A Summer By The Lake

B.B. didn't even notice until the preacher came up to her as she was singing and hugged her. It might have embarrassed her a little but she never missed a note.

As the preacher stood at the door, shaking every single hand of his fold over the age of six, he held hers a little longer.

"You have a gift from God, child. The voice of an angel. We always need new choir members, think about it. And please, come back."

He caught my eye and whispered something. I nodded.

When we left the parking lot, I turned left instead of right. Sarah was lost in thought and didn't notice, but B.B. did, right away.

"Where are we going?"

"We have been invited to Sunday lunch with the Reverend Sampson and his family. It's an honor, you don't turn it down. I hope you use more manners than you did at the pizza parlor last night, young lady."

Sarah finally stirred.

"What? Why didn't you discuss it with me first?"

I grinned.

"I have you captured. Right now, you are at my mercy. I'm your transportation, remember? Relax, you'll enjoy it. Mrs. Sampson is an incredible cook. Be warned, she's the choir director, and when B.B. sang I thought she was gonna pass out. Be ready for the pitch."

His house was a new doublewide. The old parsonage was about to fall apart, and was too small for his family. This had 1800 square feet, four bedrooms, enough for everybody. It was a gift from an anonymous donor. For a long time, Mrs. Sampson couldn't look at me without misting up. I always wondered why.

B.B. immediately disappeared into a bedroom with their daughters. Soon the sounds of a video game was heard. Sarah helped serve the meal.

It was six o'clock before we left. B.B. actually fell asleep on the way home. I had to carry her in. She hugged me and gave me a kiss on both cheeks.

Sarah put her hand on my arm as I got into the truck.

"Thank you. That was the happiest I've seen her since the breakup. Me too, for that matter."

Before I could say anything she turned and went back into the house.

.................................................

B.B. was on my deck the next day at ten.

"H.H., come out! Can we use your phone to call the garage? Ours doesn't get reception."

I mumbled something and opened the door. I had a thought for a new novel, and stayed up most of the night worrying with it.

She came into the kitchen as I made coffee. I poured her some juice.

"Want some breakfast?"

She giggled.

"It's after ten. I had breakfast two hours ago. Our car is ready. Can I have some cinnamon toast?"

"I thought you already had breakfast?"

She looked at me like I was a little slow.

"This isn't a meal, it's a morning snack. Any time is the right time for cinnamon toast."

I got out the bread, the cinnamon, the sugar, and butter and left her on her own to take a shower.

"Don't make a mess."

She was already spreading the butter.

"I won't."

It looked like a terrorist cell had used my kitchen for bomb making practice. I followed the trail of crumbs, chocolate sauce, and peanut butter into my office. She had found my computer.

I cleared my throat. She looked up and grinned.

"You need to add peanut butter to your shopping list. And you really should password protect your computer. What if your arch enemy tried to get to your files?"

"The only arch enemy I seem to have at the moment is a, wait, how old are you? Thirteen? Well the only threat I seem to have to my security is a thirteen year old girl too darn nosy for her own good. I don't remember giving permission for you to use my equipment.

She waved a piece of toast around carelessly. A splotch of chocolate sauce hit my screen.

"I knew you wouldn't mind. And I'll clean up, I promise. Look."

It was her new friends from church on Facebook.

"Can I have a few more minutes?"

"Now you're asking? Stay here. I'm taking your Mom to get her car. This place better be clean when I get back. I know you'll do it anyway, but eat anything you want."

She waved a piece of toast around in goodbye while the other worked the keyboard. How can kids do that?

I pulled into her drive and tapped the horn.

"Your car is ready. Want to get it now?"

She actual smiled. I looked at the numbers on her mailbox to make sure I was at the right place.

"If you don't mind. Wait, where's B.B.?"

"She's at my house, destroying my kitchen and office. I let her make cinnamon toast. She was on my computer talking to her friends when I left."

She had her hands on her mouth.

"You let her use your kitchen? Are you insane? Hurricanes don't do as much damage."

"Well, that would have been nice to know before now. Come on, let's get down there and back before she burns my house down."

She didn't say much on the way down. I didn't push it. At least she wasn't ranting at me.

The water pump had gone out, easily fixed, and pretty cheap.

"You're gonna need tires soon, especially if you stay this winter." Bob told her, as she paid the bill. "I've got a special going right now."

She thanked him and said she would get back to him later. By then it was noon. I pulled into the diner parking lot.

"What are we doing?"

"I'm in the mood for a burger and a mug of root beer. We'll get B.B. something to go."

She seemed a little upset.

"Shouldn't we get back to her?"

"I had her lock the doors behind me. Besides, I've got enough guns lying around the house should she feel the need for one."

"WHAT!"

She looked down right panicky.

"Relax, I don't have guns lying around the house. You got no sense of humor at all, do you? Here."

I handed her my cell.

"Just hit home and see what she wants for lunch."

She had to leave two messages before B.B. answered.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?"

She had it on speaker so I could hear the whole conversation.

"Because it wasn't my phone. I had to listen to the message twice to make sure it was you. Boy, he sure has a neat house. You should see the size of his bed. If you get up enough speed, you can bounce at least a foot in the air."

She colored slightly.

"Young lady! He offers his hospitality and you snoop. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Relax mom, he'll never know. I'm not messing with anything, I'm just looking."

I spoke up.

"You know, that's a real bearskin in front of the fireplace. And if you go to the bookshelf and pull War and Peace, the secret door to the dungeon will open. Be careful, I haven't fed Igor in a couple of days. He might be a little out of sorts."

She screamed and hung up. Sarah called her right back.

"Brittany Brianna Jones, you pick the phone up right now, or your punishment will be twice as long. Good. I'm handing the phone to Mr. Smith so you can apologize."

She was crying when I spoke to her, telling me how sorry she was. I shushed her, telling it would be all right, and asked her what she wanted for lunch.

Sarah wanted to go home right then, but I talked her into eating lunch to give her a chance to calm down. She managed half a salad and two mugs of root beer. B.B. wanted hot wings, so I got her a double order, with macaroni salad, and a brownie. I also got a gallon of root beer.

She kept apologizing all the way through lunch, until I lost my patience and told her if I heard one more I'm sorry she was going to pay.

She followed me home, and instead of turning into her driveway she drove into mine. You could see B.B. peeking out the blinds.

The house was even cleaner than when I left. No mess to fuss about. I suspect she vacuumed my office. Sarah was having trouble holding her temper, so I sat the food on the table for B.B. and told her to eat her lunch while I showed the house to her mother. Her look of gratitude was well worth it.

Sarah was suitably impressed. I even managed to get her out on the deck, to enjoy the lake view.

"I'm calm now, you can let me in the house with her."

"All right. Just remember, she's a kid. Lonely, away from her friends, bored. I gave her permission to be in my house. Any kid alive would have done the same thing, given the opportunity.

You're all she has, don't push her too hard. And before you say it, yes, it's none of my business, but you know I'm right. Now, let's go get your wayward child."

B.B. looked up from the table, mouth smeared with wing sauce, trying to judge the trouble she was in. I snapped a photo with my phone and showed it to her.

"If your mom tells me you complained once about your punishment, I'm going to make this your official photo on Facebook. Is that all right, mom?"

She could see the look of terror in her eyes.

"You have my permission Harry. In fact, I think that would be a good punishment. Do it."

She was at her mothers' side instantly.

"Mom! Please don't! It'll make me look like a doofus. I'll lose my friends before I actually make them. Please, mom."

"First you apologize for snooping through his things, and promise to never do it again. Trust is a fragile thing, honey. He offered to let you use his computer, and trusted you in his house alone. You repay him by snooping through his personal belongings. If it was me, It would be a long time before I'd allow you back."

She looked stricken, but rushed over and made a heartfelt apology. I accepted.

"You're welcome anytime, unless I'm working. You can still come by, but if I'm in my office, don't bother me. And this is only if your mother says it's all right. And the offer extends to your mother. Bring your laptop, and you can piggyback my WiFi. Speaking of that, I need to work this afternoon. Spend quality time with your mom."

They both took the hint and left. I did indeed have to work, My novel idea was still nibbling at my brain, and I needed to get the thoughts out while they were still fresh.

Times like this made me glad I'm not married. I tend to zone out and ignore everything around me. I could literally write twenty four hours at a stretch, sometimes more, only stopping when my head hits the keyboard in exhaustion. I know, it's not healthy, but it happens.

I worked ten hours straight, not even going to the bathroom. When I finally stopped I ate a sandwich, showered and collapsed. Seven the next morning I was back at it.

I didn't even hear B.B. come in, but I felt eyes on me and looked up to see her grinning.

"You know you stick your tongue out when you concentrate?"

I did know. My ex used to tease me about it. It was time for a break, so I shut down the computer and stood, rolling my back to get the kinks out.

B.B. had disappeared, but I could hear her in the kitchen. She was making a sandwich when I walked in. She couldn't weigh over eighty pounds, where did she put it all?

She put the sandwich on a plate and got the chips and a coke, handing them to me.

"I bet you haven't eaten yet, have you? Let's go out on the deck, it's so pretty today."

It was, and I hadn't eaten at all that day. I inhaled the sandwich while she chattered away.

"Can we take a canoe ride?"

"Sure, as soon as your mom says it's okay, and I need to hear it directly from her."

She looked crestfallen, but agreed. She cheered up instantly, telling me they were definitely attending services Sunday. Seems they were Catholic, but never attended. I couldn't understand why people would kill each other in the name of religion, the concept of my God is Better than your God, and I'll kill you if you disagree, was just so outlandish I would never understand it.

"Dad didn't like us to go, but we tried to attend holiday services. Our church was so huge. I like this one much better."

True to a cliche, I didn't think about religion much until I got shot. Something about laying on the ground watching your blood pool makes you reexamine your priorities. I wasn't a hundred percent in agreement with some things, but it gives me comfort, and most times that's enough. I give a lot to my church. I have it, so it's not a big deal.

We worked out a system. B.B. came out every day, and if I had a red card stuck in the window, it meant I was working and leave me alone. She would creep quietly in, go directly to the fridge and get a drink and a snack, and go out on the deck. She would sit under the umbrella so she could see her computer screen better, and play games or talk on Facebook. If she saw me get up she would follow me around, asking a million questions.

She really liked my book on Billy Dixon. It made her want a horse. She liked my book on the road corruption, but it upset her to find out I'd been shot. I had my shirt off sometimes, working in the yard, and she noticed the scars. It made her quiet for a few days. Children do not like to dwell on mortality. A thirteen year old thinks she'll live forever.

I wouldn't let her read my novel, it had too much adult content for her age. All right, it had a lot of sex scenes. One reviewer said it teetered right on the edge of erotica. But it was a good story, and erotic sold well in the current market.

The movie almost didn't get the R rating it needed to be seen in theaters.

Sarah took a copy, and for a few days later it seemed she was looking at me with an unreadable

expression.

They also discovered my bookcase, that took up one whole wall of my den. Some were old classics that I had read in my youth, some fairly new novels with autographs I had collected, some how to and technical manuals I had gotten as research for my books. A good many were biographies and histories. Sarah borrowed a few, and I would often find B.B. curled in my recliner reading, having been there for hours.

Sarah had thawed out a good bit. Mrs. Sampson, turns out, had taken some counseling courses in college, and Sarah went to see her once or twice a week for awhile. It helped her, a lot.

Her parents came up and spent three weeks with them, and I didn't see them much. Her dad came up to see me one afternoon, and thanked me for buying his property, keeping it out of the hands of developers.

"Diamond Realty was sniffing around the other day. They know that the last two landowners on this side of the lake are you and Jimmy Howell. They've made Jimmy an offer. If they get it, they'll use it as a base for development and try to get yours through imminent domain. Little vacation condos will pop up everywhere. I'm glad I won't be around to see it."

That was news to me. I made a mental note to talk to Jim, and get my lawyer going on a plan to block development.

"Thanks for letting Sarah and B.B. stay. They'll be going back to Chicago pretty soon, Sarah is a teacher and has to be back the week before school starts. She wouldn't go back, I don't believe, if she could find something local. They like it here.

But everyone is laying off these days, and she's having no luck. I worry about them, financially. Her jerk of an ex hasn't been real reliable about alimony and child support, and she doesn't have the money to take him back to court."

He paused, looking out across the lake.

"I'm gonna miss this place, we had a lot of good times here. Before I go, Sarah doesn't know you bought our place, does she?"

I had to confess.

"No, when we first met, we didn't get along very well. If she knew I owned the property, her pride would have made her move or try to pay rent. If you haven't already, don't tell her. She seems much happier, lately. I don't want to spoil that. Do you know they joined the church? B.B. is a featured soloist in the choir."

He seemed to swell with pride.

"We attended services with them last Sunday, and heard B.B. sing. Her grandmother cried, she was so proud. It was good to see them both smiling. Well, Harry, I don't know if we'll be back, we're moving to Florida this fall. If I never see you again, I hope you have a good life, and it brings you what you need regardless of what you want.

So long, Harry."

I shook his hand and watched him walk off, pausing here and there to catch a view. I was gonna miss him.

I went back into the house and made a few phone calls. My publisher was in Chicago. So is my lawyer. He was an entertainment lawyer, but his firm also did criminal and civil work.

He listened to my story, and one of them paid a little visit to Mr. Parker. Seems on investigation he was a lot more financially secure than he told his ex and daughter. The next week Sarah got two checks, one for alimony and child support including all arrears, and a nasty note from him asking her to call off the dogs. Sarah of course had no idea what he was talking about, she was just glad to get the money.

We had bonded, sort of. She would be the sweetest person in the world for five minutes and then turn into a screaming bitch for two hours. I found I could only take her in small doses.

It was sad really, I was attracted to her in spite of her bad case of UMS[ugly mood swings] and adored B.B.

I was pushing thirty, maybe my male version of a biological clock was kicking in.

...............................................

I had to go see my publisher to plan the hoopla that always went with a new book, and was gone for six days. I was young, fairly handsome, and very marketable. The public relations firm assigned an assistant to me to made sure I made my appointments and make sure I didn't do something stupid, fairly common for writers. She took her job seriously, staying by me twenty four hours a day, literally.

She was nothing if not dedicated to her job.

She assisted me orally, vaginally, and anally, as many times as I wanted, and a few times when I just wanted to sleep.

She surprised me the first time, sliding into the bed with me while I was asleep.

Ever stuck your finger into warm pudding when you were a kid? Hot, smooth, solid yet yielding? That's what it felt like. I woke to see a slender, well defined back arching backwards, attached to one fine looking ass, as she did a reverse cowgirl on me. I instinctively grabbed her, and she grinned over her shoulder.

"Oh good, you're awake. Now we can get serious."

I didn't think the human body could move that fast. If there was ever a version of a human jackhammer, she was it. She knew I was getting close, and she suddenly stopped, sitting upright. I thought she wanted me to settle down and extend

the feeling. Instead I felt just the tiniest amount of movement, and it felt like an invisible hand was milking me, starting at the base and rippling all the way to the head. I lasted about a minute, before I started coming. I never exploded, more like squirted, but she kept it going for what felt like five minutes. It actually hurt, but I would have killed the first person who tried to stop me.

"What brought that on?" I asked, when I could get enough breath to speak.

"Nothing. I like you, you're fun, and I was horny. Believe it or not, it's been awhile for me. And I'm not looking for love. When you leave, I'll probably never see you again, and it'll be okay. So, if you want, we can have more fun, starting right now, if you're up for it."

I saw part of an interview I did later. I looked exhausted.

I even made a few of the gossip shows, apparently nobody needed rehab or had smacked their wife lately, or anything else stupid enough to cover.

My new book went on the bestseller list the week it was released, and stayed there for forty one weeks.

I came home to a cool reception from B.B. and Sarah. I wondered why, until one day while we were out on the deck, B.B. got around to asking me if the girl she saw on television was my girlfriend. I laughed.

"No, honey. She worked for the publicity company my publisher uses. It was her job to keep me on schedule. We had been going wide open for a few days, and needed to relax. She's a good dancer."

"You're not in love with her?"

Odd question.

"No. I liked her a lot, she was fun, but we had just met. There's nothing going on. Why the interest?"