Taken By The Heart (4 Contemporary Romance Novellas)

by Sierra Rose

  He waited for her to get into the car and start it before he began walking away.

  Chapter 7

  The hospital ran on constant busy and seven o’clock in the morning wasn’t any different. Charity carried a tray with two coffees. She had debated about grabbing a third for Elijah but chickened out.

  The elevator opened on the sixth floor. Charity walked by the nurses’ station and noticed they were going over shift change and the patients’ charts. Her father would be in his office and she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Elijah’s lights off and office door closed, though she was a little disappointed.

  She straightened her shoulders and tapped on her father’s door before walking in. “Good morning.”

  Her father looked up from his desk. “I didn’t know you were an early riser.”

  Did he always have to find a way to make her feel just a little bit less? “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Dad.” She pulled her coffee from the tray and dropped the tray and his cup on his desk, purposely on a stack of papers but knowing it wouldn’t spill. “I brought you a coffee. Decaf.”

  His brows shot up in surprise. He quickly moved the tray from the papers but did open the coffee and take a few sips. “Thank you. Your mother used to come every morning and bring me one.”

  “I know,” Charity said as she sat down across from him. “It was on the way to school. I always waited in the car.” She didn’t want to share a special memory of her mom with him. He’d ruined that years ago.

  He took another sip and stared down at the papers in front of him. They both avoided looking at each as they drank from their cups. He finally broke the silence when he cleared his throat. “I like the venue and idea you came up with last night.”

  “Good.” She needed to take the sullen child act down a notch. “I’m glad. I think it’s going to be a big success.”

  “Yes, that would be nice. I have no interest in throwing a party for myself, but if it can make the hospital some money, I guess I’ll just have to keep my head down and get on with it.”

  Interesting. She would have thought he’d love the attention. “I’ll confirm the date for…” She pulled out her phone and skipped to the calendar six months from now. “March twenty-sixth? That’s a Saturday. It’s after Saint Patrick’s Day and spring break, which will help. No conflicting parties.”

  “That’s fine.” He wrote the date on a piece of paper.

  “I will probably need to be here again next weekend to check caterers and a few other things.”

  He nodded and began rummaging through a desk drawer. “Here it is.” He held an envelope in his hand. “We haven’t discussed your rates or fees.”

  Charity blinked. She hadn’t come this morning to talk about money, except maybe the amount she hoped they would raise. “I was only planning on charging the hospital for my expenses.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No. I –”

  “Yes!” She spoke louder. “Look, you can get your accountants to make up some tax write off for my time, but as long as some of my expenses are covered, that’s all I want.”

  “Charity.” Her father sighed and shook his head. He handed her the envelope. “Here’s a credit card in your name. It’s to cover all your expenses and for hall booking, catering, and whatever else needs to be purchased.”

  “Fine.” She took the envelope and stuffed it in her purse. “It’s handy to put it in my name. I appreciate that.”

  “When will you be coming up again?”

  She leaned back in the chair. “I need to come again next weekend to confirm everything with the hall, and I should also start looking at caterers and a few other things. I know it’s a bit last minute, but would you be able to get an email or letter out to people at the hospital who would be interested in volunteering? I can draft the letter for you and then you send it out?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’ll be informal but if we throw in an open dinner, like pizza or something, people will come. We’ll do it here at the hospital on Saturday night. I’ll draft the letter shortly and email it to you.”

  “For next Saturday?”

  “It’s last minute, I know, but we’re working on a bit of a tight schedule. We’ll plan another proper one later in a month or two. From past experience, those who come out next weekend are the ones that will be the worker bees. It sounds bad the way I said but it’s the easiest way to explain it. They’ll spread the word because they are excited about a night out and will want to be part of the event. These volunteers are the true heart of making a fundraiser a success.”

  “Really?” Her father looked skeptical.

  “People need to know me. I’m going to be here regularly for the next six months, asking people for favors and getting organized like I own the place.” She didn’t miss the spark in her father’s eye when she said that. “I need to introduce myself and make sure people will recognize me the next time we meet. If I can find a few people, a couple of connections, it’ll make a big difference.” She’d need to remember their faces as well.

  Her father shrugged. “Consider it done.”

  “I’ll take care of the food, drinks, everything. You just get a conference room reserved here and have the email sent out.”

  “Sounds go—” He was interrupted by an announcement on the PA system paging him. “Shoot! I need to go.”

  “No problem. I’m going to head down to the cafeteria and get the letter written up. It’ll be done before I have to head out to the airport.”

  Her father was already at the door, slipping his white coat on. He disappeared down the hall.

  “Bye, Dad,” she said to the empty room. She jumped up and threw her purse over her shoulder and roughly grabbed her things. Her phone vibrated, catching her attention. She sighed and forced herself to relax before checking the message.

  I hear you’re here. Come see me! It’s me, your BFF in case you forgot about me, Juls

  “Julie!” Charity slapped her forehead. Julie had been her first and only roommate in university. They had been great buds ever since and she worked at her dad’s hospital. She was a doctor and had married a doctor. Shoot, Charity had been in their wedding party. Julie would never forgive her if she didn’t stop by.

  She checked her watch. It’d be tight, but it could be done. She jogged down the hall and dialed Julie’s number. She slowed to a walk and paused by the nurses’ station when she got Julie’s voicemail.

  “Juls! I’m at the hospital now, about to head down to the cafeteria. Come meet me.” She hung up and started to pin Julie the same message. That would be quicker.

  “Have you met Dr. Bennet?” One of the nurses spoke to another behind where Charity stood. Charity didn’t mean to eavesdrop but she couldn’t resist.

  A young nurse giggled. “Mr. Hotness? Did you know he has a tattoo?”

  The other nurse let out a silly, excited laugh. “The medical symbol? I’ve seen it.”

  Another nurse walked by Charity, ignoring her and heading straight over to the other nurses. “Most of us have seen it, newbie.”

  Charity rolled her eyes and walked to the elevator. She pressed the button. Dr. Elijah Bennet. Couldn’t say she was completely surprised.

  Chapter 8

  Stripes of bright light shone on Charity’s face. She tried leaning her head back and then dropping her chin down but the lines wouldn’t leave her be. Her eyes fluttered open and closed again as she rolled to her other side. Her apartment. She’d made it back late last night and only half closed the blinds before dropping onto her bed.

  Rays of sunshine reminded her the day had already begun. She rolled onto her back, grabbed her phone off the nightstand and scrolled through her messages.

  Julie had sent her a selfie shot of the two of them. Her dark brown curls, hazel eyes and tanned skin made Charity look like she lived in New York and Julie lived in Atlanta. Both of them were smiling and for a selfie, the picture had turned out really good.
r />   She scrolled down the picture and read the message:

  Great catching up yesterday. Let’s plan on going out at night next time you are here. So glad you took the job. It’ll be good for you… and for Dr. Thompson. See you next weekend. Simon’ll be there too.

  Charity laughed at the last line. Simon would use every excuse in the book to avoid going. Julie would have to drag him there. Free beer might tempt him to stay a tad longer.

  She checked her watch. Quick shower, breakfast on the way to her office and she’d have the whole day to work.

  Forty minutes later she stepped off the elevator and headed to her office. This floor at Forever Hope had a number of doctors’ offices set on it. Malcolm’s office was further down the hall, hers right by the elevator. It was quiet for a Sunday morning.

  She set the large box she carried on the floor and unlocked the door. The room had been completely transformed from the first time she’d seen it just a few days ago. The polished wood floor now gleamed, the one large wall had been painted with chalk paint, and she’d set up a shelf on the far side now stocked with chalk, erasers, pens, paper, and anything else brainstorming meetings might require. A large round table with comfy office chairs surrounded it. The mini food bar was stocked with little snacks to tempt anyone who looked at it. The place looked… perfect.

  The box. She turned around to grab it and nearly collided with Malcolm. He stood at the doorway, holding the box she’d left outside. He looked every inch the doctor, dress pants and button up under a lab coat.

  “Hi, stranger.” He smiled. “I stepped off the elevator and heard noise coming from this direction. The…” His eyes drifted past her to the room. “Wow! This looks awesome.”

  Charity stepped to the side. “You really think so? I mean, I love it, but it’s good to get an outsider’s opinion.”

  Malcolm set the box on the table and pointed to the painted chalk wall. “I love this. I could use it in my room.”

  Charity smiled. “I’m not sure the chief of Forever Hope needs a scribble wall. Might not match the professional look of your room.”

  “Who cares? It’s super cool.” He walked over and took a piece of chalk out, drawing a little square house and the sun.

  “That’s quite the drawing.”

  Malcolm stepped back and pretended to admire it. “I like to get in touch with my inner self and basic shapes.”

  “Looks like a Picasso.” She had to press her lips tight together to hold in the laughter.

  “You’ve got a very good eye for exquisite art.” He chuckled before grabbing an eraser and wiping the drawing away. “Need to keep my secret talent under wraps.”

  “Gotchya.”

  “So what are you doing here on a weekend? I thought you were in New York?”

  “I got back last night and wanted to get some work done here. I’m almost finished with the first press release.”

  “Did you settle on a catch phrase?”

  She pulled the file out of the box and set it on the table. “I actually have a few ideas. No major tongue twisters, but I do like the idea of something people can easily remember. It’s going to end up being the theme for the next two years.”

  Malcolm sat in one of the leather chairs and leaned back. He tested the rollers on the seat. “I may be stealing one of these and leaving my office chair in its place.”

  “Artist and thief? That’s a deadly combination.” Charity sat down across from him. “What do you think of Fixing Hope? Or Hope Reborn?”

  “Hope Reborn sounds interesting.”

  “I have a few more. I started with finishing a catchy phrase with the word hope. Except hope is used everywhere. So I came up with a few phrases using forever. Forever Hopeful, and a bunch more like that. Nothing puts the hospital as the focus. You guys perform miracles here, you save people’s lives.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s it!”

  Malcolm glanced around. “What’s it?”

  “Saving Forever. We’re saving the hospital and fixing it just like the doctors here save patients.” She scribbled it down on the top of the first page. “Simple, relatable and remember-able.”

  “It’s perfect.” He grinned, his eyes bright with mischief. “If people will remember it, why are you writing it down?”

  “I don’t know. Force of habit probably.” She set the pen down. “So why are you in today?”

  “I’m on call and I also scheduled a surgery for a patient who can’t wait.”

  She didn’t want to be curious but she couldn’t help. She hadn’t quit med school because she didn’t love what it was about. “Can’t wait?”

  He pointed at her. “Dr. Thompson’s daughter is a chip off the old block, I believe.” He leaned forward, excited. “She’s thirteen and is about to regain her sight.”

  “No freakin’ way!? Very cool.”

  “I know! I love this job. She lost it from an accident about eight months ago and the swelling has finally gone done enough to remove the scar tissue. She has minimal blurry vision, but after today… well let’s just say she’ll be able to see her date for prom.” He stood. “Unfortunately, I need to get ready. I don’t want to make her wait any longer.” He paused by the door. “I got the message regarding you helping your father with a charity night for his birthday. I’m sure it’ll be a big success. When you’re here on a weekend let me know, there are some local restaurants you need to try out.”

  Still thinking about the girl about to go in surgery, Charity nodded her head. “Sure. I’ll be up in New York next weekend, but if everything goes well, I should be around the following one.”

  “Let me know. Have a great day.” He smiled and closed the door as he left.

  She sat up quickly. Had Malcolm just asked her out?

  Chapter 9

  I’ll drive, Dad. Why had she offered? Her flight had arrived about an hour and a half ago. Since then she’d basically run a whirlwind marathon. She’d checked into her hotel, met with the owner of the heritage building, gone over dates, and promised she would give the guy a definite location and deposit by the end of the evening. So she had to rush to the hospital and convince her father to see the location. Her gut told her this was the place; now she had to get her father to agree.

  Charity parallel parked the car and reached for her purse to get change for the parking meter. They had just spent the last fifteen minutes in silence. She had pretended to focus on the roads; her dad appeared busy on his phone.

  She tightened her jacket belt and walked around the car to the parking meter. As her father got out, he slipped his phone into his breast pocket.

  “The parking garage is less than a block away.” She pointed in the south east direction. “People will be able to park there. From previous experience, I’ve dealt with a taxi service and have been able to hire two or three drivers for an evening. We pay the taxi a flat fee for the evening. It’s only for driving people home.” They began walking to the old theatre, passing beautiful, old heritage houses and offices as they made their way. “It’s a bit of a cost but a big win in the end. People who have been drinking don’t risk driving, those who took a taxi down get the benefit of not having to pay for one home – which tends to get them spending more at the benefit and it gives them something to talk about. It sounds silly, I know, but it works.”

  “It’s a great idea.”

  She glanced over at her dad, surprised at the compliment. “I did a charity stint out in LA about two years ago, for a fire station actually. One of the firefighters’ brother-in-law owned an independent taxi service and offered to have three of his drivers work the evening. He paid them their hourly service, got a write-off for the time and money spent, and the drivers made a boat-load off the tips. Everyone was happy, so I tried the same thing at my next contract and it worked great again.” She shrugged, now embarrassed for telling him the whole thing instead of taking credit.

  “One of the nurses on the post-op floor… I think her husband owns a taxi service. Or her brother or so
mething.” He shook his head and scrunched one side of his mouth.

  Charity knew he was trying to go through a previous conversation and remember who the connection was. He did the same thing when she lived at home and Mom used to always tease him and ask if he was rewinding the video in his brain again.

  “It’s her sister’s husband.” He waved his hand. “The nurse’s name is Anne. She’ll be going to tomorrow night’s cocktail party. I’ll introduce you to her.”

  “Perfect.”

  The concert hall was built out of old limestone, the early nineteen hundreds era of gallant stone and design. Ivy had spent the past few decades trying to take over the outside of the building, but had recently been removed, and the building sandblasted to look like it originally had.

  “The new owner is an architect. He gutted everything inside but still kept the theme. Wait till you see it. It’s not completely finished, but Mr. Bott assured me it will be done in the next three to four months. The majority of the construction part is done, it’s just the painting and flooring now.” She pulled a key out of her pocket and a small note with the alarm number on it. “Let me just get this security-thing turned off.” She unlocked the door and slipped inside to punch the numbers in while her father waited by the door.

  She flipped a bunch of the switches for the lights on and pulled the heavy original antique door open. “Come and see.”

  Her father raised a weary eye as he stepped through the doorframe but his face lit up at the size of the entrance.

  “Mr. Bott kept the coat check area original.” She pointed to the oak-sided window with two old wooden openings for people to pass and collect their coats through. “The ceiling is the original double story height, and the main floor is actually below ground. The theatre was built to house most paying customers up here and for drinks and box office seats. Wait till you step through the frosted glass doors and see.” Charity glanced up at the doors, seeing the bright reflection of the chandelier prisms through the frosted glass. Like thousands of diamonds. “Come, see.”