The next couple of days crawl by. In the end, I chicken out when it comes to asking for a lift so I can pick up my car. The anxiety and embarrassment I feel about the investigation at the Burkfield Asylum is enough to make me face my fear of strangers long enough to call a taxi. I'd rather suffer through small talk with a taxi driver than bother Jason or Grant for a ride.

Saturday morning dawns clear and sunny, and I try everything I can think of to distract myself. The phone remains silent, but that doesn't stop me from repeatedly checking for messages.

Jason and Grant usually call me by now, to go ever the results of the investigation with me. I hope nothing's wrong.

Nothing seems to erase Thursday night's scene from my memory. It follows me as I putter around the garden, making note of what work needs to be done on the outside before fall really sets in. The days are little cooler, I notice. Soon the leaves will start falling in earnest.

I've never experienced autumn in Rhode Island, having moved here in January. Where will I be by next January, I muse to myself. Will I still be investigating with TAPS, or will they have decided that they've truly had enough of me?

By Saturday afternoon, I'm ready to start pulling out my hair. There's nothing on TV, I've already eaten lunch, and it's too early to start making supper. I can't seem to concentrate on housework, and nothing else appeals to me, even practicing photography.

Deciding that a breath of fresh air might do me good, I open the door and step out onto my front porch. To my surprise, the sunlight has been blotted out and there's clear evidence of a storm rolling in.

Padding over to the railing in my sock feet, I study the sky. The temperature has dropped noticeably, but there's not a breath of wind. The leaves on the baby maple tree in my front yard hang heavy and motionless, slightly yellowed but not yet displaying their full autumn splendor.

I shiver slightly in the cooling air. Maybe I should have a cup of tea and try to relax.

Mom always swore by lemon balm tea for anxiety. I don't really know if that's true or not, but I started reaching for it in college and continued the habit into adulthood.

Herbal tea in hand, I settle into my front porch swing and tuck a knitted throw blanket around my knees. I remember Grandma and I knitting this together the year I turned sixteen. Most of the work is hers, but there are a few crooked, over-sized stitches in the hem that were my special addition.

With my mom's herbal remedy in hand and Grandma's blanket in my lap, I'm struck with a sudden pang of homesickness. I've been settling into my new life as a paranormal investigator so easily that I haven't thought of home very often.

But now, with uncertainty hanging over my head, I start wondering if I ever should have moved to Rhode Island. Maybe I would have been better off in New Brunswick, with people who understood my quirks and, for the most part, went out of their way to make my life simple and easy.

Life isn't always about simple and easy, Summer Sunshine. You have to challenge yourself or you'll never get anywhere.

I can still hear Daddy saying those words, and I sigh wistfully. In my heart, I know exactly what's happening; I'm focusing on homesickness as a way to stop thinking about my last investigation.

Taking a thoughtful sip of my tea, I remember the last words I spoke to Steve and wince, setting my cup down on the small glass-topped table beside the swing.

I hate you... I hate you... I hate you...

"Stop," I say out loud, pressing my fingers against my temples as if that's somehow going to turn off the sound of my own thoughts.

Looking up at the clouds only makes me think more about what happened. Was it really only two days ago that Steve and I stood in the yard of an abandoned asylum, watching another storm rolling in?

What happens now I wonder...

I'm so busy watching the sky that I almost don't notice the van pulling into my driveway. Startled, I lean forward to try to see who could be dropping in on me unexpectedly.

As the door opens and a familiar black baseball cap comes into view, I feel my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

Steve.

I quickly get up from the porch swing, almost stumbling in my hurry. Steve comes to a halt at the bottom of the shallow stairway, hands behind his back, and peers up at me. "Hi."

"Hi," I reply softly.

We're silent for an awkward moment, and I can't think of a thing to say.

"I, um, brought you something," Steve says finally, looking anywhere but at me. I don't have time to ask what, before he pulls a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Most of them are purple.

I can't help letting out a little gasp of delight as he hands them to me, and I see one corner of his mouth quirk up in a small smile.

I gently touch the downy petals, and then close my eyes and lower my nose to the blossoms to breathe in their fresh fragrance, hiding the fact that I've just been rendered momentarily speechless.

"Thank you," I finally tell him shyly. "Um... want to come sit?" I motion towards the porch swing, and he glances from it to me before nodding slowly.

"Okay."

"I'm, um... just going to put these in some water. Be right back."

I make my escape to the house, giving my heart time to settle down and my thoughts time to stop whirling.

Removing the cellophane wrapping from the bouquet, I tuck the stems neatly into a cut-glass vase that I got at a yard sale. I had thought to fill it with some blooms from my garden, but I've been so busy this summer that I forgot all about it.

This bouquet is much prettier, anyways.

I bring the bouquet with me as I return to the porch, and set it on the glass-topped table. Steve, I notice, is still standing with his hands behind his back. Only now, he's peering off into the distance at the rolling clouds.

"Should have known I'd find you out here, watching the storm come in," he says with another small smile. He waits for me to be seated before he sinks down beside me.

"Thanks for the flowers," I tell him again, nervously smoothing the knitted throw over my lap. I need something to keep my hands busy so I won't start wringing them anxiously.

"You're welcome," he says simply, and we're silent for another minute or two.

Stop being so awkward, Lafrenière! Say it!

I take a deep breath and turn to Steve, just as he turns to me. "I'm sorry," we both blurt at the same time. Then we both chuckle.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Steve wonders, looking at me with chin tilted up quizzically.

I lower my head and pick at a strand of yarn that's unraveling from the blanket over my knees. "Because I said I hated you. I shouldn't have said it, and I didn't mean it."

I glance up at him, hoping he understands.

It's his turn to look down, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "You had a right to say it," he admits. "I... well, I don't have an excuse for scaring you like that. I mean... I thought it would be funny, but I didn't stop to think it through. It wasn't funny at all; it was stupid. And mean."

I sigh and glance across the street. A couple of neighborhood children are chasing each other through their front yards, screaming with glee. An adult hollers for them to come inside before it starts to rain. A dog barks, and somewhere close by a door slams.

"It should have been funny," I say finally, returning to the conversation. "I don't know why it wasn't. I just... I panicked. I haven't been that terrified in a long time."

Steve makes a soft noise that I take as guilt, and I quickly turn to him. "Not because of you," I hasten to reassure him. "I was feeling scared pretty much ever since we started investigating that floor. It was just... so eerie. I can't explain it."

"It was that voice," Steve says. "The one that said, 'get out'? I should have thought that one through before doing a dumb thing like that. I really am sorry, Summer."

I can't deny the sincerity in his brown eyes. "I'm sorry too," I tell him. "I don't hate you. Far from it. In fact, next to Kris, you're one of my favorite people to investigate with."

His eyes light up at that. "I am? Why?" He's genuinely curious, and I shrug and glance away again.

"Don't know, really. You're good at what you do, and you're professional about it, but you're not all serious all the time like Jason and Grant. Well... most of the time they're serious," I add with a faint smile, remembering Grant falling through the chair in the dining room of the asylum. "And... I don't know, you're fun to be around."

"Thank you," Steve says. "You know, I like investigating with you too. You're different from Kris and Amy... you're kind of crazy, actually, but in a good way, if that makes sense." He grins to show he's only teasing.

"I think so," I say with an answering grin. "I guess you have to be kind of crazy to do what we do."

"What?" Steve asks jokingly. "Investigating in general, or the kind of trouble we get into?"

"All of it," I reply seriously. "Like you throwing me at Tango instead of into the attic."

"Once and for all, I did not..." Steve begins, before realizing that I'm only teasing. "Well, what about that stunt in the attic with the bats?"

"Tango got the brunt of that one," I giggle. "And what about you almost breaking the candlestick?"

"Yeah, like you didn't smash your leg into the table when we investigated the Inn," Steve fires back, and I roll my eyes.

"At least I can sit at a pink picnic table without thinking that I'm going to catch Barbie doll cooties!"

"You didn't sit at that table either though, you hid in the van," Steve says with a wicked grin.

"I was not hiding! I was in sensory overload and needed a break!"

"Was it sensory overload that made you throw a spoon across the table... with your mouth, I might add?"

Steve laughs out loud as I squawk at that embarrassing memory. "I only did that because you tried to poke the spoon up my nose!"

"I was trying to make sure you didn't starve, you goof!" He pokes me playfully.

"Then you should have tried putting sweet potato fries up my nose, not an empty spoon, you moldy waffle!" I poke him back. We're laughing too hard to continue.

"We've had a lot of fun investigating this year, haven't we?" Steve says after we've calmed down a bit.

"Yeah, we sure have. I can't believe summer's almost over already."

"Well, summer might be almost over, but this Summer," he pokes me again, gently, "is only just getting started. I can't wait to see what stunt you manage to pull next."

"Yeah," I snort softly, "That is, if I'm still on the team after all this."

"What makes you think you're not?"

I don't have an answer for that. "I don't know. Anxiety, I guess. I always expect the worst."

"Maybe it's time to start expecting the best," Steve mentions.

"Maybe. That's not always easy, though."

It's surprisingly cozy, sitting on my front porch and talking easily with Steve. Time seems to slip away, and neither of us is in a hurry to end the conversation. Our talk drifts from topic to topic, and I begin to see a side of Steve that I haven't really seen before.

While investigating, I've seen both the "Grumpy Tech Manager" side, and the "Class Clown" side. But now, as we chat easily about one thing or another, I'm starting to realize that I really do enjoy talking to Steve.

He listens with interest as I reminisce about my college days, and quizzes me on growing up in New Brunswick. In turn, I watch his eyes light up as he shares his love of trains and train travel. I ask about his cats, and he asks about my grandparents' farm. We discover that we share a love of red licorice and an intense dislike of rap music.

We're so caught up in conversation that we both jump when a torrent of rain suddenly pours out of the heavens.

I yelp in surprise and quickly pull the trailing edge of my blanket back from where it's drifted too close to the edge of the porch.

"Well look at that, now I don't have to wash my van," Steve raises his voice above the downpour.

"It's beautiful!" I shout over the thunderous roar of raindrops hitting the porch roof. Getting to my feet, I stretch an arm out over the railing and revel in the droplets that hit my arm like tiny hammers.

I turn back to Steve, only to find him fumbling in his pocket for his phone. "Do you mind?" he asks apologetically. "This is kind of important."

I wave him away. "Of course, go ahead and take it."

He walks to the other side of the porch, and the drumming rain prevents me from overhearing his conversation; not that I would deliberately eavesdrop, of course. That is, until he says, "She's right here."

I look at him in utter confusion as he extends the phone in my direction. "It's for you."

"For me? Who... what... how..."

"It's Jason," Steve adds with a grin, clearly enjoying my bafflement. "Hold on, let me put it on speakerphone."

Sitting beside me once more, he presses a few buttons and then says, "Fire away, Jay, we're both listening in."

"Well, Summer, how are you doing?" Jason's voice comes over the line.

"Fine?" I phrase it like a question, still befuddled as to why Jason would call Steve's phone looking for me.

Jason obviously hears the question in my voice. "Steve told us he was dropping by to see you this afternoon," he says with a chuckle. "Since he's still there, I take it you haven't thrown him out?"

I'm thankful he can't see my blush through the phone. "Of course not," I reply. "Everything's all cleared up now."

"Good! Has Steve mentioned anything to you about the evidence review?"

"Actually, we didn't get around to talking about that yet," Steve answers before I have a chance to.

"Hold on for just a second," Jason says, and there are muffled voices at the other end of the line.

"Okay, I have Grant here on speakerphone too," he announces when he returns. "So, jumping right into it... our client was, understandably, very impressed with the amount of evidence we were able to pick up. That voice saying, 'get out', was, of course, one of the highlights. You were the real star of the night, though, Summer."

"Me?" I squeak.

"Of course," Jason's voice comes through the speaker. "Your 'conversation', shall we call it, with the young boy up in the children's ward, was incredible to watch and listen to. Our client was very impressed by your ability to draw him out."

"Wow," is all I can manage, and Steve flashes a brief smile at me before returning his focus to the phone in his hand.

"With that being said, there is something that all of us have been discussing; and we'd like to run it by you."

"Okay," I reply cautiously, not sure what they could be planning to spring on me.

It's Grant's voice that I hear next. "It's been almost six months since you've joined the team, Summer. I take it you still enjoy investigating with us?"

"Of course!" I don't even need to think about my answer to that. "I love every minute of it. Every day is new and exciting, and it's such a privilege to be part of the team."

"We're glad to hear that," Grant says, and I detect a smile in his voice. "Well, we won't keep you in suspense any longer. Jason, Steve, and I had a little meeting this morning, and we all agreed that it's time you dropped the title of 'Investigator-in-Training,' and took on the role of full-time Investigator. How does that sound?"

"You've certainly earned it," Jason chimes in.

I'm speechless. Steve is grinning broadly at me, as if he already knows what my response is going to be. I have both hands covering my mouth, and my eyes are welling up. I'm afraid to speak a word for fear I'll start bawling in earnest.

"What happened, did she pass out?" Grant laughs.

"She's crying," Steve says very seriously into the phone. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

I start giggling at him through my tears, unable to help myself. Jason's rumbling chuckle comes over the phone, and he replies, "If she's crying and laughing, that's probably a good thing."

"You guys," I sniffle. "I just... wow. Wow. Oh my gosh, I'm so happy. And honored. Thank you so much."

"We're honored to have you," Grant says. "Let me be the first to congratulate you on becoming a full-fledged member of TAPS. You've worked hard for this position and it shows."

Jason and Steve both add their congratulations, and then Jason ends the call. Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket.

"I was not expecting that," I say, wiping my eyes. "Oh my gosh, am I dreaming? I... ow!"

Steve has poked me in the ribs, a little harder than necessary. "I guess you're not dreaming," he laughs.

I swat at him, but I'm too happy to be even mildly annoyed. "Oh my gosh, this just turned into the best day ever. Well, the second best day ever. The best day ever was the day I got asked to join TAPS."

My hands are fluttering, as shivers of excitement race up and down my spine. Steve smiles indulgently, and then glances out across the yard. The rain is starting to ease off, pattering gently now instead of gushing from the heavens.

"I guess I'd better get going," he says, rising from the porch swing, and then turning around again to speak to me. "I'm happy for you, Summer. I'm glad you're a full member of the team; like Jason said, you've earned it. And... thanks for being understanding about the whole asylum thing."

"It's fine," I reply, rising to my feet as well. "In fact, let's just forget the whole thing ever happened, okay?"

"Fine by me," Steve agrees, holding out his hand for a fist bump.

I don't know that I'm planning on hugging him until I actually do.

I'm surprised at myself; I'm not usually a huggy person, generally preferring to show affection from a distance. I think I've even startled Steve. My face burning, I try to pull away in embarrassment.

I'm not quite successful in my attempt. Steve must have gotten over his surprise pretty quickly, because he gives me a tight squeeze in return, and I could almost swear that he rests his chin on top of my head briefly.

I make one more brief attempt to pull away, and then relax. This feels... nice.

For a second or two.

"You're breaking my ribs!" I protest laughingly, wiggling until he loosens his hold with a chuckle. I back away and look up at him, noticing his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"I really am going now," he tells me. "Try to stay out of trouble, Miss Investigator."

"Like that's ever going to happen," I call after him as he runs through the rain to reach his van.

Standing on the porch, I watch as he zooms down the driveway in reverse and backs onto the street. Even after his van is out of sight, I remain there, staring out into the yard, my mind going in a thousand blissful directions at once.

Then I look up, startled, as a sunbeam breaks through the clouds. It's what my mother calls a sun shower; the bright rays illuminate the sparkling drops clinging to the grass and trees, and make a soft rainbow from the drops that are still falling.

Without a second's hesitation, I yank off my socks with reckless abandon and dash out into the rain. Whooping with joy, I spin in a mini rainbow of my own making as my feet pound the wet concrete of the driveway.

I'm sure the neighbors have wondered more than once about their odd, autistic, redheaded neighbor. Well, they can keep wondering as far as I'm concerned.

Because Summer the Ghost Hunter is here to stay.

Author's Note: And, here it is. The final chapter of Rhode Island Rookie. When I started writing Mistletoe, back in April of 2020, I never dreamed that I'd ever publish it, let alone write and publish an entire prequel. Some fun facts about R.I.R.: it's 203 pages long and has just over 92,400 words. I began writing it on May 28, 2020, and I finished around the 20th of October, so it was almost five months in the making. If you'd like to hear what I envisioned as the theme song or "soundtrack" if you will, for this story, go on Youtube and look up "Summersong 2018" by Elektronomia. (I don't own this song, I just love it.)

This has been an amazing journey for me, and I hope all my readers have enjoyed reading Summer's story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Feel free to leave a comment or send a message letting me know what you thought, and if you'd ever like me to revisit Rhode Island in the future with more Summer and Steve adventures!