Every Summer: Book One In The Love Through The Seasons Series

Chapter 2

SONG: The Hotbed of Life- Fireworks

Scratch that, no progress! As soon as I thought we became comfortable in eachothers company, the annoyingly, nosy Clarabell struts in with some horrid pink lacy binder in her hands.

Jeremiah probably jumps twenty feet in the air and lands all the way at the swing door. It's okay that he seems surprised, but what really gets to me is how ashamed and embarrassed he seems to be about being seen with me. My strong eyebrow raises in his direction, but apparrently he's more afraid of Clarabell than he is of me. Big mistake.

"Oh, dear, am I interrupting?" she says bashfully, a hand over her conniving heart.

"Yes" "No," say Jere and I simultaneously. I send him a look of posion and he gazes down at his twiddling thumbs. I turn back to Clara. "Did you want something?" 

"I came in here to get the strawberry shortcake for the girls, Rita is gettin' irratable." She turns her blonde head just to the side of me. "Seems like you've found them."

I glance back at my barely eaten slice of vibrant pink cake and turn back, unfazed.

"There's more in the fridge," I tell her, gesturing sharply to the silver double-door refrigerator with a more than likely rude expression on my face. Jere looks at me like I've lost my mind and rushes over to a blushing Clarabell.

"Don't move a muscle, Mrs. Miller. I'll fetch 'em for ya," says an excruciatingly polite Jeremiah. I give him a disgusted look that he pointedly ignores on his way to the cakes.

"How sweet of you. Oh, I remember when you were just a baby and snatching up all the awards at the county fair. But, if my mind's right, I believe you've moved over quite-aways to, um, wait I know it. It starts with a 'G'," Clara ponders dramatically.

"Glennland." Jere walks back with thirty plus plates balanced on either arm.

"Right," she says as if she didn't know. "Then, do you mind if I ask why you're here?" The look only stays on his face for a second, but I see the expression, and it doesn't look like he wants to answer. 

"Why, I'm just here to make some repairs around here for Mr. Cayne." His voice cracks at the same time he stumbles and, in a second, I'm there steadying him.

"Wow, there." I take a few of the plates out of his hands and promptly set them on the table. I swipe my hands of imagninary dust. "Need anything else, Clare?" My voice is tight again.

Clara picks the cake platters up and files out of the room, not a word to me, thank God. My eyes are fixed on her very suspisciously, and seeing as someone has taken a picture of me while doing this before, I know how startling I probably look. 

Jeremiah casts a glance to me and then immediatley snaps his head back towards the hall and scampers after Clarabell. See. Startling.

With one last murderous look to where they dissappeared, I turn back and around. Taking the long way back to my room with the west wing stairs, promptly avoiding the Golden Girls of Laeville, with a shortcake in hand of course.

When I said a shortcake, I kind of meant two or three... or ten. But, that's irrelevant right now. What is important is that I spent the rest of my morning, while slaying harmless strawberry flavored pastries, watching Miah work. It also doesn't help that I've got nicknames for him. 

There's Jere, Jerry, Miah, Jeremy, Remy, Jem, sunkissed wheat haired god, and many many more.

Do you know what these are the signs of? Do you? Of course not. You can't read minds. Silly Davey. But, these are the signs of attatchment. Which if you hadn't guessed, in this particular situation, is bad.

I have one job, and one job only, and it does not involve falling for Jer'miah. You're probably thinking that this is inevitable, but I know it's not. I mean, I was in Jeremiah's place once. It's a long story, and I don't wanna explain, so fuh-get about it. 

The sun seems to be even more concentrated now, reflecting off of the greenhouse and the fly-surrounded strawberry patch. I kind of pity Jeremiah, down there, taking breaks at large intervals and for the rest of the time slaving in the heat. I want to go ask if he needs help, but I'd have no idea what to do.

Making up my mind, I creep down the stairs, daring to take the east wing stairs. There is only silence when I reach the landing that serves as a mini-hall before turning into the eastern family room and a broom closet that ends the hall directly facing me. I warily step into the dollhouse of a room, believing I'll be greeted by bloodthirsty middle-age country hags. 

To my relief, the room is empty and I briskly jog through, now in a pair of thick sneakers. The swing doors swish when I step through, walking out on to a freshly painted deck.

"What the hell, David?" Jere screams in fury, looking at the mess I've made of the porch.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry! I swear, I'll repaint it!" I promise.

"You? What do you know about painting?" My smile returns and I look confidently towards the blonde, my back straight and shoulders back.

"I actually happen to be an amazing painter."

Jeremiah looks at me doubtfully. "I thought you were a communications major."

"Oh, I am. But, I, Jeremy, am a man of many talents." I pick up the deep grayblue paint and the appropriate brush and give Jere my best 'it is on' face and go to work on the deck.

My hair's a mess, my back aches, and I'm sweating like an onion in the Sahara. But, I've gotten the whole porch evenly painted, two coats, in record time.

"Woah." Jeremiah whistles under his breath, obviously impressed. "That was like watching a one-man paint team tornado."

"Why thank you, Jeremiah, for the complement. But I think I'm gonna go wash up and leave you to your duties," I declare dramatically. I even see a flicker of what seems like, dissappointment, but Jere's face is blank again before I can be sure.

"Oh. Sure." I brush off the cold response and reach for the hem of my shirt, swiftly pulling it off.

"Ah!" Miah shouts, his face masked in horror. "You're gonna shower out here?"

I look at him with wide eyes, a little spooked by his reaction. "Dude, I'm just shirtless, chill. And I said I'm washing off not taking a shower."

"Where then?" Jeremiah's expression is one of suspiscion.

"Gee, mom. You'd swear I never left the house before," I remark sarcastically.

Jeremy scowls. "Fine. Get lost. Get eaten by a pack of wolves, all I care."

"Maybe I will," I say indignantly.

"Good!"

"Good!" Are faces are both red and I'm halfway down the path that heads through the fields before I realize that I don't know what the hell just happened.