Summer's Promise. Irene Brand
Spring’s request about taking care of the children.
Prior to the funeral, Summer had kept busy greeting family and neighbors who called at the Weaver home, and she had no time to consider how Spring’s death would change her life. But as she’d watched the children’s woebegone expressions and the fear in their eyes, Summer’s heart had been touched by their sorrow, and she’d made little exploratory gestures to see if she possessed any maternal traits. She’d taken them to the florist to choose flowers to put in their parents’ caskets, and on the way home, they’d stopped by Autumn’s farm so Timmy and Nicole could see the new baby boy, Lannie, born the day after Spring had died. Summer envied Autumn’s easy ways with the children, wishing she didn’t feel so inadequate when she was with them.
The night before the funeral, after the children had gone to bed, the Weavers and Bert’s family had met in the living room of the Weavers’ Victorian home to discuss the children’s welfare.
“We’ll take them,” Autumn had volunteered immediately, and Bert’s parents had also said they’d be glad to take Timmy and Nicole.
Forestalling any immediate arrangement, David said, “Shouldn’t we put off a decision until we learn if Spring and Bert made provisions for the guardianship of their children? If they made wills, I suppose they’ll be at their home in North Carolina. I’ll try to find out, if you want me to.”
“Yes, that should be checked out,” Landon Weaver had agreed. “And in the meantime, we’ll keep Timmy and Nicole with us. There’s no need to disrupt their lives more than necessary until we know what David learns.”
Summer opened her mouth to say something then, but if David was right and Bert and Spring had made other provisions for the children, perhaps her promise wouldn’t matter. Hopefully, Spring’s mind had been rambling when she’d made her request. Summer had volunteered to stay at the farm and help with the children until David could check out the will, but her mother had insisted that she go back to her job.
“You’ve already missed more than a week of work,” Clara Weaver said. “We’re getting along fine with the children. You’ve always sacrificed for your family, but it’s time for you to think about your own future. Don’t worry about us.”
Three days after the funeral, her father took Summer and David to the Columbus airport where David’s flight to Atlanta was scheduled an hour before she left.
After they checked in and cleared security, David said, “Let’s get something to drink before my plane leaves.”
Summer agreed, although she was eager to be rid of David as well as everyone else who distressed her. The first time she’d met David, it had taken months for her to erase his memory from her mind, and the longer she stayed around him now, the more difficult it would be to forget him.
At a small coffee shop, Summer found a table overlooking the runway while David brought coffee for himself and a glass of orange juice for her.
David was alert to Summer’s moods, and although he understood how the tragic events of the last week would have disturbed her, he sensed she was troubled about something else. She’d hardly spoken on the drive from the farm to the airport, and she’d given a sigh of relief when her father had told them goodbye at curbside and she had entered the airport. Why was she so eager to leave the farm?
She sipped on the glass of orange juice and stared out the window, but David didn’t think she was aware of the departing planes. He studied her face speculatively.
“Are you all right, Summer?” he asked at last. She turned her moody blue eyes toward him, as if she’d forgotten he was even there.
“What? Oh, yes, I’m all right. It’s been a bad week.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night, worrying about the kids. It’s a terrible experience for them to lose both their parents. I wish I could do something to help, but a bachelor doesn’t have any business trying to raise children.”
Summer opened her mouth to tell him about her dilemma, for she thought David would understand, but he heard an announcement on the loudspeaker and drained the last of his coffee. “My plane is boarding now. I’ll have to go.”
Summer walked to the gate with him. Before he got in line, he put his arm around her waist, and Summer’s body tingled at the contact. Grinning and arching his eyebrows teasingly, he said, “I’ve learned you’re not very good at answering letters, but how about phone calls? Will you answer if I phone you occasionally?”
Summer’s face grew warm to be reminded that she’d ignored his friendly overtures two years earlier.
“I’ll answer,” she said quietly.
His arm tightened around her waist. “Good. You’ll hear from me in a few weeks.”
Summer watched David’s plane take off before she moped down the corridor toward her boarding gate. She wished she’d had time to tell David what she’d promised Spring, but if he learned how she was fretting over her responsibility, he might be disappointed in her. She didn’t want David to have a poor opinion of her.
Back in her apartment sanctuary, Summer was ashamed that she’d even hesitated to do what Spring had asked her to do. She excused her attitude by claiming lack of experience in child rearing. She would make a lousy foster mother. But if she didn’t take care of the children, who would? Certainly, her mother wasn’t physically able to raise them.
Holding out hope that Spring’s mind had been wandering on her deathbed, and that she and Bert had made other arrangements for the future of Nicole and Timmy, Summer resumed her usual schedule. If only she could dismiss from her mind the scene she’d witnessed on the day of the funeral, she could get on with her life.
After the family returned from the cemetery, Timmy and Nicole had gone to the barn to look at the Belgian colts. Summer had watched from the dining room window as the two children returned to the house. Walking hand in hand, they’d stopped in front of the open window and didn’t see Summer, who was partially hidden by the draperies. Timmy was crying and Nicole put her arms around him.
“What’ll we do, Nicole? We’re too little to stay by ourselves.”
“Don’t cry, Timmy. God will take care of us. God still loves us even if He did take Mommy and Daddy away. He’ll send somebody to take their place. You’ll see!”
Timmy had looked up at his sister, and a timid smile brightened his tear-streaked face. “I’ll bet He will, too.” Then his smile faded. “But who else will love us like Mommy and Daddy did?”
Summer should have gone to the children right then and told them she’d look after them, but her feet seemed glued to the floor. The opportunity was lost when Landon Weaver came from the barnyard and invited the children to take a drive with him.
Summer forced herself to resume her normal work routine, and when she was at the bank, she didn’t think about the children. It was only when she went home and read e-mail messages from Ohio that her sister’s dying request destroyed her peace of mind. If only she hadn’t made that promise!
Summer was late getting home the following Friday evening, and the message light on the telephone’s answering machine was flashing when she entered the apartment. With a trembling hand, she pushed the play button.
“Summer, this is David Brown. I arrived in New York this afternoon, and I must talk with you.” He gave the name of a hotel and a telephone number, adding, “Please telephone as soon as you get home. I’m in Room 908.”
Retribution time had arrived. With bated breath, Summer dialed the number and extension.
“David,” she said, when he answered immediately as if he’d been sitting with his hand on the phone. “I worked late today—that’s the reason I didn’t call sooner.”
“Bert and Spring did make wills, and I need to discuss them with you. Could we meet for dinner this evening?”
Having