Love Comes Home

by Terri Reed

  “That’s done.” Josh stretched, his navy blue shirt pulling taut across his shoulders, emphasizing the broad width.

  Rachel blinked and quickly turned away as she rose from her position on the floor where she’d finished taping closed the last box. Her stiff legs ached, reminding her she’d hadn’t exercised in a while.

  “Now where?”

  Her stomach clenched in nervous agitation. “The bedrooms.”

  She hoped she could make it through this without breaking down. She didn’t want Josh to witness any weakness.

  Josh followed her down the hall to her old room. She pushed open the door, expecting Mom G. had already boxed most of her things and would have used the room for her own purposes, and was surprised to find it much as she’d left it. The frilly white bed coverings were neatly made, the shelves lining the walls held the various books and dolls she’d left behind.

  Josh peered over her shoulder. “It’s like walking back in time.”

  She closed her eyes against the sudden images of herself as a teenager. With graphic clarity, she saw herself sitting at the desk beneath the window doing her homework, her hair held high in a ponytail, her feet tucked beneath her.

  She could still remember the night Mom G. had opened her door and said she had a visitor.

  Josh had walked in with his easy grin and gentle manners. She’d secretly had a crush on him since the first day of high school. She hadn’t known he’d noticed her. She hadn’t known that one day he’d break her heart.

  She opened her eyes and deliberately stepped forward and began pulling books and dolls from the shelves.

  Without further comment, Josh dragged in several empty boxes and placed them at her feet.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

  After a moment she paused and noticed his perplexed expression. The big, strapping male looked wholly out of place in the little girl’s frilly room and clearly he didn’t know what to touch and what not to.

  Rachel stifled a smile. “You could strip the bed and pile it with the Goodwill items.”

  He flashed a relieved grin that hit Rachel with the shock force of a defibrillator. Quickly she turned back to her shelves. Focus, focus, she chanted inside her head.

  After those first few awkward moments, they worked together like a tenured surgical team. She’d load a box, he’d tape it closed and fill out the address label.

  Slowly conversation started, tentative at first. Rachel sought for neutral subjects and Josh seemed eager to keep their talk light.

  As teens they’d had similar tastes in movies and books. Rachel was mildly surprised to discover that as adults they still shared many common interests.

  They relaxed into a sort of rhythm, where one thread of conversation quickly led to another and another. They laughed and companionably argued over politics, choices for the Oscars and which authors should appear on the New York Times bestseller list.

  In an amazingly short amount of time, they had her old room boxed up. “Thank you, Josh, for your help,” Rachel said as they finished dragging the boxes into the living room.

  “Sure thing.” He held out his large hand. “Just one room left. You ready?”

  She swallowed back the sudden tears that burned at the edges of her eyes. His offer of support nearly undid her. Clearly they both knew how hard this was going to be. She shored up her defenses. She couldn’t show weakness, but she took his offered hand and allowed his warm palm to give her strength as they headed down the hall.

  Mom G.’s room also was as she remembered. The double bed with its fluffy pink comforter, the dresser cluttered with trinkets and jewelry. The bedside table still held the picture of Mr. Green as a young man.

  Rachel headed toward the closet, then stopped as she noticed the new pictures hanging on the wall. They took her breath away.

  There were pictures of herself in beautiful frames. School pictures, pictures of her with Mom G., at the prom with Josh at her side, her graduation pictures from high school, college and medical school.

  “She was very proud of you.”

  Josh’s softly spoken words sent shivers of fire down her spine. If only he could be proud of her. She frowned at the thought and began pulling the pictures from the wall.

  Lovingly she wrapped each frame in paper and stacked them in a box Josh had carried in. This time they worked in reverent silence, occasionally sharing memories of Mom G. Rachel kept more of the items from Mom G.’s room than she had from any other.

  The large armoire that graced the wall next to the closet drew her attention. She’d find a place for it in her apartment. She ran her hand over the gleaming wood.

  “When I first came to live with Mom G. I was a very scared little girl,” she commented aloud. “Once again frightened by a new place, a new parent and a new set of rules to learn. One day I hid inside this chest.”

  “What happened?” Josh asked as he came to stand beside her, his presence comforting.

  She smiled up at him, liking the way his interest was centered on her. “Mom G. found me. Instead of the anger I had expected, she lovingly held me and told me stories until the fear went away. She was an awesome woman.”

  Josh reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was electrifying as his knuckles grazed her cheek. “She was.”

  His gaze trapped hers. She was letting him get too close both physically and emotionally. She didn’t want that, couldn’t allow it. Only pain would result. She stepped back out of reach and gulped for air. “I’ll have the shipping company pack up the armoire.”

  One corner of Josh’s mouth tipped up as if he knew how he was affecting her. Disconcerted, she turned her focus to the closet. She touched each garment and Mom G.’s scent wafted up from the clothes, tugging at Rachel, making her ache.

  “What’s that?”

  She wiped away a tear before facing Josh. “What?”

  He tilted his head upward. “There.”

  She followed his gaze. A white box on the top shelf of the closet bore her name. She glanced at him. “Would you mind?”

  Josh squeezed beside her, eating up space, and Rachel stepped back, nearly falling into the clothes piled on the floor. He reached out to steady her, his huge, strong hand closing around her forearm, sending hot sparks shooting up her arm.

  “Thanks.” She extracted herself from his grip and moved a safe distance way. Josh’s proximity and his touch did funny things to her insides and she didn’t want funny things going on inside. It made staying focused difficult.

  He easily retrieved the box. “The living room?”

  “Please.” She headed down the hall. Josh set the box on the coffee table. She opened the lid and widened her eyes in pleasure. A tattered teddy bear lay on top of a scrapbook.

  “Yours?”

  “Yes.” She picked up the bear and ran a hand over it. “My mother gave him to me before she died. I’d thought I’d lost him. Mom G. must have packed him up to preserve him.” A lump rose in her throat. She held the bear close to ease the tightness in her chest.

  Setting the bear aside, she picked up the scrapbook and laid it on the table. She sat on the sofa and flipped through the pages. Josh took the seat beside her, distracting her.

  “Mrs. G. put effort into this,” he remarked.

  “It’s wonderful.” She couldn’t believe how much she enjoyed looking at the pictures and the little anecdotes written beside the frames. The book chronicled her life with Mom G., starting with the first day she’d arrived to the last picture Rachel had sent. On the last line in the book Mom G. had written, “The rest of the book is for you to fill with pictures of your family.”

  Rachel stared at the words. Mom G. was her family. Without her, Rachel was alone.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts, Josh asked softly, “Are those pages going to be filled, Rachel? Do you have someone waiting for you in Chicago?”

  She slanted him a glance, aware of the anger stirring in her chest. An
ger because he had no right to ask her that, anger because the answer was no.

  “What do you think? No, wait.” She held up a hand before he could respond. “What was it you said? ‘No man would want to marry a woman whose priority in life was her career.’ My priority is my career.”

  His words still haunted her. Every time a man had shown interest in her, she’d remember those words, remembered the pain of loving only to have to make a choice between the man and her God-given path. And her choice would always be the same.

  Her life was about making a difference, about being a doctor.

  “Rachel, I’m—”

  “You’re what? Sorry?” Rachel scoffed, her strength rapidly depleting. “Don’t be. You were right. I wouldn’t have accomplished what I have if I’d married or stayed in this town.” She couldn’t stand the pity in his eyes but hated even more that she’d validated his position on her career.

  She closed the book.

  Josh tipped the box forward. “There’s something else in here.”

  She watched as he pulled a large manila envelope from the box and handed it to her. Anxious to get through this, she broke the seal and grabbed an official-looking file. Her name stared at her from the tab.

  Ignoring the prickling awareness of Josh’s gaze, she flipped open the file. The contents marked her progress through the Department of Child Services, starting with the day she became a ward of the state and continued on, noting every foster home with comments by the foster parents. She quickly read and absorbed the words. For out of the five homes she’d lived in, the comments were nearly the same: “The child cooperates well, is very quiet and insecure.”

  Rachel’s mouth twisted. More like scared to death.

  Mom G.’s name appeared as the last foster home. The remarks made by Mom G. touched Rachel deeply. To Mom G. she wasn’t “the child,” she was Rachel. A little girl who needed love and affection.

  With a snap, she closed the file. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, but a grown woman who just lost the last bit of family she’d ever known.

  The hospital. The people there would be her family now. Her focus would be entirely on the patients, and their care, with no distractions.

  Impatiently she dumped out the rest of the manila envelope. A hospital bracelet with her mother’s name and the blue and white insignia of Sonora Community Hospital, a birth certificate and a small grouping of photos fell out.

  Her breath caught in her throat. With shaky hands, she reached for the top snapshot. The woman in the picture had curly hair, which framed her face, and blue eyes sparkling with intelligence.

  “Is this your mother?”

  She nodded, afraid that if she spoke he’d hear her anguish. She had one picture of her mother that the social worker had given to her. It sat on her bedside table in a crystal frame.

  “You look like her.”

  The compliment nearly shattered her composure.

  Gathering every vestige of her control, she spread the rest of the photos out on the table. Five in all. “I’ve never seen these. I wonder why Mom G. never gave them to me.”

  “Maybe she thought they’d make you sad.”

  In one frame, her mother stood on a beach staring out at the waves, her expression pensive. In another, her mother held a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket. The next was a park setting. A two-year-old Rachel sat on a swing, her mother behind her, joyous smiles on both of their faces. The last photo was of her mother, dressed up and looking like a princess.

  “I wonder if my father took these?” Everything hurt inside and she willed the pain away.

  Josh took her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, anchoring her as the tide of grief began to rise within her.

  “I don’t even know who he was, Josh. What he’d been like. Why he’d left.”

  “I didn’t know,” he responded softly. “You’d said he was gone. I’d assumed he was dead.”

  “He was gone before I was born.” She picked up the birth certificate. Her own. She pointed to the line where her father’s name should have been. “‘Unknown’?” Her voice rose, betraying the anguish building in her chest.

  At sixteen she’d needed her birth certificate for her driver’s license. Any hopes or plans she had of seeking her father out died when she’d seen that one word. “I can’t accept he was some stranger my mother hadn’t loved. Some one-night-stand type of deal.”

  “Maybe he hadn’t known she was pregnant when they broke up.”

  Josh’s compassionate reasoning left her with more questions. “Were they even married? Or just dating? Did they fight? Is that why she didn’t want him to be a part of my life?” She suppressed a shuddering breath. “I’ll never know. The answers died with her.”

  Rachel’s heart throbbed with longing. She had spent such a short part of her life with the woman in the photos. “I don’t even know what she was like. What had been her dreams, her struggles? There’s no one for me to ask. She hadn’t had any family that I could find.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek and landed on the corner of one picture. The wetness distorted the film, like the tears in her eyes distorted her vision. Josh’s arm came around her shoulders and a distressed moan escaped her lips.

  Rachel didn’t want him to witness her private breakdown. She didn’t want to need his strength, his warmth. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let go. His grip tightened and he eased her back against his solid chest. She resisted by leaning away from him.

  “Rachel,” he coaxed, his voice tender, caressing.

  Everything inside screamed for her to protest, to run and seek solitude for her grief. She didn’t need anyone. Yet his steadfast, comforting presence beckoned to her. She sniffed and shuddered as she tried to keep control of the tears.

  When he turned her around, she dropped her gaze to the front of his shirt. She couldn’t look into that handsome face and see the sympathy in his eyes. His hand reached out and gently lifted her chin. She almost died to see the tender caring in his hazel eyes. Everything inside melted liked chocolate over an open flame.

  “It’s okay to cry, Rachel.”

  His compassionate words brought fresh tears. “No. I’m not crying,” she sniffed.

  “Stubborn woman,” he muttered softly as he pulled her to him. “You have to let it out or it will eat away at you.”

  Rachel held herself stiff against his chest, but as his hand caressed her hair, and his heart beat a steady cadence against her cheek, her staid control slipped away. She wrapped her arms around him and a tremor worked its way through her body and a deep sob broke free.

  She cried for the two mothers she’d lost.

  As her sobs receded and the tears dried, she became acutely aware of Josh’s arms holding her tight. The once-familiar pressure of his embrace made her snuggle closer. His woodsy, clean scent filled her senses. She clung to him.

  She should let go. She should find her composure and graciously extract herself from his embrace. But she didn’t want to, couldn’t because of an inner need beyond her stalwart control.

  Chapter Eight

  Rachel eased back and looked up at him. He stared down at her with careful regard. How could he look at her with such tenderness when the heat in his eyes threatened to singe?

  Her clinical mind registered that focusing on Josh kept her from dwelling on her mother’s life so tragically cut short. Focusing on Josh kept the overwhelming grief of Mom G.’s death from engulfing her. Focusing on Josh made her heart pound and her limbs tingle with anticipation. Anticipation for what she didn’t know. It went beyond the physical, to a heart-rending level. And it scared her.

  She hated being scared.

  In defense, her mind focused on the obvious—the awareness that overtook her every time he was near. As foolish as it was, she wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him as an adult, as a woman.

  Before her brain could protest, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his.

  An electric jolt sizzled betw
een them.

  Josh flinched.

  Rachel tightened her hold around his waist and continued the kiss. Slowly, gently, he responded. His lips moved over hers with drugging intensity and she realized immediately she’d made a mistake.

  Kissing him was far more potent than she’d imagined. She wouldn’t just be burned, she’d turn to ash.

  As Josh broke the kiss with a tortured sound, rejection settled at the bottom of Rachel’s heart like a rock in a pool. Of course he didn’t want her. He never really had.

  She pulled away from him and took a deep breath, collecting herself. “I’m sorry. That was totally inappropriate.”

  His jaw clenched. “Why did you kiss me?”

  “I—to distract myself from the pain,” she admitted and wiped at her damp cheeks.

  His guarded expression ripped at her insides.

  She quickly gathered the photos and slid them back into the envelope.

  A gigantic boulder lodged itself in the middle of Josh’s chest as he watched Rachel. Taut lines of anxiety tightened around her mouth. Her struggle to maintain control was painful to watch. He hurt for her, could only imagine the depth of torment she carried. He’d never realized how devastating her mother’s death had been to her. And to find out she didn’t know her father’s name—it blew his mind. His own mother had abandoned them, but at least at one time he had belonged to her. Rachel didn’t even have that. His heart twisted with sympathy and a protectiveness surged through him. Mrs. G. had fulfilled the roles of both mother and father for Rachel, but now she was gone. It was up to him to be there for Rachel. If she’d let him.

  She’d already expressed that she didn’t want his comfort and he’d tried to give her space. But when she’d cried, his promise came slamming back to him. Mrs. G. had known what they’d find. That was why she’d insisted on their promise. He was honor-bound to offer his comfort and protection regardless of the cost to himself.