Chapter Six

Somewhat unsettled after yesterday’s intense interrogation, Summer knocked on Mrs Kensington’s front door, hoping Night might have vanished for the day.

A moment later, he opened the door, staring down at her. Blue jeans and a black T-shirt covered his muscular body while his hair hung straight down his back.

No such luck. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze steadily. “Good morning, Mr Kensington. I’m here to work with your mother.”

“I thought I told you to call me Night?” His tone softened, almost as if he attempted to tease, though she couldn’t tell from the stoic expression on his face.

“All right. Night. May I please come in so I can start your mother’s therapy for the day?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not quite comfortable with his intense attention.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “We just sat down to breakfast. You can join us.”

Astonished by the softly voiced command, she started to speak only to stop short. She blinked and tried once more. “But…”

He pulled the door open, gesturing her in. “There’s plenty of food and we should eat while it’s hot.”

“I’m not sure…”

She tried to protest but he spoke over her, leading the way to the kitchen. Pausing, he waited for her to catch up before arching an eyebrow. “You would deny my mother her breakfast?”

She shook her head. “Well, no. It’s just that…”

As they entered the room, Mrs Kensington looked up from her plate, a smile of welcome on her face. “Good morning, dear. Sit. You must eat with us.”

Summer glanced at the table filled with breakfast foods and bit her bottom lip uncertainly. “I’m really…”

Night yanked out a chair and motioned. “Sit. Eat.” The stern tone reminded her of her third grade teacher. No student dared talk back or disobey when Mrs Gregory-Liam broke out a warning.

With a sigh of resignation, she sat down on the offered chair, her gaze darting back and forth between her patient and the son.

“Juice, coffee, or milk?” Night asked.

“Juice, please.” She accepted the offered carton, pouring a generous amount in her glass. While she did that, Night busily piled her plate full of pancakes.

“Hey!” She shot him a glare. “I don’t need that many.”

He smirked over his coffee mug. “Just eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

She snorted. Giving in, she reached for the butter and syrup, adding both to her plate before cutting off the first chunk of pancake and stuck it in her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sweet flavor. “This is good.”

“Thank Colton. He made them.” Mrs Kensington took a sip from her mug.

Her eyebrows shot up. Not that men didn’t cook, but she didn’t expect Night to play much in the culinary arts. She sent him a warm smile. “Thank you. It’s delicious. Really.” She savored another nibble. “What did you add?”

He matched her grin. “You’re welcome and it’s a secret ingredient.” He jabbed his fork into a layered section then took another bite.

“Summer? You mentioned you have a small farm?” Mrs Kensington asked while she added more syrup to her plate.

Swallowing, Summer nodded. “It’s not much, just ten acres I inherited from my grandmother. The original homestead consisted of several hundred acres. My great-grandparents lost most of it when they couldn’t pay taxes on the land during the Great Depression. I’m just glad she left what remained to me, since I now have three horses.”

“You ride?” Night asked softly from across the table.

“Only now and again. All of my horses are rescues, adopted through a program that places retired racehorses into private homes rather than sending them to slaughter. Two of them can’t be ridden due to old injuries and age. The third is completely sound but I don’t have a lot of time to ride. Mostly, it’s just hopping on his back for a quick turn around the pasture.”

Night’s expression flickered from amazed to intrigued in the blink of an eye. If she hadn’t been purposely watching his reaction, she would have missed it entirely.

“I didn’t even know such a thing existed.” Mrs Kensington chimed, offering her a smile. “How wonderful of you.”

Summer’s face heated from the unaccustomed attention and praise. “I would love to have more, but there simply isn’t room. I also adopted a dog, Murphy. She keeps me busy and makes wonderful company.”

“Your family must be quite proud of you.” The older woman patted her hand.

“It’s just my mother, but she says she is.” She stuck another forkful of food in her mouth.

“Your father?” Night asked, while shoving the final bite of food around his plate.

“Sperm donor.” Summer answered, battling to keep the smile off her face at their reactions.

Night bristled and scowled. “He wouldn’t man up to his responsibilities?”

Her lips twitched as she chuckled. “No. I meant a real sperm donor.”

Mrs Kensington’s mouth dropped open, while Night stared at her in bafflement.

“My mother wanted a child badly and couldn’t find a man to love. So, she sought the services of a sperm bank. Supposedly, she chose a tall, blond athlete with a high IQ.”

“How…unusual.” Mrs Kensington stammered.

Summer just grinned. “A bit radical maybe, but since I wouldn’t be here without it, I’m glad she went through with it.” She grabbed her juice glass, emptying it in a couple of gulps, amused at the stunned expressions on both faces.

“So, she never married?”

“Nope. It’s just been me, her, and grandmother as far as I can remember. Grandpa died when I was three, so I don’t remember him at all. Grandma passed a couple of years ago.”

“What about you, dear? Do you intend to marry and raise a family? Or visit one of those…banks?” Mrs Kensington pulled a napkin up and patted her mouth.

Summer’s face warmed again. Such intimate and personal questions made her uncomfortable and jumpy, as if she expected them to judge her for the lack of a typical life. “I honestly don’t know. I guess it depends if the right man comes along or not.” She took a moment before turning the tables and addressing Mrs Kensington. “Is there still a Mr Kensington?”

Night flinched while the older woman’s face dropped, her hands clasped in her lap, head down, as if the memory weighted her down.

Squirming, Summer immediately regretted her words. Should have kept my mouth closed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I should just…”

“No. It’s okay.” Mrs Kensington peeked up, reaching over to pat her arm. “We asked about your family, it’s only right you would inquire about ours.” She took a deep breath, met Night’s eyes, then began to speak. “I haven’t seen my ex-husband for nearly thirty years.”

Summer gasped. Certainly in her short time working with the woman, she’d never seen a wedding band or heard one word whispered about a husband. She simply chalked it up to her being a widow or divorced somewhere along the line, but not that far in the past.

“We were still young. I guess I was naïve too, being raised on the reservation. I fell in love with Tom, married him against my mother’s wishes. He moved us to Montana, closer to his home tribe, the Lakota.” She picked at her napkin, eyes lowered in remembrance. “It wasn’t long before he began drinking. Just now and again. I didn’t think much of it since I was busy caring for baby Colton while Tom worked. He never wanted much to do with the baby, always said he was going out with the guys to let off steam. I didn’t argue or say anything.” She puffed out a breath.

Night sat tensely across the table, a ticking began in his cheek. His blue eyes flashed with anger.

Summer remained still, unsure what to do or say. She remained mute and simply listened to the woman’s story.

“Before long, it got worse. A lot worse. He drank every night. I questioned him about it when he came home smelling like liquor in the middle of the night. He slapped me. That’s when my nightmare began.”

Anger poured through Summer. She’d heard that people living on reservations struggled with alcohol abuse and domestic violence. Never had she expected to sit down with one of those victims, hearing her tale first hand, seeing what a horrendous lifelong impression it had made on her.

“It became a vicious cycle. He drank and would hit me if I said or did any presumed wrong. The next day he would apologize and tell me how much he loved me and our son. I believed him even as I began to fear him. I thought I did something wrong to anger him, but soon it didn’t matter what I did. He would be furious. Deep down, I knew it would only get worse, but I truly feared for my life. He once told me if I left, he would hunt me down and kill me like a rabid skunk. I didn’t doubt that for a second.”

“But you left?” Summer whispered the question, eager to know more.

Mrs Kensington nodded. “One day when Colton was three, Tom hit him. That gave me the courage to pack up and leave. Hitting me was one thing, hitting my child was another. As soon as he left for work, I packed up what few belongings I had, tossed some clothes into a suitcase, bundled Colton in a blanket, and walked out of the door. I didn’t stop until I reached the bus station and bought a ticket for Colorado.”

Bewildered, Summer tilted her head. “Why didn’t you return home?”

The older woman’s dark gaze lifted although her lips turned downward. “Shame. I was too ashamed to go home and admit to my mother that she was right. I decided I could make it on my own.”

Night reached over, took his mother’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “And, you did. Very well.”

“Wow.” Summer saw her patient in a new light, one full of amazement and sheer respect. “You’re one remarkable woman.”

A small sad smile appeared on Mrs Kensington’s face. “I did what I had to do. Just like anyone else.”

“Brave as your father.” Night flicked his gaze over to Summer. “He was a Navajo Code Talker in World War II.”

Summer blinked. “I’ve heard about them. We couldn’t have won the war without them.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Mrs Kensington, you carry your heritage well. And, I agree with Night. You possess all the courage of your father and perhaps a bit more. He would be proud of you.”

“Why, thank you, dear.” For the first time since she had begun her story, Mrs Kensington’s chin lifted while her lips turned up.

“Have you thought of dating a man since?” Summer asked gently.

Night snorted.

Mrs Kensington blushed prettily. “Well, there’s this one at physical therapy …”

Night shook his head and grinned. “Who will be snatched up by another woman if Mother doesn’t do more than smile at him.”

“I’m playing hard to get,” she frowned at her son.

“Uh huh. Maybe you should let him get a bit closer than across the room at therapy before you try that particular method.”

Summer had to laugh at the two of them, thoroughly entertained. What had started out as a fairly awkward visit had turned into something so much better.