When Summer Comes. Brenda Novak

      Fortunately, the impound lot was coming up. “Kyle’s a long story,” she said, and turned into the drive.

      * * *

      At the farm, the sun bore down on Levi, reminding him of Kandahar in July. In reality, this day, which was somewhere around ninety degrees, was mild by comparison. He’d never felt what the word swelter meant until he’d experienced one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree temperatures in the desert half a world away—while wearing an army uniform and fifty pounds of gear. Still...the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun brought back memories. Once again, he could taste the gritty dust that clogged his nose and throat, the salt of his own sweat, the fatigue of intense exertion. He could also hear the Pashto spoken in the market they policed. Afghanistan had been unlike any place he’d ever visited or previously imagined, but he hadn’t disliked being there. Not in the beginning. Joining the army provided an escape from his father, which had considerably improved his life.

      Besides, at nineteen and freshly graduated from high school, he’d been so idealistic and full of patriotism he’d been eager to face any challenge. He’d just had no idea what those challenges would entail—or how smiling at a pretty girl could turn out to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

      “Are you thirsty?”

      Grateful for the interruption, he raised a hand to block the sun. Callie was standing there, holding a glass of iced tea, but for a moment he thought he saw Behrukh in her shami dress and hijab—the way he’d first seen her in her father’s store—and his chest constricted.

      “Levi? Are you okay?”

      The vision cleared. This wasn’t Afghanistan. And Callie looked nothing like Behrukh, who’d been tall and thin with the characteristic dark hair and eyes of her people.

      “Fine.” In some ways, he was better than fine. The impound lot hadn’t given him any trouble about releasing his bike. The guy there had chatted with Callie, flirted a bit and taken a call from her friend Joe, who vouched for him, and that was it. Hooking an arm around one knee, he sat up and accepted the glass she handed him.

      “It’s too soon for you to be working. I wish you’d get some rest.”

      “I’m okay.” He took a long drink, letting the cool, sweet liquid soothe his parched throat.

      “Have you figured out what’s wrong with your bike?”

      He motioned toward it with his glass. “Carburetor’s jammed. I should also change the spark plugs.”

      “Will that be expensive?”

      “Not too bad, since I can do the work myself.”

      “Do you need parts?”

      He squinted against the sun. He was feeling a bit light-headed. Maybe it was time to knock off. While he’d been tearing apart the engine of his motorcycle, Callie had been bringing fresh bedding from the house to the barn, where she said there was a room with a tiny bathroom in one corner. She’d apologized for the fact that he wouldn’t have any heat or air-conditioning, but it was mild here this time of year, especially at night. He didn’t mind making do. That had become his pattern for life. Right now, just getting out of the sun and into the shade would help.

      “I need the plugs, maybe a few other things. I’ll know more when I finish here. But...maybe we can go tomorrow?”

      She nodded. “I’m glad to hear you say it can wait. I made some beef Stroganoff. My grandmother’s recipe. Why don’t you get showered and come in for dinner?”

      There didn’t seem to be any need to keep pushing himself. He wasn’t in a hurry. He liked the farm. It was isolated enough that, besides Callie, he didn’t have to run into other people.

      “Okay.”

      “My uncle installed an instant water heater for the bathroom in the barn,” she explained, “so you should have plenty of hot water, but the shower’s tiny and not much to look at. I put some towels out there.”

      “Thank you.” Fortunately, Callie, the one person he did see here, wasn’t difficult to be around. After that conversation in the car, she’d stopped prying into his past. He got the feeling she understood that he didn’t want to talk about himself and wouldn’t push him again. Since they’d returned home, she’d left him to his own devices, and that felt almost comfortable.

      “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and started back to the house.

      “Callie?”

      She pivoted to face him.

      “Why are you helping me?”

      Her eyebrows slid up. “I want the barn painted, remember?”

      “You could hire a handyman. It doesn’t have to be some stranger who’s been attacked by dogs. Your boyfriend could even do it on the weekends.”

      She didn’t bother protesting the status he’d assigned to Kyle. She didn’t seem to want to touch that subject, no matter when he brought it up. The way she’d answered his only question in the car led him to believe that she valued her privacy as much as he did. “You’ve got something I need, and I’ve got something you need. That makes it a fair trade for both of us.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

      “I don’t want to owe anyone.” He didn’t want to feel any obligation or gratitude, either. He didn’t want to feel anything—except the sun on his face and the wind in his hair.

      “It’s a fair trade, like I said. That means we’ll be even.”

      When he nodded, she walked into the house and he got up to take a shower. She’d said all the right things—but he had a feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he could wind up owing her a lot.

       5

      Dinner was delicious. Levi ate more than he had in a single meal for months. He probably should’ve stopped Callie when she kept ladling Stroganoff onto his plate, but he was enjoying it too much to protest. Unlike some of the other soldiers, he wasn’t one to complain about the food served in the canteen. It’d tasted better than any he’d known previously. His father had been so determined to make an MMA champion out of him, and to use that success to build the reputation of his dojo, that comfort foods and junk food weren’t allowed. No pizza, fries or greasy burgers. No gravies, no soda, no cookies or candy or cupcakes. He’d been in training almost since he was a toddler, had been raised on vegetables and lean protein. And steroids.

      But Levi had flushed them down the toilet more often than not. Given the cost of those drugs, his father would’ve beaten him to within an inch of his life if he’d ever found out—there were certainly beatings for lesser crimes—but Levi definitely didn’t want to turn out like his old man. He often wondered if Leo would’ve been a little less vicious without all the performance-enhancing drugs he’d taken to build up his own body.

      Levi expected Callie to try and strike up another conversation. Normal people talked over dinner. But, apparently, she’d figured out that he preferred to be left to his own thoughts because she didn’t say anything. Only the click of their utensils and an occasional “Would you like some more iced tea?” broke the silence.

      “That was the best,” he said when he’d finished.

      She’d already gotten up and gone to the sink. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to say even that much. “Thank you.”

      When he didn’t leave, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “Feel free to go out and get some sleep.”

      He was on his own? That easily?

      At first, Levi felt relieved that she demanded so little. He was tired and sore, and he had a terrible headache. But he couldn’t walk out without doing something to show his gratitude. Where would he be without her? His wounds had been stitched up, he had his bike, he had a full belly and a bed for