Summer's Promise

by Irene Brand

  “I don’t dislike people, but I can be happy alone.”

  She stood up and said, “May I get you anything else to eat? More cheesecake?”

  “No, thanks. I enjoyed the food. And the company,” he added with a wide smile. David knew she would be unhappy very soon, and he hoped a little levity might cushion the blow. Summer’s eyes were wary, and she didn’t return his smile.

  After she loaded the dishwasher, Summer refilled David’s iced-tea glass and carried it to the coffee table. He sat on the couch and motioned for Summer to sit beside him as he picked up the briefcase and opened it. She perched on the couch, several inches from his side, resembling a fledgling about to leave its nest.

  Expelling a deep breath, he said, “I got in touch with the supervisor of the school where Bert and Spring worked, and she found their wills. She mailed them to me, and I was so surprised at the contents that I couldn’t think straight for a couple of days. I started to phone you several times, but decided this wasn’t the kind of situation to discuss over the telephone, so I booked a flight to New York.”

  He took two sheets of paper from a legal envelope and handed them to Summer. “This is Spring’s will. Since she survived Bert, her will takes precedence, but the requests are identical to Bert’s. You’d better read it for yourself.”

  Summer held the document a few minutes before she unfolded it. David watched her compassionately, wondering what her reaction would be.

  Summer waded through the first few paragraphs of the handwritten document, and since this was the only last will and testament she’d ever read, the wording seemed rather archaic.

  I, Spring Weaver Brown, a citizen and resident of Madison County, North Carolina, being of sound and disposing mind, do make, publish and declare this to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking all other wills made by me at any time.

  The will authorized the executor to pay all debts, then Spring bequeathed all of her estate, both real and personal, to her husband, Bert Brown, also named as her executor. Then the document further specified:

  Should my husband predecease me, or die simultaneously with me, I hereby nominate my brother-in-law, David Brown, to be the executor of my estate, and in the event he will not or cannot serve, I hereby nominate my father, Landon Weaver, to serve in that capacity.

  Should my husband predecease me, I hereby bequeath the care of my two children, Nicole and Timothy, into the joint guardianship of my sister, Summer Weaver, and my brother-in-law, David Brown. In the event that one of them will not or cannot serve, then I ask that the other one assume custody of my children. I request that all of my assets be placed in a trust fund to pass to the children, share and share alike, upon Timothy’s twenty-first birthday.

  I further request that my sister, Summer Weaver, and my brother-in-law, David Brown, assume the leadership of The Crossroads, the school my husband and I established in North Carolina, and that they rear our children in that environment.

  “Oh, no!” Summer muttered. In her wildest imagination, she’d never expected David to be appointed coguardian of the children. She broke out in a cold sweat, and the room swayed around her. When she rallied, David had his arm around her shoulders, supporting her and wiping her face with a cold, damp cloth. It seemed as if a giant hand had descended upon her chest, and she gasped for breath.

  “Did I faint?” she muttered.

  “Almost,” David said.

  “I’ve never passed out before. Mother taught us that only weaklings fainted—we wouldn’t have dared faint around her.”

  “You had a jolt that would make anyone black out,” David sympathized, and recalling the extremity of Spring’s request, Summer straightened up quickly.

  “Is that paper binding? We don’t have to do what they asked, do we?”

  “No, because I doubt these documents are legal. I’m sure no attorney would have drawn up wills like this.” He took a deep breath and worry lines formed around his eyes. “I haven’t thought about anything else for three days, and I’ve concluded that Bert and Spring discussed what would happen to Timmy and Nicole if something should happen to them. Perhaps they felt compelled to make some provision for their children before they left on that trip.”

  “Maybe they’d already discussed asking us to be guardians or godparents.”

  “That’s what I think, too, and the accident occurred before they got our consent.”

  “Would you have agreed to their requests if you’d been asked?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said slowly.

  “So you won’t do what they’ve asked you to?”

  “I didn’t say that. If they’d asked me in advance, I might have refused, but now that they’re gone, it’s a different matter.”

  Summer stood, walked to the window and looked out over a small garden situated in the midst of the apartment complex. Several adults sat on benches watching the splashing fountain, a few children played miniature golf, and one young mother strolled along a path, holding her son’s hand.

  If she didn’t keep her promise, who would hold Timmy’s hand?

  “What’ll happen to Timmy and Nicole if we refuse to take care of them? There’s no provision for that.”

  “Since we weren’t consulted about their requests, it’s my opinion that if we refuse, other guardians can be appointed by the court. I haven’t looked into it. I didn’t want to discuss their wills with anyone until I talked to you.”

  Should she tell David that Spring had asked her to take Timmy and Nicole? No one except Spring had heard her agree to do it. Perhaps other family members would be more suited to look after Spring’s kids. As inexperienced as she was, if she assumed the care of two children, they’d be unhappy and she would be miserable. No one need ever know that, in a weak moment, she’d promised Spring.

  Suddenly Summer’s thoughts reverted to the night Spring had died, when she’d had the overpowering sensation that the two of them weren’t alone in the room, that God’s Spirit had been there to smooth Spring’s move from earth to Heaven. If God had been present, He’d heard the promise!

  Her decision to tell David was delayed for the time being when he stated, “I can understand their concern for the children, but why would Bert and Spring expect us to take over that school?”

  Summer had been so preoccupied over custody of the children that the second provision of the will had slipped her mind. She turned toward David and said in a raspy voice, “I absolutely will not be a part of that. I don’t know how to mother two children, to say nothing of operating a school. I couldn’t work with a group of wayward teenagers, and that’s the purpose of their school. I won’t do it.”

  “That was my initial reaction, too, but let’s give it some thought before we make a definite decision. Will you be working tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not scheduled to return to Atlanta until Sunday. Let’s sleep on it and talk again tomorrow.”

  “Yes, let’s do. I want to get this settled as soon as possible, so I can go on with my life.”

  “Will noon be okay? I’ll bring a pizza for lunch, and we can go out for dinner. Perhaps to a seafood restaurant?”

  “Twelve o’clock will be fine,” Summer answered, without commenting on his dinner invitation. She didn’t want to get personally involved with David, but when he closed his briefcase and stood, Summer still quivered inwardly with shock and anger. Not willing to face the four walls of her apartment alone the rest of the evening, she said, “Unless you have other plans, you might as well stay for a while. I don’t want to discuss those wills, but we can watch a movie or something else on television.”

  Accustomed to Summer’s standoffish manner toward him, her request startled David until he realized that Summer was struggling with an uncharacteristic emotion. She didn’t want to be alone! He remembered how shaken he’d been when he read his brother’s will. He’d had three days to become reconciled to the requests, but Summer hadn’t had time to get over her shock.


  “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks for asking,” he said, settling back on the couch.

  She handed him the remote. “Why don’t you run through the menu and find a movie? Make sure it’s a comedy or something light. I’m not in the mood for intrigue and drama. While you do that, I’ll fix some snacks.”

  She poured a jar of cranberry-orange juice over ice and emptied a package of Hawaiian trail mix into a bowl. She placed napkins, glasses, and plates on the coffee table while David glanced at her home. If all of Summer’s life was as ordered and organized as this apartment, David understood why she had almost fainted when she’d read her sister’s will. On the point of being protective of Summer, David wasn’t pleased that his sister-in-law had handed her such a dilemma.

  They didn’t talk much during the rest of the evening as they enjoyed the antics of a lovable dog that wreaked havoc in the household of his human family. It was after midnight when Summer walked with David to the door.

  “Try to sleep,” he said tenderly. “I know this has been a terrible blow to you—losing your sister was bad enough, without having to decide how to act upon her requests.”

  “Especially when I feel guilty about not wanting to do what she asked me to.”

  As he shrugged into his coat she’d taken from the closet, he said, “Don’t lose any sleep over it. We’ll work something out tomorrow.”

  “You’re taking this calmly enough. Aren’t you upset about what they’ve done to us?”

  “Sure. But I’ve had longer to get used to the idea than you have, and staying awake all night fretting about it won’t change things.” She drew back quickly in surprise when he brushed a light kiss across her lips as he eased out into the hallway.

  “Under the circumstances, don’t you think we’re at least kissing kin?”

  David smiled into her surprised blue eyes and strode rapidly down the hallway. In spite of the sorrow over the death of his brother and the disturbing contents of the wills, David was delighted to have a reason to see more of Summer. After she hadn’t answered his letters, he’d decided to forget her, but when he least expected it, Summer’s image had infiltrated his mind, and he wondered if he’d ever see her again. He was attracted to Summer’s beauty, but he was more intrigued by her quiet nature that he believed concealed hidden fires waiting to be ignited. He wanted to be around when that happened.

  Chapter Three

  After David left, Summer drank a cup of hot herbal tea to settle her nerves. She’d calmed down somewhat during the movie, but David’s caress had disturbed her. He’d been bestowing lots of affection on her the past two weeks, and to her dismay, she realized she liked it. Summer had many reservations about agreeing to Spring’s request, and not least among them was her hesitancy to be thrown into frequent companionship with David. He was an attractive man, and he was good company, but she had her future mapped out. There was no place in it for David Brown.

  Summer changed into a nightgown and went to bed, but sleep eluded her. When she did doze, she dreamed—mostly of Timmy and Nicole and how forlorn they’d looked during their parents’ funeral. In her dreams, the children stood with outstretched arms, looking at her with beseeching eyes. After the secure home life she’d known as a child, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to suddenly lose your parents.

  Awakening at an early hour, anger and defiance replaced the compassion of her dreams. Summer could empathize with her sister’s concern for her kids, but she considered it inexcusable for Spring and Bert to saddle her and David with the responsibility of a school in the hinterlands of North Carolina.

  David’s bright and cheerful manner, when he breezed into the apartment at noon, irritated Summer. She’d tried to cover up the ravages of a sleepless night with makeup, but she hadn’t succeeded for David was unkind enough to say, “I told you to get some sleep.”

  Lack of rest had made her grouchy, and she said, “Let’s get down to business. What can we do about this dilemma we’ve had dumped in our laps?”

  He sat on the couch and stretched his neatly clad legs out in front of him. “What do you want to do about it?”

  “I want to ignore it, but I know we can’t.”

  “I’ve wondered why Spring kept repeating the children’s names at the hospital. I’ve decided she was trying to tell me the provisions of their wills, but she was too far gone to express herself. If we don’t accept the responsibility, the decisions are going to boomerang to our parents, none of whom are able to take over.”

  Stalling for time, Summer walked around the room, adjusting items on the tables. She paused to straighten a wall collage of framed photographs featuring the Weaver sisters and her father’s prize-winning Belgian horses.

  “David,” she began earnestly, “listen to my side of the situation. I wanted to come to New York when I graduated from high school, but my parents wouldn’t let me. When I was of age and ready to strike out on my own, Mother had a stroke, and I went home to take care of her. I was there six years, and now, at long last, I’m in New York with my parents’ blessing. I have a good job and a bright future in the financial market. Do you think it’s right for my sister to ask me to give up my life to take on her family, her dreams and her ambition? Surely it’s time for me to live the way I want to. It isn’t fair!”

  The forlorn faces of Timmy and Nicole flitted into Summer’s mind, but she willed the images into the background.

  “Life often isn’t fair,” David answered in a compassionate tone, “and I do understand your position. As a matter of fact, I’m pleased with my life the way it is now. I don’t want to change, either.”

  She glanced at David quickly. If he felt that way, maybe she wasn’t as selfish as she thought she was. “Then you’re willing to refuse their requests?” she asked eagerly.

  “Maybe. Since I wasn’t consulted about being the executor, nor either of us about their other requests, I don’t feel we’re obligated. But if I’d told them I’d do these things, I wouldn’t back out.”

  David breathed deeply, looked at her with troubled eyes, and spoke in a resigned, yet compassionate, tone. “But I can’t make this decision on what is legally right or wrong. Love for my brother motivates me more than legalities. If the situation were reversed, and Timmy and Nicole were my kids, would I want Bert to abandon them? It’s not an easy decision, Summer.”

  The time had come to be honest or live a lie the rest of her life. She leaned against the latticed divider between her kitchen and living area, and after a long pause, Summer looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “It’s not that simple for me. I promised Spring I’d take care of her children.”

  David stared at her, and despite the stress of the moment, she was slightly amused to see his surprise. He was usually on top of every situation.

  “In the hospital before you came, Spring asked me to look after her kids, and she was so insistent and troubled, I finally agreed.”

  “Why didn’t you say so when we were at the farm discussing guardianship of the kids?”

  “I intended to, but when you mentioned that they’d probably made wills, I hoped that Spring hadn’t been rational when she made the request and that they’d made different arrangements for the children. That’s the reason I left and came back to New York as soon as I decently could. Every time I looked at Timmy and Nicole, I felt like bolting. I know absolutely nothing about rearing children. I’m not sure I even like children—I haven’t been around them enough to find out. David, I can’t do it, and if I don’t, it will torment me the rest of my life.”

  She sat down again, leaned her head on the arm of the sofa and burst into tears. David hadn’t had any experience with crying women, so he didn’t know what he should do. He went to the kitchen and rummaged around in the cabinets. Everything was marked and in place, as he should have known it would be. He heated hot water, poured it into a cup and dangled a bag of a spiced tea blend in it.

  He placed the cup on the coffee table and went to the bathroom and dampened a washc
loth. He sat beside Summer and touched her shoulder. “Stop crying,” he encouraged. “I’ll help you through this.”

  “But I don’t want my family to hate me!” she wailed.

  “Wipe your face and drink your tea. We’ll figure out something.”

  While Summer alternately sniffed and drank the tea, he tried to formulate a plan of action. How could he advise her when he didn’t know what to do?

  “You’re not the only one who’s troubled about this situation,” he said at last. “I’ve got my life ordered the way I want it, and I’ve had a few bitter thoughts about a brother who would write such a will and not even mention it to me. I’m not good at administration, but the thing that bothers me more than anything else is that I’m not spiritually competent to take on Bert’s job.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You know the kind of school they operated, don’t you?”

  “Of course. It’s a school for underprivileged and troubled teenagers.”

  “But it’s also a Christian school, and while I was a practicing Christian when I was a boy, I’m not now. I haven’t read the Bible for years. I can’t be an administrator at a Christian school without a solid spiritual commitment. What about your faith? Are you qualified for this kind of work?”

  Summer leaned back and rested her head on the couch. “My folks didn’t take us to church, so I have very little knowledge of Christianity. Spring became a Christian when she met Bert, and Autumn and Nathan are active in church affairs. I’ve always been the oddball in the family, and it’s the same with spiritual matters. I’d have no idea how to work with teenagers in a mission school.”

  “And that may be our way out of this situation,” David said. “Just because Bert and Spring wanted us to take over their school doesn’t mean we can. They were serving under a mission board, and I doubt very much that the board members would allow us to take over the school even if we wanted to.”

  Summer brightened, and then her spirits drooped again. “But we’d still be stuck with the kids.” She gasped and covered her face with her hands. “What a terrible thing to say! Don’t I have any compassion at all?”