“What do you want me to do, Lindsay?” Morgan asked as Lindsay continued to stand with the fish in her hands.
She shoved the fish at him again.
“I think she wants you to pet it.”
“Ah.” Reaching out, he stroked the side of the small fish.
Lindsay smiled a perfectly beautiful little smile at him and toddled over to sit on the ground with the fish still in her hands.
“Lindsay, the fish has to stay in water to live.” Rachel dumped an icebox that contained picnic supplies and dragged it to the water’s edge.
Morgan rose and helped Rachel fill the chest with water, then carried it to where the child sat. “You have to be careful, honey, or you’ll hurt it. Put it in the water. Pretty fish. Needs water.”
Rachel signed it to her daughter when she hesitated.
“Mine,” Lindsay said, and looked forlornly at the fish.
“Yes. It’s yours. Put it in the water and play with it.” She waited.
Lindsay finally obeyed her mother, though reluctantly. However, as soon as the fish started swimming Lindsay became entranced and was perfectly happy sitting there. She regaled them with every move the fish made. Lindsay sang to the fish, she talked to the fish and she had a thoroughly wonderful time watching the fish swim.
Morgan grinned at Rachel. “Funny what little things interest children, isn’t it?”
“It never ceases to amaze me.”
“We should take those lessons to heart, see the joy in the little things, take pleasure in the everyday things.”
“Is that what you did when you moved here?” Rachel asked.
Morgan paused in the act of reeling in his fishing line. “I try to, Rachel. I do my best to trust God and remember that He made the day. Then I try to simply rejoice and be glad for that day. Of course, that’s a lot easier said than done.”
“Yeah,” Rachel said softly. She realized sadly the only times she had to relax and enjoy anything lately was when she was out with Morgan or Lindsay. Still, even with them, there was something missing, an emptiness they couldn’t fill.
“Shall we eat?”
She grinned at him. “Since neither one of us caught fish to cook?”
“Yeah. I guess Lindsay showed us both up.”
He stood and offered Rachel a hand up, then helped set up lunch. They had to coax Lindsay away from the fish. The lure of fruit punch did the trick.
Rachel was glad they had convinced Lindsay to sit with them and eat now, instead of later, when they were fishing. Had she allowed Lindsay to wait, she wouldn’t have gotten to eat, because just as they finished lunch, Morgan’s beeper went off. He checked the number. “It’s the hospital. Let me call and see what’s going on.”
He went to the car, pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his casual coat and dialed. Rachel watched. He looked so natural in his jeans and pale blue shirt, leaning against the car with his phone to his ear. He was muddy from mid-calf down. But she didn’t mind. She was muddy, too. And poor Lindsay—she even had mud in her hair.
Morgan’s deep voice echoed quietly as he talked. Rachel enjoyed watching him until the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. He said something and hung up. He came over and squatted next to Rachel, his arms resting on his bent legs, hands hanging loosely between his knees. “I have an emergency. I’m going to have to go back to town. They’re preparing the child for surgery now.”
“Oh, dear,” Rachel murmured, concerned.
“He’ll be okay, I’m sure, but I always go in to be with my kids even if I’m not performing the operation. Bobby was in an auto accident and has a fractured femur.”
“Oh, no,” Rachel whispered. She couldn’t believe he was here in front of her and apologizing for having to go in on an emergency. It touched her, made her realize just what a gentleman Morgan was. “Of course, you have to go. I’ll get the remains of lunch if you’ll get Lindsay,” she said, then paused in shock.
Morgan grinned. “Thanks, Rachel. That trust just now meant a lot to me.”
“I—I’m sorry, Morgan. It’s hard.”
Squeezing her hand briefly, he said, “I know,” then stood.
Morgan went over and scooped Lindsay up, eliciting a squeal from her. “Gotta go, munchkin,” he said, then signed it.
Rachel turned her attention to quickly cleaning up everything and putting the ice chest into the trunk. When she turned, Morgan was carrying the other chest—still full of water.
“What are you doing?” she asked, shocked.
Lindsay trotted right by him. “She begged me. I couldn’t tell her no.”
He gave her such a pitiful look, she burst out laughing. “You’re a pushover. Did you know that?”
Rachel grinned then turned to her daughter. “In the car, Lindsay. We’ll see if Grandma will let us keep the fish.”
Lindsay clapped before crawling into the back seat to be with her fish. Rachel strapped her in while Morgan strapped the fish in. Morgan slipped into the driver’s seat, since it was his car. When Rachel was strapped in, they took off. They were only ten minutes from town. It took two minutes to reach their house after they hit the city limits. Morgan pulled into the driveway and parked. Quickly and efficiently he pulled out the ice chest, carried it to the porch and set it down.
Turning, he nearly ran into Rachel, who was coming up the stairs. Catching her, he wrapped his arms around her. “Sorry, there,” he said, steadying her and Lindsay.
Rachel met his eyes. And it just happened. Neither one planned it. Neither one could have predicted it. She stumbled into him. He caught her and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slowly leaned forward, drawn by invisible chords of attraction, and kissed her. On the lips. In front of Lindsay, God and anyone walking down the street.
Warmth radiated through her, and happiness, as she realized how much she had missed this part of marriage. This had died so much longer before her actual marriage had.
And this kiss was different. This was gentle, tender, consuming, making her feel special. This kiss gave. It didn’t greedily take or demand.
Morgan’s arms around her held her lightly, warmly as he kissed her. They weren’t harsh or rough but questing, protective, and somehow they even felt nurturing.
Rachel melted into the gentle show of affection and responded.
When he pulled back, he looked as surprised as she felt. He hesitated, then ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Rachel, that’s not the way I wanted to do this. But I have to go, so we’ll have to talk later.” He gave Lindsay a kiss on the forehead and hurried down the stairs toward his car.
“Yes, later,” she mumbled, tingling all the way down to her toes and up to the ends of her hair from his kiss. She decided right there it didn’t take sticking her finger in an electrical socket to curl her hair. Morgan could do that with a simple kiss. “No. Not later. Wait…no.” But it was too late. He was gone. Backing out, turning the car, driving off down the street. “Not later. Remember, Morgan? I said I didn’t want to date or get involved!” She knew it was useless to tell him that, as he was gone. But it made her feel better to vent. “If you didn’t want to be involved, why did you kiss him back?” she muttered. “Smart, Rachel, real smart.”
Her daughter wiggled to get down. Rachel realized she was standing on the porch scolding herself. Worst of all, she was doing it out loud. She groaned.
Lindsay bounced into the house calling for Grandma and begging to keep the fish.
Rachel continued to stand on the steps, staring off to where Morgan had disappeared.
She was certain they were definitely in the fire now. She just wasn’t sure if it was a good one or bad one. Lifting her fingers, she touched her lips.
She was certain of one thing, though. Morgan had plans to find out.
Chapter Nine
“Oh, my, a fish. I’m so proud of you, honey. Go wash up. Rachel? We have company. Come on in.”
Rachel only then noticed the vehicle parked acr
oss the street that didn’t belong there. Curious, she climbed the stairs and strolled into the house.
And silently groaned. Her mother’s pastor sat in an armchair in their living room. Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, Ben Hunter grinned. “Hi, there, Rachel.”
He stood and strode across the room toward her, his hand outstretched.
Rachel automatically offered her hand in return and then winced when she realized it smelled like fish.
The pastor didn’t bat an eyelash. “I see you’ve been fishing,” he murmured, a warm smile curving his lips and lighting his entire face with kindness.
Looking down at her three-quarter-length pants, sloppy blue T-shirt and ratty boat shoes, Rachel thought his comment a vast understatement. She looked more like she’d been used for bait instead of using bait. “Um, yeah, with a three-year-old.”
Betty walked in from the other room. “Lindsay wants to sit out on the porch with the fish after she cleans up. I told her it was okay. Ben came by to see how you were feeling, dear.”
Rachel shook off the feeling of embarrassment, moved politely into the living room and carefully seated her smelly self in the wooden rocking chair.
“Please, Rachel, if now isn’t a good time, I understand. I only wanted to check and see how your head felt.”
Now that was certainly a surprise. A pastor making the house calls a doctor once made. She found herself smiling at the thought. “Quite well, actually. No more pain.”
Ben nodded before picking up his cup and taking a sip of the hot orange spiced tea. “Your mom and I were planning the family social. We try to rotate who is in charge, and I asked her if she’d like to do it this month.”
Betty, in her khaki pants and red top, the sleeves pushed up, seated herself. “And I said I’d be more than happy. So, how was your fishing expedition?”
Betty sat back and waited attentively for her daughter to answer. Ben waited, too. Rachel suddenly felt as if she were under a microscope. “Good, I suppose. Lindsay had a great time. Morgan enjoyed fishing, though he had to leave on an emergency.”
“I hope it wasn’t serious,” Betty murmured, concerned.
“Surgery,” Rachel murmured. “By the way, Lindsay is the only one who caught a fish.”
Betty grinned. “Oh, that’s wonderful. She certainly is proud of that fish.”
“Yeah.” Rachel chuckled. “She wanted to carry it around everywhere she went. We had to convince her to leave it in the ice chest. And then Morgan, while I was packing the picnic basket, allowed her to talk him into bringing it home.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He’s such a pushover with the kids. I don’t know how he can perform his job. Surely the kids have his number by now?”
“He’s one of the best,” Ben said quietly.
“Oh, my, yes. All the children at the day care love him,” Betty added. A chuckle slipped out as she continued. “They more than love him, they follow him around like he was the Pied Piper.”
Not caring one bit for the turn the conversation was taking, Rachel decided to take charge of its direction and turned her attention to Ben. “Thank you, Reverend, for stopping by to check on me. I’m a bit surprised you did since I don’t attend your church.”
Ben smiled an amiable, fond smile. “You were injured at the church. And you’re Betty’s daughter. Besides, I wanted to know how you were doing. I wanted to see for myself that you were okay.”
Not used to such concern or caring, Rachel wondered if he had ulterior motives. His eyes reflected no deceit. His voice sounded perfectly honest.
She forced herself to relax. “Thank you.”
“And how is Lindsay doing? I saw her in the day care yesterday. She and a little boy were skipping until, well, the incident.” Ben chuckled. “Poor Jeremy.”
“She recovered nicely from her punishment. It’s forgotten. I think she has taken a liking to Jeremy, though. Kids.” Rachel made a wry face at the pastor.
“Yeah. I enjoy watching them. Listen, I wanted to let you know that there were some different activities in the church Lindsay might be interested in. Our children’s church teacher happens to know sign language and enjoys teaching songs to the kids in sign language as a continuation of ministry. Also, on Saturdays, if you’re ever interested, she has a deaf ministry. She goes to the local park, after gathering up the children with disabilities in the surrounding area, and they have a good time singing songs, learning Bible scripture and just hanging out while the parents get a break.”
“Morgan mentioned her to me,” Rachel replied thoughtfully.
“Ah. I’m not surprised.” Sitting back, he crossed his legs.
Rachel cocked her head in query. Ben shifted. “He loves all kids. I’m sure he’d want to make sure you knew of the programs that might interest Lindsay.”
“Ah. Well, yes. He did.” She found it odd that the two men she’d met from the church both loved children. Oh, why couldn’t Jim have loved children? she wondered silently.
“Also, we do have a support group that meets on Wednesday nights for divorced people. Widows, as well. Actually, it’s for anyone who once had a spouse but no longer is considered a couple. They meet to talk, share and discuss problems unique to that situation. You’re always welcome.”
Rachel could imagine going into a room full of strange singles and thought, No, thanks.
Lindsay chose that moment to come running into the room and up to her grandma. “Um see,” she said, and grabbed her grandmother’s hand.
Betty stood. “I’ll be right back. Come on, honey, let’s go. Show me your fish,” she said and hurried to the porch with her granddaughter.
Ben looked at Rachel. “Let’s be honest now that your mom is gone. I make you uncomfortable, Rachel. I wish I didn’t. I’d only like to be here for you as a friend, an ear to listen, a pastor to counsel if you need it.”
Rachel, surprised by such forthright honesty, nodded, relaxing. “Thank you for that. But, Reverend,” she said, and then hesitated. Deciding honesty should be returned with honesty, she said, “I’m sorry. I just— I’m not sure God even cares anymore. I’ve failed Him somehow and He’s turned His back on me. After all, my marriage was a failure. I tried but failed to keep it together—”
“Oh, Rachel, don’t blame yourself. It takes two people to make a marriage work. Three, actually. You, your husband and God.” Leaning forward, he said softly, “You know what? God doesn’t condemn you, dear.”
She shuddered.
Studying her, he added, “He loves you, Rachel.” Reaching out, he fingered his Bible, which was on the table in front of him. “He’s not going to desert you. I’m sure there is something right around the corner for you that you can’t see yet.”
“I just don’t know if I can believe,” she whispered.
“Then ask Him, Rachel, to help you believe.”
Rachel trembled at his words. They went straight to her heart. “It hurts to fail. And I’m scared, for Lindsay.”
“Yes, Rachel. It does hurt to fail. However, you aren’t the only one who has failed. I’ve failed, too, in many areas. So has your mom. So has Morgan. But do you condemn them?”
“No,” Rachel answered quietly.
“Then why think your heavenly Father would condemn you?” Picking up his Bible, he leaned back in his chair and lifted his compassion-filled gaze to hers. “In time that pain will fade and heal. The hardest thing sometimes is to trust God—especially when we don’t feel His presence. It’s that walking on faith that we just have to do.” Ben opened his Bible and fished through it for something before meeting her gaze again. “Ask Him to help you, Rachel. He will. In the meantime, if you want to talk to me, any time, day or night, please call me.”
Ben passed her a card with his number on it.
Betty came back. Rachel panicked, afraid he’d say something to her mother. Instead, he changed the subject to the potluck dinner.
He was certainly different than what she expected. When he finally left, her mother turned t
o her. “What do you think?”
She shrugged. “He’s a nice man.”
Betty smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Yes, he is. And he has been wonderful to me since I lost your dad. He also comes over once or twice a month for dinner.”
“Mother! Do you feed the entire town?”
Betty chuckled. “No, but you know, that man would be good husband material, if you ask me.”
Rachel groaned. “Well, I didn’t. Now I’m going to go shower and then work on some of the paperwork I brought home. Do you want to put Lindsay down for a nap or do you want me to?”
“Oh, please, let me. I love lying down with her. It’s our quiet time on the weekends.”
Rachel nodded. She started toward the stairs, but her mom’s voice stopped her.
“Rachel?”
“Yeah, Mom?” She turned.
“It’s nice having you home.”
Rachel smiled. “It’s nice to be home.”
She continued up the stairs, thinking how lucky she was to have such a supportive mother.
Chapter Ten
Mothers!
Did every mother ever born on this earth feel it her moral obligation to interfere in her daughter’s life?
Rachel shifted Lindsay to her other hip and hurried across the street.
“How did your grandma get me to agree to this? I have rocks for brains. Sneaky is what she is. She waits until I’m vulnerable and then she goes in for the kill.”
Rachel shook her head. As she went into the building off the town square, she nodded to the nurse. “Lindsay here has an appointment.”
The nurse smiled politely. “Please fill this out, Mrs. White, and then we’ll process her papers.”
Paperwork. More and more paperwork. Rachel looked around for a seat. Lindsay wiggled to get down, then ran to a small area that offered an array of toys and books. She plopped down right in the middle of them and began to play.
The office was nice. Very modern. A large, spacious, carpeted waiting room worked up in pinks, blues and yellows had a semi-enclosed fence about three feet high with toys and books in it, chairs and even a video running in an encased TV.
What The Doctor Ordered Page 6