Summer's Promise. Irene Brand
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Summer regarded the woman in amazement. How could anyone have survived forty years’ living in this secluded area and still radiate such serenity and optimism? In Edna’s character, she detected the same inner strength Bert and Spring had possessed. Whatever made them different, Summer knew it was something she lacked.
As they walked toward The Crossroads, David said lightly, “We wondered where the school got its name since there aren’t any roads to cross.”
“The name has nothing to do with the location. Bert chose the name because every teen attending this school comes with difficulties—a broken home, a police record, rejection and many other problems. At this point, they reach the crossroads of their lives, and they either profit by our instruction and trust God to help them live productive lives or they continue to go downhill.”
“What’s the percentage of success or failure?” David asked.
“The school has only been operating one year, so it’s rather soon to determine success or failure. The enrollment is limited to thirty on-campus students. We’ve had two boys who wouldn’t accept our strict rules, so they left. We count those as failures.”
The students were already seated at tables when the three adults entered the noisy dining hall, but talking ceased abruptly as curious eyes turned in their direction. More than curious, the residents seemed frightened as Edna said, “Let me have your attention a minute. We’ve got company—Summer Weaver and David Brown, relatives of Spring and Bert. They have some business to take care of here. I invited them to have dinner with you and to stay overnight.”
One boy lifted his hand. “You anything like Mr. Brown, sir?” he said to David. The boy’s face spread in a wide smile, but behind the smile lurked a hint of uneasiness. “We’re brothers,” David said easily, walking to the table and putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “but I’m not the great guy Bert was.”
“You gonna come here to stay? We’re afraid we’ll get somebody who won’t understand us like Mr. Brown did.”
“We’re just visiting today, but don’t worry. Miss Stollard will see that you get a good replacement for Bert.”
The boy shook his head. “Nobody could take his place.”
Edna directed them to the serving window, where she introduced the cook, Hallie Blackburn, and Anita Bailey, a student, who gave each of them a filled tray.
“You look like your sister,” Anita said to Summer. “She was neat and pretty, too.” She eyed Summer’s pink pants set. “I like your outfit.”
“Thank you,” Summer said, warming to the girl’s admiring glance. “Spring and I do…did,” she corrected herself with a pang in her heart, “look alike.”
They took their trays to a vacant table, where Edna bowed her head and gave thanks for the food. The tray contained a slice of ham, sweet potatoes, green beans, vegetable gelatin salad, two cookies and a carton of white milk. The food tasted good, but the servings were small, and Summer wondered if this was enough nourishment for teenage boys. None of the students seemed overweight. No doubt the school operated on a limited budget.
As they ate, Edna explained that Bert had been the administrator and the chaplain, and Spring had taught and helped in the office. Two retired couples served as supervisors of the dormitories. Two women and one man took care of the teaching. The older students did the cleaning and yard work.
“All of these positions are volunteer,” Edna said, “except for Bert and Spring who were paid a small salary. The cook is also paid, but otherwise, the staff comes on a six-month or one-year volunteer basis.”
“So there isn’t any continuity in the educational program,” David said.
“More than you might imagine,” Edna answered, “as long as we had a good administrator.”
It was almost dark when they left the dining hall, and Edna said, “Would you like to go to the Browns’ home now?”
Summer and David exchanged uncertain glances. Summer wasn’t sure she was ready for that, but the sooner they settled their business here, the sooner they could leave Mountain Glen and hopefully never return.
“Maybe we should,” Summer said.
With Edna in the lead, they walked along a narrow forest path with huge rhododendrons and evergreen trees making a canopy over them. Summer experienced claustrophobia again, and she pressed closer to David. He took her hand and held it until they came to a rustic cabin near the mountain’s edge. Before they went inside, Edna led them to the front of the cabin where they overlooked a spectacular view to the southwest. A smoky haze hung over range after range of mountains that seemed to extend into infinity. With the exception of a few lights sparkling in the distance, marking the existence of a town, the area appeared as it had before settlers reached the mountains.
“Bert and Spring wanted to bring up their children in this rural setting,” Edna said sadly, “but God had other plans for them.”
Two rustic rockers, with a table between them, stood on the porch. An unwashed coffee cup was on the table, just as Bert or Summer might have left it. Inside the house was further evidence that their loved ones didn’t know they were leaving home for the last time. A package of cookies lay on the table. Dishes had been washed and placed on a drying rack. Several large logs in the fireplace waited for a spark to ignite them.
The front half of the house contained a combination kitchen and living area. A narrow hall, with a bathroom at the end, divided the rear of the house into two bedrooms. One room held a double bed and a chest. The other room across the hall had twin beds. Stuffed animals were scattered on one bed, which Summer surmised was Nicole’s side of the room, for posters of dinosaurs and football players decorated the other corner. The wooden headboard was cluttered with a small collection of dinosaurs.
“One of you can stay here tonight, or we can offer two guest rooms in the dormitory,” Edna said.
Reluctantly, Summer agreed to spend the night in the house.
“David,” Edna said, “I’ll show you to a room in the boy’s building.”
“I’ll bring your suitcase from the car after I move in to my room,” David said, closely eyeing the pallor of Summer’s face.
She nodded, pulled out a chair from the table and sat down wearily. When he returned a short time later, Summer still sat at the kitchen table, a frightened look on her face.
“It’s so dark,” she complained. “And I can’t hear a sound.”
Sitting across from her, David answered with a note of levity in his voice, “That’s supposed to be one of the benefits of country living.”
“Perhaps so, but I’m not keen on country living. At the farm, we had several dusk-to-dawn security lights. It never got completely dark except on those times when the power was off, and even then, Mother always had lots of lamps and candles on hand.”
“I’ll exchange places with you if you like,” David volunteered, “but I think you’ll get more rest here. The dormitory walls are paper thin, and the boys are rather noisy. I figure I’ll want a little peace and quiet before morning.”
“I’ll be all right.” She got up and paced the floor for a few minutes, then she looked in the refrigerator and some of the cabinets, where there was a good supply of food. In spite of the wills they’d left behind, it was obvious that Bert and Spring had intended to come home again.
“You might as well come here for breakfast. There are tea bags in the cabinet and frozen juice and a loaf of bread in the freezer.” Her eyes flitted around the room. “David, what are we going to do with their things?”
David shook his head and surveyed the cabin’s furnishings. One wall cabinet contained mementos that Bert and Spring had brought from Bolivia. A small television was centered before the couch and a deep lounge chair. An open Bible lay on a desk.