Feels Like Summertime(9)

Just as quickly as her pregnant belly hit me, so does the smell of baked goods. “What’s that smell?”

“Apple pie,” she says.

“You made apple pie?” My heart flutters like it used to when she kissed me all those years ago. I’m thirty-four years old. It takes more to make a flutter when you’re older. Food is a good way.

“Well, made is a strong word. I just reheated.” She points toward her daughter, who is on the porch with Pop. “I sent Gabby to the store.”

“Is she old enough to drive?”

She smiles. “Just barely.” She takes in a deep breath and rubs the flat of her palm over her belly.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods. “I’m fine. Baby boy is moving around.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Do you want to feel?”

I point to the basketball-size hump under her shirt. “Feel your belly?”

She takes two steps toward me, lifts my hand and places it on the swell of her stomach. “Just wait a second,” she whispers.

I feel her breath as she inhales slowly. Then a tiny flutter bops the palm of my hand.

“Did you feel that?”

“That was the baby?” I ask softly.

She rolls her eyes. “No, I just have gas.” She grins. “Of course it was the baby.” She looks into my eyes, holding my palm against her shirt. “You don’t have any kids, do you, Jake?”

I shake my head and avoid her eyes.

“Have you ever been married?”

“You spoiled me for all other women, Katie.”

She shoves my shoulder and my hand falls from her belly. I want to put it back. “Wait,” I protest, “I was enjoying that.” She turns away from me. “Bring your uterus back. I want to touch it again.”

The front door opens and Gabby walks in. “Mom?” she says warily.

Katie looks up at her and arches her brow.

“Did he just talk about touching your uterus?” she asks her mother.

“Better my uterus than my vagina,” Katie sings out.

“Or your boobs,” Gabby adds, and then she shrugs. She jerks her thumb toward the porch. “Mr. Jacobson wants a deck of cards. He says he’s going to teach me to play blackjack.”

Katie crosses to the TV cabinet and opens it up. All the cabins are equipped with games and cards. She takes out a pack of cards and tosses it to Gabby. “Don’t bet with real money,” she says.

“Pop cheats,” I add.

Gabby clucks her tongue and acts like she’s shooting me with a pistol. “I got this under control,” she says, and she goes back outside.

“Her dad taught her to play blackjack when she was seven,” Katie says. “She’ll beat the pants off your old man.”

I grin. “Good. He deserves it.” I scratch my head. “So, about me touching your uterus again…” I hold my hand out in question. She takes it, lifts her shirt, and lays my hand upon her skin.

We suddenly go from curious and playful to warm and uncomfortable. “Um, this wasn’t what I meant.”

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?” I feel that tiny little flutter under my hand again and a grin tugs at the corners of my lips.

“That day when you fell in the lake, the first day we ever met…”

“Yeah?” I wait.

“You didn’t pull me in with you.”

“Huh?”

“I jumped.”





7





Katie





I shouldn’t tell him. I know that. I’m playing with fire here, but memories are powerful things.

“You fell in the lake, and you thought you pulled me in, but you didn’t. I jumped in with you because I was afraid you would drown.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.” I go to the couch and sit down, then pat the space beside me. “You were so cute. And so drunk. You fell right over the side, and I was afraid you wouldn’t come back up, so I jumped in to save you.”

“It was so cold.”

“I know. I thought I would freeze to death.”

He sits beside me on the couch. “I kissed you that night for the very first time.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks. “I know. I remember. My first kiss ever.”

He jerks his eyes up to meet mine. “You told me you’d kissed lots of boys.”

I shrug. “I lied.”

“I was just glad I didn’t throw up.”

“Me too.” I bump him with my shoulder. “That was the best summer ever,” I say quietly.

“Yes. It really was.”





8





Jake





The first time I ever wanted to kiss Katie Higgins, she was shivering inside a threadbare towel that someone handed her when she climbed up the ladder of the dock. I remember it vividly, because it was the first time I’d ever seen the shadow of a real live nipple on a real live girl. I’d seen nude women in Pop’s magazines, or at least the ones he didn’t hide well enough, but I’d never seen an actual boob before. Or even the shadow of one.