Free When Summer Comes by Brenda Novak Page A

through the next ten years.
    Fortunately, Rifle merely barked a hello. Then he circled, acting eager to lead the way to his master.
    Levi motioned for the dog to start off. “Fine. Go.”
    With another bark, Rifle loped toward the barn, but he didn’t stop at the entrance. He trotted through the middle and out the other side to where Callie was lying on the ground with a camera.
    “You’re taking pictures of dirt?” Levi asked as he approached her.
    Lowering her camera, she looked up at him. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt top, which was no longer clean, due to all that scooting around. “See? I’ve found an anthill!”
    The excitement in her voice surprised him. “An anthill.”
    “Yeah.” A bead of sweat rolled from her temple as she smiled. “I’ve been getting some great shots.”
    He indicated the camera. “This is your hobby?”
    “My profession. I have a studio in town. Reflections by Callie. We do a lot of weddings. But lately I’ve been shooting nature.”
    He recalled the impressive photograph hanging in the kitchen. “That spider by the table.”
    “Is mine, yes.”
    “It’s nice.”
    She seemed gratified. “Thanks.”
    “So how often do you go into your studio?”
    “I used to go every day. But...I’m taking the summer off.”
    “To photograph nature.”
    “And to say goodbye.”
    He studied her carefully. “To whom?”
    Sitting up, she tilted her head so that the sun could hit her face. “To this place. It belonged to my grandparents before they died. I spent a lot of summer days and weekends here when I was growing up, have a lot of fond memories.”
    “That’s why you’re living out here alone?”
    “That’s right. Why?”
    He hesitated to put what he was feeling into words. He sensed that something was wrong, something beyond having to sell a piece of property that had been in the family for years. But he didn’t really know Callie and could easily be mistaken. He hoped he was. As much as he was determined not to feel anything, he appreciated her kind heart. He’d never experienced much gentleness. Not until he met Behrukh.
    Maybe that was why he’d been foolish enough to get involved with her. He’d returned to her father’s store again and again, to buy gum, candy, bottled water, anything he could think of. He’d never been with a woman before and his hormones were running rampant.
    “Who’s taking care of the studio?” he asked. “Or did you close it for the summer?”
    “We couldn’t miss bridal season. So I have an assistant—more like an apprentice, I guess—who’s handling things for me.”
    “While you work out here, taking pictures of nature and getting the farm in shape.”
    “Basically.”
    She wasn’t wearing any makeup. He got the impression she’d climbed out of bed, pulled her hair up and headed outside. But he liked her this way. She looked fresh and dewy and soft.
    Suddenly, he craved some of that softness. A moment of tenderness. A respite from the bitterness that had left his own heart so hard. It felt like forever since he’d lost himself inside a woman.
    But the only woman he’d known in that way was dead because of him. So was the baby she carried— his baby.
    He tried to steel himself against the memory he avoided more than any other, but nearly swooned beneath the vision that broke on his mind. Being around Callie made it almost impossible to forget what happened. Although she looked nothing like the woman he’d loved, the two had a similar spirit.
    “Are you okay?” Callie’s voice was soft, practically a whisper.
    He opened his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. This wasn’t Behrukh, he reminded himself. And what had happened in Kandahar? There was nothing he could do to change it.
    “Fine,” he managed to say. He wanted to get away from Callie, needed to get away.
    Soon, he promised himself. As soon as he fulfilled his obligation. “Where’s the paint?”
    Although she didn’t