As a teacher, I looked forward to summer because that was when I had time to pursue a romance. I would find someone who was a little edgy, even a bit thrilling, one I could spend the summer with and not have to keep trying to find somebody new all the time. I wanted it to be an all-absorbing relationship, but at the same time not so serious that I couldn’t break it off when September came.
One June, many years ago, when my husband and I were on a vacation in New Castle, Maine, I started a romance with Jim Qwilleran. I first met him in
The Cat Who Saw Red (Lilian Jackson Braun), and the fact that he was a journalist and had two Siamese cats was part of what endeared him to me. I spent the summer with Qwilleran, the brilliant clue-giver Yoko, and sweet Yum Yum, meeting up with them in
The Cat Who Knew Shakespeare,
The Cat Who Talked to Ghosts, and many more. The mysteries were so tame as to hardly warrant the name, but I loved the cats, Qwilleran’s unique group of friends, and the restaurants he frequented. In mid-summer, Qwill, as I was now calling him, moved to a restored barn, and I was charmed by the interior design and the cats doing gymnastics on the high beams. By the end of August, though, I was feeling kind of disenchanted—Qwill was getting a bit old and overweight, and I began to think he was a little shallow. So I gave him up. (I must admit, though, that since that summer I have had a few one-night stands with old Qwill.)
My summer with Brother Cadfael was more an affair of the mind that indulged my love of medieval England and broadened my knowledge of its political, social, and religious life. Cadfael came to the Abbey somewhat late in years and brought with him a knowledge of the intrigues of the world. Smart, kind, and a master at understanding the human psyche, he solved such mysteries as One Corpse Too Many, The Virgin in the Ice, and The Devil’s Novice (Ellis Peters). The mysteries were intellectually challenging, with a tangle of interesting characters, all set against a beautiful countryside. I actually hated to leave the world of the Abbey and the England of the 11th century.
Much more worldly and violent was my summer with Edward Delaney, a cop in New York City. The crimes were truly brutal, and he spared none of the graphic details. I was constantly in a state of suspense. Delaney was always drinking some kind of cordial, so after a while, I started joining him in a late afternoon glass of Drambuie. We went through a series of Sins together, starting with The First Deadly Sin (Lawrence Sanders). After number four, we ran out. It was just as well; things were starting to get a bit smutty and Drambuie was expensive.
Alex Delaware was a much more refined man. He was a child psychologist, smart and compassionate, and I enjoyed hearing about his cases, though some of them were heartbreaking. His good friend was a detective—a nice guy, though always in the fridge and so not good for my diet—who elicited Alex’s help in his difficult cases. Usually there were children involved, as in
When The Bough Breaks and
Time Bomb (Jonathan Kellerman), which is why Alex was so helpful. In August Alex found a serious girlfriend, but neither of them seemed able to commit. I left them to work it out.
I don’t know what possessed me, but one summer I gave myself nightmares over Stephen King. Images of teenagers on fire, a car with a mind of its own, a mad dog, and a reincarnated cat disturbed me, but I couldn’t stop seeing Stephen—or reading Cujo, Carrie, and Pet Sematary. The next summer I entered an even more bizarre relationship with Dean Koontz. Watchers, Strangers, and Phantoms came with him, and for a while I found it all terrifyingly thrilling. Finally, though, it just got too weird and scary and I took out a restraining order—against myself.
I’ll always remember these summer romances, brief but intense. They were flings with people very different from those in my ordinary life, and when September came, I said goodbye with few regrets.