The Loner by Joan Johnston Page B

tied around its neck that had frayed on the ends. One of the two button eyes was missing. She picked up the bear and hugged it to her. She had left Brownie at home when she’d made her forays into university life. And missed him terribly.
    But she wasn’t a child anymore. Or even a lonely young girl. She was a married woman.
    “It’s time for me to leave, Brownie,” she said to the bear. She laid him back on the bed in his place of honor, then reached for the two bags she’d packed.
    An instant later, she dropped the bags and grabbed Brownie. “You can keep Will company,” she said to the bear as she unzipped the travel bag and stuffed him inside.
    And me if I get lonely
…
    She opened her bedroom door, picked up her bags, and walked out the door.
    And ran right into her mother.
    “Oh. Excuse me.”
    “Does this mean you’ve made a decision?” her mother asked, eyeing the two bags.
    “I can’t marry Geoffrey,” Summer said.
    “I always knew you were selfish,” her mother replied. “I never thought you were stupid.”
    Summer gripped her bags tighter, wishing there was some way to stop the humiliating flush burning its way up her throat. She’d always yearned for her mother’s approval, strived to earn it, yet somehow never quite measured up. That didn’t mean she didn’t love her mother, and respect her. She offered the only explanation she could, hoping it would be enough. “I don’t love Geoffrey.”
    “You’re being ridiculous. Go unpack those bags while I call Geoffrey and—”
    “It’s too late for that.”
    “Geoffrey will forgive and forget. I’m sure you can smooth everything over—”
    “I’m married,” she blurted. “I married Billy Coburn this morning.”
    Summer waited for the explosion she was sure was coming. Instead of raging, her mother threw back her head and laughed.
    “This is rich. This is perfect. Your father will throw forty fits. His darling daughter married to a saddle tramp without a penny. Even better, your father’s very own bastard son. Oh, I love it!” And she sailed off into another fit of laughter.
    Summer hadn’t thought she could feel any worse. But her mother’s laughter made something precious curl up inside her and die. She couldn’t even defend herself by saying she loved Billy. And she didn’t dare explain the real reason she’d married him. She couldn’t take the chance that her mother would do something vindictive to punish Billy for spoiling her plans.
    “What does your father say about this?” her mother asked.
    “He doesn’t know yet.”
    “I want to be a fly on the wall when you tell him,” she said.
    “I’m leaving now, Momma. Billy’s waiting for me outside.”
    “I’ll just come along and congratulate your new husband.”
    “Please don’t, Momma,” Summer said, cringing at the spite she heard in her mother’s voice. “There’s no need—”
    “Let’s go, Summer,” her mother said.
    Summer brushed past her mother and headed down the stairs, walking as fast as she could without running, trying to put distance between them so she could give Billy some warning that her mother was right behind her.
    “I can’t imagine what you were thinking, Summer,” her mother said from behind her. “I thought you had more pride than this. Are you pregnant?”
    Summer stopped abruptly in the middle of the kitchen and turned to stare at her mother, her mouth gaping. “Of course not!”
    “Then why have you done this?” her mother said, her eyes focused intently on Summer’s face.
    Summer felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, the kind cruel little boys held, focusing the fierce rays of the sun so that eventually the ant burned to cinders. She didn’t want to tell the truth. And she couldn’t think of a good enough lie to fool her mother. So she stood there, staring back helplessly. She never felt like this with her father. She could face him toe-to-toe and fight.
    But her mother reduced her to this quivering,