Page 48 of Summer’s Echo

Echo

I stepped into the kitchen where my parents sat having their morning coffee.

I hadn’t seen moments like this often growing up.

My father worked so much. Always moving, always providing.

But now that he was retired—well, semi-retired, since he still dabbled in teacher training—they spent mornings like this together more often.

Mum lifted her eyes to look at me, apology and sympathy woven into her gaze.

Her sweet spirit was unchanging, unwavering, and I knew she had only ever followed my father’s lead.

Followed tradition. So the blame wasn’t on her.

“I’m headed to the airport,” I said, crossing the room to place a kiss on my mother’s cheek. She stood, and I bent to wrap her in a hug, savoring the warmth of her embrace.

“I can drive you,” my father offered.

I had every intention of ignoring him until Mum spoke up. “So soon?” she asked. “I thought your flight doesn’t leave until three.”

I nodded. “I don’t need a ride. Summer is picking me up for breakfast, then taking me to the airport.”

He nodded, eyeing me carefully. A sigh escaped him.

I wasn’t ready to make this long-overdue talk easy for him.

After Summer told me what happened between her and my father—what he said to her, how he sent her away like she was nothing—I had to have a man-to-man conversation with him.

Yeah, he’d apologized in his own way, but it was nothing more than a string of excuses tied together with the threadbare justification of tradition.

While my hurt from the abortion was a wound that would never fully heal, I had come to terms with that reality.

What I couldn’t wrap my head around—what I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to forgive—was him removing her from my life.

He knew—shit, everybody knew—how I felt about Summer, so for him to look her in the eye and tell her to disappear…

to deliberately drive the dagger farther into my chest. That was something else entirely.

He’d watched me walk around numb, drowning in grief and depression, and he had never uttered a word about his exchange with her.

Never told me she had come for me. And that realization? Forgiving that was going to take time.

I watched as my father stood, crossed the room with his coffee cup in hand, and placed it in the sink.

He didn’t say a word, just grabbed his book and walked out of the kitchen like any other day.

I knew where he was going: the front porch.

He had been reading there before he took a walk for years, always in that same worn chair, always with that same quiet presence.

Mum watched him leave, too. She lingered at the doorway, thirty years of love, of knowing, of understanding.

Then she turned her attention back to me.

My mother was a gentle soul, always knowing how to calm me, how to correct me without saying much at all.

She squeezed my hand, her thumb gliding over my skin in quiet reassurance.

“We…he did the best he knew how, Echo.” Her voice was gentle, but there was something else in it, too.

A quiet pain. Regret, maybe. “I didn’t know she came looking for you until months later,” she admitted.

“I gave him a lashing when I found out.” She chuckled, but it was a sad sound. “But I kept my husband’s secret.”

I nodded because I understood. “I get it, Mum.” She searched my face, as if trying to see just how much I truly meant those words. “I said what I needed to say to him. I accept his apology, but it’s just going to take some time.”

She nodded, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “I prayed that if your hearts carried even a fragment of what you two once meant to each other, that God would bring you back together.” I braced myself for the scripture that would certainly follow.

“Matthew, chapter seven, verses seven and eight,” she recited, her voice full of conviction.

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find ; knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, the one who seeks finds, and the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” She lifted a discerning brow, as if she already knew exactly what I was seeking.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, thankful for the prayers of my mother. “Thanks, Mum. I’m giving her space, so I hope your prayers are being answered.”

No matter how certain I was about her, I still wasn’t sure if Summer was ready for what I was seeking.

A chime sounded from my phone, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. It was Summer. She was outside. “I gotta go, Mum. I love you.”

“I love you, too, son,” she said, settling back into her chair.

I grabbed my backpack and started toward the door, but before I could step out, her voice called me back. “Oh, Echo.”

I turned. “Ma’am?”

She smiled, eyes full of something I couldn’t name. “Proverbs, chapter eighteen, verse twenty-two.”

Together, we recited, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord.”

Mama winked, satisfaction glowing in her features as, amused, she walked out of the kitchen.

But the moment I opened the front door, the ease disappeared.

Expecting to see my father on the porch, I picked up my suitcase and stepped outside, only to find Summer standing next to her car talking to my father.

I slowed my pace as I took in the scene.

At the sound of the front door closing, my father turned, his usual stoic expression unreadable.

I tensed instantly, my grip tightening around the suitcase handle. What the hell is he saying to her?

My gaze snapped to Summer, ready to step in and shut this shit down if necessary, but she wasn’t tense.

Her lips curved a bit, a faint trace of a smile—small, barely there, but unmistakable.

Then, she shook her head ever so slightly.

Just enough for me to notice. Silently signaling for me to stand down.

I exhaled sharply but obeyed. Dragging my luggage down the walkway, I reached my father but then halted.

What was I supposed to do here? He wasn’t the hugging type, and after everything that had gone down between us, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted his embrace.

But then, without hesitation, he lifted his hand and patted my shoulder then a simple nod.

“I’m about to take my walk. Have a safe flight, son.” His voice was even, carrying its usual firmness.

I nodded, trying to decipher what had shifted.

Older. Maybe wiser. But still the same. A man of few words, of firm decisions, of burdens he’d carry but never confess.

Mum had said he did the best he knew how.

And maybe…maybe that had to be enough. I returned his gesture, clapping a hand against his back before stepping away.

No extra words. No forced reconciliation.

Just an understanding that it would take time.

I watched as he started his slow stroll down the sidewalk, hands tucked behind his back, posture straight despite the years resting on his shoulders, then I exhaled and turned toward the car.

Summer eyed me with a sweet smile painted on her face.

I winked, then placed my bags in the trunk.

I rounded the car and slid into the passenger seat, closing the door behind me.

I turned to her immediately, waiting for her to explain to me what the hell had just happened.

But she was hushed. Not giving me anything.

Deciding not to waste our time inquiring about my father, I studied her instead, taking in her features.

She looked good. Rested. Something about her was lighter. That alone made my shoulders loosen.

“You good, Sunshine?” I asked, then gently pinched the tip of her nose.

She turned to me, her lips twitching at the nickname. “Yeah, I’m good.”

I wanted to ask her when she was planning to leave her parents’ house—to resume her routine.

Hell, I wanted to beg her to get on this plane with me.

But instead, I just sat back and enjoyed the ride, letting Jill Scott croon through the speakers about being put back together again.

I wondered if that’s how my Sun felt about us.

We pulled into the parking lot of First Watch, and before we even stepped inside, I could tell this was her spot.

As soon as we walked in, one of the waitresses greeted her like they were old friends.

“You come here often?”

“Mm -hmm.” She slid into the booth across from me. “Sometimes I come here to work when I can’t focus at home.”

I nodded, filing that piece of information away, then placed my order after she placed hers. The waitress returned a moment later with our coffee and water before scurrying off, giving us space, but I didn’t waste time.

“Have you talked to him?” I asked, cutting straight to it.

She exhaled, stirring a sugar packet into her coffee. “I texted him, but we haven’t talked.”

“Did he respond?”

She gave me a small nod. “Yeah, surprisingly. While this is hard, I think we both know it was for the best. Saved us on attorney fees in the long run, I guess.” Her words were light, but I saw the seriousness behind them.

I let a beat pass, then leaned forward. “When am I going to be able to see you, Summer?”

She lifted a brow, looking away as if searching for the right answer. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I still have a lot to figure out—clean up my shit, as my daddy told me yesterday.”

She laughed, shaking her head, and I had to laugh too because Mr. Knight was like my father, a straight-shooting man of few words but unquestionable truths.

I sighed, leaning in. “This is going to sound crazy, but I want you to take the time you need…” I reached across the table, taking her hands in mine. “I just don’t want you to take too long.”