Arlene James - Butterfly Summer

“Talk about hiding your light under a bushel!” Ethan didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until Heather gusted out a nervous laugh.

“That’s what my mom always says,” she admitted shyly.

“Listen up, boss lady. When I tell you to walk, I want long, fluid strides. Walk forward. Look up. Stop. Half turn.”

Heather had been around enough photo shoots to know the drill, so he wasn’t worried. Click after click, he shot two rolls in rapid succession, moving from one camera to another.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he muttered to himself, “a star is born.”

DAVIS LANDING:

Nothing is stronger than a family’s love

says, “Camp meetings, mission work and the church where my parents and grandparents were prominent members permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity, He blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic, it still feels like courtship!”

The author of over sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside of Dallas, Texas, with her husband. Arlene says, “The rewards of motherhood have indeed been extraordinary for me. Yet I’ve looked forward to this new stage of my life.” Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade!

To Kathryn Springer, Irene Hannon, Valerie Hansen, Patricia Davids and Lenora Worth, a great group with whom to work. Your creativity, dedication and cooperation are much appreciated.

God bless, Arlene.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: Who pardons all your iniquities, Who heals all your diseases.

—Psalms 103:1–3

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Heather stuck her nose into the elaborate bouquet and inhaled deeply, but not even the beauty of the flowers or their heady aroma could dispel the anesthetic odor of a hospital, however well-appointed the room. Decorated in jewel tones with dark cherry furnishings, the spacious suite where her father had taken up residence and endured test after test had become a place of tension and worry for her and the remainder of the Hamilton family.

She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer heavenward. Gracious Lord God, please don’t let it be serious.

She had uttered or thought the words so often over these past few difficult days that they had become a private litany, and still she could not quite fathom the idea that Wallace Hamilton might actually be seriously ill.

Tall and urbanely handsome, with his thick silver hair, dark eyes and long, patrician face, he had always seemed larger than life. At fifty-nine, Wallace was still a force to be reckoned with, not only within the Hamilton family but also within the publishing world, at least that part of it centered here in Tennessee.

Now his expensive, expertly tailored suits had given way to silk pajamas and his lean, fit frame had begun to appear gaunt. Yet Heather could not believe that he wouldn’t soon rise, button on one of his famously pristine white shirts, knot his silk tie and stride off to once again control Hamilton Media, the family company that he’d built into a small empire from the weekly newspaper established by his grandfather.

Her mother, Nora, entered the sitting room from the bedchamber beyond, pulling the heavy door closed behind her. Petite and elegant, Nora looked more like Heather’s sister than her mother, despite the silver threading the shoulder-length gold of her hair and the new shadows around her enormous hazel eyes.

While Heather herself looked older than her twenty-seven years, her mother could easily pass for forty rather than fifty-five. Heather accepted without question the fact that she had not inherited her mother’s pale beauty. It was more important to her that she take after her mother in other ways, because there was no one in the world whom she admired more than Nora Hamilton.

Her mother might appear tiny and elfin, but she possessed a backbone of steel and a fiercely protective nature, which any mother of six required. She routinely placed herself between the world and her family, shielding them all with prayer, showering them with love and guiding them with pragmatic wisdom. She could not, however, protect them from illness. Only God, in His infinite mercy, could do that.

Today they would learn whether Wallace had been spared the worst or if God would allow the specter of death to hover over him.

Nora folded her arms and looked around the room at her grown children, hugging herself tight. “The doctors are with your father now. He wanted to hear the news alone. They’ll be out to speak to us next.”

“It’s going to be all right, Mom,” Amy, Heather’s older sister, said from the sofa.

Melissa, the youngest, promptly rose from her seat on the arm of the sofa and shoved her hand into the pocket of her frayed jeans, asking, “Anyone want a cola?”

“You just finished a cola,” Timothy, the second-oldest brother, pointed out, pushing away from the wall and bringing his hands to his hips.

Tim was the Hamilton most like Wallace. As vice president of Hamilton Media, he had little time or patience for anything that took him away from the business except family. Unfortunately, he seemed to resent that their oldest brother, Jeremy, who had a more mellow disposition, had been handed the reins of the business when Wallace had entered the hospital. It didn’t help that they’d recently uncovered an embezzlement scheme by one of their most trusted employees, who also happened to be a good friend of Jeremy’s.

“Yeah, well, I’m having another,” Melissa retorted, striding rapidly from the room, ostensibly headed for the vending machine down the hall.

Heather suspected that she just couldn’t bear the pressure any longer. Melissa resembled Amy in looks, both having inherited their blond hair and enormous, doelike eyes from their mother. But unlike Amy, who at thirty was senior managing editor of the family-owned Nashville Living magazine, twenty-three-year-old Melissa was something of a wild child.

Christopher, Heather’s twin brother, rose to his full six-foot height and crossed the room to their mother, whom he enfolded in his muscular embrace. With his dark, wavy hair and burly build, he couldn’t have looked less like Heather if he’d tried, especially when wearing his policeman’s uniform. Something about that dark-blue suit of clothes, with its gun belt and tools, added consequence to his already impressive stature, especially when he was standing next to their petite mother.