can be...” Spring paused, looking for the right word. “Territorial.”
Summer grimaced. “Dictatorial is the word I’d use.”
With a nod, her sister conceded the point. “She means well.”
“We’re already shorthanded,” Summer said. “And three more volunteers have quit. One came to me in tears asking if I could do something, and another stormed out the back door five minutes before the evening meal service after a screaming match with Ilsa right in the dining room.”
“It sounds like the two of you need to have a heart-to-heart talk.”
Summer shuddered. “I think I’d rather have a root canal without any anesthesia. You know I don’t like confrontation, Spring. Besides, it’s not my place to tell the director how to operate the place. I’ve only been volunteering at Manna for a couple of months myself.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Spring said. “Long enough to see that if things continue the way they’re going, there may not be a soup kitchen at Common Ground if Ilsa chases or scares off all of the people who are running the place. No one gets paid to be there. Just like no one gets paid at any of the other church ministries. I probably put more hours in at Common Ground’s free clinic than I do at the hospital. You know how mom is about the homeless shelter. And you do remember that quote about what happens when a good man—in this case, a good woman—does nothing.”
While Summer pondered that, Spring dabbed her fork into the homemade raspberry sauce, then speared a piece of the fruit. “For the record, I didn’t make you move home. If you hadn’t already been thinking about it, you never would have come,” Spring said as Summer gave her an indulgent smile. “Besides, it’s good to have you here. It will take the pressure off me with Mom.”
Summer rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that. You know that once Lovie Darling gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her. And the idea that’s been stuck there lately is that one of us needs to get married and start providing grandchildren for her to spoil.”
The doorbell, a chime that echoed like church bells through the house, halted Spring’s response to that taunt.
Summer dabbed her mouth with a napkin and pushed her chair back. “Wonder who that is. I’ll be right back.”
Without even thinking about it, she pulled a small tube of lip gloss from the pocket of her tailored shorts and refreshed her mouth.
Leaning back in her chair and looking toward the front of the house, Spring observed, “Summer, there’s a fire truck outside.”
“A fire truck? Oh, dear, I hope nothing’s happened to any of the neighbors.”
The bell chimed again as Summer reached the front door. She pulled it open without looking through the peep hole to find firemen in full gear on her threshold. A ladder fire truck sat at the curb and a sport utility vehicle with the Cedar Springs, North Carolina Fire Department logo emblazoned on its side was pulled into her driveway.
“Good afternoon,” the firefighter in front said. “I’m looking for Summer Spencer.”
“I—I’m S-Summer Spencer,” she said, her voice quavering almost as much as her heart suddenly pounded. “W-what’s happened? Tell me, what’s happened?”
“Summer...”
She heard her sister’s voice behind her, but Summer only registered the officials standing before her, bringing her more horrifying news. Two of them were dressed in typical firefighter gear and the third, the one who addressed her, was in a dress uniform, the type worn by the brass to deliver condolences to the family of the deceased. In that moment, Summer’s hard-won confidence shattered and her sense of security evaporated.
She didn’t have the strength to go through it again. Not now. Not when she was finally stable, settled and starting her life over again in a place where the past didn’t haunt her days and where people didn’t give her pitying glances on the street.
“Summer...”
“No,” she said, “no,” as darkness enveloped her.
* * *
“Are you sure she’s okay?” Cameron Jackson asked.
The beautiful but unconscious woman he’d caught and lifted into his arms was just now stirring on the overstuffed sofa where he’d gently placed her.
His firefighters had sprung into action when she’d collapsed, one dashing to the van for oxygen and the other summoning an ambulance.
“I think so,” the efficient blonde said. “She was just a bit overwhelmed.”
Just like his firefighters, she didn’t panic when the woman fainted; she just reacted—in all the right ways.
“I’m Spring,” she told him. “This is my sister. Her name is Summer.”
Even given the situation, his mouth quirked up. She saw it.
“Our parents had a, let’s just say, unique sense of humor.”
Spring was taking her sister’s pulse while one of the firefighters got the oxygen flowing and the mask over her nose and mouth.
“Summer? Honey? Can you hear me?”
The pretty blonde tried to sit up and Cameron was quick to assist. He sat beside her offering comfort and aid, and wondering what type of attack she’d had.
In all his years as a firefighter and as chief in Cedar Springs, he’d seen fire victims and their relatives overcome with emotion. But never had he had someone pass out on him simply because he’d said hello.
Now that he could see she was recovering, he took a moment to assess the two women. They were clearly sisters, one a younger version of the other. Both had the porcelain complexions that were evidence of good genes. While dressed casually, the older in chinos, loafers and a white button-down shirt and the other in navy blue shorts and an identical white shirt, they both exuded the aura of wealth.
“W-what happened?”
“Would you get her a glass of water, please?” Spring asked the firefighter. “The kitchen is right around there,” she indicated.
“Yes, ma’am, Doctor Darling.”
Cameron looked up at her. Doctor? No wonder she hadn’t panicked.
As Billy sprinted toward the kitchen, Cameron helped Summer sit up. He stayed close though, afraid that she might faint on him again. A hand at her back held her steady.
“Spring?” she asked.
“Hold on a sec, sis,” Spring said as she tucked the ear buds of a stethoscope and took her younger sister’s vitals.
“You keep a stethoscope at the ready?” Cameron asked.
Spring smiled. After she finished, she draped the instrument around her neck.
“Some doctors still make house calls,” she said.
Cameron looked from one blonde beauty to the other. “You’re sisters,” he observed.
He could have slapped himself at the obvious remark.
“Give the man a cigar,” Spring said. But any bite that could have been in her voice was offset by a smile and a little wink. “Okay, Summer. I think you’re going to live.”
“I might not,” Cameron said. “You gave me quite a scare.”
The firefighter who had been dispatched to the kitchen handed Summer a glass with ice water. “Here you go, ma’am.”
“My mother is ‘ma’am.’ Please,” she said. “Call me Summer.”
Summer, Cameron thought. The name suited her. While he momentarily glanced up at the older sister, the doctor, his attention quickly returned to the younger beauty.
As