Summer Inferno

By Christy M. Jones

first love [furst luhv] – an uncontrollable fall, resulting in one of two emotions: extreme happiness or eviscerating contempt.

When a teenage summer love comes to a catastrophic end, lives will be torn apart and changed forever. As the years pass and time marches on, one will attempt to move forward, always yearning for absolution, while the other waits and watches from vengeful shadows, vowing to never let go. They say time can heal all wounds. Maybe…maybe not.

The clock ticks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christy M. Jones
• Release date: Nov 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386110705

Christy M. Jones

My name is Christy M. Jones, and I live in New Madrid, Missouri. I have been married for thirty-seven years to my husband, Eddie. When I retired in March, 2015, I decided to follow my dream of writing a novel. This journey has been a learning experience but in a wonderful way. I love making up stories, and I feel my first novel "The Stranger In The Rain" is one of my greatest personal accomplishments. I would love to hear your thoughts. My email address is [e-mail]. Thank you for your support in my endeavor to enter this wonderful world of books!

Book preview

Prologue

THE HUMAN HEART BEATS eighty times per minute.

The human eye can shed sixty-four liters of tears in a lifetime.

The human brain contains one-hundred billion neurons.

All three so different but sharing the same significant flaw – a vulnerability to love.

Love can hasten a heart until it breaks.

Love can generate enough tears to fill an ocean.

Love can twist the mind with unbelievable agony.

But all is not lost.

An antidote does exist.

Revenge can harden the heart.

Revenge can dry the tears.

Revenge can numb the mind.

Vengeance is Mine says the Lord.

Not always.

PART I

EVERLY

One

EVERLY WINSLOW STARED at her sandwich with disinterest. She picked at the bread, throwing small pieces on the ground for the birds flocking at her feet. With a brooding look, she watched the smallest bird run in, grab a crumb, and run back to safety.

Never settle for crumbs, little one. You must always fight for something bigger.

The tiny bird inched toward a larger crumb until a feathered friend swooped in and pecked up the last remaining morsel, leaving the little bird with nothing.

I’m like you. I don’t know how to fight either.

Dark, heavy clouds filled the sky. She leaned against the wooden slats of the park bench, sensing a change in the air. Rain would be here soon, but she wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Her daily visits to the park were all she had. It wouldn’t hurt to stay a while longer. She couldn’t think of anything more refreshing than a soaking summer rain when the soul is bone-dry.

A loud shout brought her back to the present, producing a smile as she watched a group of children run around the playground. Across the grassy area was a group of mothers occupying a semi-circle of benches. They met each day at the same time, this special mommy clique, membership by invitation only. While their energetic children climbed and frolicked, the nosy women gossiped, their heads pressed together like pearls on a strand, discussing what Everly assumed could only be the latest piece of juicy news. As fast as their mouths were moving today, she figured they must be cutting someone up pretty good.

A soccer ball rolled in her direction, bouncing against her ankle. She looked up to see a little boy running toward her, arms outstretched. Everly handed him the ball, quickly noticing his wavy dark hair and irresistible grin. You’re cute. What’s your name?

His hesitation reminded her of her own adolescent stranger danger rules, and she didn’t expect a response until he replied, Gus. His finger pointed toward the bench. That’s my mama over there. Her shirt is red.

The only woman in red had short black hair framing a stern face. She was currently paying no attention to her son, instead enthralled by her friend’s story. Everly was safe...for now. Nice to meet you, Gus. You’re a good soccer player, even better than David Beckham.

He looked back at his friends and then back to her. You can play with us if you want.

She blinked back tears never far from the surface. Thank you, Gus, but I’m sure your mother wouldn’t approve.

My mama won’t care. She...

A mother’s frantic cry filled the air, and Everly’s head jerked toward the park bench. The woman in red was running toward them, adrenalin powering her plump legs with the gait of an antelope. She grabbed her son’s hand, eyes shooting fire. I warned you about talking to strangers. We’re going home, and next time, if you want to stay longer, you’ll mind my rules. She jerked him in the opposite direction. Let’s go.

Everly opened her mouth to explain it was her fault for engaging him in conversation, but she clamped her lips shut. She was fairly certain the Afternoon Gossip Club had already branded her a pedophile, and she didn’t need to antagonize them further and risk another run-in with the police. She couldn’t blame them for thinking the worst. She was a single woman spending every afternoon at the park watching children who weren’t hers play for hours. If she was a mother, she would be suspicious, too.

Sad blue eyes watched the woman jerk her son back to the bench, her mouth still spouting off angry words Everly knew were directed at her. The irritated mother dragged her son toward the car, and for one defiant moment, Everly wondered if the young mother was truly mad about her son’s disobedience or annoyed that her gossip-fest was cut short.

With a sigh, she tugged the brim of her ball cap lower over Jackie-O sunglasses. Anonymity was important, which didn’t help her cause when it came to the overly suspicious mothers. But she couldn’t take the chance of being recognized, and the reason why should be arriving soon.

Attempting to ignore the angry looks aimed in her direction, Everly mentally tapped her foot. It should be any minute now. And just like clockwork, the familiar Mercedes arrived and parked. She sank further into the bench, watching the car door swing open and toned legs appear, moving toward the back of the vehicle. Unbuckling a car seat, the attentive mother perched a toddler on her hip and picked her way through the grass toward the swings. Everly’s envious gaze moved over the woman’s perfect blond ponytail and Barbie doll physique showcased by designer jeans and a tight sweater. She looked down at her own boyish frame and frowned, pulling the edges of her drab cardigan across sunken breasts.

The sound of the mother’s musical laughter floated through the air as she maneuvered her daughter’s energetic legs through the holes of the rubber seat. Then Ms. Perfect’s manicured fingers grasped the metal chains, and with the toddler’s joyous glee mixing with her mother’s, the clanking rhythm started.

Back and forth...back and forth...back and forth.

Everly watched the hypnotic movement, lost in the perfect innocence of this maternal moment. Soothed by the rhythm, her own body rocked in time with each gentle push.

Back and forth...back and forth...back and forth.

A fat raindrop landed on her nose, breaking the spell. She watched in disappointment as the young mother gathered her daughter in her arms, running gracefully back to her car.

The perfect family was gone.

Rooted to the bench, Everly’s haunted eyes stared at the empty swing.

I want to be her.

Why couldn’t I be her?

The rain was falling in earnest now, and the park had emptied, but Everly remained seated, eyes glued to the vacant swing, salty tears mixing with the oncoming drizzle.

Will I ever receive forgiveness?

Ivy chose that moment to appear. That was the name Everly had given her inner voice, playing off the initials i.v., and regrettably, daily verbal battles with this outspoken moral code were nothing new. And like her, Ivy was still stuck in the past. You know how to find absolution. You have to go back.

I can’t go back, Ivy. Nothing can save me now.

You’re stupid. You never listen.

She turned Ivy off. She didn’t need to hear that today.

With rain dripping from the brim of her ball cap, Everly made her way back to the car, tugging her loose jeans along the way. She dreaded the next visit to her therapist and his weekly reprimand of her eating habits. Your body needs nourishment as much as your mind. But her therapist didn’t get it. Food couldn’t cure what ailed her. She was a lost cause.

Opening the car door, she slid inside, wincing as her wet jeans soaked the cloth seat. With a quick toss of the hand, her hat and sunglasses landed in the floorboard. She shook her head, allowing the dark, wet strands to fall around her shoulders. Pulling on her seatbelt, she backed out of the bare parking lot, suddenly craving home.

Seven miles later, she pulled into her assigned parking spot and killed the motor, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. Rain peppered the metal roof of her vehicle, the sound transporting her to another place and time. It wasn’t long before his deep voice flowed through her mind.

I want you, Everly. I just want...you.

She couldn’t breathe.

Have you ever danced in the rain?

She fumbled for the ever-present rubber-band on her wrist.

Pull and snap...pull and snap...pull and snap.

The soft sting against her skin was bringing her back. She needed something to focus on. Her panicked eyes zeroed in on a dilapidated sign tacked to a brick wall directly in front of her car bumper. Happy Valley Apartments. Arched eyebrows drew together at the sight of the three-story rundown complex, its decrepit exterior anything but pleasant.

More like Loser-Ville Apartments. Everyone here is like me. We’re all sad, lonely creatures, waiting for someone to throw us a bone.

When she moved here almost three years ago, it was supposed to be temporary – a stepping stone on her path to a new happiness – but she soon found happiness was nothing but unicorn dreams, and as the longest remaining resident, she saw herself as ‘Queen of Lost Souls’, no sign of abdication in her bleak future.

Once her panic attack subsided, she exited the vehicle, weaving her way through a landmine of potholes. She trudged up a rickety set of metal stairs to apartment number ten. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside, scowling at the two-room interior. She stared in distaste at the indoor/outdoor carpet, forever wondering what horrible things the grungy material hid. Thirty-year old appliances lined peeling, dingy walls, leading to a bathroom housing a rusty shower, a leaky sink, and a toilet with a mind of its own. There were many times Everly wondered if being homeless could be better than this. At least if she lived on the streets, there was a chance of finding a clean shelter and a friendly smile. But when she thought about turning in her key, she stopped. If she moved, how would he find her?

Dropping her purse on a round metal table, Everly slumped onto a tan couch with worn cushions and a broken leg. Looking at the yellow-gold refrigerator, she thought about trying to eat, but she couldn’t muster up the strength, so she removed her wet clothes and curled up naked on the couch, pulling a worn quilt over her cold body.

Sapphire eyes eventually rested on a small bamboo trunk wedged in the corner of the room. It was the size of an eight-can cooler, complete with circular iron handles and a cabin-hook latch. She obsessively checked the latch to ensure it was securely fastened, and observing it now, she breathed a sigh of relief to find nothing disturbed. She couldn’t take any chances. Even now, she could feel the trunk watching her, taunting her. There were times she felt like Tom Hanks with his soccer ball in Castaway. This trunk was her Wilson, constantly stalking her with its vigilant, accusatory presence.

You can’t ignore me.

Unlock me.

From the couch she waited, knowing what would happen when the sun set. The rain had finally stopped, allowing the sinking sun to peek through broken clouds. The light in the room shifted, one final sunbeam resting on the rattan chest. The trunk was taking on a life of its own, empowered by the ebbing stream of light. Her eyes darted from side to side as shadowy figures whizzed around her head. Clutching the tattered edge of the quilt between quivering fingers, she watched in terror as the trunk began to shake. Then it was moving across the carpet, its frantic pleas echoing through the room as it closed in on the couch.

Release me.

She pulled the cover over her head, paralyzed with fear. With hands together, she began to pray. Our Father, Who art in Heaven...

By the time she said amen, the room fell silent, but she was still too afraid to look. She pulled the blanket tighter around her head and closed weary eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new day...but the same battle.

Two

THE SOUND OF AN ALARM woke her.

With the unrelenting beep resounding in her head, she grimaced as she raised up, her neck stiff from the awkward sleeping position her couch provided. Fumbling for the digital clock on the end table, she viciously punched the button, silencing the offending sound. Blurry eyes immediately went to the corner. The trunk was still wedged between the wall and dresser, harmless and dusty. It was like last night never happened. But Everly knew better. That trunk would never let her rest.

I should just burn it.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Rubbing her temples, she attempted to ease the pounding in her head. Still naked, she staggered to the bathroom and shut the door, not for privacy, but to allow for more room. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, and she groaned. She had fallen asleep with wet hair, and now, she looked like a member of an 80’s rock band. Her lips twisted in a wry smile.

Whitesnake called. They’re looking for their guitar player.

She tried to smooth the tangles, but nothing worked, so she looked for something else to center on, wrinkling her nose at the sight of her thin frame. A small ribcage jutted from beneath even smaller breasts, while hipbones poked through pale, delicate skin. She could easily be mistaken for someone with a fatal disease.

I do have a disease. My heart is dying.

Leaning in closer, she scowled at the ugly freckles sprinkled across her upturned nose and cheeks. Kisses from the angels her mother once told her. If the angels love me so much, then why am I cursed? Her eyes moved over the rest of her face. At least the freckles drew attention away from her pointed chin and long neck. She knew she wasn’t beautiful. She once told friends if she was a contestant on The Bachelor, she would be sent home the first night. So, to compensate for what she lacked in physical beauty, she adopted a genial personality accompanied by a kind heart, always ready to put everyone’s needs above her own. But those misguided thoughts had done nothing for her, resulting in a lonely life inside a shitty apartment.

I guess nice people really do finish last.

These self-demeaning thoughts were like a ball bat, beating away at her self-esteem. Mentally propping her Louisville slugger in the dark corner of her mind, she reached for her toothbrush to scrub the sour taste from her mouth. She started to pull back the shower curtain but stopped. She had set her alarm for a reason, and a shower didn’t fit in her schedule. She couldn’t be late.

Rushing across the living room to the dresser, she yanked the bottom drawer forward, pulling out a pair of white cotton shorts and a wrinkled Garth Brooks Live t-shirt. She didn’t bother with a bra. What was the point if she had nothing to put in it.

She stepped outside the apartment door, the fresh air from yesterday’s rain assaulting her senses. Full lips curved into a small smile as she stared at the beautiful sky, still pink from a summer dawn.

I’ve seen this same sky so many times. Him, framed by the sunrise as he opens the window, his long legs swinging over the side before falling to the ground.

The smile fell from her face. Would she ever be able to enjoy the picturesque rise of the sun without remembering that?

Quickening her steps, she climbed behind the wheel of her cherry red Camry, grabbing her ball cap and sunglasses, pulling tangled hair through the hole in the back. She checked the rearview mirror, satisfied with her disguise. She started the motor.

Thirty minutes later, she was cruising through the manicured streets of the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. Rimrock Road boasted Billings’ most beautiful residences, but there was only one home that held her interest. She stopped a block away, parking on a side street. Her blue eyes found its target – a Tudor-style home on the corner, surrounded by emerald grass and large, ornamental trees. She opened the glove box, excited fingers wrapping around an expensive pair of binoculars.

It shouldn’t be long now.

She saw a movement at the front door. Removing her sunglasses, she focused the binoculars on the porch steps, excitement hastening her heart when she saw him walking out to a black SUV parked in the circle drive. He was pulling a suitcase, a dark suit enhancing his tall, athletic frame. He pointed a remote at the back of the vehicle, waiting as the door began to rise.

Once he stored his luggage, his wife was walking down the steps, her blond ponytail swinging from side to side, their daughter tucked beneath her shoulder. Tears stabbed Everly’s eyes as he took the little girl in his arms, covering her face with kisses. His wife watched with amusement until his free arm opened wide, and she stepped forward, enveloped by his embrace and kiss. Everly’s stomach churned as she zoomed in on their fused lips, the kiss growing so deep the blonde’s neck curved back, her long ponytail pointing to the ground. A small cry erupted from Everly’s throat, and she opened the car door, retching in the street. When she finally caught her breath, she raised up and stared at the house with bleak eyes.

I want to be her.

I want to be his.

The man drove off in the opposite direction, and she waited for mother and child to go inside before doing a drive-by. She slowed to a crawl, seeing a small yard flag fluttering in the breeze. Happy Summer. Her eyes narrowed. I wish my days could be happy. But those times were over. She was doomed for eternity to a life of loneliness and despair.

On her way home, she thought of the suitcase the man stored in the back of the vehicle, and her hopes began to rise. A smile flitted across her lips. Tonight. But that would come later. Right now, she needed a shower and a meal. Her days were all choreographed around the same dance. Ballcap. Sunglasses. Binoculars. Him. Her. The park. Her obsessive disorder wouldn’t allow her to learn a new step.

Sensing her urgency, her foot pressed down a little harder on the accelerator. She had to hurry.

Nothing could interfere with the dance.

Three

GLITTERING STARS AND a full moon guided Everly back to Rimrock Road. Even in July, Montana nights could be cool, so Everly came prepared in black sweats and sneakers. And like she did this morning, she parked a block away and stealthily skirted the street, sneaking her way up to the front door. She picked up a flower pot of geraniums and retrieved a key, opening the door before returning the key to its hiding spot. Quietly closing the door behind her, she found herself beneath a large crystal chandelier in a beautiful marble foyer. The darkness of the room matched the silence in the house, but she wasn’t worried. She knew the layout like the back of her hand.

Creeping up the ornate staircase, she made her way down a long hall to the nursery, finding the door slightly ajar. She stepped inside. A plug-in nightlight gave the room a soft, comforting glow. She smiled at the butterflies painted on the walls and the ceiling filled with iridescent stars. It was like an enchanted garden.

Thankful for the plush carpet beneath her sneakered feet, Everly walked over to the crib, her eyes drawn to the wooden block letters on the wall. Isabella. She looked over the side rail, seeing the toddler lying on her back, one arm flung out and the other curled in a fist with her thumb in her mouth. She was wearing a purple nightgown, a fuzzy blanket already worked down around small bare feet. Leaning over the rail, Everly placed a loving hand on the tiny head, feeling the silky curls beneath her palm. Her hair was dark, like her father’s, and Everly’s eyes moistened as she gazed down at the rosebud lips wrapped around a little thumb.

You should have been mine.

Overwhelmed by emptiness, Everly gently picked up the toddler, and careful not to wake her, she walked over to a chintz rocker by a large window with a view of the expansive backyard. Settling back with a grateful smile, Everly rocked the little girl, a lullaby on her lips.

Hush little baby don’t say a word.

The toddler snuggled closer, and it was like manna to her barren soul.

Mama’s going to buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing.

Tears streamed down her face.

Mama’s going to buy you a...

A loud gasp interrupted the whispered song, and the room flooded with light. Everly found herself face-to-face with a blond-haired mama bear. How dare you break into my home and try to steal my baby!

No. No, Everly said, emphatically shaking her head. I wasn’t going to steal her. I just...I just...wanted to hold her.

The blonde roughly snatched her daughter out of Everly’s arms, producing a loud cry from the now awake toddler. I’m calling the police.

Everly began to cry along with the toddler. Please don’t call them. I didn’t mean any harm. I’ll leave right now. I’ll never bother you again.

The distraught mother glared at her. You have done this for the last time. I’m tired of you stalking me and my husband. I’m pressing charges.

Then she was gone, and in a panic, Everly dashed out of the room and down the stairs, her feet maneuvering two and three steps at a time. As she ran out the front door, she could hear the blonde on the phone yelling at the police. Her sneakers pounded the street as she raced to her vehicle, tires screeching as she accelerated toward home. Tears blinded scared eyes as she pounded the steering wheel with one clenched fist.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

She had let her compulsions overrule her sense of right and wrong, and now, she would have to pay the price...again. Making it home in record time, she ran up to her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind her. Out of breath, she grabbed her worn blanket and curled up on the couch, her pale lips moving in silent prayer.

Hail Mary, full of grace...

She could hear loud footsteps stomping up the metal stairs.

Blessed art thou among women...

There was a pounding on her door.

Pray for us sinners...

Everly Winslow. Open up. It’s the police.

Now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

With a resigned sigh, Everly unwrapped her trembling body from the blanket and opened the door. A male and female officer stood on her threshold, their stern expressions anything but friendly. The male officer gave her a steely look. Are you Everly Winslow?

Her silent nod answered his question. Curtly, he said, Put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for breaking and entering, and endangering a child.

She opened her mouth to protest the charges, but she bit back the words. It was useless to try and explain her actions to these two. They didn’t care. They were just doing their job. Obediently, she turned around and listened to her Miranda rights as the cold steel snapped around her wrists. With a hand on each arm, the officers led her down the rickety stairs to the waiting cop car. The female officer placed a firm hand on her head, easing her into the back seat.

The drive to the station was silent, interrupted occasionally by a dispatcher announcing other crimes in progress.

Need an officer to respond to a homicide at Harvey’s Bar. Male gunshot victim found in alley behind the building.

Robbery in progress at Taco Bell. Customers inside say he’s armed and demanding money.

Everly stared blankly out the car window, listening to the radio chatter.

So much crime, and I get arrested for holding a baby and singing her a lullaby. This is a screwed-up world.

Arriving at the police station, she was booked and led to a room, where she was embarrassingly strip-searched by a female officer and handed an orange jumpsuit. She froze. She had seen a jumpsuit like this so long ago. It was the last time she saw...no. Now was not the occasion to remember that day.

Then it was time for that long, humiliating walk, and with the jailer’s firm grip on her arm, Everly was steered to an empty jail cell. She flinched at the sound of the iron door clanging shut behind her. Looking around the room, she saw a metal bunk bed, a sink, and a toilet. She chose the bottom bunk and laid down, her mind and soul exhausted. As she looked around the sparse room, she realized this jail cell wasn’t much different than her apartment. She was in a prison no matter where she was at.

Recalling the events that brought her here tonight, she couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that pretty, pink nursery and how it felt to hold that little princess in her empty arms. Regardless of how fleeting the moment may have been, it was still worth it, even if it meant prison time. Her regrets were few.

Jaded blue eyes closed, mentally removing her from the cold, steel room, and on the wings of angels, she returned to the perfect family’s home. She was holding Isabella in her arms, the full moon shining on her dark, silky curls. Everly could almost feel the warmth of that little body against her own. With lips barely moving, her whispered words filled the eerie silence of the prison cell.

And if that mocking bird won’t sing, Mama’s going to buy you a diamond ring.

Four

ONE MORE LONG DAY AND another sleepless night later, Everly woke to the sound of a key in the lock of her cage. She sat up, rubbing swollen eyes. Is he here?

The female guard nodded, handing her a plastic bag. Here are your things. When you’re done dressing, I’ll take you to him.

Shedding the offensive jailhouse jumpsuit, Everly pulled on her sweats and sneakers. She was led down the hall to a room, and when the door opened, she saw him standing a few feet away, his handsome profile staring out the window, hands shoved into the pockets of expensive trousers. A feeling of gratitude swept through her, and she stumbled from the powerful emotions his presence invoked. He turned around when he heard the door open, and she immediately noticed his burnished brown hair, currently tousled by angry hands. His dark, green eyes found hers, but instead of the love she hoped to find, she found disappointment. She crossed the room with arms open wide. He stepped back, rebuffing her gesture. Not now, Everly. Let’s go.

Dejected, her arms fell to her side, and she followed him out of the police station, her shorter legs attempting to keep up with his irritated stride. On the way to her apartment, Everly occasionally glanced at him from beneath long lashes. His face was grim, his knuckles white from a tight grip on the steering wheel. A couple of times, she tried to engage him in conversation, but his silence and the taut lines around his mouth convinced her to stop trying. By the time they arrived at her apartment, she was a bundle of nerves. His black SUV came to a lurching halt in front of the complex. She tried one more time. Would you come inside? Please? For me?

Without a word, he opened his door and followed her up the stairs. Once they were in her apartment, he sank down on the couch and regarded her with penetrating eyes. Why are you doing this, Everly? Why can’t you let go?

Sitting down next to him, the smell of his cologne wafted toward her, and all she wanted was for him to take her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. But those days were gone, and now, she had to settle for sharing the same couch cushion, allowed to look but never to touch. I love you, Reid, and under no circumstances will I give up on us. Why can’t you see that?

We’re divorced. I have a new life with my wife and daughter. Our time is over.

Those same words had been spoken so many times, but they still had the impact of a bomb. "You belonged to me first, Reid Winslow. The only reason