Summer Angel

Chapter 2-1

Two

Ben’s breath lodged in his throat and his chest constricted as he crested the hill. A blanket of sharp, deep golden light illuminated the familiar peaks of the eastern Northstar Mountains, but the valley itself was in the shadow of the lower western ridges. The sight of home was so much sweeter than he had imagined, more so because his memory of Northstar had been stunted by his many photographs of it; not even the most artistically framed among them gave an adequate sense of the scale. The mountains were so much higher and commanding than he recalled, the colors more vibrant, the light and shadows clearer. Those photos couldn’t drum up the depth of sensory details, either, and he inhaled deeply the fresh, sagebrush-scented air that wafted through the truck cab through the open windows. There was something else they couldn’t embody, something he felt with a deeper gratification than even his senses could comprehend—the freedom of open spaces.

It was so good to be back, he thought with a poignant smile. The valley, the mountains, the air. He’d missed it all much more than he’d realized, and in this moment, he felt almost whole again.

The sun drifted low in the western sky, nearly touching the horizon by the time he turned off the main highway into the Northstar Valley, and the uneven shadows of the western ridges climbed higher up the slopes of the eastern peaks as the light turned ruddy. It wasn’t long before he left the pavement and bounced along on the packed dirt and gravel of the valley road. Even the washboard, which threatened to rattle his teeth loose, was a welcome pain.

He looked up towards the Bedspread Inn to see that the lights were on. Aelissm had started taking over operations of it from her grandparents when she’d moved back four years ago, and when he’d last spoken to her uncle four months ago, Bill had mentioned that Marge and Roger had begun the process of transferring ownership of it to her. He considered stopping in to say hi, but there would be time to catch up later. Seeing June again was more pressing, so he continued northward. It was a little after eight, so he hoped she’d still be down at the Ramshorn—when he’d called Marge and Roger earlier about taking them out to lunch tomorrow, they’d informed him she was working tonight.

Anticipation mingled with dread. She didn’t know he was coming because he’d been too nervous to call her and tell her, figuring if she was going to reject him, he’d rather have it done to his face than over the phone. For one last look, he thought. If it comes to that. Please, God, don’t let it come to that.

The air was surprisingly warm even in the forested area at the apex of the valley, but there was a crispness in it, too, that Ben hadn’t felt in a long time. The touch of the silky, cool air on his exposed skin was heavenly. Casey window-surfed with his tail thumping lazily against the back of the seat. Ben chuckled at his dog’s bafflement.

Not much had changed since he’d last visited. The driveway to the Ramshorn Hot Springs and Lodge was still dirt, and the entrance was marked by the same high, log gateway. As he pulled up in front of the lodge, he spotted two dirt bikes parked across the driveway from the lodge and tucked his truck in behind them. He told Casey to stay and stepped out into the blissful evening.

Off to the right, a creek ran through the darkness, and the soft breeze sighed in the trees. In the distance, he heard cattle and horses. Sounds he knew from long ago, sounds that lingered in his soul.

Ben frowned and glanced around. Above the natural sounds of the valley, he heard music. It came from the open doors of the lodge, and as he got closer, he heard snips of a familiar pop song by his niece’s favorite boy band. When he climbed the stairs, the music got louder. He peered inside to find dining room empty with the tables cleared and the chairs placed neatly around them. The fireplace was dark, lending no flickering light to dance in the glass eyes of the big game trophies that adorned the walls of the room. The lodge looked exactly as he remembered. No, something had moved. The black bear that had once stood beside the grizzly was now by the door, greeting customers as they came in.

Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a teenaged boy stride out of the kitchen carrying a damp rag. If Becky hadn’t called him and complained that her favorite group wasn’t touring in Montana, he might have wondered if he was looking at one of its members. The boy had very similar facial features with the same golden blond hair in the same style—what was it called, a bowl cut?—about four inches long on top, short underneath, and no bangs. He was tall, probably a tad over six feet, and was dressed in blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt, a blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and hiking boots.

Ben stepped into the light, snagging the teenager’s attention.

“Hi. Welcome to the Ramshorn,” the boy said warmly. “What can I do for you?”

When Ben met the kid’s gaze, he inhaled sharply. There was something familiar about those eyes, something that made his heart quicken, but he couldn’t think of where he might have seen the boy before. Except in Becky’s posters, though that wasn’t enough to incite the odd flutter of nerves.

“I’m looking for June Montana. Is she here?”

“Yeah, just a minute.”

The boy returned to the kitchen again, and Ben heard quiet, indecipherable voices. He looked around the lodge, his heart beating faster at the promise of seeing June again. Four and a half long years was a long time, and he wondered if it had changed her as much as it had him. Then, there she was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

Ben lost his breath.

She wore jeans just tight enough to show off her long, graceful legs and a white t-shirt with a plum-colored flannel tied around her waist. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was even sexier than he remembered, but her eyes were the same dusky blue, and in them, he saw elation. Relief washed away the trembling fear of rejection.

“You said I could show up on your doorstep anytime,” he said cautiously. “Is that offer still open?”

“Of course it is, Ben. But… what are you doing here?”

“I’m coming home. Finally figured out this is where I need to be.”

“About time.” She ran to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck in a hug of welcome. “I can’t believe you’re here! It’s so good to see you.”

He brushed his lips across her cheek and returned her embrace, holding her as if she were an anchor. Burying his face against her neck, he exhaled slowly as relief washed away apprehension. Doubt flickered momentarily, but the feel of her in his arms was too real to be a dream. He picked her up and swung her around, and her rich, delighted laughter elicited the brightest smile that had graced his face in a long time. “God, I’ve missed you.”

She leaned back in his arms, and the glee in her eyes dimmed a bit as she read his face like she might a book. Unlike what he’d feared, he found no trace of disgust alongside the joy, only concern. When she spoke, her voice was startlingly gentle. “How are you?”

Knowing she’d see right through a lie, he took a deep breath and ignored his habit of responding with an evasive and uninformative I’m fine. “Better right now that I’ve been in a long time. I’ve been getting by but not well.”

“I’ve worried about you a lot, and so have many others. Bill was quite upset when you resigned.”

“I’m sure he was, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I killed a man, June, and he had a son. A son I orphaned. How was I supposed to go back after that?” He paused in an attempt to subvert the bitterness. “I don’t even know what happened to him. And while I’m sure Bill knows, I’ve never asked him.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid of the answer—afraid he didn’t make it.”

“You shouldn’t be.” June glanced at the teenager, who was wiping down the tables. “I know what happened to that boy, and I can tell you, he’s doing just fine.”

He turned his gaze back to his friend. Her words did little to ease him, but he smiled anyhow, knowing she meant well. “So, June, does your teen-star-look-alike have a name?”

June glanced at the boy. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t recognize him. He has changed a lot. Come on over, and I’ll introduce you…. Properly, because I don’t think that happened the last time.”

Ben let himself be pulled over to where the teenager was working. June slid her hand across the boy’s back. When the kid turned, Ben recognized the glint of keen observation in his eyes, so similar to the one June had worn in high school. And the one she still has on today, Ben mused. But observation wasn’t all that he saw. He thought he caught a glimpse of flashing recognition in the boy’s eyes.

“Ben, this is Luke Montana,” June said quietly.

Montana? Was he a relative, then? There was certainly a familial resemblance, both in their coloring and features. That would explain why he looked familiar. Maybe he was one of her nephews or a cousin, but he couldn’t recall either of her brothers having a son, and the only male cousins he knew of were on her mother’s side, not her father’s.

“Formerly Luke McKindel.”

Ben heard the name as if she’d shouted it in his ear. His heart stopped for a moment, and he stared at the boy. The guilt he’d managed to force down over the past few days came racing back at full force. He looked to June and saw from the expression on her face that she had more to say.

“He’s my son now.” Her voice was soft but tinged with possessiveness. “Bill called me the night of the shooting and asked me to foster him, and I almost said no, but when I met him the next morning, I knew I had to. The caseworker and judge agreed the arrangement was in his best interests, and eight months later, we made it permanent. Luke, I’d like you to meet my friend, Ben Conner.”

Ben thought he might puke. He hunched over with his hands braced on his knees and sucked in a dozen shallow breaths, waiting for the nausea to pass. Before, the boy was just a name and a young face glimpsed briefly. Never in a million years would he have imagined he’d ever find himself face to face with the innocent victim of that day from hell, but his impulsive decision to return to Northstar had brought the past screaming into the present.

“I remember you,” Luke remarked, his eyes narrowing. “I saw you with Uncle Bill in Silverdale the night my father was killed. You’re the deputy who shot him.”

What little warmth was left drained from Ben’s body, and he straightened, waiting for the kid’s reaction. Luke’s face was unreadable, and his gaze was fixed on something only he could see. Then, his hand moved so quickly that Ben flinched. When he realized Luke had extended his hand in greeting, he absently shook it. His knees weakened with relief, and when the boy released his hand, he almost collapsed to the gray-blue carpet.

Luke grinned, but his eyes were cold and hard. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“I thought you were going to punch me.”

Part of him wished Luke had hit him, though he couldn’t explain why. He looked away for a moment, unsettled by the knowledge in the boy’s gaze. Luke was far too young to have that visage, and Ben swallowed hard against the surge of guilt. That trauma was his fault, and maybe that’s why he would’ve preferred a fist to the jaw. “I remember seeing you that night. God, do I remember it. I guess you were a couple months shy of twelve back then, right? That means you should be sixteen, almost seventeen.”

“Yeah.” Luke smiled again, but it lacked any real mirth. “I like your friend, Mom.”

Abruptly, he returned to his chore, but not before Ben saw the flash of pain in his eyes.