant to her.
Strolling in the cool weather gave her the shivers, but she kept striding on, making a mental list in her head of all the Echo Falls paintings she did have. Drawn by twinkling lights, she watched for cars and crossed one street then another.
The Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church spire rose in front of her – she’d painted it in summer years ago. She stopped mid-block, mesmerized. At the back of the church, the long length of a green, fir tree held her spellbound, glowing with twenty feet of lights and silver stars. “Wow!”
“Took two cranes this year to put the tree in place and a whole ton of patience.”
Summer tore her gaze away from the splendor and stared at the young woman with the stroller, barely recognizing her.
“Hi, I’m Chrissy, and this is my brother Stevie.”
“Yes, we met last Christmas.” Stevie had been abandoned under last year’s Christmas tree. Tom’s sister and her husbandhad fostered the boy until Chrissy had arrived, searching for him after a complicated, abusive family situation had gotten out of control. The squirming, shy two-year old was no longer a baby. His face had thinned, his body stayed busy even strapped in the stroller, and the flush in his cheeks brightened his blue eyes.
“You’re Summer, right? The artist?”
“Yes, Tom’s wife.”
The woman’s eyes went back to the church. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Are you going to paint it?”
