Mutt refused to answer.
A car door slammed, and Ben braced himself for what was surely coming. He heard a rattling noise right before Sara walked into the backyard.
“I thought you had an appointment,” she said, irritation warm on her face.
He shrugged. “I did. I promised Mutt I’d be home early.” She frowned, her lips a tight line.
“How did you get through that gate?”
“I kicked it.”
“Nice.” Ben nodded in admiration. “Water?”
“No, thanks. This isn’t exactly a social visit.”
“No? What exactly is it?”
“It’s me asking you to assure me that my father isn’t manipulating my life again, like he did two years ago.”
“Your engagement?”
Sara nodded, her eyes pleading with him.
He paused. “You don’t think that’s why I was talking to your father today, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t do it again.”
“Sara, I’ve always been honest with you.”
“Then tell me what you and my father discussed.”
“I told you.”
“No. There’s something else, and I know it. You’re a terrible liar.”
Ben stood and walked over to where Sara stood. He gently pushed the hair away from her face. “Your father would never have to pay me to care about you.”
A tremor slid over him as his gaze met hers.
“Then please,” Sara whispered. “Don’t let me be a fool again.”
He stepped back from her, and away from temptation, knowing what he had to do if he really loved Sara. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said at the barbecue.”
“Oh,” she groaned. “That’s a huge mistake. Never think a lot about anything I say after I’ve been kissed.”
Ben chuckled. “I’m just saying that I think you were right.”
“Right? I wasn’t right. What I was was confused and afraid of what I felt for you.”
“You raised some valid points. It probably is best for both of us if we keep things professional for now.”
She stepped back as though she’d been slapped. Her eyes rounded. “You’re telling me to stop caring for you? Is this some sort of payback?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying that you made sense. The clinic directorship stands between us. Let’s wait until that dust settles, and then we can revisit the topic of us.”
“Revisit the topic?” Sara stiffened as she moved from confusion straight into anger. Maybe that was a good thing. It would protect her from what he had to do.
“You know what I’m trying to say,” Ben finally said, a weary resignation settling over him.
“Fine, Dr. Rogers,” she said, blinking back moisture.
Ben shook his head, knowing he was messing up the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Sara. We can still be friends.”
“As I recall, I was the one who first said that to you, back in July.”
“And you were right.”
“Well, being right isn’t very satisfying after all,” she said.
“Sara.”
Mutt whimpered.
Sara took a step toward the dog, then turned away with a sigh.
He heard the gate clang as she left. and shook his head. Could the means possibly justify the end?
Mutt whined again, and he leaned down to rub him behind the ears. “It’s okay, boy. It’s okay.”
Except it really wasn’t okay.
Hollis Elliott hadn’t just manipulated Sara this time, he’d manipulated everything. Could the Lord reach the Cattle King of Paradise Valley and untangle this mess? Ben hoped so.
Chapter Fifteen
Sara lifted her head as she heard the familiar sound of Uncle Henry wheeling down the clinic hallway. She was pretty sure he spent more time at the clinic these days than he did at the hospital. The closer they got to the opening, the more time he spent checking equipment and reviewing documentation.
“Sara?” He peeked his head into her office and smiled. As usual, his tufts of hair were slightly mussed, and his tie was askew.
Sara smiled, and realized it was the first time she’d smiled all day. She’d barely slept last night after her conversation with Ben. Over and over again, she had replayed his words, trying to figure out how to make things right. She’d come into the office earlier than usual, hoping they’d have a chance to talk, but it was almost noon and Ben wasn’t in yet.
“Hi, Uncle Henry. I was just about to call you.” She glanced at the clock again. “I haven’t seen Ben all morning. Did he happen to leave a message with you?”
“He did. In fact, he came to see me this morning.”
Sara frowned, her gaze searching her uncle’s face for a clue to what could be going on. Where was Ben?
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“I’m confident it will be,” he returned with a smile. “Do you have a moment, dear?”
“Uncle Henry, not only are you my boss, but you’re my favorite uncle. Of course I have a minute.”
He chuckled. “Then I won’t point out that I happen to be your only uncle.”
“What’s up, only and favorite uncle?”
“I’d like to show you something,” he said with a wry smile.
She gave him a sideways glance. “Did I forget to order something?”
“No.” He shook his head and laughed. “Follow me.”
She closed the file on her desk and let him lead the way down the hall to the doorway on the other side of the chapel.
“Uncle Henry, we’re not supposed to go out there.” She pointed to the “Construction—Do Not Enter” sign posted on the door.
“Oh, you can take that down, Sara. I put that sign up, but it’s all completed now.”
“What is?”
“Hold the door, Sara, and I’ll show you.”
She shaded her eyes as they stepped outside. Focusing, Sara stopped and gasped. A garden. A lovely fenced-in garden, with walkways and niche areas beneath trees where stone benches invited meditation. An old-fashioned gazebo stood in the center. All along the fence, splashes of bright wildflowers had begun to bloom. More flowers followed the stone pathway, circling a charming little pond whose fountain bubbled water into the quiet of the garden.
“Uncle Henry, what is this?”
“This is the Amanda Rhoades-Elliott Memorial Garden.”
Sara swallowed, overwhelmed with emotion. Her eyes welled up, finally overflowing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she sniffed.
“I am telling you,” he chuckled.
“But how?”
“Sara, Ben did this. All of it.”
Stunned, she whirled around to look at her uncle. “Ben?”
“Yes. Ben. He asked your father’s permission to name the garden after your mother. I instructed him to ask your father for funding, but apparently he wisely chose to ignore my instructions. Instead he took the project on himself. He’s quite determined and strong-willed, that young man.”
“But what do you mean, took it on himself?”
“Ben has quite a few friends in Paradise.”
“Does he?” she asked with a small smile. Huh—the man who likes to be alone has quite a few friends. How about that?
“Orvis and his sons did a large portion of the work. The Paradise Ladies’ Auxiliary is responsible for the landscape design and planting.”
“Planting?” She shook her head, remembering Bitsy Harmony in the lobby last week. Proactive, he had said.
“Who paid for all this?” she asked, more confused than ever.
“Ben did.”
Her eyes flew open. “He sold the Land Rover.”
“Yes. He did.”
“Uncle Henry.” She looked down at her uncle. “Why did he do this?”
“I believe he did it because he loves you, and because he understands your loss.”
Tears began to flow unchecked, and she lowered herself to a bench.
“I’m such an idiot. I thought he sold-out to my father.”
“On the contrary. He sold-out for you.”
She wiped her face with her fingers. “What do you mean?”
“Ben resigned today.”
Sara shook her head. “No!”
Hadn’t she learned anything in two years? Once again, everything in her life in Paradise was falling apart, and she didn’t know how to fix it.
Lord, show me Your ways.
* * *
Ben slipped into the clinic’s side door. Sara rarely detoured from her schedule. Right now she’d be at lunch, eating a salad with a glass of tea at The Prospector. She’d keep a bag of almonds in her briefcase for later, and then she’d offer him half.
He was going to miss those almonds.
He was going to miss everything about her.
If he was quick, he could empty out his desk before she got back. He placed a box on his desk and started shoving stuff inside. In the bottom drawer, he pulled out the paperwork that came with his stethoscope and tossed it in the box. It would go to the E.R. doc at the Paradise Hospital whom he’d sold it to.
As he opened another drawer, a loud thud echoed from the lobby. He lifted his head and listened, but heard nothing else.
Most likely a delivery.
Ben kept grabbing papers from his desk and neatly stacking them in a folder for Sara. He took a deep breath. He hated to leave her with the rest of the accreditation paperwork, but it was all going to be hers soon anyway.
Heavy footsteps moved at a sluggish pace down the hall. Not Sara. But who?
Ben looked up at the sound of raspy, wheezy breathing.
“Hollis.”
Hollis Elliott leaned against the doorjamb, his Stetson shading his craggy face, which was gray and clammy beneath the office lighting. And then he started going down, sliding to the floor.
Ben reached him and eased the older man onto the floor, until he was half sitting and half lying against his desk. Wheezing was audible. No stethoscope needed. Yanking up Hollis’s pant legs, Ben evaluated the edema.
Plus three. Pitting.
“I...I don’t...I don’t feel well,” Hollis puffed.
That was an understatement. The man was going under—and fast.
“Sara? Is Sara here?”
“No. Sorry, sir, you’re just going to have to put up with me saving your life today. We can argue about it later. Okay?”
Ben raced into the exam room and grabbed the code cart with force, wheeling it down the hall as he dialed 9-1-1, putting them on speakerphone.
“This is Dr. Ben Rogers. I’m only two blocks away at the Paradise Clinic. We need an ambulance ASAP. Male. Caucasian. Sixty years. History of cardiac arrhythmia, myocardial infarction and congestive heart failure. Presenting with exacerbated shortness of breath and worsening bilateral edema.”
“Sorry, doctor, the only ambulance is ten minutes out at an automobile accident with fatalities. I don’t even have a patrol car available to assist. Can you bring him in?”
“I’ll try. Make sure they’re waiting for me.”
“Yes, doctor.”
He shoved the cart into his office.
Defibrillator.
Ben glanced at the top of the cart where the equipment should have been, then realized they didn’t have a defibrillator yet.
Better not need one.
Ben pulled out tubing and a mask and opened up the oxygen on the portable tank. “Let’s get this mask on you, Hollis.”
Opening another drawer, Ben grabbed the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. Hollis grunted.
“Just talking to myself, Hollis.”
Blood pressure one hundred over twenty. Pulse eighty and irregular. Bilateral lung stridor on auscultation.
“Chest pain, Hollis?”
Sara’s father shook his head.
“Nausea?”
“No,” he said, his voice muffled through the mask.
“That’s good. That’s very, very good.”
Ben fumbled in the drawers for a rubber tourniquet and opened the medication drawer.
“Hollis, I’m going to give you a little furosemide to ease the fluid accumulation, then we’re going to grab that wheelchair in the lobby, put you in my car and get you to the emergency room.”
“Thank. You.” Hollis panted the words.
Ben noted the first positive sign. Hollis was still short of breath, but his breathing was slightly less labored.
“Don’t waste your breath talking.” Ben hunched down and looked the older man in the eyes. “Just relax. Concentrate on breathing. Everything is under control. You’re going to be all right. I won’t let anything happen to you. Got it?”
Hollis nodded, and Ben saw relief flicker in the older man’s eyes.
“Good, now grab my arm if you have chest pain or if you feel faint.”
Ben began to quietly pray, loud enough for Hollis to hear as he drew the furosemide up into a syringe. The feisty rancher could use a few prayers. Besides, they both needed assurance that the Lord was in control of the situation.
“Father, I thank You for guiding me as I help Hollis. Protect him as we head to the emergency room. Give me strength and wisdom and Lord, please, get me into that emergency room without incident. I know I can do it this time with Your help. Amen.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I already asked him. Ben refuses to resubmit his paperwork for the clinic director position,” Henry Rhoades said. He looked pointedly across the hospital room at his brother-in-law.
“What do you want me to do about it?” Hollis growled, adjusting his bed linens.
“I don’t know, but you better think of something. Sara withdrew her application, as well. I’ve put up with a lot from you over the years, Hollis, but this time I’ve had it.”
Hollis glanced at his daughter. “You withdrew your application?”
“I did.” She grinned, because she knew that for the first time in her life, she had the upper hand with her father.
“The clinic is scheduled to open in two weeks, Sara,” her uncle said, perplexed. “We’ve come this far, and now we are without a director and without physicians.”
“No, Uncle Henry, that isn’t quite true,” Sara countered.
“I’m confused,” he said.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” She nodded to Hollis. “My father will have his pacemaker implanted next week, because he promised to be compliant with his medical regime if Ben resigned from the clinic director position. Right, Dad?”
Hollis nodded slowly, with resignation.
“Thank you for being a man of your word. I knew I could count on you.” She smiled and patted his hand before turning to her uncle.
“Uncle Henry, the clinic makes you happy. Very happy, in fact. It’s okay to admit it. You spend more time in the clinic these days than the hospital. The clinic director position was yours from the beginning. You’ve given the hospital twenty-five years. It’s time for something new, don’t you think? And I bet Gabriella would love to come and work with you at the clinic.”
Henry’s owl eyes grew even wider behind his glasses. He grinned. “I do believe you may be right. On all counts, my dear. That’s a splendid idea.”
“I am right, Uncle Henry. I’m actually right a lot of the time. The problem is that I fail to listen to my heart, and
instead I second-guess everything.”
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of our physician shortage,” Henry said.
“That part is easy,” Sara said. She picked up her briefcase. “I have to go and convince Ben that he and I are the new clinic rural-care physicians.”
“Why not director?” her father asked.
“Director was your dream, Dad. Not mine. So unless you want to go to medical school, let’s give the job to Uncle Henry. Besides, this way I’ll have more time to spend helping you at the ranch.”
She leaned over the bed to kiss her father. “Behave yourself while I’m gone. No arguing with the nurses. I gave them my phone number.”
“So am I hearing you correctly? You’re staying in Paradise?” her father asked, his craggy face hopeful.
“Yes. I am staying in Paradise. We’re going to find a way to keep my dreams, and yours, alive. But we’re going to have to compromise. Okay?”
“Yes, Sara,” Hollis said. “I’m grateful to be alive and grateful that Ben was at the clinic when I needed a doctor.”
“Ben Rogers isn’t just a good doctor, he’s a Godly man. A good man.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” her uncle asked. “Go tell him that.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
Sara gave her father and uncle a little wave as she walked out of the hospital room. Two men down, one to go. Now all she had to do was convince the man she loved to stay with her in Paradise.
* * *
He’s gone.
Sara fought the panic that threatened to choke her. Less than twenty-four hours, and Ben had already packed up and left for Denver? Without even as much as a forwarding address.
Who had Flora rented the cabin to? A huge silver RV filled the driveway.
She leaned back against the seat and bit her trembling lip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Then she heard a dog bark. Mutt.
He left Mutt?
Sara got out of her car. “Mutt? Here, boy! Where are you?”
The barking was coming from inside the RV. Sara yanked open the door at the same time someone pushed it open from the inside. Sara flew across the gravel drive.
“Don’t move. I’ll call a doctor.”
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