Summer on the Mountain Read online

  Summer on the Mountain

  By

  Rosemarie Naramore

  All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  SUMMER ON THE MOUNTAIN

  © Copyright 2012 by Rosemarie Naramore

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter One

  Summer Windham held the painting in outstretched hands, her eyes trained on the lovely pastoral scene. Smooth green rolling hills, leafy trees, and a gorgeous sunset enlivened the artwork—a recent addition to the gallery. Summer felt certain the landscape would prove popular with patrons. Her boss, Gwendolyn Lawton, wasn’t so certain.

  “You really like that?” Gwendolyn asked, wrinkling her nose to convey her distaste.

  She sighed. “I do.”

  Summer knew her boss was partial to impressionist painters, and featured a good many of their works. But, being the pragmatist she was, she knew that like Summer, many patrons favored landscapes. And as long as people were buying them, she intended to keep landscapes prominently displayed in the gallery.

  Gwendolyn gave her a breezy wave before scurrying to a potential customer. Summer bit back a smile. The customer had bypassed the impressionist paintings and was currently viewing a mountainscape she particularly liked, featuring a snowcapped mountain peak towering above a pristine lake.

  Summer loved all the landscapes in the gallery, whether calm and serene like the painting she was currently hanging, or rugged, mountainscapes—it didn’t matter. Landscapes held her rapt attention, eliciting perhaps a primal response that spoke to her connection to the earth.

  Maybe that was it, she mused. Perhaps her ancestors were country people who had toiled in the soil. Or maybe they had been well-to-do aristocrats living in country manors surrounded by thousands of acres of land. Summer would never know, and in truth, had no real desire to know—or at least for the time being. Later, perhaps…

  Adopted as an infant, she had enjoyed a happy childhood with parents who adored her. She suspected were she to inquire about her past, her adoptive parents might be hurt, and she certainly had no wish to inflict pain on the family that had doted on her. Well-to-do like Gwendolyn, her parents had given her everything a child could want, including a sound value system, and she loved them for it.

  She hung the painting, stepping back to assure it was perfectly straight. Leaving nothing to chance, she hurried to her desk and retrieved a level. She used the tool and found her picture-hanging attempt spot on.

  She smoothed a hand to her glossy blonde hair, assuring a stubbornly errant tendril remained in place. A quick glance downward confirmed her sleek, black dress remained wrinkle free, and that her panty hose were free of defects. She sighed. She knew she was the picture of professionalism. She was also tall, wispy thin, and elegant. Were she anything less, Gwendolyn would never have hired her, though Summer knew looks could be deceiving.

  She often felt she was diametrically opposite to the outward picture she presented. If she had a job that allowed her to don overalls and work boots, she suspected she’d be as happy as a camper. In fact, she wanted to go camping!

  She stepped across the gallery to view another painting, this one also a mountain scene featuring tall trees and a pristine mountain lake. A lakeside cabin, rustic and homey, called her name. She sighed loudly and Gwendolyn appeared at her side.

  “If you could step into that painting, I believe you would,” she said, smiling ruefully. And then she shuddered, since her distaste for the Great Outdoors mirrored her distaste for the visual representations that hung in the gallery.

  Summer raised an eyebrow and Gwendolyn pointed a manicured finger toward the painting. “Mother Nature isn’t as sweet natured as you might think, my dear,” she said. “I certainly found that out the hard way.” She shuddered, remembering a recent trip to the mountains with her husband, Leonard.

  A true outdoorsman, he had finally persuaded a reluctant Gwendolyn to accompany him to the family’s cabin several weeks before. Leonard had enjoyed countless summers at the mountain retreat as a child, as had the couple’s own three boys. But Gwendolyn had never visited there longer than a few hours, usually citing work commitments as a means to avoid having any lengthier contact with Mother Nature. But … she had finally agreed to accompany her husband as a means to commemorate his sixty-fifth birthday. Unfortunately, the trip had been short-lived, with her high-tailing it off the mountain faster than Leonard could blow out the candles on his birthday cake.

  Gwendolyn glared at the painting Summer was currently admiring as if it were an artist’s rendition of her husband’s mountain retreat. She pointed a finger at the forest depicted in the painting. “There are bears in those woods,” she said with a dramatic shudder. “And the mosquitoes are so thick, you need a spatula to scrape them off, and even the deer are a nuisance, sticking their noses into places they certainly do not belong.”

  Summer chuckled merrily and clasped her hands together. “I can’t believe you saw an actual bear, and to think, you saw a fawn…”

  “And a skunk,” Gwendolyn added, pursing her lips in distaste.

  “Oh, I’d love to go to your cabin,” she said wistfully, staring at the painting.

  Gwendolyn watched her intently. “Then why don’t you? Why don’t you indeed?” Her eyes shone brightly, and she quirked a smug, triumphant little smile.

  “What are you thinking?” Summer asked, watching her friend through narrowed eyes. There was no telling what she had on her mind.

  “I was thinking…” She continued to eye her thoughtfully, cocking her head as if trying to decide whether to divulge her idea or not.

  “What?” Summer pressed. “Tell me.”

  “Well, I don’t think Leonard has forgiven me yet for abandoning him on his birthday…”

  “I don’t blame him!” she cried shrilly. “It was his sixty-fifth birthday, Gwendolyn.”

  Summer adored Leonard, who often stopped by the gallery with either lunch or lattes in hand for both her and Gwendolyn when the gallery was particularly busy and they couldn’t manage to get away.

  “When I took my vows, I promised to love and honor. I never said anything about roughing it in the wilderness.”

  “But Gwendolyn, it wasn’t as if you were tent camping. Leonard showed me a picture of the cabin and told me all about the recent renovations. It looks and sounds lovely—a restful, rustic retreat.”

  “Oh, yes, lovely,” she muttered sarcastically.

  “Okay, anyway, what are you thinking?” Summer persisted.

  “As I was saying, I don’t think Leonard has forgiven me yet for abandoning him, but, I think I may know how to win him over.”

  “Really? How?”

  Gwendolyn brightened, flashing her a high-voltage smile. Her teeth, blindingly white after a recent trip to the dentist’s chair, gleamed in stark contrast to her tanned skin. Blue eyes under a cap of crisp, dark hair twinkled with pleasure. “I’ve been telling you it’s time you picked up a paint brush, haven’t I, dear?”

  She nodded, green eyes narrowed. “Yes, you have.”

  Summer hadn’t painted for nearly a year,
feeling as if her muse, whatever it had been, had abandoned her. She had accepted a commission from wealthy gallery patrons a year before, only to find the experience would ultimately sour her on the thing that had been most dear to her—her art.

  The clients, a married couple, had insisted on several alterations to a painting of their home, although even Gwendolyn had declared the finished product perfect. In fact, she had been so delighted with the painting, which the client had refused to buy, she had displayed it in the gallery. It had sold quickly and for a considerable amount of money, which had been a tremendous relief to Summer—but not enough a relief to inspire her to pick up a paint brush again.

  Gwendolyn giggled gleefully. “Summer, you’re due for a vacation, and you’re going to have it on the mountain, and I’m going to have a happy husband when you return.”

  She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I want you to go to the cabin, and while you’re there, I want you to paint the cabin, or the forest, or the lake, or whatever strikes your fancy, so long as Leonard recognizes it as his childhood stomping grounds.”

  “Are you serious?” she asked, not daring to believe she might have an opportunity to actually stay in her friend’s mountain cabin. Astoundingly, she had reached the age of twenty-seven without ever having experienced any excursions into the Great Outdoors, other than a one-time camping trip with her father when she was only eight.

  “I’m very serious,” Gwendolyn said. “You can leave today! The sooner I have that painting, the sooner Leonard will forgive me.” Her face glowed with hopeful anticipation.

  “That sounds … I mean…” She abruptly shook her head. “I can’t go!” She couldn’t possibly leave today. She had work to do at the gallery, and packing to do at home should she actually decide to take the trip. Besides, she couldn’t very well snatch up a paint brush and expect her muse to return, could she?

  Gwendolyn grasped her hands. “Please, Summer, will you do this for me? I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I can’t tell you how pleased Leonard will be to have a painting of his mountaintop, or cabin, or whatever…” She waved a hand dismissively. “And, really, you are due for a vacation. And, this may be just the ticket to getting you painting again.”

  “But, how will you manage without me?” It was summer, the gallery’s busiest season due to the influx of tourists to their town.

  “Holly is home for part of the summer, so she can always help out.” Holly was Gwendolyn’s eldest granddaughter, and had helped out often at the gallery during summers since she was sixteen.

  “You’re serious?” Summer said.

  “Absolutely. Run home, pack, go today!”

  “But what should I pack?”

  “Nothing, other than clothes and toiletries. Oh, and sturdy shoes. The pantry in the cabin is well-stocked, since, well, you know…”

  Summer understood Gwendolyn referred to her and Leonard’s short stay a few weeks before. She nodded, but remained unsure. “I feel like I need time to prepare...”

  “You don’t,” she assured her. “Go, pack your clothes, and be off. The sooner you finish the painting, the sooner I’ll be in my husband’s good graces.”

  She watched her friend uncertainly. “Are you sure? Really sure?”

  “Yes. Go. Go!”

  Summer smiled tentatively. “I’ll need directions.”

  “Oh, yes.” Gwendolyn scribbled directions on a small pad of paper she retrieved from her desk. “Okay, then, call me as soon as you get there. It’s about a two hour drive. Oh, and if you have any trouble while you’re there, my son Jarrod lives on the adjoining property.”

  Summer furrowed her brows. “Jarrod? Your youngest son? Isn’t he the forest ranger living on federal land?”

  “He is a forest ranger, but he chooses to live on his own property, although he works from a nearby site on federal land. His property actually backs up to government land.”

  Summer nodded. She had never met Jarrod, but from what she had gathered when his parents spoke of him, he was a chip off Leonard’s block, favoring a life in the wilderness to city dwelling.

  “Well, it’ll be nice knowing someone is close by should I need him,” Summer said softly, wondering if she would have occasion to actually meet him. His family practically described him as a hermit, who had rejected anything metropolitan.

  Summer didn’t miss the flash of uncertainty that crossed Gwendolyn’s face, but then realized she must have imagined it when her boss’s eyes widened suddenly and she grinned, almost smugly.

  “Remember, call me as soon as you arrive. Let me know what you think of the cabin. Oh, and do tell Jarrod hello for me.”

  “I will,” she called cheerfully as she dashed out the door.

  ***

  As Summer left the lowlands behind and traveled up the steep mountain road, she felt giddy with excitement. Today she’d gone to work as she would any other day, only to leave early with the express permission of her boss. She was off to her very first extended wilderness retreat. She couldn’t wait.

  As she drove, she wished she’d taken the time to change out of her work clothes. Her slim fitting dress made driving uncomfortable, as did her two-inch heels. Her feet ached, and she considered pulling over to change into the comfortable tennis shoes stowed in the trunk. But then she consulted her watch and changed her mind. She was perhaps a half-hour drive from her destination and was champing at the bit to get there.

  Fifteen minutes later, however, she noted a sign identifying a lookout point off the roadway, and she couldn’t resist pulling in to check out the view. She parked and stepped from the vehicle, stretching to relieve her tired muscles. She took a tentative step onto an asphalt sidewalk that led to an outcropping over a shallow ravine, but experienced a sudden hunger pang. She turned and ducked back into her car to grab a baggie of trail mix.

  She munched hungrily as she walked the trail again, and gasped when she reached the outcropping and saw the panoramic view before her. Fortunately, the drop off in front of her wasn’t terribly deep and therefore, didn’t cause a dizzy spell a higher vantage point might have induced in her. She was terribly afraid of heights but hoped her mountain excursion might help her overcome it.

  To her left stood what appeared to be the very peak of the mountain, and below her, acre after acre of lush, green trees. In the midst of the trees, sunlight twinkled on a crisp, blue mountain lake. The sight reminded her of a picture postcard and she couldn’t help staring in awe at the magnificence of Mother Nature.

  Finally, she returned to her car and rested against the hood as she watched two squirrels frolicking nearby. One brave little fellow ran up to her, lifting its front paws as if begging. She giggled gleefully and tossed the little creature a peanut, and then another. The second squirrel soon joined them.

  She didn’t see the stern faced ranger approach until he was practically upon her. He paused long enough to shoot her a warning look, and then hitch a thumb at a nearby sign marked, “Please don’t feed the squirrels.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t know how I missed the sign.”

  The man, tall and muscular, simply nodded crisply and continued his stride toward a Ford Explorer parked a few spaces over.

  Summer winced. How had she missed the sign? She glanced over at the ranger, who now stood at the hood of his SUV. It was clear he thought she was a moron, if the look on his handsome face was any indication. Thick brows were drawn low over crisp blue eyes. Those eyes were presently narrowed speculatively. She suspected he was curious about her attire, since his eyes lit briefly on her oh-so-inappropriate-for-the-conditions shoes.

  At this point, she truly regretted not having changed out of her work clothes. With a self-conscious glance at the ranger and an apologetic shrug at the squirrels, she climbed back into her car and headed for the cabin.

  She drove carefully, cognizant of every speed limit sign, fearful of running into other memb
ers of the law enforcement community. With relief, she finally arrived at the cabin, tucked in the trees and on the embankment of the most beautiful and pristine mountain lake she had ever seen—either real or an artist’s rendition. She gasped with pleasure.

  She stepped out of her car, glancing around eagerly. She couldn’t wait to walk down to the lake, but first decided she needed to carry her clothing and toiletries into the cabin. She hoped Gwendolyn had been correct about the cabin being well-stocked with food and most anything else she might need during her stay.

  She decided to leave her painting supplies in the trunk for later and inside the cabin, sighed with contentment. It was everything she had pictured in her mind’s eye, from the knotty pine construction to the stone fireplace. She stepped into the bedroom, surprised to find it smaller than she expected, but tidy, and certainly big enough for her. The bathroom boasted a serviceable shower, but no tub. No matter, she decided. Although spending time at this cabin would never qualify as “roughing it,” since it was a far cry from the tent camping she had done the one time as a child, it was still a unique experience for a girl who had spent her entire life in the city.

  She decided to change out of her work attire, sighing with relief as she shed her pumps with a dramatic flourish, and then the panty hose and constricting dress. She slipped into jeans and a t-shirt, and then spun around gleefully. The place was all hers for the summer, or at least until she completed the painting for Leonard.

  The painting.

  She abruptly dropped onto the bed. The reality of the situation gripped her. She had agreed to do a painting, when she hadn’t actually picked up a paintbrush in nearly a year. What had she been thinking?

  She sighed, remembering how much she had loved painting. It had truly been her passion, but after the fiasco with the couple over the painting of their home, she had just seemed to run out of steam. And too, the incident had coincided with the breakup of her two-year relationship with another artist. Both incidents still stung, regardless of how hard she tried to overcome the pain.