“He’s out there with his fishin’ crew and I recognized him. His grandpa used to bring him,” Harper said.

“And one summer you had yourself a crush on that boy.” He grinned.

“That was a long time ago.”

“Way you looked, it don’t look like it was long enough for you to forget him.”

“You know what they say about first loves, especially when you are really young,” she said.

“I believe that with all my heart,” he said.

“I just wasn’t expecting to see him. I should get back out there and make sure everyone has what they need.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “You’re makin’ a fine waitress. I’m proud of you, girl.”

As she moved around the tables of mostly fishermen, she caught snatches of conversation about catfish the size of Moby Dick and catching so many bass that they almost sank a boat hauling them to shore. She was almost to Wyatt’s table when the bell rang in the kitchen, and she hurried back to get their dinner baskets.

Setting them before each of the five men, she was very careful not to brush a hand across Wyatt’s arm or to even make eye contact. Being next to him gave her hot flashes that no little white pill in the world could cure.

“Zed could put in a burger shop anywhere in the world and people would flock to it. He should write a recipe book. Bet he could make a million bucks on it,” Wyatt said.

“Probably so, but I don’t think he’ll share his secrets with anyone,” Harper said. “Anything else I can get you guys?” Working at the café was more pleasant than working at bars, but anytime someone mentioned Annie, it put a lump in her throat the size of a grapefruit.

“You ever been told that you look a lot like Deana Carter, that country singer?” the older one in the group asked.

“Nope, and flattery won’t get you anywhere with me.” She blushed.

“She’s younger than Deana. I’d say she looks more like Carrie Underwood.”

“That won’t even get you an extra dessert,” she halfheartedly teased as she refilled their tea glasses and then made her way to the other side of the room to clean up a table that had been vacated. She shoved several dollar bills into her pocket. With little left to spend money on now that her truck was fixed, the tips were starting to add up.

She was very aware of when Wyatt and his fishermen left, but the rest of the evening swam with random visions that kept playing through her mind. Times she’d had with her grandmother, her sisters, and even Brook as a baby, but most of all flashes of Wyatt.

When Zed locked the door at seven o’clock on the dot and handed her a broom, she was humming an old Deana Carter tune, “Strawberry Wine.” She and Wyatt had never actually drunk wine in those days, but the lyrics sure did describe the summer.

“I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up. You can be in charge of the dining area. I figure it’ll take about half an hour and then we can go home. What’s that song you are humming?” Zed asked.

She told him the title.

“That kind of country music tells a story. Some of this new stuff is just repetitive crap. Let’s get this last job of the day done and we can go home,” he said.

“We are home.” She went back to humming.

“Glad that you see it that way. I like to see you so happy.”

One shoulder raised in half a shrug. “Look, you know I could find a job. Never been without one more than a week since I was a teenager, but this was like it fell out of heaven.”

“Goin’ to light out of here when you make enough money?” He stopped and turned around.

She began to sweep the floor. “Never know what tomorrow might bring.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” he said with a smile.

After cleanup was finished, Harper went back to her cabin, but she couldn’t sit still. She flipped back and forth between the two channels on the television, but neither one kept her attention. Memories. A whole summer of them kept rising up in her mind. It was that magical time when she and Wyatt discovered sex together, when in their youthful ignorance they’d been too careless and she’d gotten pregnant. The guilt she’d felt ever since giving that precious baby girl up for adoption had never left her. Like always, she felt the need to drink or to run, but she was determined to do neither that evening.

Zed needed her, and she had to finally face her past or she’d never move on to a future. She needed something, anything, to escape from the smothering pictures flashing through her head. She dug around in her box of books until she came up with one that she’d read a dozen times and still loved, but not even her favorite author, Katie Lane, could keep her attention.

Finally, she pulled on a jacket and went out to sit in the old metal lawn chair on the corner of her tiny porch. The stars shone bright, circling around a half-moon in a black velvet sky. On many hot summer nights in that same cabin, she’d had some wild and crazy good times in cabin number twelve with Wyatt Simpson, most of them after they’d shared a six-pack of beer.

Suddenly the little short hairs on her neck prickled and her pulse jacked up a few beats a minute, letting her know that Wyatt was really close by. Then he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. She drew her long legs up and wrapped her arms around them.

“Hey,” he said. “I was out for an evening walk down that old trail behind the cabins. So are you living in this unit? I remember—”