The thought of the little dog who would greet him with exuberant abandon and unconditional love, running in circles and licking Ben’s face, made him smile.
While he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud and let Sara throw another “told you so” in his direction, Ben knew that the little nondescript dog was part of all the good things that had happened to him since moving to Paradise.
As a roommate, he was perfect. Mutt never insisted that Ben share his feelings or questioned what was eating him up inside. And when Ben sat in the dark, Mutt just curled up next to him and pretended he was thinking, too.
Ben’s pace quickened. He’d been looking forward to Friday night. The two of them could enjoy a grilled burger in the backyard and hang out on the hammock for a while. The only improvement on that scenario was if Sara could have joined them. He headed to the parking lot, whistling under his breath.
In the back of his head a niggling question surfaced. Why did Dr. Rhoades want to meet with him? Ben quickly dismissed the thought.
Yeah, he’d worry about the meeting with Dr. Rhoades later. Much later.
Chapter Eleven
The Pearly Gates were unmanned. Ben glanced up and down the long hallway. This was very unusual.
“Ben?”
Ben whirled around. For a man in a wheelchair, Henry Rhoades sure knew how to sneak up on a guy undetected. Ben considered putting bells on the man’s wheelchair.
“What are you doing?” Dr. Rhoades asked.
“Looking for the woman who guards your office.”
“Gabriella took a personal day. Apparently she has other things to do besides guard my office and read my mind, along with all the other omniscient duties I require. Imagine that.” Henry laughed as he rolled his chair toward his office. “So, Ben, come in. Close the door and have a seat.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s coffee over on the sidebar,” Dr. Rhoades said as he tidied the papers on his desk.
“No, thank you. I’ve had my limit this morning.”
“Then let’s get right to it.” He pinned Ben with his gaze. “How are things coming along?”
Ben frowned, confused. “Nothing’s changed since I saw you Friday, although I did get a call from Orvis Carter, thanking me for sending the hospital medical director in to take care of his grandson.”
“A good man,” Henry said. “But let me rephrase my question. How are you coming along?”
“Sir?”
“I want you to know that this conversation is strictly off the record.”
His mouth suddenly dry, Ben tried to swallow.
Henry continued. “Are you on any medications? Antianxiety? Antidepressant? Sedative?”
This time Ben shot up straight in his chair. Dr. Rhoades thought he had a drug problem?
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir.”
Henry held up a palm and nodded his understanding. “Have you considered the possibility that a medication regime might be helpful?”
“Excuse me?” He coughed, nearly choking on the words.
“Along with counseling, perhaps a therapist or your pastor.”
Again, Ben was stunned silent.
For moments, Henry’s green eyes silently and gently probed. “Ben, I’m asking you how you’re coping with your sister’s death.”
For a long moment Ben was unable to move. He was completely unprepared for this conversation. Gripping the arms of the wing chair, he cleared his throat while frantically searching for an appropriate response.
“Sir, I’ve come a long way, and Paradise has been instrumental in that healing. I believe the Lord sent me here for that reason.”
“And yet, you’re still having panic attacks.”
Ben’s head jerked back. “How did you...? Has anyone else...?”
“I doubt if anyone else has put it together. But the truth is. I recognized the symptoms only too well—palpitations, shaking, perspiration, shortness of breath—because I went through much the same thing.” He adjusted his glasses. “It took me a year before I stopped breaking out in a cold sweat every time I had to get into an automobile.”
Ben’s lips formed a thin line as Henry continued.
“I thought perhaps if we talked, I might be able to be a resource for you. Not many people truly understand what you’re going through.”
“No. That’s for sure,” Ben agreed.
“How’s your relationship with your family?”
“Sir, I, ah, I really don’t want to talk about my family.”
“That bad?” The older man gave a sympathetic nod. “And what about Sara?”
“Sara?” Ben asked, trying to keep up with the conversation as his emotions ping-ponged back and forth.
“Ben, I’m a paraplegic, but I’m not blind. You and Sara are becoming close.”
“I’d like to keep my relationship with Sara strictly professional.”
“Have you told your heart that?”
Ben froze as the words reached their target. He rubbed his clammy hands against his pants and stared out the large window. He’d give anything to be somewhere in those mountains right about now, instead of trying to deny to himself the truths Henry was laying out.
“Sir,” he finally said. “To tell you the truth, I really haven’t figured out what’s going on between me and Sara yet. But I do know that I’m not ready to talk to her about my sister.”
No, Sara would never understand what he’d done.
“What about the Lord?” Henry questioned.
“I thought I was listening to the Lord. That’s how I ended up in Paradise.”
“It seems trite to say I’ve been there, Ben. But I have. I want to encourage you to let the people who care for you in.”
Clamping his jaw, Ben fought the overpowering emotions that pummeled him.
“Forgive yourself, Ben,” Henry said softly.
“I’m not sure I can be forgiven,” he murmured in response.
In an instant, Ben’s own words cracked his carefully built walls. Suddenly everything came tumbling out. “You don’t understand, sir. I left her alone in the hospital. She died. My sister died, and I could have prevented it.”
Ben bowed his head, unwilling to see what surely would be reflected in Henry Rhoades’s eyes at the shameful admission.
Suddenly Henry was right next to him, with a hand on his shoulder. “Ben, there’s nothing we’ve done that the Lord can’t handle. Turn it over to him. I think you know in your head that you aren’t to blame for your sister’s death, any more than I am to blame for mine.”
Ben took a slow, careful breath.
“The Lord can’t help you the way He wants to, Ben. Not until you’re ready to put it on the altar.”
Lifting his head, Ben’s eyes met Henry’s gaze before the older man’s gaze shifted to the photo on his desk of his sister and niece.
“Just think about it,” he said.
“I will, sir.”
“You aren’t alone, son.”
Ben nodded slowly, realizing for the first time that perhaps he wasn’t.
* * *
Ben left Henry’s office and walked the few blocks to the clinic. Entering by way of the side door, he peeked at the front desk, where the newly hired receptionist was sorting through boxes. Bypassing the lobby, he grabbed Mutt from his office and moved quickly down to the chapel.
The morning light streamed in through the stained-glass window behind the altar, illuminating the cross in a soft glow.
For a moment Ben stood mesmerized by the sight. “Okay, Lord,” he whispered. “This is the best I can do right now. I’m giving it to You. Help me to be open to Your will.”
Henry Rhoades’s words echoed in Ben�
��s mind as he looked up at the cross.
You aren’t alone, son.
For the first time since Carolyn’s death, Ben felt some of the burden lifting. He took a deep, cleansing breath.
Thank You, Lord.
When Mutt began to whine, Ben stepped through the French doors outside to the garden and let the dog down.
A moment later his phone began to ring, and he answered without looking to see who it was—also without his usual hesitation.
“This is Ben.”
He heard his mother’s soothing voice. “Ben, I finally got you instead of your voice mail. Are you all right?”
“Mother? Yeah. I’m good. Better than I have been in a long time.”
Ben paced back and forth across the stone path, stunned at this answer to prayer. The opportunity to make things right with his mother.
“We went to your condo, and you’ve apparently sublet. Where are you?”
“I’m in Paradise, Mother.”
“Paradise?” She chuckled.
“Paradise, Colorado.”
“Ah, God’s country.” He heard the smile in her voice.
“That’s right,” he said.
“Your father and I were quite worried. We’d like to see you. Spend time with you before our next trip.”
“Where are you going this time?” he asked.
“Stateside. Appalachia.”
“When do you leave?”
“First of October,” she said.
“I’m assisting with a clinic that’s scheduled to open in the middle of September. Why don’t you and Dad come to Paradise?”
“We could do that. It’s only a few weeks away.”
“Yeah, I know, and I might even still be employed when you get here.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. Come anyhow. You’ll like Paradise, and I’d like you to meet Sara Elliott.”
“A special woman?” his mother asked.
“Sara is an amazing rural health doctor, and you know her mother, Amanda Rhoades.”
“Oh, my. Amanda Rhoades’s daughter? This is quite an incredible coincidence.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Ben, you’re working in rural medicine?”
He laughed at her surprise. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Wait until I tell your father.”
“So you’ll come down?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course. I’m excited, and I know your father will be, as well.”
“I have a nice little cabin here. You can stay with me. It’s sort of rustic, but it grows on you,” he said.
His mother laughed. “Are you sure this is Ben?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s me.”
“Ben, you sound happy. That’s wonderful.”
“Thank you, Mother.” He paused. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“Ben, we all miss Carolyn, but right now it’s you I’m thinking about. I miss you, Ben.”
He bit back emotion. “I miss you, too, Mom.”
“Talk to you soon,” she said. “Remember that we love you.”
“I love you, too. Say hi to Dad.”
Ben tucked the phone away and rubbed a hand over his face. Henry Rhoades was a wise man.
He looked around for Mutt, and found the little dog running back and forth across the newly laid stone pavers, chasing a small butterfly. Ben followed the dog down the stone path to see the progress on the garden.
A foundation had been poured for the gazebo already, and several flower beds had been planted.
There was much more to be done. Ben recalled Henry Rhoades’s vision for the area. Benches. A fountain. Trees and shrubs.
Ben was more determined than ever to make that vision a reality.
Suddenly everything became clear. He’d spent his whole life searching for something that money couldn’t buy. He had come full circle in Paradise, and he’d learned so much from Sara and this town. His life was back on track, and he’d found his way home.
He glanced around again. There was work to do, and today was as good a day as any to take a ride into Monte Vista to get started.
He picked up his phone and called Sara. “Sara. It’s Ben. Look, I know this is short notice, but I’m going to take the rest of the day off. I’ve got a few errands to run.”
“Sure. Oh, and Ben, I found the rest of the accreditation paperwork and left it on your desk.”
“Perfect. I’ll get to it tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. So do you need any help with your errands?”
“I’ve got it covered.” He paused. “And Sara?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Ben, are you okay? You sound like you’re leaving or something.”
“No. Just running errands.”
“Good, because we have a lot to do in the next few weeks, and well, I’d miss you if you left.”
“You know, I’d miss you, too.” He was grateful she couldn’t see the big goofy grin on his face.
Silence stretched for a moment.
“And Sara—did you ever give me directions to that church?”
“A block behind the café. Services are at ten on Sunday.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He whistled for Mutt and walked back through the chapel, stopping only to look at the cross.
“Lord, I sure hope You’re still saving a seat for me.”
Chapter Twelve
Sara adjusted her Stetson and put on her best welcoming smile as she stood in front of the Elliott house, greeting guests and passing out the gift bags her father had insisted she put together. This was one of the few duties on the ranch she was uncomfortable with. Ask her to bale hay, ride fence lines or herd cattle, and she was ready and willing. But play hostess? She was completely out of her element and felt ridiculous pretending to be something she was not.
To her credit, she had given it her best and had been greeting her father’s guests, most of the residents of Paradise, it seemed, for more than an hour to keep her father out of the sun.
“Sara, you’ve grown up to be just like your mother.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bodiker.”
“Why, I can remember years ago when you were a little girl and your mother stood right where you are. The annual Elliott Ranch barbecue was her favorite event of the year. You’re a lovely hostess, just like she was.”
Sara smiled wanly and adjusted her silver bolo as the woman kept talking. She seriously doubted she was the hostess her mother was. Her mother took care of every detail of these events, from the caterer to the hayrides. Sara, on the other hand, was a delegator.
She could rationalize it away by claiming to be too busy with the clinic, because she was. And right now she’d rather be at the clinic working with Ben than here with all these people.
Looking up, she froze. Ben Rogers was walking up the long drive. Just thinking about him, and he appeared? There were dozens of guests pulling up and parking, on the grass and along the road, so how was it her internal antennae sensed the moment he arrived? Suddenly the day looked promising, though the question remained.
Who had invited Ben? Her father?
Out of nowhere, a small sense of dread lodged in the back of her throat. Was Hollis Elliott manipulating her life again?
When Ben’s crooked smile reached out to her, warming the frozen edges of her heart, she pushed the thought away.
Please, Lord, I’m trusting You to keep me safe.
Ben glanced around at the ranch with interest as he approached. Sara followed his gaze. The entire ranch had been decorated with streamers and balloons for the event. There was a face-painting station and donkey rides. A tent had even been set up w
ith a small, country banjo band. Nothing was more festive than Elliott Ranch all dressed up for the annual community barbecue.
“Hi, Sara,” someone said.
Sara returned the greeting, her attention never leaving Ben. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, he still managed to maintain that pressed-and-creased look. She had to admit to a strong urge to wrinkle him and muss his hair. That thought stopped her cold.
The last time she’d touched Ben had been a no-laughing matter. Her hand went to her mouth as she recalled their brief kiss.
“What’s that expression on your face?” he asked as his foot landed on the first step of the porch.
“Ah, nothing.” She gave him a weak smile as she thrust a gift bag at him. “Nice to see you.”
“What’s this?” He peeked into the bag.
“Oh, the usual. Elliott Ranch tchotchkes.”
“Tchotchkes?” Ben raised his brows in question.
“You know, key chains, pens, whatnots with the ranch logo on them.”
Ben pulled out a magnet in the shape of a bison. “Nice touch.”
“Just what you always wanted, right?” Sara laughed and quickly covered her mouth as she saw her father approach.
“Dr. Rogers, good to see you again. We’re glad you could make it.”
Sara looked quizzically from her father to Ben.
Her father had invited Ben. Neither had said a word to her. She stiffened. Why the omission?
“Mr. Elliott.” Ben reached out to shake her father’s hand, though his gaze never left her. “Thank you for the invitation.”
Sara chewed her lip, confused.
“Sara, show Ben around, would you? I’ve promised to show some of the neighbors the new toy in the garage. Unless you’d like to join us, Ben?”
“Actually, sir, I’d like to see the ranch.” He turned to Sara. “If you don’t mind.”
Hollis nodded. “Sara would be happy to show you around. I hope you brought your appetite. We’ve got Elliott beef on that barbecue. The best in the valley.”
“Yes, sir.” Ben watched her father’s retreating form and turned to Sara. “New toy?”
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