The Fireman Finds a Wife Read online

  She took a deep breath, hoping that he understood, even while she acknowledged to herself that dumping baggage at his feet was not a good way to win friends and influence people.

  There was something comforting about this man. Unlike some people who listened long enough to gauge when and where they could break in with their own words and experiences, he seemed to listen to her with his whole body.

  That, Summer decided, was both comforting and disconcerting.

  * * *

  Cameron felt like a heel.

  So much made sense now. The protectiveness of her sister at the house. The uncertainty he sensed in Summer. The almost-sadness of her eyes. He had known that she’d moved to North Carolina from Georgia, but had come to the erroneous conclusion that the move home was to be near family, not to escape her grief.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very sorry for your loss, and for rushing you.”

  Summer shook head. “That’s just it, you weren’t rushing me. I should be,” she gave a little shrug, “I guess you’d say, ‘over it’ by now.”

  This time he did clasp her hands in his. “You never get over losing someone special,” he said.

  She smiled this time. Then extricated her hands from his.

  “Thank you for asking me out,” she said. “But the answer is still...”

  “Shh,” he said, cutting her off before she could finish. “I know.”

  Summer pushed back her chair and rose, the movement graceful.

  “I really need to get back to work,” she told him. “We’re shorthanded today. Vanessa and Samantha are the only two volunteers who showed up, and I borrowed Samantha from Mrs. D, who really needs her in the office.”

  He rose, as well, and escorted Summer back to the kitchen, where a buzzer was going off and Vanessa was struggling to get a handle on a big pot that seemed to be boiling over.

  “Oh, dear. That’s the stock for the chicken soup.”

  Cameron rushed forward and gave Vanessa a hand by moving the pot to another burner on the industrial-sized stove. Summer turned off the timer that was set on a continuous buzz, then slipped on a pair of thick pot-holder gloves and went to one of the ovens. As she pulled out a pan, Cameron came forward.

  “Is that a turkey?” he asked, amazement in his voice.

  He spied some dish towels on the prep counter and used them to safeguard his hands as he took over the lifting for her. “Here, I’ll get that.”

  “Thanks,” Summer said, relinquishing the task to him. “And yes, it’s a turkey. There are two more in the bottom ovens. Both are ready to come out, too, if you don’t mind.”

  Cameron knew about the soup kitchen: it was one of four ongoing ministries operated by Common Ground, the coalition formed by three congregations in Cedar Springs. As a member of The Fellowship, he regularly contributed to Common Ground. And as fire chief, he knew the buildings where the homeless shelter, the free clinic and the soup kitchen were located, but he’d never actually been to any of them, just the recreation center where he sometimes played baseball with a youth league.

  “How many people do you cook for?” Cameron asked.

  “We never really know, but on average about ninety to a hundred, sometimes more, especially on Wednesdays, when there’s also the Bible study and snacks afterward.”

  “And you’re cooking for a hundred people, just the two of you?”

  Summer shrugged. “We do what has to be done. And reinforcements will be in closer to serving time. I came in early to get the turkeys going. They’re actually for sandwiches on Thursday.”

  Cameron found himself walloped somewhere between amazed and dismayed. He’d come here on his morning off to see Summer Spencer, taking over the food donation delivery duty because it gave him a legitimate excuse to show up at Manna.

  Now he realized that maybe it wasn’t just for his own selfish reasons that he was here at this time and place. He was supposed to be here today.

  The Lord worked in mysterious ways.

  He got the first large turkey out of the oven and onto a counter where Summer indicated, then he pulled out the others.

  As Summer went to work pouring ingredients into a large mixer, Cameron watched her. Every movement was efficient. She worked with a grace that almost seemed like a ballet, reaching for this, adding that. No movement was wasted.

  Vanessa was chopping carrots.

  Across the room, he spied Common Ground aprons similar to the one Vanessa wore. He claimed one of them and tied it on, then pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

  When he finished he pocketed the phone, went to a sink where he washed and dried his hands. Then he came up beside Summer.

  “How can I help?”

  * * *

  “Miss Summer, you make me happy to be homeless,” an elderly black man known only as Sweet Willie said.

  “Brother Willie, what a thing to say,” she replied, tucking an extra cookie for him into a small paper bag.

  “This the best food I’ve ever eaten. Thank you kindly.”

  Summer beamed. “I’m glad you enjoyed the meal, Brother Willie.”

  He shuffled out the door, the last of their guests to depart.

  For the first time since that morning, she exhaled. Summer had had her doubts about how they were going to pull off the meal. In Summer’s two months with Manna, she’d yet to see the soup kitchen’s director on their busiest day. Ilsa Keller was great at promoting Manna in the community, but that ambassadorship apparently came at the expense of actually managing the day-to-day operation of the place.

  If it hadn’t been for Cameron Jackson and the two guys he’d talked into coming over to help, she wasn’t sure if they would have had everything ready by the time people started arriving at four o’clock.

  Six Common Ground volunteers had arrived at about three-thirty to act as servers, but they wouldn’t have had anything to serve if Cameron hadn’t pitched in. She still didn’t know who the two guys were—personal friends of his or firefighters he’d ordered to come help. He’d simply introduced them and told them to do whatever Summer said. She’d been too grateful and too busy to inquire.

  “That was a nice thing for him to say.”

  Summer smiled.

  For some reason, she wasn’t at all surprised to find Cameron at her side. They’d worked as a team today, serving and ministering. It gave her a new insight into the fire chief. Most men would have bolted after a woman’s rejection of a dinner date.

  She studied him for a moment. Cameron wasn’t just trying to get to know her. She’d seen him talking and then praying with a couple people after the meal began. Many of them knew him and called him Chief Cam, just as Vanessa had done.

  Just who was Cameron Jackson?

  “He hasn’t been here for a couple of weeks,” she said, telling him about Sweet Willie. “I was starting to worry that something had happened to him. I asked around, but none of our regulars knew where he was.”

  “You do good work,” Cameron said. “I’m going to let Pastor Hines—Rick Hines is the lead pastor at my church, The Fellowship,” he said, clarifying for her. “I’m going to let him know that Manna needs some dedicated volunteers in the early part of the day. I’m sure there are folks in the congregation who can help.”

  Summer bit her tongue. She would not bad-mouth the program at Manna. Yes, things could be done differently, but it wasn’t her place to harp on all the shortcomings.

  “Today was an anomaly,” she said. “I’m glad you and your friends came to the rescue. Thank you.”

  They made their way to the kitchen where the cleanup crew was turning the space back into a sparkling setup for the next day’s volunteers and setting out items for the early morning prep.

  At some point between serving chicken soup and rolls, Summer had
decided that a date with a man who would give the homeless almost seven hours of his day was a date she’d like to go on.

  Summer retrieved her handbag, said good-night to those who remained and let Cameron escort her out the back door and toward her car in the parking lot behind Manna at Common Ground.

  “If the offer is still open,” she said, “I would like to have dinner with you.”

  Chapter Four

  “Really?”

  The grin transformed his face into one of boyish delight.

  She smiled back. “Yes, really.”

  “How about Friday night?” Cameron asked.

  Summer willed herself to ignore the apprehension that raced through her and to savor the unfamiliar thrill of anticipation. She would have two days to get herself together emotionally. But right now, this felt right.

  “Friday night sounds terrific,” she heard herself say, and could only wonder about the breathless tone that seemed to accompany the words.

  “I can pick you up at your house,” Cameron said. “I think I know where you live.”

  He kept a straight face for half a beat and then chuckled as a blush blossomed on Summer.

  “I can explain...”

  He halted her words with a finger at his lips. “Summer, I told you. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  Suddenly feeling a bit like the Summer she used to be years ago, she cocked her head a bit and gave him a saucy smile.

  “So,” she said, “aren’t you at all curious about why I changed my mind?”

  He winked at her. “Woman’s prerogative,” he said. “That is definitely something I have learned to respect.”

  That earned him a laugh. He held his hand out to her and she took it. The gesture, old-fashioned and sweet, made her smile.

  “Thank you,” she said as they headed toward the vehicle she indicated. “For everything you did today. I really, really appreciated the help.”

  He nodded. “I hope to get you some permanent help. I’m going to let Pastor Hines know that more than financial contributions are needed here. You and Mrs. D should not have to scramble the way you did today.”

  Summer was pretty sure that what she was hearing was unique. Not every man would see a problem and immediately seek a solution. Maybe that was why he was the fire chief at such a young age. She pegged him as being in his mid-thirties, and that was being generous. She was pretty sure that police and fire chiefs were supposed to be much older, men and women with gray hair at the temples and grandchildren they liked to spoil when they were off duty.

  “Thank you,” she simply said.

  “May I call you?”

  She smiled, liking the chivalrousness that he seemed to exude, sort of like an old Southern gentleman. “Yes, you may.”

  She gave him her cell number.

  “It has a Georgia area code,” she said. “I haven’t transferred it to a North Carolina one, and my friends there...” she faltered, then shook her head. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all that.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  They stood there, the moment awkward as neither seemed to know quite how to conclude the conversation.

  In the end, it was Cameron who found the way. He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and said, “I’m looking forward to Friday.”

  * * *

  Hours later, Summer still felt that kiss and wondered just what she had agreed to.

  A date!

  She sat in her bedroom at the vanity second-guessing herself, fretting and in a state her mother would describe as working herself into a tizzy.

  The good thing about being back home in Cedar Springs was that when she wanted or needed to connect with one of her sisters, it could be face-to-face, instead of long distance from Georgia to North Carolina.

  She glanced around, looking for the phone. The house on Hummingbird Lane was in pristine condition. It was nothing at all like the Greek Revival McMansion that she and Garrett had called home back in Macon. No professional decorator had come through with a horde of minions designing the house for maximum impact or with an eye toward the critical review of country club wives. She sold the Macon house fully furnished, taking with her just a few sentimental pieces and the antique furniture that had been passed down to her from her grandmother.

  This house, her new home, was spacious but not ostentatious. And the only interior decorators who had crossed its threshold were her sisters. That was why she had no idea where the phone was. One of them put it somewhere that Summer did not consider intuitive.

  Summer sighed.

  She knew it was not the missing telephone that bothered her. That was just symbolic of her life at the moment: not where she thought it would be.

  What really bothered her was what she had agreed to do with Cameron Jackson.

  A date.

  She was going on a date!

  Summer didn’t know what was scarier: the idea of a social engagement with a man she had, for all intents and purposes, just met, or the very notion of going out. It almost felt as if she were cheating on Garrett. Intellectually, she knew that made no sense. It had been almost two years since her world imploded around her. Almost two years since she’d buried the one man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, the man she had exchanged holy vows of matrimony with. For better or worse, in sickness and health, until death do we part.

  How was she to know—how could she have ever even imagined— that those vows did not guarantee them fifty years of wedded bliss?

  Instead of heading out on their highly anticipated tour and cruise of Italy to celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary, at twenty-six years old, Summer was burying her husband. She felt the sharp sting of approaching tears.

  Stop it, Summer. Just stop.

  Refusing to give in to the temptation to wallow in self-pity, she snatched up a tube of mascara and refreshed her eyes even though she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Feeling a little better, she got up and plucked her cell phone from her purse. Spring would still be with patients at the free clinic, but maybe Autumn had a few minutes to spare for a sister who was acting like a total spaz.

  As the phone rang, she walked around her bedroom trying to figure out where the receiver for the landline telephone might be. The Darling sisters and their mother had taken over the house, throwing themselves into making Summer’s new home as comfortable and cozy as possible.

  They had done a good job.

  As Summer headed into her large walk-in closet, Autumn’s mobile phone went straight to voice mail.

  Summer sighed.

  Instead of continuing the search for the landline, she decided to stare at her clothes and try to figure out what was appropriate to wear out on a date with Fire Chief Cameron Jackson.

  He had not said where they would be going, but she had a general idea. Dinner and a movie were typical first-date fare. And unless he planned something for them to do in Raleigh, the options in Cedar Springs were pretty much limited to movies or bowling and eating.

  For a town its size, Cedar Springs, North Carolina, boasted an eclectic mix of restaurants. Everything from traditional Southern fare and Americana to national chains and the nouveau cuisine that might be associated with large cities like New York or Washington, D.C., could be found either in town or nearby.

  Cameron looked like a Carolina barbeque kind of guy.

  That thought made her smile.

  Something about his rugged good looks made her think he wouldn’t object to a pig-picking backyard barbeque. She could imagine him enjoying the food, not minding if barbeque sauce dripped on his shirt.

  The contrast with Dr. Garrett Spencer or even Dr. John Darling, her father, could not have been greater. If it were true that little girls grew up and married men just
like their fathers, the case had certainly proven true with Summer.

  When Autumn said as much, Summer denied it. Now, however, with Garrett gone, she did see the similarities between the man who raised her and the man she married. Both were physicians dedicated to their professions and their patients. Both doted on their wives, providing the wealth that made outside employment for their spouses the stuff of hobbies and volunteer work.

  Summer knew it was true that her oldest sister, Spring, had taken after their father by going into medicine, while Summer tended to hearth and home, much like their mother, Lovie Darling. Lovie’s example had been one of quiet grace, Southern gentility and charm, and a strong faith enhanced with a healthy sense of humor.

  From her mother, Summer inherited the domestic gene. Autumn and Winter called themselves the changelings, because beyond physical attributes, neither of them seemed to carry the traits of either parent.

  Summer was pretty sure that Cameron Jackson was interested in her because he had not yet met Autumn. Her little sister was the Darling daughter who wowed everyone she met: men, women, teenagers and even little kids. Autumn knew how to bring people together. Spring was the healer and organizer of the bunch, championing causes and making things happen. Winter was always on a quest, off exploring or doing something slightly dangerous. But Summer, well, she was basically a boring homebody, content in the kitchen, tending to her garden flowers and being known as a gracious hostess.

  She sighed.

  Compared to her sisters’ lives, hers was vapid.

  And without the social connections she had taken for granted in Macon and Atlanta—being a doctor’s wife—she was home in Cedar Springs but felt much like a fish out of water. She had her sisters, of course, but had yet to make many new friends.

  Lovie had already tried to set her up with a radiologist who was the son of one of her church members.