It took me by surprise because my mind had wandered away from the woman on the cot, beginning to sink into the melancholy that was always conveniently near these days.

I stared down at her; there was no change—the hand in mine was limp, her face still vacant. Maybe I’d imagined the movement.

“Did I say something you were interested in? What was I talking about?” I thought quickly, watching her face. “Was it the rain? Or was it the idea of change? Change? You’ve got a lot of that ahead of you, don’t you? You have to wake up first, though.”

Her face was empty, her hand motionless.

“So you don’t care for change. Can’t say that I blame you. I don’t want change to come, either. Are you like me? Do you wish the summer could last?”

If I hadn’t been watching her face so closely, I wouldn’t have seen the tiny flicker of her lids.

“You like summertime, do you?” I asked hopefully.

Her lips twitched.

“Summer?”

Her hand trembled.

“Is that your name—Summer? Summer? That’s a pretty name.”

Her hand tightened into a fist, and her lips parted.

“Come back, Summer. I know you can do it. Summer? Listen to me, Summer. Open your eyes, Summer.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly.

“Doc!” I called over my shoulder. “Doc, wake up!”

“Huh?”

“I think she’s coming around!” I turned back to the woman. “Keep it up, Summer. You can do this. I know it’s hard. Summer, Summer, Summer. Open your eyes.”

Her face grimaced—was she in pain?

“Bring the No Pain, Doc. Hurry.”

The woman squeezed my hand, and her eyes opened. They didn’t focus at first, just whirled around the bright cave. What a strange, unexpected sight this place must have been for her.

“You’re going to be all right, Summer. You’re going to be fine. Can you hear me, Summer?”

Her eyes wheeled back to me, the pupils constricting. She stared, absorbing my face. Then she cringed away from me, twisting on the cot to escape. A low, hoarse cry of panic broke through her lips.

“No, no, no,” she cried. “No more.”

“Doc!”

He was there, on the other side of the cot, like before, when we were operating.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” he assured her. “No one is going to hurt you here.”

The woman had her eyes squeezed shut, and she recoiled into the thin mattress.

“I think her name is Summer.”

He flashed a look at me and then made a face. “Eyes, Wanda,” he breathed.

I blinked and realized that the sun was on my face. “Oh.” I let the woman pull her hand free.

“Don’t, please,” the woman begged. “Not again.”

“Shh,” Doc murmured. “Summer? People call me Doc. No one’s going to do anything to you. You’re going to be fine.”