Home to Hope Mountain. Joan Kilby

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      She groaned. “You need new material.”

      “Can you give me a hand outside?”

      “I’m talking to Zoe.”

      “Say goodbye for now. I want to move the woodpile away from the house.” And he figured Summer would benefit if she got outside and did something physical instead of moping around indoors.

      “That’s dumb. We’ll just have to walk farther to get wood for the fireplace during winter.”

      He hoped she wouldn’t be living here next winter, but he wasn’t foolish enough to mention that. “It’s a hazard in the event of a bushfire. Come on.”

      “Do I have to?”

      “Yes, you need to do something to earn the exorbitant allowance your mother gives you.”

      “Hey, I do the dishes and clean my own room.”

      “Wear sturdy shoes or boots and get yourself a pair of gloves from the toolshed.”

      “Oh, all right.” With a heavy sigh she put down her phone.

      Adam had moved two wheelbarrow loads from the house to a new woodpile he’d started beside the barn by the time Summer shuffled outdoors in Ugg boots and a hoodie. She waited with her hands tucked into her sleeves for him to trundle back.

      He began loading wood, sparing a brief nostalgic thought for the old days when she’d been eager to help Daddy. “Come on, then.”

      Slowly she pulled the gloves out of her back pocket and put them on. Then she picked up a chunk of firewood by her fingertips and dropped it into the wheelbarrow. “There are probably spiders in the woodpile. Maybe even snakes.”

      “They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

      “I didn’t believe that when I was five and I don’t believe it now.”

      He chuckled, and her sullen expression cracked into a reluctant smile. “Fair enough. If you see a snake or spider you’re allowed to run screaming. Until then, pick up the wood like you mean it.”

      “I don’t think it’s something you can ‘mean.’ You just do it.”

      “Ever heard of mindfulness?” He wasn’t even sure where he’d picked up that expression. Probably from overhearing the women in the office talking. But it made sense. He’d done chores on his grandfather’s farm when he was a kid. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it was to focus on a simple, repetitive act like hauling wood. Doing reps on a weight machine at the gym just wasn’t the same.

      “Mom’s the yoga person in the family.” Summer tossed three chunks of wood on the pile so hard one bounced out of the barrow. “Oh, I forgot. We’re not a family anymore.”

      Twelve months had passed since the divorce. Adam had hoped Summer wouldn’t be feeling so raw by now. They’d never really had much opportunity to talk about his and Diane’s breakup. Since they’d moved out, his access visits with Summer had been movie-and-dinner combos with stilted conversation.

      He picked up the fallen piece of wood and replaced it on the pile. “Sounds like you’re still pretty angry about that.”

      She shrugged. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

      “How you feel matters to me.”

      She stared at him, unsmiling. “What’re you going to do about it?”

      He’d never felt so helpless. And that made him angry. “Not much I can do, I guess. The marriage is over and we all have to deal with it.”

      “Why didn’t you and Mom try marriage counseling?”

      “It wouldn’t have done any good.” He’d promised himself he would never say anything bad to Summer about her mother, but it was so tempting to set the record straight. Diane had been unfaithful and unrepentant. “Never mind.”

      “Yeah, that’s right, brush off any talk of her. If you hadn’t been working all the time, maybe Mom wouldn’t have—”

      “Maybe she wouldn’t have what?”

      Summer looked away. “Nothing.”

      Wouldn’t have had an affair? Was that what she’d been about to say? Adam picked up the wheelbarrow even though it was only half-full and pushed it quickly across the grass to the barn. Damn Diane for not being more discreet. It was bad enough that she’d cheated on him but to be so careless, so sleazy, around their daughter...

      He didn’t know who her lover was and he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter. But he’d found evidence a few times when he’d come up for the weekend. Secretive phone calls, disappearing for unexplained long periods, an air of excitement that he knew darn well wasn’t about him.

      “Hey, Dad, wait.” Summer caught up with him, panting from running. “Sorry.”

      “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He tipped the barrow and the wood tumbled out. Reaching for a piece, he wedged it into position on the top layer. “Place it bark-up and point-down, see?”

      He simply couldn’t talk to Summer about the five-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. It was possible she didn’t know about her mother’s lover. Maybe all Summer had meant was that if he’d been around more her mother wouldn’t have left their city apartment. Maybe she simply wished he’d cared enough to ask Diane to stay....

      As angry as he was with Diane, he was guilty of working long hours. He didn’t want Summer to have bad feelings about her parents—or at least no more than any normal teenager. He’d known when Diane moved to Timbertop and he stayed in the city that their marriage was over. He wasn’t concerned about her affair for his sake, only for his daughter’s.

      “I am though. Sorry.” Summer kicked at the ground and dislodged a pebble. “I’ve caused you both problems.”

      “The divorce wasn’t your fault.” He’d said it a million times before but he kept saying it because he wasn’t convinced she believed it. Otherwise, why else had she gone off the rails? He didn’t think it could be only about Bailey.

      “I know.”

      “Do you?” He searched her face.

      “Yeah. ’Course.” She lifted her chin, cocky and defiant. “It’s never the kid’s fault. That’s in all the books and movies. It’s the grown-ups that mess things up.”

      He gave her a wry smile that was more of a grimace. “And kids never do.”

      She dropped her gaze as a tinge of pink crept over her cheeks. “I said I was sorry.”

      “Oh, Summer.” He pulled her into a clumsy hug. She hesitated, then her arms circled his waist. “I just wish I knew what was bothering you so much.”

      “Nothing’s bugging me.” She pulled out of his embrace and turned away, dashing her gloved hand across her eyes. “I’ll push the wheelbarrow.”

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