Butterfly Summer. Arlene James

just say it was strange being on the other side of the camera.”

      “In case you’re wondering, Fox isn’t usually that rude to models.”

      Heather sent him a slightly amused look. “I realized that, and in case you’re wondering, I didn’t see any reason to object. I was a reluctant subject at best, and sometimes as boss it’s more important to bring the shoot in under deadline than throw your weight around.” When he stopped dead in his tracks, she had to stop, too, and turn to face him. “What? You don’t agree?”

      He blinked as if seeing something he hadn’t seen before. “I guess I just never thought of it that way. I mean, throwing around their weight is what bosses do. Usually. Which is why I’ve always preferred to be a lowly wiseacre.”

      She sent him a skeptical look. They both knew he enjoyed a reputation as a first-rate photographer.

      “I just prefer to make sure that the job gets done when it’s supposed to get done,” she told him. “And I don’t think of you as a wiseacre.”

      “No?”

      She gave her head a slight shake and hitched the tripod higher in her arms.

      “I think of you as an artist with a well-developed sense of humor.”

      “I like your version best,” he told her. Grinning widely, he repositioned his own burdens and started forward again. “Any chance we’re getting close to your car?”

      “The blue Saab on the right up there.” She followed him, feeling the heat rise in steamy waves from the pavement.

      “Aero,” he said, naming the model of her car. “Sweet. I’d like to tool around town in a racy little Saab, but I have to drive an SUV because I have so much gear to haul. Not all of our sites are as well lit as this one, you know.”

      She placed her load on the ground and opened the hatch back, saying, “My brothers all voted for the SUV or the wagon, but my sisters thought I ought to get the convertible.”

      He shook his head and started loading his gear. “Naw, this is you, I think. Quality, high-performance but sensible.”

      She laughed because those were exactly her own thoughts on the matter. He straightened abruptly, almost as if she’d taken a sudden swing at him.

      “What?”

      “I’m just still getting used to the new you,” he said, grinning again. “This new look is going to cause some waves back at the office. You mark my words.”

      A hand rose to touch her hair self-consciously. She could only hope that she didn’t look as strange as she felt.

      Ducking her head, she hurried around to slide behind the driver’s wheel, leaving Ethan to carefully stow away his gear. She dug her phone out of her purse, deciding that it might be a good time to check in with her parents, and dialed the hospital.

      Nora told her that, owing to the severity of her father’s condition, the doctors were urging Wallace to consider transferring to the hospital in Nashville right away, but he wanted to remain close to the family—and the business—as long as possible. Once they started preparing Wallace for the bone marrow transplant, however, he would be in sterile seclusion, his immune system so compromised that the slightest infection could kill him.

      Heather ended the call and bowed her head, the phone still clutched in her hands.

      Oh, Lord, I just keep coming to You with this, but he’s so very ill and You are a God of miraculous power. Please heal my father. Please let us find that perfect bone marrow donor, and please help my mom and all the rest of us through this.

      The passenger door opened and Ethan dropped down into the seat. Heather sat up a little straighter, stashing her phone in a convenient recess in the dash.

      “Something wrong?”

      Surprised that he could so easily read her mood, she let a second or two pass before saying, “I just talked to my mom at the hospital.”

      “How is your dad doing?”

      Heather sighed and started the car to get the air conditioner going. “His condition is serious enough to keep me on my knees, I can tell you.”

      Ethan cocked his head. “On your knees? Is that a Tennesseeism I’m not familiar with yet?”

      She stared at him, thinking that the meaning would surely click in place for him momentarily, but then she realized that his confusion was entirely genuine. Faith was such a part of Heather’s life that she sometimes forgot that it held little or no place in the lives of others.

      “I just meant that I’ve been spending a lot of time in prayer over this,” she explained gently.

      The light finally dawned. “Ah. Well, that makes perfect sense. For you.”

      “But not for you?”

      He shrugged. “I guess I just don’t know much about that sort of thing.”

      “But surely you’ve been to church.”

      “Couple times, you know, for weddings and such.”

      How sad, Heather thought, but she smiled and said, “Maybe you’d like to visit my church sometime? Northside Community. It’s across the river in Hickory Mills. I really love it there. Quite a few singles our age attend.”

      “I don’t know about that ‘our age’ thing,” he teased. “I figure I’m a good bit older than you.”

      She let the church issue drop and backed the car out of the space, saying, “I don’t believe that. I’m twenty-seven, by the way. Called your bluff, didn’t I?”

      Grinning as wide as his face, he nodded. “You sure did, but I win anyway. I’m thirty-two.”

      “Five years is nothing,” she said flippantly. “At least, that’s what my baby sister always claims.”

      He laughed at that, and conversation maintained a lighthearted tone from there on out.

      She noted that he seemed at ease with her behind the wheel, which fit with his laid-back attitude. As a result, she didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she might have with him in the passenger seat. Tim, Amy and her dad, for instance, always made her nervous when they rode with her, but Chris, Jeremy and her mom never did. Neither did Lissa, but for an entirely different reason. She’d been hauling Melissa around since she’d first received her license, just as her older siblings had done for her.

      Heather wondered again what her baby sister had gotten up to and when she was going to put in an appearance. As much as Melissa tried to avoid the unpleasant aspects of life, she would never forgive herself if she was off gallivanting around when something happened to their dad.

      It was useless to worry about her, though, or even to be angry with her. Melissa would just bat those big, doelike eyes, flash a cheeky grin and throw her arms around your neck in a hug of such exuberance and affection that you’d forgive her anything.

      When they reached the office, Heather dropped off Ethan and his equipment at his midsize SUV in the graveled lot across the street, Mill Road, where Hamilton Media employees parked. Then she drove around and took her assigned space at the front of the building on Main. By the time she’d gotten out of the car and reached the curb, Ethan had jogged up next to her, having stowed everything in his customized SUV, except for the trio of cameras, which he carried by the straps in one hand.

      They walked along the sidewalk to the revolving door at the front of the Hamilton Building. Ethan started it moving, then stepped back to let Heather go first. On the drive up from Nashville, she’d almost forgotten her changed looks, but as she stepped into the lobby, Mr. Gordon rose to his feet and lifted a stalling hand.

      “Do you have an appointment, Mi—” The question died on his lips as Heather drew closer. He tilted his head, looking like a quizzical owl behind his overlarge glasses. “Miss Heather?”

      She