A Month of Summer Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER 1 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 2 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 3 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 4 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 5 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 6 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 7 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 8 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 9 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 10 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 11 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 12 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 13 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 14 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 15 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 16 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 17 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 18 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 19 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 20 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 21 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 22 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 23 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 24 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 25 - Rebecca Macklin

  CHAPTER 26 - Hanna Beth Parker

  CHAPTER 27 - Rebecca Macklin

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for Lisa Wingate’s Accent Novels

  A Thousand Voices

  “Wingate paints a riveting picture of the Choctaw Nation as one woman searches for the family she never knew. Heartfelt and revealing, Wingate’s latest proves that she’s a rising star in the world of women’s fiction.”

  —Romantic Times (top pick)

  “A delightful, heart-wrenching story written in first person with captivating characters, A Thousand Voices is sensitively told and masterfully written. It will capture the imagination of readers from the first page. . . . A Thousand Voices is a book not to be missed . . . [a] perfect 10.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  "Lisa Wingate provides a warm character study of a fully developed individual seeking her roots.” —Midwest Book Review

  Drenched in Light

  “Heartfelt and moving, enriched by characters drawn with compassion and warmth.” —Jennifer Chiaverini, author of Circle of Quilters

  “Another winner.” —Booklist

  “A deep character study.” —The Best Reviews

  Written by today’s freshest new talents and selected by New American Library, NAL Accent novels touch on subjects close to a woman’s heart, from friendship to family to finding our place in the world. The Conversation Guides included in each book are intended to enrich the individual reading experience, as well as encourage us to explore these topics together—because books, and life, are meant for sharing.

  Visit us online at www.penguin.com.

  The Language of Sycamores

  "Heartfelt, honest, and entirely entertaining . . . this poignant story will touch your heart from the first page to the last.” —Kristin Hannah

  "Wingate’s smoothly flowing prose fills the pages with emotional drama.”

  —Romantic Times (top pick)

  “Wingate is an excellent storyteller who knows how to draw readers in quickly and keep them turning the pages, laughing one minute and grabbing for a tissue the next.” —The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal

  “Wingate presents another one of her positive and uplifting books . . . tales in the midst of turmoil that are inspirational without being preachy.”

  —Booklist

  Good Hope Road

  “A novel bursting with joy amidst crisis: Small-town life is painted with scope and detail in the capable hands of a writer who understands longing, grief, and the landscape of a woman’s heart.”

  —Adriana Trigiani, author of the Big Stone Gap trilogy

  “Wingate has written a genuinely heartwarming story about how a sense of possibility can be awakened in the aftermath of a tragedy to bring a community together and demonstrate the true American spirit.” —Booklist

  “Wingate’s novels, like those of Nicholas Sparks and Richard Paul Evans and others, takes a middle ground between Christian and mainstream fiction—uplifting, clean, and inspirational but not overtly religious.”

  —The Bryan-College Station Eagle

  Tending Roses

  “A story at once gentle and powerful about the very old and the very young, and about the young woman who loves them all. Richly emotional and spiritual, Tending Roses affected me from the first page.”

  —Luanne Rice, author of Sandcastles

  “You can’t put it down without . . . taking a good look at your own life and how misplaced priorities might have led to missed opportunities. Tending Roses is an excellent read for any season, a celebration of the power of love.”

  —El Paso Times

  PRAISE FOR LISA WINGATE’S

  “TEXAS HILL COUNTRY” SERIES

  Over the Moon at the Big Lizard Diner

  “A beautifully crafted and insightfully drawn page-turner…this is storytelling at its best.”

  —Julie Cannon, author of the Homegrown series and Those Pearly Gates

  “A warmhearted tale of love and longing, grits and cowboys, horse psychology and dinosaur tracks.”

  —Claire Cook, author of Multiple Choice and Must Love Dogs

  “Wingate lets her magical Texas setting and idiosyncratic supporting characters shine.” —Kirkus Reviews

  Lone Star Café

  “A charmingly nostalgic treat. . . . Wingate handles the book’s strong spiritual element deftly, creating a novel that is sweetly inspirational but not saccharine.” —Publishers Weekly

  “Lisa Wingate is making a national name for herself as an excellent storyteller. Her novels . . . are upbeat and refreshingly wholesome.”

  —Abilene Reporter-News

  “Leaves you feeling like you’ve danced the two-step across Texas.”

  —Jodi Thomas

  Texas Cooking

  “Lisa Wingate writes with depth and warmth, joy and wit.”

  —Debbie Macomber

  “Texas Cooking . . . will have readers drooling for the next installment . . . [a] beautifully written mix of comedy, drama, cooking, and journalism.”

  —The Dallas Morning News

  “Takes the reader on a delightful journey into the most secret places of every woman’s heart.” —Catherine Anderson

  “The story is a treasure. You will be swept along, refreshed and amused. . . . Give yourself a treat and read this tender, unusual story.”

  —Dorothy Garlock

  Other Novels by Lisa Wingate

  The Tending Roses Series

  Tending Roses

  Good Hope Road

  The Language of Sycamores

  Drenched in Light

  A Thousand Voices

  The Texas Hill Country Trilogy

  Texas Cooking

  Lone Star Café

  Over the Moon at the Big Lizard Diner

  NAL Accent

  Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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/>   Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

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  North Shore 0632,New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by NAL Accent, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, July 2008

  Copyright ©Wingate Media, LLC, 2008

  Conversation Guide copyright ©Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2008

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

  Wingate, Lisa.

  A month of summer/Lisa Wingate.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-4406-2945-7

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Memaw and Grandaddy Hudson,

  who remind us

  that true love is not found

  only in a brief moment of passion

  but in a lifetime of

  little moments

  spent together

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I can’t drive away from Blue Sky Hill without leaving behind a little love letter to the many people who helped bring this neighborhood and its residents to life. First and foremost, thank you to my brother-in -law, Vance, and my sister-in-law, Stacy, for helping me to discover the neighborhoods growing and changing in the shadow of downtown Dallas. Thank you for contributing many setting details and for driving me around, and around, and around the streets of Lakewood, patiently holding up traffic while I snapped pictures. Thank you also to Larry and Martha Mayo for answering a plethora of real estate law questions over lunch at Johnny’s, and to Elaine Morley for providing legal details pertaining to Rebecca’s work as an immigration attorney. Without your input, this story would be incomplete.

  A round of heartfelt gratitude goes out to the wonderful group of nursing home personnel, who do difficult jobs every day as nurses, therapists, administrators, and home-care workers. Thank you in particular to Candi Adcock for sharing lunch, information, and your incredible coworkers. Thank you also to Janice Boyd for reading the manuscript. All of you are the angels who, like Mary in the story, see not only aging bodies but also the vibrant human beings who need and deserve love and dignity.

  A long-distance thank-you goes out to my friend Jennifer Magers for excellent proofreading and help with technical issues regarding nursing home care. Thank you also to my online scrapbooking girlfriend, Teresa Loman, for helping to bring the SCRAPS page of Lisawingate. com alive with the wonderful DSP online scrapbook pages. My gratitude also goes to the Web genius and talented writer Donna McGoldrick for expert maintenance of Lisawingate.com and to computer guru, friend, and encourager extraordinaire Ed Stevens for helping with Internet presence and for telling me all about the dream life in the little ski village of Zermatt. Thank you also to my mother and mother-in-law for never-ending encouragement, help with proofreading, and companionship in book travel. Thanks also for being the wonderful grandmas who sweat through hundred-degree baseball games and take part in penguin huddles at subzero football stadiums wherever the Wingate boys are playing. Wonderful grandmas are the glue that holds a family together.

  A big thank-you goes to the fantastic people at New American Library, who design the beautiful covers, edit the text, catch the mistakes, and bring these stories to readers. Books, like people, do not develop in a vacuum. Each becomes a combined product of the dedicated efforts of many. My heartfelt gratitude goes in particular to Kara Welsh and Claire Zion; to my editor, Ellen Edwards; and to my agent, Claudia Cross of Sterling Lord Literistic. Here’s to the many roads we’ve traveled on the way to Blue Sky Hill, and the many yet to come.

  Last, thank you to readers far and near, because without you I’d just be a slightly off-base Texas girl who still plays with imaginary friends. Thank you for sharing these journeys with me, for recommending the books to friends, for sharing your own news, and views, and e-mails. Your friendships create meaning in these stories and meaning in my life. I hope you’ll find blessings in this trip to Blue Sky Hill.

  Peace be the journey, now and always.

  CHAPTER 1

  Rebecca Macklin

  During an anniversary trip to San Diego, I stood on a second-story balcony above a Japanese garden and watched the gardener comb a bed of red gravel and gray stone with a long wooden rake. Shaded from the rising sun by a wide straw hat, his body arched against the tidal breeze, he patiently drew intricate curves and swirls, which the tourists walked by without noticing. From their vantage, his work would go largely unappreciated, but he seemed unfettered by this fact. He kept at his task with a certain determination, a resoluteness—as if he knew each stone, knew where it must go, exactly how it must lie to complete the proper picture. A leaf blew into the garden, and he danced across the gravel on the light, silent feet of an acrobat, removed the leaf, then repaired the damage with his rake.

  On three separate days, I stopped to observe the gardener. Each time, the pattern of stones was different. One day a running swirl of ocean waves, one day a sunburst of rays originating from a single center, one day a series of concentric circles, as if God had touched down a fingertip, rippling the crimson sea. A leaf drifted from overhead, landed in the center, and the gardener left it.

  How did he know? I wondered. How did he know that this time the leaf was meant to stay?

  Taking up his tools, the gardener strolled away, and disappeared down the boulevard, a small man hidden beneath the shadow of his hat, at peace with what remained.

  I had always wished to be like the gardener, to see the larger canvas, to know which leaves should go and which should stay, to be at peace with the stones left behind.

  Unfortunately, I was not.

  They haunted me.

  I combed the gravel of my life again, again, again, creating artificial shapes, patterns that became habitual, yet felt incomplete.

  Perhaps I was always waiting for the leaf to fall and complete the picture.

  But when it did, I didn’t recognize it.

  At first.

  It drifted downward in the form of a plane that had been circling Dallas for what seemed like an eternity before dropping through a March thunderstorm to find the runway. By then, the pilot had confessed that we’d been burning off fuel on purpose, due to a malfunction in the plane’s braking flaps. He would still be able to land using wheel brakes and ground spoilers, he assured us, but we should assume the crash position, just in case. The flight attendant demonstrated the procedure, then we began our descent, hugging our knees, the guy beside me praying under his breath and me f
umbling for the air sickness bag, thinking, I hate flying. If I survive this, I’ll never get on a plane again. I’ll drive. Everywhere.

  In the back of my mind, I remembered Bree, the law clerk who’d given me a ride to the airport, saying, “You know, Mrs. Macklin, statistically flying is much safer than driving.”

  “I don’t care,” I told her. “I’d much rather travel by car, where I can be in the driver’s seat. If they’d let me pilot the plane, then I’d like flying.”

  Bree giggled, the sound too light and childlike for her tightly French-twisted hair and trying-to-impress dark suit. “Control is an illusion,” she offered. “I’ve been reading Ninety-Nine Principles of Everyday Zen, and that’s the first one. You can’t achieve Zen until you relinquish control of the universe to the universe.”

  Glancing at the visor mirror, I tucked a few strands of dark hair behind my ear and met the red-rimmed hazel eyes of a woman who was tempted to say something sharp, world-weary, and cynical. Why were young law clerks always seeking the deeper meaning of life in self-help books? “Be careful what you buy into, kid,” I advised, as Bree pulled up to the curb in the airport drop-off zone. “A good lawyer can’t afford to be Zen. You’ll get mugged at the negotiating table.” By the way, are you sleeping with my husband?

  Bree laughed again.

  She could be, I thought. She’s beautiful. . . .

  I closed my eyes as the plane bounced against the runway, then went airborne again, and I saw Bree’s face. Then it faded into the face of the woman lounging at a sidewalk table with a fresh frappe from my favorite Santa Monica coffeehouse. The woman smiled at Kyle, her long blond hair lifting in the saltwater breeze, her eyes sparkling. She slid a hand across the table and into his, while I sat in the right turn lane, not four miles from our home. Hadn’t it occurred to Kyle that I might pass by, driving Macey to school? Didn’t he wonder what would happen if I saw? If Macey saw? Macey would know exactly what was going on. Southern California kids aren’t stupid. Even nine-year -olds understand what it means when a married man is sitting in a sidewalk café with an ocean view, in broad daylight, holding hands with a client.