by JoAnn Durgin
“They’re fine. It’s nothing like that.” Sam’s brow creased and he met her concerned gaze. “It’s Merle. He, um”—he swallowed the hard lump in his throat—“he was in an accident last night. Bad one. He survived, but barely. They lost him for a few minutes, but they managed to revive him.”
“Oh, no!” Moisture quickly filled Sarah’s eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks. Seeing her cry twisted him inside, rendering him with a sense of helplessness he’d never before experienced. Moving quickly to the other side of the booth, he slid in beside her, gathering her in his arms. Yanking a napkin from the dispenser on the table, he handed it to her. Sam held her, blocking out everyone and everything else, absorbing her trembling body and soft sobs.
Sarah’s tears soaked through the napkin. Tossing it on the tabletop, she then buried her face against his chest. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”
“That’s what it’s for.” The other patrons in the diner were quiet. He noted Myrna moving among the tables, no doubt telling them what happened. Perhaps he should escort Sarah outside the diner and take her somewhere more private, but several of the ladies in the diner were now also openly crying. Even some of the men were wiping their eyes.
Sam hung his head. He’d shared about the Lord with Merle and tried to impress upon him the need for a solid anchor in his life. Based on the way he’d shown up to work faithfully every day, even though only for a short time, Merle seemed to be straightening out his life.
Leaning his head against Sarah’s, the sweet-smelling scent of her hair giving him its own comfort, Sam began to pray. “Dear Jesus, I pray what I’ve shared with Merle might have made an impression upon him. We don’t have the answers, but you do.”
Sarah squeezed his hand. “Father, no man’s life should be full of disappointment and regret.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. The others in the diner remained quiet, and a number of the other customers had also bowed their heads and nodded at her words. “We ask that you bless Merle, and if it’s in your will, please heal him. If he’s spared, let us all help Merle in whatever way we can, as you’ve given to each one of us unique talents and abilities.”
When she said nothing further, Sam ended the prayer. “We ask these things in the name of your precious Son. Amen.”
“Amen,” Sarah whispered. She wiped beneath her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks for praying.”
Leaving his arm around her, he nodded. “Sometimes prayer is all we have. And it’s the best thing.”
“I need to tell you something.” Sarah scooted farther down on the seat, giving him more room. “Merle was here in the diner just last night. Must have been right before the accident. It seems he took Pastor McDonald’s message from Second Timothy to heart. The one he heard when he was in church. About fighting the good fight and finishing the race. He said it’s only the second time he’s been in a church in his entire life except for weddings or funerals.”
Sam nodded. “He took off right after church that morning. I wish I could have talked with him. I should have talked with him since. It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity at the bank.”
Cupping his jaw with one hand, Sarah’s lips were soft as she graced him with a sweet kiss. “You invited him, you know.”
“I always invite people to come to church, but—”
“He’s watched you at the bank, Sam. Without giving me any details, Merle said he admires the way you handle situations and especially the way you deal with people. He said he didn’t know a numbers man could be so normal and human.”
Sam scratched his chin and allowed a small smile. “Did he now?” His five o’clock shadow felt rough beneath his fingers.
“Merle’s perspective was something I never would have thought about on my own,” Sarah told him. “He said he’s never felt capable or worthy enough to participate in the race, much less to win one. I’ve been a Christian so long that maybe I can’t fully understand how others feel. People who don’t understand what being a believer means because they didn’t have parents or anyone to take them to church or read a Bible to them. People who go through the motions without hope for anything after this life.” Sarah’s eyes met his, and she shrugged. Within seconds, as he watched, another tear streaked down her cheek.
“Ah, baby. Don’t cry.” Sarah rarely cried, but when she did, it socked him right in the gut.
“I tried to tell Merle how important and valued he is to God. The problem is, from what he told me, he’s never felt like he mattered. Not once. His dad wasn’t there for school programs. His mother cared more about going out and having a good time than cooking dinner for her son. Can you imagine what that’s like, Sam? To feel like your own parents don’t want you?” Another tear streaked down her face. “And the worst part of it? I’ve known Merle a long time and not once have I ever cared enough to speak with him about his salvation.”
She raised her hands in frustration. “What kind of nurse will I be if I can’t even care for the people who are hurting right in my own neighborhood, so to speak? I have no excuses.”
“You can’t help them if you don’t know they’re in pain. Merle stuck to himself. He didn’t have many friends. Not that it’s an excuse. The simple fact, Sarah—as much as we’d like it to be different—is that we can’t save the entire world. But, when circumstances present themselves, like with you and Merle, you took that opportunity, and you ran with it.”
The slightest hint of a smile pinched the corners of her lips. “I gave him a Bible, too. I always keep an extra one around in case it’s needed.”
“That’s great,” Sam said. “We have to believe he’ll be okay.” He tugged her closer, unbelievably touched by her compassion. More than ever, Sam determined he’d find a way to send Sarah to nursing school. A way she’d accept. It was probably already too late for the fall semester, but as much as anything else, he acknowledged that nothing was impossible when God was involved.
“You shared your heart with Merle, and we need to pray he’ll take your words to heart and read that Bible.” He felt as though he should say more. Sometimes, like now, the words wouldn’t come. “I wish I had all the answers, sweetheart. But I don’t.”
“I don’t expect you to have the answers, Sam. You’re here, and that’s all I can ask. We’ll let the Lord handle the rest.”
Chapter 41
♥
Two Days Later
Sam glanced up as his father walked into his office without knocking, as usual, and took a chair. He appeared more tired than usual, and the deep lines on his forehead seemed more pronounced, especially the vertical one between his brows. He’d admired his dad’s work ethic through the years, appreciated his diligence even more since he’d worked alongside him in the bank. His father represented integrity and honesty in a world gone morally and financially bankrupt in many ways.
“What’s up, Dad? Are you all right?” Sam lowered his pen to the ledger he’d been examining. Rising from his chair behind the desk, he sat opposite his father. With a start, he glanced out the window and realized the sun had already lowered in the sky. He’d been so involved with his work, he’d barely acknowledged the closing of the bank’s front doors and Gina’s goodbye.
“I’m fine, son. Just wanted to discuss a few things with you.”
“Sure. I’m all ears.”
“I’ve noticed your preoccupation lately.”
Sam’s brows rose in conjunction with his increased heart rate. “I hope my work performance hasn’t slipped in some way.”
“No, not exactly.”
“Dad, I’ve dedicated myself to my position and worked hard to—”
“I’m not questioning your work or your dedication.” With a frown, Joseph steepled his fingers, the same action he’d employed through the years. “I’m guessing your preoccupation has a lot to do with Sarah.”
Sam swallowed. Had he been that obvious to everyone? This was his dad, and he’d never lied or told a fib to this man. “You’re right. I have
no excuses.” He met his father’s eyes. “I’m in love with her.”
Joseph surprised him when he broke out in a wide grin. “Well, it’s about time you admitted it, son. Have you taken her up in Caty yet?”
Shaking his head, Sam sat back in his chair. “No, but I’m working my way up to it. I need to show her I’m not afraid to fly again, Dad.”
“I understand that, son.” He drummed his fingers on the top of Sam’s desk, his brow furrowed. “Sarah still plans on attending nursing school in Austin?”
“Yes, as soon as she can, but as you know, she turned down my offer to help.”
“You know, that move only endears her to me more. I wouldn’t have thought twice if she had accepted it, but there’s a part of me that admires her more for not taking it.” He tapped the top of Sam’s desk with one hand before meeting his gaze again. “A woman like that is strong, Sam. Like your mother, Sarah’s loyal and fiercely independent. However, those same qualities can sometimes work against a man.” He chuckled under his breath.
“What are you saying, Dad?”
Joseph leaned forward, planting both hands on the arms of his chair. “I have an idea I’d like to propose to you, son.”
♥
One Week Later
“Young lady, what do you think you’re doing with that creature in here?”
Busted. Slowly, Sarah turned to face the nurse barging into Merle’s hospital room. Might as well not try to hide the Beagle puppy she’d smuggled in beneath her cardigan sweater. She shot a help me! glance at Sam. He shrugged and grinned. Traitor.
“I’m leaving momentarily,” she said to the woman, hoping she sounded appropriately contrite.
Merle chuckled from the bed, a wonderful sound considering everything he’d been through in the past ten days. Three surgeries and two blood transfusions later, he was finally on the mend. “Cut her some slack, Nurse Martha. This is Nurse Sarah, and she didn’t mean no harm. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know. Except you,” he added, giving Martha a broad smile.
Sarah almost laughed out loud, but she managed to contain it. Sober Merle amused her. He wasn’t half-bad looking either with his hair combed and clean shaven. Her gaze moved to the Bible sitting on his nightstand. Sam had thrown a rock at her bedroom window the night before at two in the morning. When she’d snuck out onto the front porch to meet him, he’d told her that Merle had accepted the Lord as his personal Savior.
Martha wasn’t buying it. Her face seemed frozen in a perpetual frown, and she moved her hands to her hips. “If you’re a nurse, then you know better than to bring an animal into a hospital. They’re dirty and can bring in germs.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll just be leaving now. Merle, be good.” Sarah gave him a wink. “Remember, God’s got big plans for you.”
“Right back at ya. Thanks for watchin’ out for Patches for me until I can get back home.”
Sam walked beside her as they took the stairs back down to the ground floor and exited the building together. Holding the adorable puppy in her arms, Sarah murmured sweet nothings and kissed his head.
“I never thought I’d be jealous of a puppy.” Sam opened the car door for her. “With all those litters we helped bring into the world, I never could have guessed we’d end up together, conspirators in crime no less.”
“Yes, but isn’t it grand?” She gave him a blinding smile. “Stop pouting, Captain. It’s not very becoming, is it, Patches?” To tease him, she made a big show of showering the puppy with kisses.
“You’re nutty, and a disgrace to your intended profession. Smuggling an animal into a hospital. For shame.” He shook his head but laughed when she swatted his arm. “I’m getting ready to drive us home now. Be nice to me and Volvo, especially since I made an exception for you to bring a dog along in the first place.”
“You have a no-pet policy for Volvo? In that case, I have some serious doubts about whether or not this relationship will work.”
“Oh, it’ll work, Sarah.” Sam gave her a smile and pulled the car out of the parking lot.
As he drove, she played with Patches and then began singing the Dickie Lee song by that name.
“Are you making that up?” Sam darted a skeptical glance her way.
Sarah stopped singing. “The song?” She stroked the puppy’s head and gave him another quick kiss. “It happens to be the title of a popular song called ‘Patches.’ It’s on the jukebox at the diner. You have to agree it’s a perfect name for this little guy, especially since he has these adorable patches of color around his eyes and nose.” She traced her finger over the spots.
Sam nodded. “The Barton’s dog, Ladybelle, timed that litter well for Merle’s sake. Great idea, by the way.”
“Thanks. Did you see the way Merle perked up as soon as he got a glimpse of Patches? I just felt so bad when he told me that he’d always felt so alone. No one should be alone in the world. Right, Patches?”
“So, the Bartons are keeping Patches until Merle comes home and can take care of him?”
“That’s the plan,” Sarah said. “You know I’d love to keep him, but with work and. . .”
“You’ll have a dog again in the future, Sarah. Probably more than one. For now, you can rest assured that you’ve done a good deed for Merle.”
“I hope so.”
Sam pointed to a billboard on the side of the road close to the Rockbridge exit off the highway. “There’s the Perry’s Diner sign.”
Sarah straightened in the seat and Sam slowed down as they passed the sign. “It’s very nice even if the waitresses wear the ugliest orthopedic shoes in the world.” She laughed when he shot her a look.
“I think on Nurse Sarah, they’ll look very sexy.”
She laughed. “You’re crazy. Just drive, Captain.”
♥
As he listened to one of the elders deliver the Sunday morning message, Sam felt something flit past the back of his head. Thinking it was a large bug, he ran his hand over his hair. A few seconds later, he felt it again. He startled when something flew past him and hit the pew rack in front of him. Bouncing off the hymnal, it fell to the floor.
Sam retrieved it and had to stop himself from bursting out with laughter. He stared at the balled white paper—a classic Sarah Jordan spitball—and rotated it in his hands. He caught his dad’s smile and mother’s slight frown. Half the congregation must have seen those flying spitballs. Unless they were napping. That was a strong possibility since the sanctuary was stifling hot today. Everywhere he looked, the ladies were fanning themselves and most everyone seemed uncomfortably hot. Unbuttoning the top of his shirt, Sam loosened his collar and tie. Because of the record heat, he hadn’t bothered wearing his suit coat.
She’d never written a personal note on a spitball before, but he sensed today might be different. He started to open it, but the paper rustled with his movements, making too much noise. Not wanting to draw undue attention to himself—probably already too late for that, anyway—Sam paused every few seconds and focused on the message. Poor Gary Sanders looked so nervous. He alternated between wiping his face with his hankie every other minute and gripping the edge of the pulpit. Considering the message was the next passage in Matthew directly following the one Pastor McDonald had given the week before, he figured Gary was reading a prepared sermon.
Not wanting to be disrespectful, Sam waited until the organist began to play the closing hymn and everyone rose to their feet. Opening the balled wad of paper, he didn’t bother to hide his smile.
Meet me at the creek at two o’clock. ~sarah j.
The spitball he held in his hands only confirmed his plan to help Sarah find her way to Austin sooner rather than later.
♥
Opening the front door, Sarah found Sam lounging against the porch railing, a leather glove on one hand as he tossed a softball in the air.
“Hey, Sport. Ready to practice?”
“I beg your pardon?” She laughed and ran a hand over her hair. “I thought we w
ere going to meet at the creek at two. That’s what my spitball said.”
“Change of plans to prove your adaptability and flexibility”—he grinned—“quite literally for that last one. We’re going to the ball field. Time to work on your fastball and your swing.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Come with me, and I’ll explain on the way.”
She shot him a why would I do that? glance.
“You seem to need me to sweeten the deal.” He moved closer and lounged against the doorframe. He gave her a cockeyed, more handsome than sin—as Debbie would say—smile. She hadn’t fully understood that description until this moment. “Come with me now and I’ll treat you to dinner one night this week at Quentin’s.”
Her brows rose. “That’s a mighty tempting offer, Mr. Lewis. Quentin’s, eh? Pretty fancy schmancy, but I suppose a hifalutin’ banker like you can afford it.”
“So, what do you say?” He batted his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner, making her laugh.
“I say you’re on, but make it a picnic in Oak Park or at the creek instead. That’s every bit as romantic, and maybe even more so. Just give me a couple of minutes to change and I’ll be right out.”
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing now?” Sam’s admiring gaze skimmed over her, making her heated in an entirely different way than the outdoor temperature. “You look mighty fine to me. Plus, you’ll probably get dirty, anyway, so what’s the point?”
Laughing, Sarah gave her shorts and TeamWork T-shirt a quick once-over glance. “True. I’ll grab my key. Hang on a second.” She could hear him tossing and catching the ball as she darted into the bedroom. Glancing in the mirror, she groaned. What a sight. Sam must really love her to see her in this disheveled state and not run in the opposite direction. Her hair was messy and—she leaned closer to the mirror—good heavens, was that dirt smudged on her cheek? She’d been doing some laundry and household chores and expected to cool off in the creek, not work up a sweat playing ball. Even so, the thought of playing softball again thrilled her, but what made Sam think of this idea? No matter the reason, she loved it. She loved him.