Free Summer on the Mountain by Rosemarie Naramore Page A

home.”
    Summer watched him curiously, noting he had slurred his words, and wondering exactly when he intended to leave.  His eyelids suddenly closed and she noted the steady rise and fall of his chest.  He’d fallen asleep.
    Unsure what to do, she glanced around furtively.  With a sigh, she decided to let him sleep.  Clearly the man was exhausted. 
    The sofa boasted recliners on both ends, and she bent to lift the lever to raise the foot rest where he sat.  She grasped the back of the chair and pushed it to its most extreme reclining position and then covered him with a blanket. 
    She watched him briefly and then headed outside to resume painting.  There was no telling how long he might sleep. 
    She had just picked up a paint brush when the phone rang.  She hurried into the cabin, hoping to get to the phone before the ringing disturbed Jarrod.
    “Hi,” she said breathlessly into the receiver.
    “Well, hello,” Gwendolyn said cheerfully.  “You sound out of breath, my dear.  Everything all right?”
    “Fine, fine,” she assured her.  “Actually, better than fine.  I started a painting this morning.”
    “You did?  That’s wonderful!”
    “It’s probably not going to be good enough to give to Leonard, but more an opportunity to get my hands and fingers working again,” she said.  “You know, get the creative juices flowing.”
    “Well, I’m just glad you’re painting, dear.  Truly I am.  Hey, would you know where that son of mine might be.  I tried to reach him last night and again this morning.”
    Summer paused, swallowing over a lump in her throat.  She considered telling her friend a little white lie, but then decided honesty was the best policy.  Particularly since Jarrod might very well divulge he’d been at her place at a later date, and then she knew she’d have explaining to do.
    “Uh, well, he’s here.”
    “Oh,” Gwendolyn said, sounding surprised.  “May I speak to him?”
    “Actually, you can’t.  He’s sleeping.”
    There was a lengthy pause at the end of the line.  “He is?” 
    Summer didn’t miss the shock in Gwendolyn’s voice.  “Gwendolyn, he stopped by this morning for—well, coffee—and then to my surprise, and to yours I’m sure, he sat down on the couch and promptly fell asleep.”
    “He did?”
    “Yes.  He said he was on a stakeout much of the night, and during the stakeout he came down with a cold…”
    “You had a cold…,” she said, and then cleared her throat when she realized the implication of her words.
    Summer opted not to respond to that.  “Anyway, I’ll have him call you as soon as he wakes up.”
    “Don’t take any guff from him, Summer,” Gwendolyn advised.  “He’s like his father—a big baby when he gets sick.  Men!”
    “Yes,” Summer agreed, though she wasn’t exactly certain what she’d just agreed to.  She’d found Leonard both charming and sweet-natured anytime she’d been around him.  However, when Jarrod woke up hours later, he was anything but. 
    “Summer!” he called from the couch.  “My throat hurts.  And so does my head.”
    She carefully laid down her paint brush and hurried into the cabin.  She found him sitting up, having lowered the foot rest of the recliner, and grasping his forehead as if he was in agony. 
    “I’ll get you a couple ibuprofen tablets.”
    “Three.  Get three, please,” he said.  “And feel free to knock me upside my head with a mallet”
    Summer hurried to retrieve the tablets and water and passed them to him.  He muttered a thanks, and then swallowed. 
    “I’ll make you a hot lemon,” she offered. 
    He shook his head, raking a hand through his hair.  “No, I’m leaving.  You don’t need to catch this again.”
    She followed him out to the porch.  He stopped at the painting.  “It’s really good,” he told her, admiration in his voice.  “And I feel … terrible,” he said after a pause, and then frowned.  “I never get