by Marta Perry
The decision she’d struggled with for the past week had already been made. She would stay in Crossroads. She didn’t see her way clear yet, didn’t have any idea how or where she would set up her practice again, but at least this much she knew—she was meant to be here.
She followed the woman into the kitchen, standing at the window to watch as the sun chased the shadows away. The sizzle of bacon in the pan reminded her of how long it had been since she’d eaten, but even without food, she felt energized. Strong. As if she could face whatever came and deal with it.
She hadn’t been dealing with anything lately—not the loss of her house, not the situation with Ted. Instead she’d hidden, letting her family coddle and protect her.
The words she’d spoken to Susie came back to her. Happiness is worth fighting for. She’d been trying to encourage the tired young mother, but the words were true. And they applied to her, didn’t they?
In the past week, she hadn’t fought for anything. She’d withdrawn, just as she always did when faced with the risk of pain and rejection.
Understanding why she did that didn’t make it right. She’d risked rejection when she’d approached the Flanagans, and she had a whole, loving family as a result. She’d risked again when she’d tried to mend the breach with her mother’s family. She still wasn’t sure how much the pain of Levi’s arrest would affect them, but they’d stood by her while her house burned, and that was something.
Risk. Pain. Happiness. With every step toward belonging, there was a risk. There was a cost. Was she ready to face that?
Maybe the answer had been deep inside her all along. She had to face Ted once again. She had to risk hearing him say that it couldn’t work between them. If he did, well, she’d live with that. But she wouldn’t hide from the risk. Happiness was worth fighting for.
* * *
It was midmorning by the time Fiona arrived in Crossroads, having left the happy family enjoying their time together. She’d promised to check in on Susie in a few hours, but she had plenty of time to track down Ted.
Her stomach quivering with nerves, she approached Ted’s office door. She opened it quickly, afraid that if she delayed for even a moment, she’d turn away.
The office was empty. She stood in the center of the small room, looking around. Odd that Ted would leave the door unlocked when he wasn’t here, but maybe he figured Crossroads was safe again now that the vandals had been identified. Even the coffeepot was cold and empty.
She’d keyed herself up to face him, and now she was totally deflated. What should she do now? She turned to the door and there he was, hand on the knob.
She took a breath, trying to still the nerves that danced at the very sight of him. “Ted.”
“Fiona, I thought you were still with Susie.” He shoved his hat back on his head. “Is everything okay out there?”
“Just fine. They have a beautiful little boy.” The memory curved her lips into a smile, easing her tension. “Susie is doing great.”
“And Aaron? He didn’t pass out on you, did he?”
They were actually smiling together, something she hadn’t expected to see again. “He turned white a couple of times, but he held up beautifully. I’m sure he’ll soon be bragging about it.”
“I’ll bet he will.”
Silence fell between them. She couldn’t seem to look away from him, but neither could she find the words she wanted to say.
“Ted, I—”
He stopped her with a quick shake of his head. “Look, before you say anything, there’s something I want to show you. All right?”
She blinked, surprised. “All right.”
“Good.” He held the door open, ushering her out. “I’ll drive. It’s not far.”
She slid into the front seat of the patrol car that waited at the curb and looked curiously at the array of gadgets on the dash. “I’ve never been in a police car before. I’m very impressed.”
He smiled as he turned the ignition. “Don’t be. This is pretty low-tech compared to most modern departments.”
He pulled out into the street. Crossroads was never busy, but today it seemed more deserted than usual. Only one car was parked in front of the café, and even the post office didn’t appear to be doing any business.
“Where is everyone?” She glanced back along the street.
“Guess they’re all busy.” He tried to say it casually, but there was suppressed emotion in his voice that drew her attention.
“Is something happening that I should know about?”
He shot her a glance she couldn’t read. “Could be. Just be patient a second, and then you can tell me.”
He rounded the corner. Ruth’s general store appeared, looking none the worse for wear since the fire. Fiona’s stomach tightened. In an instant she’d see the place where her home had been. She couldn’t do this—
Her breath caught. She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again. No, she wasn’t dreaming. Where there had been a mass of smoldering ashes and charred timbers, raw new wood framed in a building that appeared like a ghost of what had once been there.
No, not a ghost. This was real.
People swarmed over the structure, some Amish, some dressed in jeans and sweatshirts. Hammers pounded and saws churned. Amish buggies stood next to dusty pickups and shiny SUVs. A long table laden with coffee urns and what looked like platters of food was set up next to Ruth’s store.
“What…what’s happening?” She leaned forward, one hand braced against the dash. “I don’t…I don’t understand.” She looked at Ted, unable to take it in.
“What’s to understand?” He shrugged, as if to dismiss this as something quite ordinary. “If a barn burns, the Amish will replace it in a day. Now, your house is going to take a little longer, since you won’t be content with stalls, but then, we’ve got quite a lot of help.”
“I can’t believe this.” She fumbled with the door, until finally he reached across her and opened it, his big hand warm against hers.
“Believe it.” His voice was a low rumble that set her nerves quivering. “It’s real.”
Quickly, as if afraid he’d gotten too close, he slid out of the driver’s seat, coming around the car to join her. People paused in their work when they saw her, raising a hand in welcome, and then turning back to the job at hand.
She glanced from one person to another, recognizing her Flanagan cousins working side by side with her Amish kin. That was why Nolie had been trying so hard to get her to Crossroads, obviously. She’d known all about it.
Her heart caught. Levi was there, working next to his father, his face solemn and intent.
“Levi—” Her voice choked as she remembered what had happened the last time she’d asked Ted about the boy.
“He’s doing all right,” Ted said quickly. He didn’t look at her, and she wondered if he was remembering that, too. “He came clean with his parents and the church about everything that happened, and he accepted the punishment they meted out. I expect he’s learned enough from this experience to last him a good long time.”
It was a relief to know that Levi was right with his community, but that wasn’t everything. “What about the court? Did he get a lawyer?” Siobhan’s promise to find an attorney for Levi had been swamped by everything else that happened.
Ted nodded. “He has representation, and the other boys admitted he just acted as a lookout on a couple of their pranks. He refused to go the nights they tried to torch the barns—maybe he’d figured out by then that he was in too deep.”
“Will the court see it that way?” She was looking to Ted for answers again.
“He’ll get off with probation. The other two will get community service, I imagine.”
“Two?” She looked at him, confused. “There were three, weren’t there?”
“Yes, three.” His voice sounded grim. “Our friend Jared isn’t going to get off so lightly.” His hand closed over hers, as if he thought she needed some support. “Jared t
orched your house.”
She could only stare at him, amazed that she hadn’t even wondered until this moment how the fire had started. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “We were already on his trail when his parents brought him in. They’d found the evidence. To do them credit, they were appalled. Maybe they’ll finally face the truth about that kid.”
Surprisingly, there was little anger in her heart when she thought of the boy. I forgive him, Father. Help me when I feel resentment or anger toward him.
“Come on.” Ted tugged at her hand. “See what you think of your new home and office.” He drew her toward the building, holding her steady while she walked up a plank that led to the first floor. “Mose had a lot of good ideas after working on the renovation. We thought you could use a waiting room that’s a little larger, seeing as how you’ll probably have a lot of new clients in the next few years.”
She stood next to him in what would be her waiting room, her throat tightening. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
But that wasn’t what her heart was saying. What about us, Ted? You’ve taken care of everything else, but what about what went wrong between us?
As if he felt her thoughts, Ted’s grip on her hand grew stronger. He nodded toward the Amish man working nearby, and she realized it was his brother.
“You know, every once in a while, my big brother Jacob thinks he has to straighten me out about things.” He sounded casual, but she sensed the undertone of emotion in the words. “Seems like he felt compelled to tell me that a man had to be a blockhead to turn away from the woman he cared about because she acted out of the warmth of her heart to save another person pain.”
Her heart was thudding so loudly she could hear it. “Do you listen when your big brother gives you advice?”
“Not always.” He swung to face her more fully, clasping both her hands in his. “But sometimes, like now, he’s right.” The warmth from his hands flowed through her, unlocking the emotions that had been frozen for days. “I guess you know why I acted the way I did. Does knowing that mean you can understand and forgive me?”
She did know. He’d used the trust issue as a barrier between them, caught as he was between his own need to protect his community and fulfilling the law.
Her fingers moved on his. “You’re not betraying anyone by doing the work God called you to, you know.” She kept her voice soft, even knowing no one could hear them over the clatter of work going on around them.
“I know that now.”
“I’m glad.”
Ted’s blue eyes seemed to have a flame deep inside them when he looked at her. “And I know it’s not wrong to love the woman God brought into my life, either,” he said softly. He drew her closer, until anyone who looked at them could guess what was happening between them. “Some people might say I’m a little old to go sweet-hearting again, but I’ll risk it if you will.”
Risk. There it was again. She understood now. She didn’t get the reward without being willing to risk everything, in faith and in life.
She took the step that separated them, feeling his arms close around her, feeling the warmth of friends, family, community supporting them.
She was home. God had truly brought her home.
*Hometown Heroes
*Hometown Heroes
*Hometown Heroes
†Caldwell Kin
†Caldwell Kin
†Caldwell Kin
†Caldwell Kin
**The Flanagans
**The Flanagans
**The Flanagans
**The Flanagans
**The Flanagans
**The Flanagans
The Doctor’s Blessing
Patricia Davids
Chapter One
“Amber, you won’t believe who’s here!”
The agitated whisper stopped Amber Bradley in her tracks halfway through the front door of the Hope Springs Medical Clinic. She glanced around the small waiting room. The only occupant was her wide-eyed receptionist standing at her desk with one finger pressed to her lips.
Amber whispered back, “I give up, Wilma. Who’s here?”
The tiny, sixty-something woman glanced toward the hallway leading to the offices and exam rooms, then hurried around the corner of her desk wringing her hands. “Dr. Phillip White.”
Oh, no. Amber closed the door with deliberate slowness. So the ax was going to fall on their small-town clinic in spite of everyone’s prayers. What would they do now? What would happen to their patients? Her heart sank at the prospect.
Please, dear Lord, don’t let this happen.
Composing herself, she turned to face Wilma. “What did he say? Is Harold worse?”
“He said Harold is the reason he needs to meet with us, but he wanted to wait until you were here before going into details.”
Dr. Harold White was the only doctor in the predominantly Amish community of Hope Springs, Ohio. Four weeks earlier, he’d taken his first vacation in more than twenty years to visit his grandson, Phillip, in Honolulu. While there, a serious accident landed the seventy-five-year-old man in intensive care.
Wilma leaned close. “What do you think he’s doing here?”
“I have no idea.”
“You think he’s here to close the office, don’t you?”
Amber couldn’t come up with another reason that made more sense. Harold’s only relative had come to close the clinic and inform them that Harold wouldn’t be returning.
At least he was kind enough to come in person instead of delivering the news over the phone.
Amber had been expecting something like this since she’d learned the extent of Harold’s injuries. Chances were slim a man his age could make a full recovery after suffering a broken leg, a fractured skull and surgery to remove a blood clot on his brain. Still, Harold hadn’t given up hope that he’d be back, so neither would she.
Summoning a smile for her coworker, Amber laid a hand on Wilma’s shoulder. “When I spoke to Harold last night, he assured me the clinic would stay open.”
“For now.” The deep male voice came from behind them.
Wilma squeaked as she spun around. Amber had a better grip on her emotions. Wilma hurried away to the safety of her oak desk in the corner, leaving Amber to face the newcomer alone. She surveyed Harold’s grandson with interest.
Dr. Phillip White was more imposing than she had expected. He stood six foot at least, if not a shade taller. His light brown hair, streaked with sun-bleached highlights, curled slightly where it touched the collar of his blue, button-down shirt. His bronze tan emphasized his bone structure and the startling blue of his eyes.
He was movie-star gorgeous. The thought popped into Amber’s brain and stuck. She licked her suddenly dry lips. When had she met a man who triggered such intense awareness at first glance? Okay, never.
Rejecting her left-field thoughts as totally irrelevant, Amber tried for a professional smile. Moving forward, she held out her hand. “Welcome to Hope Springs, Dr. White.”
His grip, firm and oddly stirring, made her pulse spike and her breathing quicken. He held her hand a fraction longer than necessary. When he let go, she shoved her hands in the front pockets of her white lab coat, curling her fingers into tight balls.
Striving to appear unruffled, she said, “Your grandfather speaks of you frequently. I never saw him so excited as the day he learned of your existence.”
His expression remained carefully blank. “I’m sure my happiness was equal to his.”
Little warning bells started going off in Amber’s brain. He wasn’t here to make friends. Her smile grew stiff. “Of course, it can’t be every day a grown man discovers he has a grandfather he never knew about.”
Up close, Phillip’s resemblance to Harold was undeniable. They shared the same intense blue eyes, strong chin and full lips. But not, it seemed, Harold’s friendly demeanor. Still, she cast aside any lingering doubts that the whole thing was a hoax. They were obviously related.
She said, “Isn’t it strange that both of you became family practice doctors. It must be in the genes. I’d love to hear the whole story. Harold was vague about the details.”
A cooler expression entered Phillip’s eyes. “It’s a personal matter that I’m not comfortable discussing.”
Oops! It seemed she’d stumbled on a touchy subject. “I’m sorry Harold’s holiday with you ended so badly.”
“As am I.” His lips pressed into a tighter line.
Amber indicated their receptionist. “I take it you’ve met Mrs. Nolan? Wilma has worked for your grandfather since he came to Hope Springs over thirty years ago.”
He nodded in Wilma’s direction. “Yes, we’ve met.”
“And I’m Amber Bradley.” She waited with bated breath for his reaction. She knew Harold had told his grandson about their collaborative practice.
Phillip’s expression didn’t change. “Ah, the midwife.”
There it was, that touch of disdain in his voice that belittled her profession, dismissed her education and years of training as if they were nothing. She’d heard it before from physicians and even nurses. It seemed young Dr. White didn’t value her occupation the way his grandfather did.
She stood as tall as her five-foot-three frame allowed. “Yes, I’m a certified nurse midwife. It’s my vocation as well as my job.”
“Vocation? That’s a strong word.”
“It is what it is.”
Was that a flicker of respect in his eyes? Maybe she had jumped the gun in thinking he disapproved.
Bracing herself, she asked the unspoken question that hovered in the air. “What brings you to Hope Springs, Dr. White?”
He glanced around the small office. “Harold is fretting himself sick over this place.”