Whatever Morgan’s reaction, she couldn’t leave Neill. With that thought uppermost in her mind, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SHERRI WOKE TO a sense that someone was watching her. She turned, only to come up against Neill’s arm. Craning her neck, she looked out the bedroom door into the hall. The door had been closed. She’d closed it behind her when they’d come up to the bedroom.
The only person who would have opened it was Morgan. Was she up?
Ever so gently, she got up from the bed, grabbed her clothes and pulled them on without waking Neill. In the hall, she debated whether or not to check Morgan’s room. She decided against it, as she was quite sure Morgan had been the one to open their door, which meant she knew that Sherri had stayed the night. Creeping down the stairs, she went into the kitchen to find Morgan sitting at the kitchen table, the expression on her face one of apprehension. “Good morning,” Sherri managed.
“Is Dad okay?” Morgan asked. “I heard him crying last night.”
Sherri sat down across from Morgan, her heart opening to the child whose concern for her father was written on her every feature. “Yes, he was crying. There was an accident last night, and someone we both knew and cared about died.”
“Someone from school? When you were growing up?”
“Yes. Charlie Crawford went to school with us, and he was my husband’s brother.”
Morgan looked surprised. “Are you all right? I mean, I’ve never had someone die like that. How do you feel?”
Sherri wanted to take the girl in her arms and hug her. With a complete sense of relief, she shared with Morgan what had happened and how it made her and Neill feel.
“I’m glad you were here for Dad last night. He doesn’t often tell me about patients who died, and I wouldn’t have known how to help him.”
“Morgan, I’m so relieved to hear you say that. I worried last night that you would be upset when you realized I’d stayed the night.”
Morgan bit her lip. “I was at first. After I heard him crying, I tiptoed to his door and heard your voice. I was angry with you, but then I heard you being so kind to my dad. I went back to my room and fell asleep for a little while. I woke up around dawn. I saw the two of you together in the bed.”
Sherri held her breath. “And?”
Morgan shook her head. “Dad was holding you close to him, and he was sound asleep. The two of you looked so peaceful. Dad and Mom had a huge king-size bed, and I used to come into their bedroom sometimes early in the morning. I never saw Dad with his arms wrapped around Mom the way he had them wrapped around you.”
This nine-year-old child could piece that all together for herself. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. I wanted my parents back together. Mom didn’t have a boyfriend. When Dad didn’t have a girlfriend, I thought he still loved Mom, that all they needed was more time together to work things out between them.” She rubbed her arms and looked away. “I guess I was wrong.”
“Morgan, I realize how difficult it’s been for you to find your father in love with me, and it’s all happened so fast. We’ve done so many things wrong in the past, which nearly caused us to give up on each other, but now we have another chance. Only this time we have you in our lives.”
Morgan looked at her, her gaze searching, assessing. “Is that... I mean...” She rubbed her cheeks vigorously. “Are you okay with that?”
“I am. I truly am. I love your father with all my heart. I would do anything for him. His happiness means everything to me.”
Morgan’s eyes swam with tears. “I never heard my mom say that about my dad.”
Feeling Morgan’s agony like a physical force, she pulled her into her arms, hugging her close, smoothing her curls. Somehow, she had to relieve this child’s pain. “Tell you what? Why don’t we have a bite of breakfast and let your father sleep. He’s tired and probably won’t surface until noon. We could even go shopping in Portland at the outlet malls. What do you think?”
Morgan gave her a slow smile. “I might want to look at lipstick.”
“Looking is good. Buying might require a little negotiation.”
“I do need some clothes, and with Mom away in China...”
“I could sub in for her, if you’d like.”
Morgan high-fived her. “It’s a deal. Can we hit the road now? I really want to go to L.L.Bean. They have cool sports things, and I’m starting soccer this summer.”
“We could grab a bite at the Sage Bistro on the way out of town,” Sherri offered, excited and thrilled to be taking Morgan shopping.
With a smile transforming her face, Morgan went to the counter. “I’ll write a note and leave it for Dad. He doesn’t like to shop, so he’ll be glad we went without him. Besides, he needs his beauty rest.” She gave Sherri a crooked smile.
“We’ll have to stop at my place so I can change my clothes and take my insulin.”
“What about a car? You came here in Dad’s car.”
“Put in your note that we’ll leave his car at my place until we get back from Portland. I doubt he’ll be going anywhere today, and we’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Great. I’ll wash my face, comb my hair and put on clean jeans. I showered yesterday,” Morgan said on the way out of the kitchen. When she came back down the stairs, they left the house quietly so as not to wake Neill.
They stopped at Sherri’s house before heading to the bistro. It had just opened, and they were the first customers. They ordered two morning glory breakfasts consisting of an omelet, toast and juice, only to discover that they were both starving.
The drive to the outlet malls was filled with Morgan’s excited chatter about her friends, her school and how much she hoped she could get the barn fixed up as a hangout for her and her friends.
After a few hours of intense shopping, they had filled the backseat with parcels and Morgan was hungry again. They stopped at McDonald’s on the highway heading back to Eden Harbor.
“This has been so much fun. Maybe we can bring Tara next time,” Morgan said.
“Do you think Tara’s mother would agree?”
“Oh, yeah. Tara gets to do pretty much everything she wants. She has a boyfriend.” Morgan bit into her hamburger as Sherri nibbled on her chicken Caesar salad, remembering how Neill had expressed his concerns about the preteen dating scene. She had thought nine was way too young to be worrying about dating. Talk about being wrong!
“Sherri, do you think I’m too young to have a boyfriend?”
“That’s a tough question. I think that maybe you should focus on your friends, your schoolwork and sports for now.”
“Why can’t I have a boyfriend?”
“You’re asking me? I didn’t have a boyfriend until grade ten.”
“Was there something wrong with you?” Morgan covered her mouth, her eyes round. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
Sherri chuckled. “Most of the boys in my class were my friends. I liked having friends who happened to be boys. Do you have friends who are boys?”
“Yeah, I do.” Morgan put her hamburger down. “They’re fun some of the time.”
“Well, your dad and I were friends before we started dating.”
“So you think I should just be friends with boys for now?” Morgan frowned.
How was she going to get herself out of this discussion? She was a long way from being an expert on anything having to do with relationships. “Try it and see. You’ve got lots of time to decide.”
Morgan sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
They chatted about Morgan’s classmates, her cell phone and her friends. “Morgan, I want you to know that being out with you today has helped me a great deal.”
A suspicious frown appeared on the girl’s
face and then vanished. “How?”
“Charlie Crawford was my friend, and I feel really bad for him and his family. But being with you has made it easier.”
A pleased expression settled on Morgan’s face. “Why?”
“Because you kept me from being sad. I need to be there for your father, to help him get over what happened, and because of you I feel I can do it.”
“Really?” Her voice was eager.
“Yes.”
Morgan’s hug caught her by surprise. “You’re so cool.”
* * *
NEILL WOKE UP around noon. When he went looking for Sherri and Morgan, he found the note his daughter had written. He smiled at the message, written in his daughter’s large, carefully printed letters. So the two of them were out shopping and would be home in a few hours.
He wasn’t hungry, so he settled for coffee. Feeling restless, he went out to the front veranda and brought in the newspaper. The headlines were all about last night’s accident. There were the usual comments about speeding and highway issues, and a short piece from the officer in charge of the accident scene. No mention of the victims until all family members had been notified.
Feeling a profound sense of sadness, he put the paper down and finished his coffee. He didn’t want to think about Charlie today, at least not until Sherri came home. The sense of failure still haunted him, despite his pleasant memories of Sherri staying over at his home the night before.
Home. Would they be sharing this house together? They hadn’t discussed it, but he hoped this would be where they’d start their new life together. There’d been so many little things he’d wanted to do around the house and precious little time to do them. He glanced at the clock. He might have a few hours today to knock some of the things off his list, and he needed physical exercise to ease the stress from the hours he’d spent in Emergency.
There was no point in doing anything in the barn until he had a crew to help him, as there were old farm implements, worn-out lawn mowers and years of junk piled everywhere. He had planned to paint the railing on the front veranda. He even had the paint and brushes he’d bought at the hardware store the other day.
Gathering what he needed, he went out to the front porch into the sunshine. The bright light made him feel much better, much more upbeat than he had last night. He stood staring out across the wide expanse of lawn and across the street to where the ocean was visible through the trees, and he felt so grateful to be living in this community.
The scent of the pine trees off to the side of the house filled his nostrils as he opened the white paint and spread his painting tarp on the veranda floor. Dipping the brush into the paint, he began the back-and-forth strokes required to paint the posts, the movement soothing in an odd way. He brushed carefully but with determination. He could finish the railing before Sherri and Morgan returned if he really pushed himself.
A couple of hours later, his shoulders aching with the strain, he put the top back on the paint, cleaned the paintbrush and went to sit on the top step. The veranda was done.
He was sitting there, basking in the heat of the June sun, when a car slowed down and turned in his driveway. Sherri was driving his SUV, with Morgan in the front seat beside her, and both of them were smiling. His heart filled with love at the sight of them. An overwhelming sense of need for them arced through him as he watched them emerge from the car and come toward him. “Well, by the look of the number of bags, you gals cleaned out a few stores,” he teased.
“That we did,” Sherri said as they approached the steps.
Dumping the parcels at the foot of the steps, they sat down on either side of him, happiness radiating from them. He enveloped them in his arms.
Morgan leaned into her father. “Dad, Sherri is so cool. She let me shop wherever I wanted. We bought a whole bunch of stuff, and you owe her a lot of money.”
“I do?” He kissed Sherri—a warm, heartfelt kiss. “Do they still have debtors’ prison?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, kissing him back. “But something could be arranged, if you’d like to be imprisoned.”
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll have to find another form of payment.”
“Like what?” she asked, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs.
“Like maybe you come here to live...with us. I would buy your groceries, provide the heat and electricity. A lot of heat?” He arched his eyebrow in question.
She kissed his neck. “Would I have my own room?”
He fought the urge to drag her upstairs. “Definitely not. You have to share mine.”
Sherri glanced past him to Morgan. “What do you think, Morgan? Should I accept your dad’s offer?”
“It’s up to you. But if I were you, I’d take it.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad isn’t getting any younger. And someday I won’t be here to look after him.”
“Hey, wait a minute! I’m not that old!”
Morgan gave him a wide smile. “Gotcha, Dad.”
Neill could see that Sherri was struggling not to burst out laughing. “See what I have to put up with?” he said, trying for an injured tone.
“I’d say you’re pretty lucky.” Sherri pressed her body into his.
If ever there was a moment—one worth remembering forever...
“Sherri, will you marry me?”
Her eyes glowed as a smile transformed her face. “I will.”
“What about me?” Morgan asked. “Do I get to say anything here?”
“Sure, but make it fast.”
Morgan moved away from her father’s embrace and wagged her finger at the two of them. “If you’re getting married, I want to be a bridesmaid. I want a light green dress with tiny flowers.” She rambled on about what she wanted to wear and how soon could they go shopping again. How if they were really going to live in this house, they needed a dog so Neill and Sherri could get exercise in their old age. She stopped her chatter just long enough to check for a response.
It was clear to anyone who looked at them: Sherri and Neill had heard none of what Morgan had said.
“Dad, pay attention. I’m talking about our future—the three of us. About your wedding.”
“Wedding plans can wait,” he said, gazing at his beautiful fiancée, his eyes brimming with love.
* * * * *
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CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS STILL dark when Audrey Mathews used her swipe card to enter Makers Hardware Cooperative’s headquarters on the southern outskirts of Melbourne. Her new shoes pinched her feet as she made her way to her office, but she figured the pain was worth it. The new CEO, Henry Whitman, started today, and she wanted to look sleek and professional and sharp when she met him. She wanted him to take one look at her and know she was up for anything he might throw at her—including a promotion.
Hence her best suit and new shoes and sleek updo.
Her stomach did a slow roll as she remembered the profile on Whitman she’d read over the weekend. She was a big bel
iever in being prepared, and she’d dug up a bunch of old Business Review Weekly articles on her new boss. To an article, they described him as ruthless, hard-nosed and utterly unsentimental; a man who habitually cut companies to the bone to produce results. One article had even reported that his employees referred to him as the Executioner.
Formidable stuff. But she figured if he was so focused on results, he would appreciate someone who was goal-oriented and hardworking and ambitious.
And nervous. Don’t forget nervous.
Because even though she was prepared to do her damnedest to prove herself—including waking up at the crack of dawn to make a positive first impression—if Whitman ran true to form, there were going to be a lot of retrenchments in the next weeks and months, and there was a chance she might be one of them. Which was why she’d updated her résumé this weekend, too.
She might be an optimist, but she wasn’t stupid.
She checked her watch. One of the articles she’d read claimed Henry Whitman started work at six-thirty every day, without fail. Which meant he should be arriving any second now.
She gathered an armful of papers and strode toward reception. No matter where he entered, Whitman had to pass through the foyer to get to the executive offices, and she planned on being very visible when he did so.
She felt more than a little foolish as she took up a position to the rear of the foyer. For all she knew, Henry Whitman might not even register her when he arrived. Or maybe he’d see right through her ploy and mark her down as a horrible little suck-up.
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she should give up on this crazy idea, go back to her desk and use her early start to put a dent in her workload instead of trying to manipulate events.
She wavered for a moment, but something inside wouldn’t let her back away from her plan to be noticed. Probably it was the same something that kept her at her desk many nights when most of her colleagues had gone home. If she had to try to distill it down to its component parts, she guessed it would be one part making up for lost time and two parts sheer grit and determination to carve out a useful, productive niche for herself in the world.
The Doctor Returns Page 26