Chapter 3: Summertime

Brenda had pushed the confrontation with Randall into the background by the time she arrived at the Indianapolis terminal. As she stepped off the bus and made her way into the old building, she had only one thought on her mind -- her family. Waiting for her would be her mother and father and, when she arrived at the family home, her sister and brother. She was warmed by the thought of being home again.

As she entered the building, she saw her parents almost immediately and they hurried toward her, hugging and welcoming her return. All three were trying to speak at the same time but soon calmed down and moved to the luggage area, retrieving her large bag.

As she looked at her parents, she couldn't see any change. They were aging gracefully as they neared their fiftieth birthdays. As far as she could tell, they looked the same as they had when she left late last August for her sophomore year in Providence. A thousand miles from home according to the Greyhound driver.

The three talked almost constantly on the ninety minute drive south-eastward to Fairmount. Brenda told them of her adventures in college and the performance of her team, while her parents shared the latest news about her hometown and its inhabitants.

The greetings by her younger brother and sister weren't quite as enthusiastic but they were also happy to see her. It was well after ten o'clock when she finally began to unpack her clothes and prepare for bed. Nearly thirty hours on the bus with only a handful of breaks. She was relieved to be back in her own bed in the only home she had ever known.

It took the rest of the week to get back into a familiar routine before volunteering to work at the hardware store. The changes since last summer were noticeable. Her father had joined a buying group that had approached him. They offered purchasing power that would give him the opportunity to compete with the big-box stores and protect his business in their small town. It was over forty miles to the nearest hardware and building materials superstore and she could see that his decision had helped. He had stemmed the declining flow of customers.

She circulated around Fairmount, renewing old high school acquaintances, neighbors and family friends. She was a minor celebrity, the first Fairmount girl to be offered an athletic scholarship of any kind. She soon tired of telling her friends about life in Providence and the NCAA. It was almost a relief to start work with her dad the next Monday.

A few of her old boyfriends had dropped by to say hello and see if she was interested in going out but they were politely turned away without any other explanation than she wasn't dating.

In her idle hours and often in bed at night she thought of Randall and tried to reconcile how she felt about what had happened. She was less angry with him than she expected. After all, he had cheated on her. She should have been furious with him but strangely she wasn't, and didn't understand why.

Perhaps he wasn't important to her? But no ... that wasn't so. He was important. They had spent most of their free time together in the past five months and she had to admit she enjoyed every minute of it. Not just the sex, although that was enormously satisfying, the other times as well. Their visits to the zoo, the galleries, the museums, the theatre, had all been delightful new experiences. She had learned so much from him, almost as if he was her tutor. She was comfortable in his company. They talked easily sometimes and at other times they were quiet, not sensing the need for words.

If there was any residual emotion at all it was one of disappointment. But even that wasn't acute. Why then? Why did he fuck that woman? There had to be a reason. He implied it was just an impulse with a former girlfriend. Maybe not even that. But there seemed little doubt by his reaction and her appearance as to what had just happened in his apartment that Wednesday afternoon.

She couldn't seem to come to terms with her emotions over the incident. As the days passed, she was able to push the memory to the back of her mind but it was still there, lingering like a ghost to haunt her at an unexpected moment. Ultimately, she knew she would have to face it. Face him. Resolve her feelings toward him. She knew now she couldn't just ignore it. That decision made, it abruptly stopped bothering her.

It was late one Wednesday afternoon in June when someone else caught her attention. She was minding the store while her father traveled to Lexington to see about a new product line. It was a warm, early summer day and Brenda had dressed lightly in a tank top and Bermuda shorts. It was nothing she hadn't worn at other times to work. She was occupied picking up some cartons of twine off the floor and putting them on a lower shelf when she became conscious of someone standing in front of her.

She looked up and saw the smiling features of a tall, handsome young man gazing down at her. She couldn't tell whether he was looking at her face or down the front of her tank top. She quickly turned and stood before facing him.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi ... I'm looking for Tom Reichart. Is he here?" The smile hadn't left him as he spoke.

"Uh ... no ... no he's not. Can I help?" Brenda was a bit uncertain of what was happening but this particular young man was having an effect on her.

"My name's Pete Polson." He held out his hand and Brenda took it almost involuntarily. "I'm looking after my dad's territory. We supply some specialty items to this store. Will your dad be back soon?"

"Uhhhmmm ... no. I mean, not 'til late, or maybe tomorrow."

"Ah ... Okay ... well, I can come back. Maybe I should phone for an appointment?"

"No ... I mean ... that shouldn't be necessary. Dad's almost always here. It's just today," she stammered, uncertain why she was this flustered.

He reached in his shirt pocked and pulled out a card. It read, "Henry Polson, Hardware Specialties."

"You said you were looking after your dad's territory. Your name sounds familiar. Do I know you?"

"I don't know. We live in Walnut Grove, but I'm helping Dad out this summer."

"Yeah ... me too. I mean, I go back to college in the fall. I'm sure I know your name though."

"Well, I played basketball for Walnut Grove High. You look like you might have played basketball too."

"Volleyball. I'm a Fairmount grad. Walnut Grove was our arch enemy," she smiled faintly.

"Where are you going to school?" he asked.

"Coddington. It's in Rhode Island."

"A long way from home. I have a year left at Port Huron State in Michigan."

"I remember now. You got a scholarship too. You did really well I hear," she said.

"I did OK. Main thing was to get a degree. Next year, I'll have my BSc in Mechanical Engineering."

"Congratulations. What do you want to do with your degree?"

"I would really like to take over Dad's business and make it into something much more valuable. He's been an agent for so many years, and the products he represents are getting fewer -- along with his customers. He needs a rethink about the future."

"That's funny, in a way. My dad is in the same spot. I encouraged him to join a buying group to help stop the loss of customers to the big boys," Brenda smiled. "Sounds like we have something in common."

Pete nodded and looked around the store. "Your dad runs a neat shop ... uhhm ... I didn't catch your name." He looked embarrassed.

"Brenda ... Brenda Reichart," she smiled again.

"Brenda. Well, this is my last call today. I'll try again next week ... maybe Wednesday?"

"Yeah ... that should be OK. I'll let Dad know you were here and if Wednesday doesn't work, I'll have him call you."

"Thanks. Nice to meet you Brenda. I'll look forward to seeing you next week," he smiled.

She gave him a big, genuine smile in return. She watched him walk out and get into a shiny but ancient panel van. He was ridiculously handsome, she thought, all six-foot-four of him. No wonder she was a bit rattled when he was in front of her. She was already looking forward to next Wednesday.

At suppertime that evening, Brenda remembered Pete's visit.

"Oh, Dad. Pete Polson dropped in this afternoon. He said he'd come back next Wednesday if it was clear."

"Yeah, that'll be fine. Pete's looking after his dad's territory this summer. Harold had a big heart attack last February and won't be back on his route until September I hear."

"Brenda, that reminds me, you haven't mentioned your friend Randall since you came home. Are you still going out with him?" her mother asked.

"I'm not sure, Mom. We had ... there was a problem just before I came home. I'm not sure where I stand with him," she said vaguely.

"Oh ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," she said quietly.

"What kind of problem?" younger sister Terry asked.

"Teresa ... that's not a proper question to ask," her mother admonished.

"Why not?" her brother Chuck asked. His proper name was Charles, but no one called him that anymore except his teachers and his mother when she was upset with him. "She used to tell us everything. Now she won't tell us anything."

"Its grownup's business and not for discussion with young people," Tom Reichart chimed in.

"She's not a grownup. She's still in school," Terry said emphatically.

"Your sister is going to be twenty-one soon and that is definitely grownup," her mother said, hoping the conversation would change.

"It's OK, Mom. I can handle it," Brenda said with a grin. She was enjoying her special status at the dinner table and was quietly elated with her mother's declaration that she thought of her as an adult.

"So who is this guy Randall, anyway," Terry persisted.

"Just a guy I met at school," Brenda said nonchalantly.

"Is he real cool?" Teresa was going to get more information one way or another.

"No ... I wouldn't call him cool. He's very tall and very smart and he takes me to interesting places to see things."

"What kind of places?"

"You know, museums and art galleries and plays."

"Yuck. That sounds boring. Don't you go to the movies?" her sister continued.

"Nope. Sometimes we watch movies in his apartment."

"He has his own apartment? Now that's cool," Terry said, nodding her head.

Brenda laughed. "You should see his car. I have a picture somewhere. It's a total wreck."

"At least he has a car," Chuck said moodily. He was approaching his eighteenth birthday and was lobbying for a car. His part-time job at the grocery store wouldn't produce the necessary cash anytime soon.

His sixteen year-old sister, Theresa, or "Terry the Terror," was the epitome of a tomboy and was in the process of obtaining her learners permit.

Brenda smiled as she admired her family. Her siblings were so different and yet so much alike. Both athletic like her, tall and both had fair hair, a fair complexion, and freckles. Their temperament was completely different, however. Terry was the volatile one while Chuck was generally quiet and kept to himself.

The freckles came from their mother. She was as tall as Brenda's father at five-ten, with light reddish-blonde hair and the trademark light complexion. She still maintained a slim figure seemingly without effort.

Her father was also quite fit. Health problems had not yet become an issue with any of them. Her mother was definitely the head disciplinarian in the house and her father, a quiet, thoughtful man, happily surrendered that role. It was a cheerful, upbeat family environment and had been so throughout Brenda's entire life.

It was precisely that upbringing that Brenda hoped to emulate in her adult life. She had never known any other home until she left for college two years ago. She admitted to being homesick at first but over the first semester she learned to adapt to her new surroundings and find new friends, first with the team and then with her fellow students.

The discipline and intense work associated with team and school responsibilities kept her from dwelling on any feelings of loneliness. Sex had solved that problem as well. Her relationships with Mike Coulson, Johnny Carlton and recently, Randall McCulloch, had opened a whole new world to her. She thought of herself as an adult now, although she was only about to turn twenty-one.

Brenda was an odd mixture of maturity and naivety. Her experience with boys, and now men, had only just begun since leaving home. She thought she might have been in love with Mike, the first to take her virginity, but he was older and had plans for himself that didn't include her. Johnny was a passing fancy; a spoiled rich kid that both intrigued and tested her. It was a situation that allowed her to maintain control of a relationship, just as she had in high school with several boyfriends.

Randall was different again. She felt safe and pampered in his care. He wanted her to experience his world and she was happy to accompany him. All three men had been lovers of a different kind. Mike the considerate, gentle, thoughtful man. Johnny, at first cock-sure of himself before revealing his insecurities, made himself more likeable as he changed. They both realized he would soon find someone more compatible with his new persona. And then there was Randall.

Until that fateful Wednesday, she was completely satisfied with their relationship. It wasn't love. Of that she was reasonably sure. It was, however, physically and emotionally satisfying and that was enough. Now that was gone, she thought. She couldn't see them reconciling. He would be too embarrassed and she would be too wary.

She had almost forgotten about Pete Polson until Wednesday came around. He popped back into her memory the moment she saw the chocolate and caramel colored van roll to a stop in front of the store. She was just in the process of ringing up a sale when he entered the store.

Almost immediately, she felt the flush of electricity pass through her as he stepped through the door. "God he was handsome. No ... way beyond handsome, he was gorgeous," she said to herself. He could have been a male model or a movie star without having to make an effort. He made a simple polo shirt and khakis look like something from Gentleman's Quarterly.

"Good morning, Brenda. Nice to see you again."

It was that smile. That killer smile. She tried desperately to be calm, cool and collected. She failed miserably.

"Hi Pete. Dad's in the back. I'll go get him for you," she blurted, forgetting she hadn't finished ringing up the sale for the customer at the counter.

"Fuck ... all he has to do is show up and I'm a basket case," she thought. She was sure her face was a bright red from embarrassment. But if it was, Pete's expression didn't reflect it.

Brenda finished up with the middle-aged woman who pocketed her change, looked up and winked at her. She was obviously aware of the effect that Pete was having on the big redhead. Brenda turned quickly and walked into the back office to find her father. She hoped he wouldn't see what apparently everyone else could see. Brenda Reichart was discombobulated! There was no other word for it. Discombobulated!

"Dad, Pete's here," she managed.

"Right, send him in," her father smiled, gazing at her with a curious look. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah ... I'm fine," she lied, quickly turning back toward the counter. "Go ahead, Pete, he's in his office," she said, not daring to look at him.

"Thanks."

"Oh God, if he'd just quit looking at me with that smile. He's killing me," she moaned to herself.

Pete and Tom spent the better part of an hour in the office. Brenda could hear them talking but she couldn't make out what it was about. A steady stream of customers helped take her mind off him for a while.

When they emerged from the office it was almost noon and she watched with interest as her father clapped Pete on the shoulder and thanked him for calling in. He would be back next week and Brenda wondered if there would be a repeat of her performance this morning.

As Pete moved out into the store, he stopped and turned to Brenda.

"Do you have time for lunch, Brenda?" he asked with 'that' smile.

"Uhhhmmm ... no ... I don't think so. I mean ... dad goes home and I mind the store until he's back ... and then I take a few minutes... ," she stammered.

Pete nodded his understanding.

"Well, what about next week? I can come in around one and we can have some lunch and talk about ... anything," he ventured with a shrug and hands extended. "We can compare notes from school ... or whatever."

For the first time, Brenda sensed that the god-like persona she had created for Pete Polson was a bit unsteady. He almost looked uncertain.

She answered him without thinking.

"OK ... we can do that." It was almost involuntary since she knew she was never going to say no to him twice.

"Great!" he lit up again and destroyed her with another smile. "See you Wednesday at one," he confirmed.

"Yeah ... Wednesday ... at one," she replied, almost in a trance.

She watched him leave and climb into the old van, slowly moving off. She was sure she saw him wave as he pulled away from the curb. Her hand came up involuntarily in a small gesture, knowing he could not possibly see it. Her father did.

"He's a nice young guy," Tom Reichart offered in a quiet voice.

She jumped at his voice. She hadn't heard him walk out of the office. His light windbreaker was in his hand and he was obviously heading home for lunch.

"Yeah ... nice," she replied vaguely. "See you at one."

It was just as well that there were few customers during the lunch hour. Brenda was still unsettled by the effect Pete had on her. She wasn't used to being uncomfortable around boys. She had almost always been in command. Maybe not with Mike at first, but certainly with Johnny and Randall. It was a new experience. She didn't know quite what to make of it. She was already thinking about next Wednesday. What would happen then? And what was it about Wednesdays that they kept reoccurring with drama attached to them?

She had a week to prepare herself for their lunch. It didn't take long for her to realize she was obsessing about it. Where would they go? Who would see them and what would they think? Did she care? Would she tell her parents? By the weekend, she was completely unsettled and desperately looking for some guidance.

"Mom ... uhhhmmm ... I need your advice," she finally admitted on Friday evening as the two were drying the last of the dinner dishes.

"Oh ... what about?"

"Uhhhmmm ... I have a date ... not a real date ... a lunch date," she stumbled.

"Oh ... I see. What did you want to know?"

"I don't know where to go. I mean, there are lots of possible places but I wonder what other people might think or say if they saw me ... us." Brenda was struggling with her thoughts.

"Who is this date with?" her mother asked.

"Pete Polson. He calls on dad at the store," she said carefully.

"Yes ... I know who Pete is. What are you worried about?"

"I don't know. I mean ... he asked me to have lunch with him and we could talk about school and things. I just don't know where to suggest we go."

"Oh. Are you uncomfortable being with Pete?" Vera Reichart had begun her probing. She was smiling inwardly at her daughter's indecision. It wasn't like her and it was revealing.

"No ... no ... not at all. It's just ... this is a small town and I don't want to upset anyone."

"Who could possibly be upset," he mother asked in surprise.

"Oh ... I don't know, Mom. I guess I'm just unsure of what to do or where to go," Brenda finally confessed.

"Okay ... that I can understand," Vera said with a smile.

They were quiet for a moment while her mother gave the matter her consideration.

"I have a suggestion. Why don't we make up a picnic lunch the night before? You can take him to Pearce Park. There's a nice gazebo there, so even if it rains, you've got a place to go. There won't be very many people there, I'm sure."

Brenda lit up immediately. "That's a great idea. It's perfect. Thanks, Mom," she chirped, hugging her mother.

"Well ... I can see this date is very important to you," he mother offered with a knowing smile.

"Yeah ... kind of. He's really nice and sooooo handsome," she gushed.

"I won't argue with you about that. I met him at the store once and he is a very polite, good-looking guy. Just your type, I gather," she grinned.

"I hope so," Brenda replied shyly. She was still surprised at how much she was looking forward to Wednesday and being with Pete, if only for an hour.

Her mother provided another big surprise for Brenda on Tuesday evening. She had already planned the menu for the picnic lunch without consulting Brenda. There was a reason, however.

"If you've wondering why I chose these things for the picnic, I have a confession to make," her mother began.

"I've known the Polsons for some time now and I took the liberty of phoning Pete's mother, Adele, to find out what his 'favorites' were. I hope you don't mind?" she asked carefully.

"No ... no ... that's great but ... I didn't know you knew his parents," she said in surprise.

"Howard and your dad are good friends and over the years we've gotten together socially now and then. I guess as you and Pete grew up we never did quite get the two families in the same place at the same time. But, Adele and I are friends and now we have something else in common," she explained.

"That's amazing. I never knew. I mean, I knew who Pete was because he was so famous in basketball but I never knew you and the Polsons were friends."

"Well, we didn't see each other very often and it was as much a business relationship with your Dad and Howard as it was anything. It just turned out that Adele and I had similar interests and got along very well too."

Brenda nodded in understanding as her mother watched her with interest.

"The Polsons' are a nice family and I'm sure Pete is too. But I'm surprised at how anxious you are about a lunch date."

"Yeah ... so am I to be honest. I guess I'm a bit star-struck. You know, the handsome athlete thing."

Vera chuckled quietly at her daughter. "This may be a first. Usually, you're the one that causes all the turmoil. I've seen some of your boyfriends reduced to quivering wrecks when they came to pick you up."

Brenda smiled as her mother reminded her of this role reversal. It was true. She was the quivering wreck this time. She hoped she could get herself together by the time Pete arrived tomorrow.

The morning felt like it was going to last a year as it dragged on. Every time she looked at the clock on the back wall it seemed not to have moved. She had to admit, she was nervous and excited about something as simple as a lunch date. She could only account for it by the anticipation of being with Pete.

When her father left to have lunch, Brenda became even more conscious of the tension in her body. This was crazy. It wasn't like this even when she decided to end her virginity with Mike. She wondered if this attack of nerves was going to ruin their lunch date. God, she would be so embarrassed if that happened.

At ten before one, the two-tone van pulled up in front of the store. He was early! "Calm down!" she told herself. It's just a lunch date.

"Hi Brenda," he called as he entered the otherwise empty store. The big smile was there again as he walked toward the counter that separated them.

"You're early," she said, instantly wishing she hadn't.

"Yeah ... well ... to tell the truth, I've been parked up the road a bit for a few minutes. I was even earlier than this," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

There was something about that simple confession that allowed Brenda to relax. He was as anxious about this "date" as she was. It was a relief. He wasn't acting the prima donna role. He was just a guy after all.

"Dad should be back in a few minutes," she said, diverting her eyes from his. "I ... I have a surprise for you."

"Oh? Can you tell me now?"

"Sure. I thought we could have a picnic in the park ... at the gazebo. That is, if you've got time," she said uncertainly.

"I have all afternoon. We don't have to rush ... unless you have to be back sooner than two."

"No ... I'm sure we can take our time. Dad's here on his own when I'm in school, so it isn't a problem."

Both of them were being cautious ... almost dancing around trying to find some common ground.

"Great. That's great. A picnic is a terrific idea. It's a really nice day for one too."

"Mom suggested it," she stated simply.

"Mom's tend to have good ideas like that."

Brenda was getting the sense that Pete was almost a bit shy around her. He was being careful with his words and trying had to keep the conversation going but not anywhere risky.

"Did you know our parents knew each other?" Brenda asked.

"Uh ... well ... of course ... I knew my dad knew your dad."

"Apparently, our parents got together socially a few times."

"I didn't know that. How did you find out? Your mother?"

"Yup."

"Does that make you uncomfortable ... I mean ... us having a date?" he asked carefully.

She looked at him and smiled. "No ... not at all. You know mothers ... they always want to be in the know. I'm sure I'll be expected to report on our date when I get home," Brenda grinned. She was feeling a lot more at ease.

"Hmmm ... I guess I'd better be on my best behavior," he murmured.

"Why? I won't tell if you won't tell," she goaded.

"Tell what?"

Brenda laughed. She definitely had Pete off balance and it was fun to see. She was about to offer a suggestive reply when her father walked into the store.

"Hi Pete. I hear you and Brenda have a date. No need to hurry back, you know. I can handle things. You two just go enjoy yourselves," he smiled. "I do have a couple of things I need but I'll write them out and you can pick them up when you and Brenda get back," he continued.

"Thanks, Mr. Reichart. I'll see you then," he smiled and turned to Brenda. She had retrieved the picnic basket from the office and walked around the counter to join Pete.

"See you in while, Dad," Brenda called over her shoulder.

Tom Reichart stood and watched his daughter and Pete walk out the door and slide into Pete's van. He had a smile on his face. Pete was a nice kid with a big future. He would make something of himself he was certain. They made a nice couple. His daughter had turned into a beautiful young woman. She would never have to worry about finding a man. She would just have to sort out the wheat from the chaff.

As Pete pulled away from the curb, both he and Brenda rolled the small side windows down for air. The old panel van didn't have air conditioning and the warm summer afternoon had heated up the inside of the vehicle almost immediately as it sat by the curb in front of the store. The breeze through the windows helped dissipate the hot air.

Brenda directed Pete to Pearce Park and showed him where to leave the van. It was a short walk to the gazebo across the freshly cut grass. The gazebo was cooler thanks to the concrete base and the shade of several large trees. There were three picnic tables under its cover and Brenda chose one that looked the cleanest.

"This is really nice, Brenda. I'll have to remember to thank your mom for suggesting this. It's perfect," Pete enthused.

Brenda opened the old, wicker picnic basket that had been in the family since she was a small girl. She pulled out a traditional red and white checkered tablecloth and some matching napkins. Inside a small, flat cooler were film-covered Chinet plates of teriyaki chicken wings, cut vegetables and cheeses, along with some veg-thin crackers. A thermos of unsweetened iced tea and two glasses followed. A small plastic container held the condiments and utensils.

"It's been a while since we've used this kit," Brenda said.

"Brenda ... this is my favorite kind of picnic lunch," Pete enthused.

"I cannot tell a lie," Brenda laughed. "My mom called your mom and asked what you would like."

"You have one smart mom," he smiled. "This is great!"

They tackled the lunch with enthusiasm and when their hunger had been vanquished, they leaned back to enjoy the afternoon. Any tension and nervousness for either of them had vanished and they were comfortable in each other's company.

Brenda caught Pete gazing at her, apparently lost in thought.

"What are you staring at?" she kidded.

"Huh? Oh ... sorry ... I guess I was ... uh wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"How come I didn't notice you before? You are very ... beautiful. I'm sure I would have noticed," he said bashfully.

"I didn't always look like this. I was tall and skinny and had frizzy, red hair and braces. Did you notice girls that look like that?"

"Uh ... maybe not. But ... but you don't look anything like that. When did it all change?"