Summer
If someone had told me three months ago my long-lost mother would be coming back to see me, that it had been Daddy's choice to keep her away, that Ian Memmer was in love with me, that Matt Holcomb would ask me to marry him, and that I'd be opening my own studio, I would've committed them to the loony bin, complete with a straight jacket, padded walls, and crafts on Sundays. But, there it was. That's exactly what had happened.
And my head reeled.
Leaning back on my elbows, I breathed in the early dawn from my porch steps and listened to the crickets fade into the morning. Cicadas buzzed. Leaves rustled with a caressing breeze.
I hadn't slept a wink. Not. One. Wink.