Second Chance Romance
Second Chance Romance
Jill Weatherholt
Small-Town DaddyJackson Daughtry’s jobs as a paramedic and part-owner of a local café keep him busy—but the single dad’s number one priority is raising his little girl with love and small-town values. And when his business partner’s hot-shot lawyer niece comes to town, planning to disrupt their lives by moving her aunt away, Jackson has to set Melanie Harper straight. When circumstances forces them to work side-by-side in the coffee shop, Jackson slowly discovers what put the sadness in Melanie’s pretty brown eyes. Now, it’ll take all his faith—and a hopeful five year old—to show the city gal that she’s already home.
Small-Town Daddy
Jackson Daughtry’s jobs as a paramedic and part-owner of a local café keep him busy—but the single dad’s number one priority is raising his little girl with love and small-town values. And when his business partner’s hotshot lawyer niece comes to town planning to disrupt their lives by moving her aunt away, Jackson has to set Melanie Harper straight. When circumstances force them to work side by side in the coffee shop, Jackson slowly discovers what put the sadness in Melanie’s pretty brown eyes. Now it’ll take all his faith—and a hopeful five-year-old—to show the city gal that she’s already home.
Dear Reader (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842),
Growing up in the suburbs of Washington, DC, one of my favorite areas was the Shenandoah Valley. The beauty of the valley was prevalent year-round, but autumn was always my favorite time to visit. The magnificent colors painted on the Blue Ridge Mountains were a constant reminder of God’s presence in my life.
In 2015, when I heard about Harlequin’s Blurb to Book competition, I knew this was my opportunity to complete a project I started in 2010 but never finished. Like Melanie, who dreamed of having a family once again, my dream was to write a book.
God created us to have goals and dreams. The funny thing was, my dream was to write a book, but I never dreamed of having it published. That’s what makes our God such an awesome God. He took my little dream and turned it into a magnificent gift just for me.
I encourage you all to have dreams; God is listening and He knows your heart.
I love to hear from readers. You can email me at authorjillweatherholt@gmail.com or follow my blog at jillweatherholt.com (http://jillweatherholt.com/). I’m also a contributor at inspyromance.com (http://www.inspyromance.com).
Blessings,
Jill Weatherholt
“Daddy, you’re making goo-goo eyes at Miss Melanie.”
Rebecca grabbed her teddy bear and buried her face to stifle the laughter.
Jackson and Melanie broke out laughing.
“I was not.” He examined Melanie more closely. “Was I?” He winked and slammed the passenger door shut.
“Can Miss Melanie come with us to the apple festival?”
“Well, that’s up to Miss Melanie.”
Rebecca jumped up and down. “Please, will you come with us?”
“Yes, please.” He plucked a brilliant red wildflower and handed it to Melanie.
She brought it to her nose. “Ah…it smells so good. And yes, I’d love to go with you.”
Rebecca skipped down the dirt path.
Melanie smelled the flower again as she gazed at Rebecca.
Jackson took a deep breath. “I think there’s nothing more beautiful than you holding that wildflower.”
He saw the color bloom on her cheeks.
Jackson couldn’t resist any longer...she was getting into his heart.
Weekdays, JILL WEATHERHOLT works for the City of Charlotte. On the weekend, she writes contemporary stories about love, faith and forgiveness. Raised in the suburbs of Washington, DC, she now resides in North Carolina. She holds a degree in psychology from George Mason University and a paralegal studies certification from Duke University. She shares her life with her real-life hero and number one supporter. Jill loves connecting with readers at jillweatherholt.com (http://www.jillweatherholt.com).
Second Chance Romance
Jill Weatherholt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him,
and He will make your paths straight.
—Proverbs 3:5–6
To Derek, thank you for all of your patience
and encouragement. You’re my number one
cheerleader. And to my mother, father
and my sister, Jan, who’ve given me
a lifetime of support.
Contents
Cover (#ud7449e10-cf61-50ba-b4bb-9f36b084eb52)
Back Cover Text (#ub526d35c-9bf5-5cb0-82e4-183e37f74e33)
Dear Reader (#u6e9f6c94-30a4-5ec5-91b3-a033345e2211)
Introduction (#u3d62ac2e-fd4b-58ef-a625-9bf5fc69f616)
About the Author (#uf0c887c8-577b-5a10-8dc3-f26c63021a20)
Title Page (#u35e886fb-47d8-50f7-bcba-4579d00d72fd)
Bible Verse (#u1fe4b82e-72f2-5d57-a368-5a8744918771)
Dedication (#ua983c055-d136-5bc1-b392-033732c1d00e)
Chapter One (#u00c44233-c2d9-5837-8e40-d65769e334e4)
Chapter Two (#u7306fb61-dbb1-509a-9c36-c561ff2b4922)
Chapter Three (#u02255566-8d71-5c02-8f4b-483384abe206)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)
“Miss, can you hear me?” Jackson’s chest tightened. “C-can you open the door?”
The rain hitting his face felt like acupuncture needles. “I’m Jackson Daughtry, a paramedic. Can you hear me?”
The woman inside the silver Volvo didn’t respond. Her body slumped over the steering wheel, but he could tell she was breathing. Her flowing chestnut curls were covered in blood. He gripped the driver’s side door. It didn’t budge. He beat on the window. His knuckles burned.
“Hold on, miss.” It was Thursday, his first day off in ten days. Thankfully he was always prepared. Inside his trunk, he kept a fully stocked first-aid kit with compress dressings and bandages, all of the proper supplies for an emergency. “I’ll have you out before you open your eyes. You’ll be fine.”
Mud tried to tug his boots from his feet while he sprinted to his truck. Inside his Bronco, he wiped the pellets of rain off his face and grabbed his phone to call the station.
“Tom, it’s Jackson. I’m on Smith Farm Road, in front of the old Smith farm. I need an ambulance.”
“I thought today was your day off.”
“I was on my way to pick up Rebecca from the Whitesides’ house. She spent the night with her friend Mary.” He paused to catch his breath. “A deer darted across the road, and the car in front of me swerved straight into a chestnut oak. The driver is bleeding from her head, and she’s unconscious. Can you send the ambulance and contact the sheriff? I’ll make the report at the hospital.”
“Sorry, bud—I’ll call the sheriff, but the ambulance is at the Swanson place. They think Betsy had a heart attack. Poor Walter, he was beside himself when he called. Betsy collapsed while taking the roast out of the oven. It’ll be a while.”
Jackson’s stomach churned. The only downside of living in the small mountain valley of Sweet Gum, Virginia, was that there was only one sheriff’s car and one ambulance. “Call over to Waynesboro. They’ll send one.”
“No can do, my friend. I heard over the radio there’s a bad accident on Route 340.”
Jackson straightened his shoulders. “Never mind. I’ll take her to Sweet Gum Memorial myself.” He clenched his teeth, causing a pain to shoot through his jaw.
“Who is she, Jackson? Should I call her family?”
“She’s unconscious, man, and the car’s locked.” He massaged his temples. His head pounded. “The license plate says Washington, DC.” He remembered Rebecca, his precious daughter. “Do you mind calling over to the Whitesides’ house? Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Consider it done.”
Jackson pressed End. He grabbed the slim jim from his trunk, but it slipped from his hands and sank into the mud. He yanked it loose and sprinted to the Volvo. He jammed it down into the crack between the door and the window. Nothing happened. The car was a newer model. The slim jim wasn’t going to get him inside. He raced back to his trunk and grabbed a tire iron. He had no choice.
Standing next to the passenger window, he took a swing, and the glass exploded. With ease, he reached inside, popped the lock and flung open the door.
“You’ll be fine.” Please, Lord, let her be okay. “I’m going to unbuckle your seat belt and lift you out,” he told her, though she was still out cold.
The seat belt was stubborn. His knuckles throbbed from pounding on the window. “Hold on. I can’t get my hands on the release. One second and I’ll have you out.” Finally free, Jackson closed his eyes for an instant and tore off his bomber jacket.
“This will keep you warm and toasty.” He covered her with his leather jacket. Despite her slender frame, maneuvering her from behind the steering wheel wasn’t an easy task. His boots slid in the mud, and his knee rammed against the side of the Volvo. Rain pelted his face, stinging like sleet. He shivered when he glanced at the sky. It was dark as ink. Please, Lord, help me get her free. With precise movements he’d learned at the training academy and an answered prayer, finally she was in his arms.
She was featherlight. He carried her to the truck and laid her in the backseat as though she were made of antique china. “Let’s make sure you’re nice and comfortable,” he said, with hopes that his voice would somehow gradually bring her out of her unconscious state.
He scanned her face and pushed away a strand of blood-soaked hair. There were serious cuts on her cheek and forehead.
He dashed to the car to get her purse. Then he jerked open the passenger side door and spied a piece of paper on the floor. Drops of rain trickled down his hands when he picked it up. The ink had smeared, but it was still legible, and he could see it was directions to Phoebe Austin’s farm. He snatched the purse and bolted to his truck. He’d call Phoebe once he arrived at the hospital.
Inside the truck, he jerked the seat belt over his shoulder, turned and slid his phone from his shirt pocket. “Hold on. I’m going to get you to the hospital as fast as I can, but first I have to call to tell them we’re on our way.” Never one for high-tech gadgets, he opened his old flip phone. With the hospital on speed dial, he punched number nine. He tapped his foot while he waited for an answer.
After three rings, he heard a familiar voice. “Sweet Gum Memorial. This is Sara.”
He gulped in a deep breath. “Sara...hi. I’m glad you’re working. It’s Jackson.” He often had to dodge her advances, but she was a good nurse. He trusted her skills.
After giving her details of the accident, and their estimated time of arrival, he hit End and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel and closed his eyes. Lord, please watch over this woman. Guide us as we travel in these dangerous conditions.
Jackson started up the car, then jammed his foot on the accelerator and turned on the windshield wipers. The windows fogged. He rubbed his hand in large circles along the front windshield. He’d meant to get the defroster checked. There was never enough time.
“Are you okay back there?” He knew she wouldn’t answer, but maybe she could hear his words. “So, you were on your way to Phoebe’s house? She’s quite a character, isn’t she? We own a business together, The Coffee Bean. She runs the place. I’m just a backup, if she needs help. Did she tell you?” He blew out a breath. Lord, please, let her answer me.
The ride seemed endless. The pounding rain knocked the red maple leaves from the trees, splattering onto his windshield and littering the winding two-lane road. Deer grazed in a field, oblivious to the deluge. He eased his foot off the accelerator when his truck hydroplaned for a second time. “No sense in having another accident.” Up ahead a tree toppled over, thankfully not onto the road. He bit his lip. If only she would answer.
At last, through the foggy window, he spied the red glow of the emergency-room entrance. Thank You, Lord, for getting us here safe. Within seconds, Steve, a tall and lanky orderly, rushed toward his truck, pushing a gurney.
Jackson’s chest expanded. He unbuckled his seat belt and shot from the truck. “Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”
“Busy. This storm is creating lots of problems,” Steve said while he and Jackson removed the victim out of the truck and onto the gurney. “Has she been unconscious since you found her?”
Jackson wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. The rain tapered to a light drizzle. “Yes, she was out cold when I got inside her car.”
“Dr. Roberts is on duty,” Steve noted as he covered her with a blanket and pushed the rolling bed toward the hospital.
“That’s good.” Jackson turned and climbed into his truck. “I’m going to park. I’ll be right in.”
Inside the ER, Jackson approached Nurse Sara. With a clipboard in hand, she scribbled something with a red pen. She stopped and looked up. “Hi, Jackson. I’m glad you made it safe. Steve took the victim back to see the doctor.” She winked and flashed an overly whitened smile. “Did you find out her name?”
He handed her the purse he’d retrieved from the scene of the accident. “I don’t feel comfortable going through a woman’s things. You go ahead and check out her driver’s license.”
She took the bag and dumped its contents onto the counter. “Here it is. Her name is Melanie Harper.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know of any Harper in the area, do you?”
“I can’t think of any.”
Sara made it her business to know everyone’s business. If she said there weren’t any Harpers in these parts, there weren’t.
“According to the license, she has a Washington, DC, address.” Sara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You said you found directions to Phoebe’s house inside her car. That must be where she was going.” She scooped the contents back into the purse.
He reached for his phone. “I’m going to step outside and call Phoebe. If Dr. Roberts comes out, tell him I’ll be right back.” He headed toward the back entrance and prayed Phoebe was either at The Coffee Bean or at home. Just like him, she wasn’t a fan of tech gadgets. She didn’t even own a cell phone, which made it difficult to reach her sometimes.
Outside, the storm had passed, and a glimpse of the sun slipped between the drifting clouds. Autumn in the valley was his favorite time of the year. He hit the number two on his phone and took a seat on the only dry bench in the courtyard. It was under a roof, but the warmth of the sun tapped his face. He glanced at his watch and saw it was 12:30 p.m. Since The Bean’s first day, his mother and Phoebe had made the decision to open only for breakfast and lunch. He hoped the afternoon crowd was winding down so Phoebe would pick up.
“The Coffee Bean. This is Phoebe.”
Phoebe’s voice always brought a smile to his face. After his parents’ deaths, she’d been like a mother to him and a grandmother to his daughter, Rebecca. His mother and Phoebe had grown up together and had opened The Coffee Bean as co-owners. When his mother had died only a year after his father, she’d left her ownership to Jackson. Over the years, he remained a silent partner, since Phoebe wanted to run the show on her own.
“Phoebe, it’s Jackson.”
“Well, hello there, Mr. Daughtry.”
No matter her circumstances, Phoebe was always full of joy. Jackson loved that about her. “Were you expecting company today?” The last thing in the world he wanted to do was cause Phoebe pain, but he had to tell her about Melanie.
“Yes, my niece, Melanie,” she answered. “You’ve heard me speak of her.” Dishes clanked in the background. “She’s the successful divorce attorney from Washington, DC. The one who never takes a vacation.”
He remembered. Phoebe had tried to convince her niece to visit Sweet Gum for years, but she’d always been too busy. He knew that she’d made partner at her law firm at an unusually young age. He thought she had a family, but maybe he was wrong. Something had happened last year, but Phoebe never wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t the type to get into people’s business, so he’d never pursued the subject.
“Jackson? Are you there? Is everything okay?”
His chest felt heavy. “It’s Melanie.” He gazed across the courtyard. A squirrel scurried through the fescue, toting a nut in its mouth.
“Melanie?” The dishes stopped clanking. “What happened?”
Jackson knew Phoebe better than most, but he wasn’t quite sure how she would react to the news. “She’s been in a car accident.” He paused to give her time to take in the news.
“Oh my word! Is she okay?” Phoebe asked, releasing short breaths into the phone.
“She was unconscious when I pulled her from the car.”
“Unconscious!”
“Please calm down and let me finish. There’s a serious cut on her forehead and one on her cheek. Though I don’t know if she has any internal injuries or a concussion. She’s in the ER with Dr. Roberts.”
“Thank God he’s on duty. He’s the best. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Why don’t you stay put? I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive when you’re upset.”
There was no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous. It will take longer. Besides, I want you there with Melanie until I arrive.”
He’d learned years ago not to argue with her. “Please take your time. The rain has stopped, but the roads are covered in wet leaves. It’s very slick. Be safe.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been driving these roads since I was a teenager.” Phoebe hung up without saying goodbye.
Jackson turned and walked inside the hospital. He hoped to get a little information on Melanie’s condition from Sara, but he’d probably need to wait for Phoebe so they could both talk to Dr. Roberts.
Once inside, cleaning agents infiltrated his nose. He spied Sara chatting with a handsome young doctor. Jackson took a seat in the waiting room and prayed for the next ten minutes.
Finally Sara walked toward him. He stood and met her halfway. She brushed her blond bangs away from her eyes. “Dr. Roberts is ready to speak with Phoebe when she arrives.”
Jackson ran his hand across his chin. It was rough. He never liked to shave on his days off. One fewer thing to do. “How’s Melanie? Has she regained consciousness?”
Sara pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but you know I can’t talk to you about her condition. Neither can Dr. Roberts. You’ll have to wait for Phoebe.”
The young nurse disappeared through the ER doors, leaving behind a trail of potent fragrance.
Within a couple of minutes, Dr. Roberts appeared. Jackson had always admired him. With salt-and-pepper hair and slightly slumped shoulders, his experience was evident in his face and manner of speaking. He still worked five days a week and even made the occasional house call, if needed. He’d been on the staff at Sweet Gum Memorial for decades. He was not only an excellent doctor but also a pillar within the community.
“Dr. Roberts, it’s good to see you.” Jackson rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Another tension headache was setting in.
The doctor smiled and extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, too, Jackson. It’s been a while. How’s your sweet little girl?”
Jackson shook his offered hand. “She’s great. Thanks for asking. This year she started afternoon kindergarten. She’s a voracious reader.”
Dr. Roberts nodded. “That’s great to hear. Books can open up an entire world to a child.” He cleared his throat. “Now, back to the patient. You know the confidentiality laws prohibit me from talking to you about Melanie’s condition. Once Phoebe arrives, I’ll fill you both in if it’s okay with Phoebe. She’s next of kin, so she’ll make the call. I know you’re worried, so I’ll say only that you can relax.”
“That makes me feel better.” Although she was just a stranger, there was something about Melanie. He wanted to protect her. He wasn’t sure where these feelings were coming from. Maybe it was because of her relationship to Phoebe. What else could it be?
“Speaking of Phoebe, how is she doing these days?”
Jackson noticed a sparkle in Dr. Roberts’s eye when he asked about Phoebe. Many years had passed since Phoebe’s husband had died. Jackson always hoped for a spark to ignite between her and the doctor. He’d love to see her enjoy a little male companionship. She still had many years ahead of her, time she shouldn’t spend alone. Of course, people could have said the same thing about him. “Phoebe’s doing great, busy as ever. I called her about fifteen minutes ago. I told her I’d pick her up since the roads are so treacherous. Of course she insisted on driving herself.”
He smiled. “Sure sounds like Phoebe. She’s quite stubborn when she gets her mind set on something. I’ll never forget that after my sweet Jane went to be with the Lord, Phoebe brought me an enormous meal every day. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. I had mashed potatoes coming out of my ears.” Dr. Roberts laughed a deep belly laugh.
Jackson thought now was the time to slip in a good word about Phoebe, and perhaps devise a plan of action. “She’s stubborn, but you have to admit she’s a terrific cook. Her meat loaf and garlic mashed potatoes are the best in the valley.” He’d always heard people say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. “You should taste her new apple-pie recipe. She puts in just the right amount of cinnamon.”
“Stop, Jackson. You’re making me ravenous.” His tongue ran across his lips, and he rubbed his stomach. “I haven’t had time to eat lunch. I’ll probably have a slice or two of frozen pizza for dinner.”
Perhaps overstepping his bounds, Jackson took a chance. This man needed a home-cooked meal and a little female companionship. “I should talk to Phoebe about inviting you over for Sunday dinner. She always cooks enough for an army. Rebecca and I come home with a ton of leftovers.” Phoebe loved to have a house full of people. He’d definitely work on this.
Dr. Roberts nodded. “I like the way you think, young man. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.” He extended his hand to Jackson. “I’ll come out and talk to Phoebe when she arrives. Oh, and make sure she introduces you to Melanie. I’m sure she’d love to meet the man who rescued her.”
“Thanks again,” Jackson said and took a seat to wait for Phoebe’s arrival.
When she burst through the hospital entrance minutes later, he saw her quickly race down the hall straight toward him. “How is she, Jackson?” She removed her raincoat and flung it over her arm.
Sara came down the hallway holding a cup of coffee in each hand. “Hi, Phoebe. I saw you pull into the parking lot. I’m happy you made it here safe.” She smiled. “I thought you and Jackson could use this.” She handed them each a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I’ll let Dr. Roberts know you’re here.” She pointed to a private room next to the waiting area. “You can have a seat in there.”
Jackson nodded and took a quick sip. Strong and black, it was just what he needed. “Thanks for the coffee, Sara.” He took hold of Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go sit down for a minute.”
A small circular oak table and four chairs filled the entire windowless room. The strong aroma of the cleaning agents in the hallway gave way to the smell of pink tea roses in a crystal vase decorating the middle of the table. The chair screeched when Jackson pulled it out for Phoebe.
“Melanie’s going to be fine.” He reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. “I don’t want you to worry.”
They prayed quietly until Dr. Roberts, clipboard in hand, joined them. He took a seat and smiled. “Hello, Phoebe. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you, too. How’s Melanie?”
“She’s as strong as they come. She regained consciousness shortly after Jackson brought her in. Her memory appears fine, so that’s a blessing. The X-rays are all clear, no broken bones. But the MRI showed she does have a slight concussion, so we’ll keep her overnight, but she’ll be ready to go home with you in the morning.”
Phoebe clapped her hands together. “Thank God! The poor girl has been through enough.” She released a heavy breath. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”
Jackson considered Phoebe’s statement. Melanie must have endured some type of hardship, but now was not the time to ask questions. He squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Let’s stay focused on the positive.”
Dr. Roberts left, and they stood under the flickering fluorescent lights in silence. Phoebe stepped forward. “One day you’re going to make another woman very happy, Mr. Daughtry. Now let’s go check on my niece. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet.”
Jackson nodded. As they walked down the hall toward Melanie’s room, his breath quickened. At the doorway, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Why was he so nervous? He felt like a teenage boy getting ready for his first date.
* * *
Melanie opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again to escape the searing pain. The fluorescent lights burned her vision. Who in the world invented fluorescent lighting, anyway? It was the worst.
Images flashed through her mind of a whitetail deer tearing across the road, her car headed toward a tree, and then everything went black.
She opened her eyes again to see a woman’s face peering through a curtain.
Hospital. She should have known. Hospitals always had annoying fluorescent lights.
“How’s our patient feeling?” asked a petite blonde woman carrying a frosted pitcher and a plastic cup. She approached the bedside and smiled.
Stiff.
Exactly how Melanie had felt after she completed her fifth marathon, one month before her life had changed forever. She squirmed in an attempt to sit up, but a pain shot down her neck, like needles jabbing into her skin. She nestled back under the sheet.
“I’m Sara, your nurse.” She filled the cup with water and pulled a red straw from her pocket. “Try to drink a little. You need to stay hydrated.”
Melanie took the cup and placed the straw to her parched lips. “Is my aunt Phoebe here?” She sipped the cool liquid and flinched when it touched the back of her throat. “I remember a deer running in front of my car. Is that why I’m here?” She pressed her palm to her forehead. Her head throbbed as though someone bashed a rubber hammer against it.
“Here, take this. It will help with the pain, but it will make you sleepy.”
Melanie reached for the tiny clear cup that held the medicine as the nurse walked toward the window and tilted the blinds. “I’ve always preferred natural light.” She flipped a switch, and the fluorescent beacon vanished.
The pressure in Melanie’s head and around her eyes eased. “Thank you so much. I love the natural light, too.” She took another sip of the water, ran her fingers down the side of the cup and glanced out the window. “It stopped raining.” She wiped her fingers, wet from the moisture, onto her gown. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Sara placed her fist under her chin. Her fingernails were painted bloodred. “From what I understand, Jackson—”
“Jackson? Who’s Jackson?”
Sara flashed a mischievous smile. “Why, he’s the most handsome paramedic in all of Sweet Gum Valley, honey. Every woman within a hundred-mile radius would love to lasso the charming Mr. Daughtry, myself included.” She smoothed the back of her hair and placed her right hand across her narrow hip. “He’s the person who rescued you.”
Details were a blur, with the exception of the blinding rain, the deer and a tree. “Rescued me?” There were many events over the last year that she’d love to forget, but this wasn’t one of them. “Please, tell me what happened.”
“You were in a car accident on Smith Farm Road. Jackson was in the car behind you. He saw the deer dart across the road. You swerved to miss it and hit a tree.” Sara reached down and brushed a strand of hair away from Melanie’s face. “By the look of those cuts on your cheek and forehead, God was watching over you.”
Melanie put her hand to her forehead. He’s forgotten about me.
The white walls of the tiny room closed in around her. Why had she left DC? She wanted to go home and back to the job that occupied her mind for more than seventy hours a week—sometimes more. Work erased the pain of the past year.
When Aunt Phoebe had called last week and begged her to come for a visit, Melanie had finally given in. Phoebe was Melanie’s only living relative. She hoped to convince Phoebe to move to DC and live with her. Aunt Phoebe was her father’s younger sister. Somewhere in her attic, probably stuck in a box and gathering dust, Melanie had a photo of them together as children. She released a heavy breath. “I want to see my aunt Phoebe. Is she here?”
“Yes, Phoebe’s here. She’s down the hall, talking with Jackson.”
Sara headed toward the door and turned. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Push the button if you need anything, sweetie.”
Melanie rested her head against the mountain of pillows, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. She wished she could disappear through a crack in the drywall and go back to her home in DC.
Moments later she heard footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside the door, and there was a gentle knock. “Can we come in?”
Melanie gave the sheet a slight tug to cover her flimsy blue hospital gown. “Yes.” The sight of Aunt Phoebe’s smiling face in the doorway brought tears to Melanie’s eyes. The last time they’d seen each other had been the funeral. Had it really been a year? Some days it felt like an eternity.
“Oh dear, thank God you’re okay.” Aunt Phoebe glided across the floor to her bedside and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what would have happened if Jackson hadn’t been there. Your car was towed to Wilbourn’s Autobody, so no need to fret about that. It will be repaired in a couple of days.”
Her aunt turned toward the door, and Melanie’s eyes followed. Her breath caught in her throat. A gorgeous, tall man with dark, wavy hair and a muscular frame stood in the doorway.
Their eyes connected for an instant, and her heart fluttered when his cheeks flushed. “I suppose you’re the infamous Jackson.” When he smiled, she looked away, but not before she took notice of his hypnotic deep blue eyes. He was perfection—which was reason enough to avoid him.
“Come in, Jackson.” Aunt Phoebe beamed and extended her hand toward him. “I’d like to introduce you to my lovely niece.” She moved aside, and he sauntered toward Melanie’s bed with his thumbs through his belt loops. “Jackson Daughtry, this is my niece, Melanie Harper.”
Jackson jerked his thumbs loose and touched his hand to hers. She expected roughness. The silky smooth feel of his skin caught her off guard. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me to the hospital.” She looked up and curved her lips into a small smile. “I don’t remember exactly what happened, but Sara told me I was unconscious, and you pulled me from my car.” His touch was gentle. She shifted in the bed and pulled away her hand.
“It’s my job.” He smiled. “Anyone traveling behind you would have stopped and done the same.”
Aunt Phoebe laughed. “Now, Jackson, don’t be so modest. Jackson’s a paramedic, but he had the day off today. I think I know him well enough to say he never really goes off duty. Even as a child, he rescued anything he could.” She placed her index finger to her chin. “Do you remember Miss Pearson’s cat? Marcie... I think it was her name.”
Jackson smiled. “Yes, it was.”
“Well, she got stuck, and Jackson climbed all the way up a huge oak tree to save her.”
A hint of redness covered Jackson’s cheeks at her aunt’s praise.
“A cat, really? That’s commendable of you.” Melanie nodded.
A slight smile pulled on one side of his mouth. “It was when I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”
“Save cats?” Melanie blurted.
Judging by the raised eyebrow Aunt Phoebe threw in her direction, she obviously didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.
Jackson pushed his shoulders back. “Well, mostly people, but animals, too, if they need rescuing.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “I’ll never forget the feeling when I placed Marcie back into Miss Pearson’s wrinkled hands. She lived alone for thirty years after her husband died. Marcie was all she had.”
“Jackson has always had a good heart.” Aunt Phoebe grinned and patted his arm.
Barricaded.
That was what Melanie’s heart was now. She would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself from further anguish.
Aunt Phoebe took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You look tired, dear. Maybe we should leave so you can get some rest.”
Melanie squirmed, struggling to sit up. “First I need to talk to you about the reason I came to Sweet Gum.” She wouldn’t let the fact that she’d had an accident and was now in the hospital stop her from telling Aunt Phoebe the truth of her mission.
“You came to get some much-needed rest, child.” Aunt Phoebe slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves of her raincoat.
“Yes, it’s true, but the main reason is to bring you back to DC to live with me.” She blew out a breath. There, she’d said it.
“What?” Jackson shouted and looked around the room. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
Aunt Phoebe rubbed the top of Melanie’s head. “Dear, you’re talking crazy. I would never leave Sweet Gum.”
Melanie noticed Jackson listening intently. He even shook his head a couple of times.
“Now, you get some rest. Dr. Roberts said you can go home in the morning.” Aunt Phoebe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll prepare a big dinner, just like it’s Sunday.”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me. Besides, I’m not a big eater.”
“Nonsense. You need more meat on your bones.” She squeezed Melanie’s arm. “I don’t know how you keep warm. I’ll make you some crispy fried chicken. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” She turned to him. “You save your appetite, too. I’ll prepare a meal for the hero...and bring your sweet little girl since school’s out again tomorrow for that teacher workday.”
Jackson nodded. “Sounds great. Rebecca loves your fried chicken.” He looked in Melanie’s direction. “Rebecca’s my five-year-old daughter.”
Aunt Phoebe waved goodbye, and Jackson followed her. The door closed, and they were gone.
The IV drip hummed. Melanie covered her face with a pillow. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t come here to mingle with the locals. She just wanted to bring her aunt home. Jackson and his daughter weren’t family. Why did her aunt act as though they were related? Melanie took a sip of her water and rolled onto her side.
She wasn’t ready to be around children, not yet. Maybe never. She’d tried keeping a journal, like the doctor had suggested, but the pain felt even more real when she’d put her thoughts down on paper. What did her doctor know, anyway? He hadn’t lost his children—she’d seen the photo of him and his wife with three smiling boys on the corner of his mahogany desk. She yanked the sheet over her head, wishing she could stay hidden forever, but whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she’d be having dinner with Jackson and his daughter.
* * *
As Jackson headed to the Whitesides’ house, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca. While he drove along their half-mile gravel driveway, his thoughts drifted to Melanie. How dare she suggest moving Phoebe to DC? She’d never even visited and knew nothing about her aunt’s life and how happy she was living in the valley. It was obvious Melanie was a woman with a heavy heart, but that didn’t give her a right to uproot Phoebe.
He pulled in front of the Whitesides’ house and honked the horn. Within seconds, Rebecca flew out the door. He smiled and watched the love of his life, his vivacious daughter, sprint toward his truck. She ran as though she was trying to reach the finish line and he was the prize. For a second, his joy turned to sadness as he wondered how many more years she would think of him as her hero. He pushed the thought away and jumped from the truck with open arms.
“Daddy, can I have a puppy? Please, can I?” Rebecca pleaded and took a giant leap into his arms.
“What? Who wants to sell my baby a puppy?” Jackson decided he’d play around a little with his daughter. He placed her back on the ground.
Rebecca frowned. “I’m not a baby.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be six in a few months.”
“So tell me, what kind of dog is this?” The buzz around town was that Larry Whiteside was breeding a litter of Labrador retrievers.
With eyes wide and as blue as the ocean, Rebecca began to captivate him—as she always did. He’d have been the first to admit he was a softy when it came to his daughter and the things she asked for. “Mr. Whiteside said Sally is going to have her pups soon, and she’s big and yellow. He told me I had to ask you first,” Rebecca answered.
Jackson scratched his chin. “Let me think about it for a bit. Hmm...well, since our closest neighbors are ten miles down the road and they’re seventy-five years old, you just might need a little friend.”
Rebecca jumped up and down and then proceeded to twirl. She loved to twirl. “Yes! I’ll take care of her. I promise. I’ve already picked out a name. I want to call her Samantha.”
Jackson’s heart melted. He could never say no to his little girl. “We have a couple of days before the pups are born, and they will have to stay with their mama for a while.” He cupped her chin. “I do have one question for you, sweetie. What happens if all of Sally’s puppies are boys? What will you name him?”
“Daddy, come on. I’d call him Sam—duh.”
He laughed and gave her a big bear hug. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
Larry and Wilma Whiteside, along with their daughter Mary, Rebecca’s best friend, stood on their porch as he and his daughter walked to the front door to thank them for having Rebecca over. “Anytime Mary wants to come over for the night, she’s always welcome.” Jackson smiled as he reached to shake Larry’s hand.
As they walked back to the truck, Rebecca looked up. “Can she come tonight since tomorrow’s Friday and we don’t have school?” He lifted Rebecca in and buckled her seat belt.
“I think you two had enough time together for now. Besides, we have plans tomorrow.”
She bounced up and down in her seat. “What are we doing?”
He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. “Miss Phoebe has invited us over for an early dinner. Her niece is visiting.”
“Is she the lady you rescued?” Rebecca asked and kicked her feet against the back of his seat.
“Where did you hear I rescued someone?”
“I heard Mrs. Whiteside telling Mr. Whiteside you saved a lady today.”
“Yes, she was Miss Phoebe’s niece. She’s from Washington, DC.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know where DC is, don’t you?”
“Ah...duh, of course—it’s our nation’s capital.” She flashed a lopsided grin in the reflection. Jackson stifled his laugh. He wasn’t keen on her using “duh,” but sometimes it was too darn cute.
“Is she pretty?” The kicking subsided. “What’s her name?”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Her name is Miss Melanie.” Her face flashed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” He swallowed hard. Too pretty. What had he been thinking when he agreed to dinner?
Chapter Two (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)
“Jackson and Rebecca won’t be here for a couple of hours,” Aunt Phoebe announced from her kitchen. “Why don’t you go lie down and take a little nap?”
Melanie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The searing pain persisted in her neck. She’d been anxious to leave the hospital this morning, but now she wondered if she should have stayed. With the tips of her fingers, she touched the stitches on her cheek. No point trying to cover them with makeup. She stared out the living-room window in dreaded anticipation of the dinner guests, especially Jackson’s daughter.
Aunt Phoebe’s house, a charming country cottage, reminded Melanie of the gingerbread houses she’d made with her mother as a child. Although small in comparison to her three-level town house in the heart of Capitol Hill, Aunt Phoebe’s cottage sat on fifteen acres of immaculate tree-lined property, obviously maintained by a professional landscaper. Melanie had to admit it was stunning. The backyard exploded with shades of yellow and red. A quaint white gazebo sat near a small pond. Potted mums perfectly arranged along the interior of the structure provided an added pop of dazzling autumn colors.
Once upon a time, this had been her favorite time of the year, but no more. Her world was the same no matter the season. Dark.
Melanie peeled herself from the comfort of the La-Z-Boy chair. Now was a good time to discuss the move. Before Jackson showed up. She’d sensed his displeasure at the suggestion when she’d brought it up yesterday. She pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The combination of the bright October sun and the yellow-painted walls made her feel like she needed her sunglasses. “Aunt Phoebe, don’t you think it might be time for you to slow down? Have someone look after you for a change? You’re sixty-five years old. You can’t expect to continue to take care of this house and run The Bean.” As far as Melanie knew, she worked there every weekday and Saturday. And Melanie suspected the only reason she didn’t work on Sunday was because they were closed. Aunt Phoebe was a firm believer in going to church on Sunday and spending the rest of the day in fellowship with family and neighbors.
“Slow down?” Phoebe speared a piece of chicken with a fork and placed it on a floured baking sheet. “I’m hitting my stride.” She pushed out her chest. “In fact, I just signed up for the hospital’s 5K.”
Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t run. You’ll injure yourself.”
“Maybe I can’t run, but I can certainly walk. It’s for children’s cancer research, and if I have to, I’ll crawl across the finish line.” She sprinkled some pepper onto the chicken and rolled it in the flour. She turned her head when the pepper triggered a sneeze. “Excuse me.”
Nothing slowed the woman down. But in spite of how she felt now, if something happened to her, Melanie would find herself alone in the world. Her stomach turned at the thought. “So, what do you think about moving to DC with me?” She stared down at the chicken.
Aunt Phoebe shook her head. “Honestly, when you mentioned this crazy idea at the hospital, I thought you were joking. Why would I want to move? My life is here.”
The oven beeped. It was fully preheated and ready for the oversize biscuits.
Melanie expelled a weary sigh. “You’re the only family I have. I want to take care of you.”
Aunt Phoebe snatched the checkered dish towel off of the counter and dried her hands. “You don’t think I’m capable of looking out for myself?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just think your home and The Coffee Bean are a lot of upkeep for anyone.”
“You mean for an old coot like me?” She tightened the strings on her apron. “This is nonsense. The valley is where I plan to spend my last days on this earth, however long the good Lord determines I have.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Let’s end this subject. We’ve got company coming.”
“Don’t you get scared living out here alone?”
“Scared? Why would I be scared?” She pulled on her yellow gloves and, with an oversize sponge, scrubbed the cast-iron skillet with the tenacity of a twenty-year-old. “Besides, God is always watching over me. I trust Him to take care of me.”
Melanie dropped her arms to her sides. Her aunt was stubborn.
“What about you?” Aunt Phoebe set the skillet in the sink, took off the gloves and reached for Melanie’s hand. She guided her to the kitchen table, and they each took a seat across from one another. “Not a day goes by I don’t think about you living alone in that big ol’ town house. The loss you’ve suffered is more than anyone should ever endure in a lifetime.” Aunt Phoebe reached over the bowl of Golden Delicious apples to wipe the tear that escaped Melanie’s eye. Her touch was warm. “God has a plan for you. He’ll carry you through this, but you must have faith. And in the end, you’ll find peace.”
Melanie yanked her hand from Aunt Phoebe’s grasp. She stood and paced the kitchen floor. “Why would God steal my family? They were my world, Aunt Phoebe.” She turned toward the kitchen window. A chipmunk hopped along the split-rail fence. “Where was He when my children were trapped inside a burning car, while their father did everything in his power to save them but died trying?”
“Oh child, God will bring you through this difficulty if you’ll open your heart to Him.”
Melanie shook her head. “I’m not sure I can believe in Him again. I did once. I really did...but not anymore.” She turned from the window and walked toward the table. Her throat parched, she reached for her glass of water and took three large gulps before placing it back on the table. “I didn’t come here to upset you—please believe me. It’s just—” she picked up the glass and drained it “—I can’t seem to get my life back on track. I don’t know how to live without my family.” Chill bumps peppered her skin as her aunt took her hand.
“Put your trust in God, and in time, peace will flourish.”
Melanie gave Aunt Phoebe’s hand a quick squeeze. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down for a little while—” her footsteps tapped across the hardwood floors before she turned back around and faced her aunt “—unless you need my help.”
“No, of course not. I’ve got everything under control.” She walked toward the sink.
Inside the guest room, Melanie gazed up at the cedar ceiling. Her hand gripped the cold doorknob as she slowly pushed the door shut.
Peace. She hadn’t felt it since the last time she kissed her girls and husband goodbye.
A cold chill ran through her blood when, across the room, she spied the gift she’d mailed to Aunt Phoebe on her last birthday. Sluggishly she walked toward the dresser and picked up the present.
She studied the photo inside the frame, and her eyes erupted with tears. It was from the last trip they’d taken to the beach as a family. Her husband, Jeff, had asked a stranger passing by to take their picture. Tan and smiling, they had an amazing life. Her hands trembled as she placed the frame on the dresser. She wanted to crawl inside the photo and be with her family one more time. Her body quivered, and instead she crawled into the bed and sobbed.
After what felt like hours, but had probably just been one, Melanie entered the kitchen to the sound of chicken sizzling in the skillet. “I’m sorry, Aunt Phoebe. I should be helping you.”
Her aunt flung the dish towel over her shoulder and brushed her hand across her forehead, leaving behind a trail of flour. “You need your rest.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Besides, I’ve been cooking like this for over forty years. Making dinner for four is easy peasy.”
Melanie yanked a paper towel from the roll, turned on the faucet and swiped the towel under the water. “Here, let me at least do this.” She smiled. “You’ve got a little flour on your forehead,” she said, wiping away the powdery substance. She took in her aunt’s features. Despite a few wrinkles and hair as white as snow, her aunt still looked youthful.
“Thanks, dear. Oh, I think I hear a car.”
Melanie’s pulse rose. She listened to the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway. “I’ll go get the door,” she told her aunt. A chill traveled through her body as she walked toward the entrance. She wrapped her arms around herself. This wouldn’t be easy, but her aunt seemed happy, so she pasted a smile on her face and flung open the door. A flash of blond hair tore past Melanie.
The sound of prancing feet scurrying along the hardwood floor filled the room. “Phoebe, Phoebe...we’re here!”
She tried to catch her breath, her legs weak. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready to be around children. Not yet. The child’s blond ringlets sprouting from her head bounced like rubber balls when she turned and headed back toward the door. Melanie glanced down when the girl stopped in front of her. She wore a yellow dress covered in red polka dots. Her shoes were patent leather, and exactly like the ones Melanie had purchased over a year ago. Her stomach wrenched.
“Hello, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Rebecca.” The child looked up, extended her tiny hand and grinned. The smile lit up her entire face. Wide-eyed, she turned toward the door. “And that’s my daddy.” She giggled. “Oh yeah, you already know him. Remember, he’s the one who rescued you yesterday. He’s right. You’re pretty.” She released her hand and raced toward Aunt Phoebe as she exited the kitchen.
Melanie’s stomach churned. Did he really think she was pretty? She might have misunderstood. He was probably talking about the nurse. What was her name again? Yes, Sara. She appeared to have a crush on Jackson. They were probably dating. Not that Melanie cared either way. She didn’t want anyone to think she was pretty. She didn’t want people to think anything of her—she wished she were invisible. It would have been much easier.
“Hello, Rebecca. You look lovely today.” Aunt Phoebe took the child into her arms and gave her a kiss on her cheek.
Rebecca pulled back, her arms still around Aunt Phoebe’s neck. Their noses nearly touched. “Guess what? I’m getting a puppy.”
In a daze, Melanie watched Rebecca. It seemed like an eternity since she’d felt a child’s arms around her neck. Would she ever feel the softness of children’s smooth and flawless skin? Would she ever smell the sweetness when they were fresh out of the bathtub? She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder, erasing her negative thoughts, at least for now.
She turned and found herself face-to-face with Jackson.
A slow smile moved across his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He held two bunches of pink roses. “These are for you.” He handed her one bunch. How did he know they were her favorite? Her father had given her pink roses when she’d graduated from law school. It was the last gift she’d received from him. A single rose, now brown and crinkled, remained in her memory book, along with photographs from her life before it’d ended.
“You didn’t scare me.” She accepted the roses and swiped the bouquet under her nose. It seemed forever since she’d smelled the sweet scent of fresh-cut roses. “They’re beautiful.” She took another sniff. “It was thoughtful of you to bring them. Thank you.”
His focus remained on her. “Your color is better today. How are you feeling?”
His scrutiny made her face burn, but somehow, in the last couple of minutes, she’d forgotten about the pain in her neck and the rest of her body aches. “I’m feeling okay. Thanks for asking.” She played with a strand of her hair.
“Hello, Jackson. What do you have there?” Aunt Phoebe wiped her hands down her Kiss the Chef apron.
He smiled and handed the other bouquet to Aunt Phoebe. “These are for you, a thank-you for having me and Rebecca over.”
“Dear, put these in some water. We’ll use them as the centerpiece.” She handed Melanie the roses. Melanie headed toward the kitchen, inhaling the fragrance once more. The clicking of tiny feet came from behind and she turned.
“I know where the vases are, Miss Melanie. Can I help?”
Startled by Rebecca’s enthusiasm, Melanie nodded. Without warning, Rebecca grabbed hold of her free hand and led her into the kitchen. Melanie’s heart melted. She wanted to cry, but instead, she forced a smile, allowing the hand to remain as they entered the kitchen.
Melanie watched Rebecca take command. She certainly knew her way around Aunt Phoebe’s kitchen, finding the exact cupboard where vases of all sizes and colors were stored.
“Do you like this one, Miss Melanie?” She turned holding a white vase with tiny yellow daisies covering the sides, and large enough for both bouquets. “I love daisies, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” Melanie straightened her shoulders. She could do this. All she had to do was make it through a couple of hours. Surely they wouldn’t stay longer than two hours. “I think it’s a perfect choice.”
Melanie filled the vase with water and carefully arranged the roses. “How do they look?”
Rebecca nodded and smiled. “They look beautiful. You’re really nice, Miss Melanie. Do you have any kids my age?”
The yellow walls began to close in around her, and the kitchen whirled. Melanie tried to make it to the table, but her legs were weak. She had to sit. Without warning, the vase slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor.
The sounds of muffled voices filled the room.
“Melanie! Are you okay?” Aunt Phoebe raced to her side. “Did you cut yourself?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Aunt Phoebe placed her hand across Melanie’s arm. “Do you feel dizzy? Maybe you should go lie down? I’ll keep the chicken warm in the oven.”
“No, please, I’m okay. Let me clean up this mess so we can eat,” Melanie announced and pushed her hair from her eyes.
Jackson stepped forward. “Rebecca and I will clean this up. Phoebe, take Melanie into the family room.”
“Daddy, is Miss Melanie okay? I just asked her if she had any kids my age, and she dropped the vase.”
Melanie glanced toward Jackson. Their eyes connected before she looked away. “I’m fine, Rebecca. The vase was wet. It just slipped. No big deal.” She turned and headed into the family room with her aunt.
“You should sit down for a while?” Phoebe guided her toward the leather sofa. “We’ll take care of things in the kitchen.”
Melanie wondered what Jackson and Rebecca must think of her. How could she enjoy a meal with them when she couldn’t even fill a vase with water? “I’m okay. I want to help.”
Her aunt just smiled. “Rest for a bit. I’ll call you when dinner’s on the table.” She turned and walked back to the kitchen.
Melanie flopped down on the sofa. She knew she wasn’t truly fine. Her reaction to Rebecca’s mention of children was proof she was still hurting inside. This past year, she’d lived in a murky world, simply going through the motions of each day. She didn’t care about anything or anyone. Her dramatic weight loss was proof that she didn’t care about herself, either. Heaviness staked out a permanent residence inside her chest. A lump formed in her throat, and the tears escaped down her cheeks. If she could have gone back in time, she would have been the one driving the car instead of her exhausted husband...but she couldn’t go back. Her family was gone, and she’d carry the guilt with her for the rest of her life.
* * *
An hour later, Jackson leaned back in his chair. He placed his hand on his stomach and rubbed in a circular motion. “Every time you make fried chicken, Phoebe, it’s crispier than the last batch.” He picked up his napkin and placed it to his lips. A quick look at Melanie’s plate proved what she’d said yesterday. She wasn’t a big eater. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Melanie? You’ve hardly touched your meal.”
She fingered her necklace. “I don’t have much of an appetite. Maybe it’s from the pain medication I’ve been taking.”
Phoebe picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes and scooped a heaping spoonful. “These always taste good to me when I have an upset stomach.”
Melanie nodded and held out her plate. Jackson watched while she picked at her food like a child. Finally she tried the mashed potatoes. “These are delicious.”
“So, Phoebe tells me you’re a divorce attorney. Sounds like interesting work.” Jackson snatched a pinch of corn bread and popped it into his mouth. “I’m sure it’s never dull.”
“My mommy and daddy got divorced,” Rebecca announced. “I don’t remember her. She left when I was really little.” She quickly looked down. “I’m sorry.”
Jackson observed Melanie place her hand on top of Rebecca’s hand. “It’s okay. You can talk about your mommy if you want to.”
He nodded when Rebecca looked at him for confirmation. “She had really dark hair, kind of like yours, but shorter. I have a picture of her on my nightstand. You can come see it sometime if you want to.” She smiled. “Daddy said she liked to dance, and she was a good singer, too.” She tucked a stray curl that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “I think she left us to become famous.” Staring out the window, she placed her fist underneath her chin and tilted her head. “I think she’ll come back for me...for both of us, someday.”
Jackson’s heart ached for his daughter. The anger toward his ex-wife boiled to the surface every so often. Would the scars ever heal? Rebecca missed her, but it was a blessing she was too young to have witnessed her mother’s behavior. He’d rather she have good thoughts of her than remember the way things really were.
“Okay, who’s ready for a big hunk of Phoebe’s chocolate sour cream layer cake?” He looked at Melanie, and then Phoebe, and saw that both were wiping away tears.
Thankfully Rebecca hadn’t noticed how emotional the ladies had become. She sprang from her chair at the mention of the dessert. “I’ll get the plates and forks,” she yelled and ran toward the kitchen.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “I think I’ll go help.” She turned and shot a wink at Melanie. “I only allow one disaster a day in my kitchen.”
When her aunt left the room, Melanie turned to Jackson. “I wouldn’t call a broken vase a disaster.”
“She was only joking,” he said. “What happened in the kitchen earlier could have happened to anyone.” He sipped his iced tea. “I’m sorry if Rebecca upset you.”
The silence was deafening. Melanie played with the condensation on her glass. He studied her face and wished he could take away the sadness.
She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Your daughter is so sweet. Nothing she says could upset me. I guess I’m still rattled from the accident.”
Obviously she wasn’t going to share what really bothered her. He understood. They’d just met, and opening up to someone required trust, something he’d definitely lacked the past several years. “Jackson, I’m sorry about your wife. I’m sure it’s been difficult on you and Rebecca.”
He shrugged his shoulders, not ready to share, either. Yes, she was Phoebe’s niece, but he knew nothing about her. Less than twenty-four hours ago, their lives were separate from each other. Now, after an accident, their worlds had merged. But could he ever trust a woman who obviously didn’t put family first? She never visited her aunt though she lived only a couple of hours away. He wasn’t ready to confide in her, or any woman, for that matter.
“Rebecca and I get along fine.” He drained the last of his iced tea and reached for the pitcher. “Would you like some more?”
She shook her head.
Jackson filled his glass. “So, what prompted you finally to make a trip to see Phoebe? From what I understand, she’s been trying to get you to the valley for years. Too busy with your hotshot career, I suppose?”
She lifted her chin, and a moment passed before she spoke. “Like I mentioned yesterday at the hospital, I’ve come to convince Aunt Phoebe to move back to DC with me.” She held her shoulders straight, like a soldier in formation. “She’s getting older. It’s time she had family nearby.”
Jackson’s spine stiffened. “I didn’t think you were serious. Phoebe’s life is here.” His heart raced at the thought of Phoebe moving.
Melanie tapped her finger against her empty glass. “I’m her only family, Jackson. She belongs with me.” Her eyes kept a strong hold on his. “You asked what brought me here, and I told you. Can we please drop this conversation? I don’t want her to hear us. She needs time to adjust to the idea.”
“She won’t adjust,” he snapped. “Besides, she has family here—Rebecca and me.”
“You’re not blood, Jackson.”
“You don’t need the same blood in order to be family. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t take her away from the only life she knows and loves.” He bolted from the chair. It screeched along the hardwood floor.
“What in the world is going on out here?” Phoebe stood in the doorway with both hands on her hips.
“Melanie was just telling me a little more about your move.” He eyed Melanie, waiting for her to pounce.
Phoebe laughed. “We’ve discussed it already. I’m not moving and that’s final.”
“You haven’t had enough time to make a final decision.” Melanie walked toward her aunt and reached out for her hand.
Ignoring the extended hand, Phoebe paced the dining-room floor. “I don’t need more time.” She picked up her glass of water and took two long swigs. “What on earth has put such a crazy idea into your head? It needs to stop—now.”
Jackson took notice of Phoebe’s complexion. She looked pale, and tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. “Are you okay, Phoebe?”
She yanked a tissue from her apron pocket and blotted her forehead. “It’s just a little warm in here from the oven. I’m fine.” She slipped the tissue back into her pocket. “So, what do you think about Melanie’s plan, Jackson?”
He shook his head. “I think it’s a bad one. Your life is here with the people who love you.”
“I agree. And I won’t discuss this any further,” Phoebe announced.
“Wait, please,” Melanie said. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I love you, and I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m staying put...end of discussion.” Phoebe turned and headed back to the kitchen.
Jackson ran his hand down the front of his face, relieved the conversation was over, at least for now.
Melanie, on the other hand, did not look pleased.
“Daddy, come quick!” Rebecca’s scream had him sprinting toward the kitchen like a jackrabbit.
He burst through the door and saw Phoebe lying on the floor.
Melanie entered the kitchen and gasped. “Jackson, help her.” She raced to her aunt’s side. “What’s happening?”
Jackson heard Phoebe’s garbled speech and noticed the side of her mouth was drooping. “She’s having a stroke. I’ve got to get her to the hospital. Now!”
Melanie gripped his wrist. “Shouldn’t we call for the ambulance?”
He shook his head. “No, we can’t wait.” He scooped Phoebe’s tiny frame into his arms and headed toward the door. “You take Rebecca in your car. Don’t try to keep up. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Daddy... I’m scared.”
Jackson stopped at the front door and turned. “Everything will be okay. You go with Miss Melanie.”
Chapter Three (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)
Melanie grabbed Rebecca’s hand and raced through the ER entrance. She’d never imagined she’d be at this hospital—or holding a child’s hand—again. Doesn’t Jackson know how difficult this is—being around a child? Of course not. She hadn’t allowed Aunt Phoebe to share her past with anyone.
“Rebecca, over here.” Jackson jumped from a brown sofa and scooped his daughter into his arms.
“How’s Aunt Phoebe?” Melanie’s pulse raced. “Has the doctor come out yet?”
“No, not yet.” He placed Rebecca on the ground. “You’ll need to check in with Sara at the desk. She needs some information from you. I’m going to take Rebecca down to the playroom.”
Before Melanie knew what was happening, Rebecca had her arms tight around her waist. Her breath froze in her chest. She needed to break free.
“Daddy, I want to stay here with Miss Melanie.”
There was something about this little girl, but she had to play it safe—keep her distance. “You go with your daddy. I have to fill out some paperwork so the doctor can take care of Aunt Phoebe.”
The smell of coffee wafted from behind the front desk as she walked over.
“Hi, Melanie. Do you remember me?”
“Of course. How are you, Sara?”
The nurse organized some forms and attached them to a clipboard. “I’m doing well. I’m sorry about Phoebe.” She handed Melanie the documents. “Dr. Roberts is here. He got called in on another emergency, but he’ll be caring for her.”
Melanie took the papers and forced a smile.
“Just complete what you can. We already have her insurance information in our system.”
When Jackson returned and approached the desk, Melanie watched Sara’s face light up like a beacon.
“Hello there, Jackson,” Sara said. She fluffed the back of her hair and batted her false eyelashes.
Melanie stared at Jackson. A pang of jealousy took hold. Why would she be jealous over a man she hardly knew? Sure, he was gorgeous, and he seemed like a good father, but jealous—no way. Besides, he was nothing but a roadblock to her plan. Still, when he appeared oblivious to Sara’s flirtation, she felt relieved.
“Hey, Sara. Can you let Dr. Roberts know we’re here? We’ll be in the waiting area until he’s ready to speak with Melanie.”
Sara’s smile faded, and she jutted her chin out. “Sure, Jackson.” She turned on her heel and strutted down the hall.
Jackson pointed at four chairs lined close together in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. “Let’s have a seat over here. Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Melanie sat in one of the brown vinyl chairs and gazed out the window. A brisk wind whipped through the courtyard. Leaves fell from the trees and swirled along the ground. She noticed a man walking with two little girls, probably his children. Where was the mother? She was probably at work. Melanie’s heart sank.
Jackson blew a heavy breath and leaned back into his chair. “Look, Melanie, you were right. I should have stopped discussing the move when you asked. If I had, maybe Phoebe wouldn’t be here.”
She rubbed her hands across her arms. Why were hospitals so cold? There were those annoying fluorescent lights buzzing. “No, the move was my idea.” Melanie leaned forward and put her hands over her face.
After a few moments of sobbing, she peeled her hands away and shot Jackson a look. She closed her eyes, shaken by the truth. “I’m the reason she had the stroke, Jackson.” Tears gushed for the present and for the past. “I should have never come here.”
A shiver ran down her spine when he placed a hand on the small of her back.
“You’re talking crazy, Mel.”
Another shiver.
It was the first time he’d called her Mel. She liked it. Why did it sound good coming from his lips? Melanie pushed aside the thought.
Jackson moved his hand in tiny circular motions along her back. “Phoebe’s stroke didn’t happen because you want to move her to DC.” He paused, reached for a tissue from the table next to his chair and turned her face toward his. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment when she saw the tenderness in his eyes. With a gentle touch, he wiped the tears from her face.
Though she knew he meant only to offer comfort, his kind gesture made her edgy. Melanie took the tissue from Jackson and looked away.
Over the next hour, Melanie paced the floor, waiting for Dr. Roberts to give her an update on Aunt Phoebe. Periodically she glanced at Jackson, who spent much of his time in prayer. At least, that was what she thought he was doing. His head was down and his eyes were closed. His lips moved ever so slightly. Did he really think that God listened? If that were the case, she’d still have a family.
As though Jackson heard her thoughts, he looked up. “Do you want to pray for Phoebe together?”
She shook her head and turned away. With her arms crossed, she gazed out the window once more. The man and children she’d seen earlier were gone. A pain filled her gut. Gone...like her family.
Jackson stood and came toward where she was standing. “Do you not believe?”
“Believe what?” Her eyebrow arched.
“That the power of prayer is unstoppable. Nothing is ever wasted when you share it with Him, Mel.” He reached for her hand. “Whatever it is you’re dealing with, He’s there for you.”
His hand was warm. She found comfort in his touch. Afraid of what might happen if it remained, she jerked from his grip. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but I don’t believe that.”
Silence permeated the air. Several minutes later, Sara entered the room. “Excuse me. Dr. Roberts will be out to speak with you within the half hour. We’re busy today.”
“Thank you, Sara.” Melanie took a seat and released a heavy sigh. She prepared herself for the worst. After the past year, what else could she expect?
Jackson sat down and turned toward Melanie. “Phoebe is a strong woman of faith.” He bit down on his lip. “And she’s pretty stubborn, too.”
She smiled and nodded in agreement. Would she continue to be stubborn about the move? Melanie turned her attention back to the window, hoping to see the family once more.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Jackson spotted Dr. Roberts. He saw the man stop at the nurses’ station and hand some papers to the nurse working with Sara. He continued down the hall.
“Hello. I’m sorry you had to wait so long. The ER’s bustling this afternoon.” He paused and glanced at Melanie. “Have you been feeling alright since the accident? You look a little pale.”
“Yes, I’m fine. How’s Aunt Phoebe?”
Dr. Roberts referred to his clipboard and looked up. “The tests confirmed it was a stroke. Thankfully you got her here when you did. Any later and it could have been much worse.”
Jackson watched Melanie. She shook her head. Her shoulders stiffened. “This is my fault, Dr. Roberts,” she said.
The doctor scratched his temple and looked at Jackson before turning back to Melanie. “What in the world would make you say such a thing? You certainly didn’t cause her stroke.”
She threw a look toward Jackson. “She’s upset because I want to move her to DC.”
Dr. Roberts’s eyebrow arched. “Move to DC? Phoebe?”
“Dr. Roberts.” Jackson shook his head. He hoped the doctor would understand now wasn’t the time to discuss an impending move. “You were saying about Phoebe’s condition?”
The doctor pulled a seat in front of the couple and removed his glasses. He rubbed his eyes for a moment. “She’s having some trouble with her speech, and there’s definitely partial paralysis on her left side.”
“Paralysis!” Melanie sprang from her chair and walked toward the window. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she turned and looked at Dr. Roberts with wide eyes. “Will it be permanent?”
Placing his glasses on, he flipped through his papers. Dr. Roberts motioned for Jackson to bring Melanie back to her chair.
His boots pecked on the tile like a redheaded woodpecker as he walked over to her. Melanie flinched when he rested his hand on her arm. “Please, have a seat.”
She shadowed Jackson and sat down. Her breaths were short and rapid while she fidgeted in her chair. “I’m sorry, but she’s all the family I have, Dr. Roberts.”
Jackson’s heart ached for Melanie. Even though she never visited, it was obvious she loved her aunt. He reached over and held her hand. “She’ll be okay, Melanie.”
“Will Aunt Phoebe need rehabilitation?”
“Yes, she’ll need speech and physical therapy to strengthen her muscles.” The sound of the doctor scribbling notes filled the room while they both absorbed the news.
Dr. Roberts looked up and laid his pen on the clipboard. “Madison Village is an excellent facility in Harrisonburg. I’ve already called to check room availability.”
“How long will she have to stay?” Melanie twisted a tissue between her fingers.
“The paralysis won’t be permanent, but I can’t say how much time it will take to go away. Phoebe is incredibly strong, so ideally she’ll be back to normal soon. You’ll have to take care of The Bean, Jackson.”
A knot squeezed in Jackson’s stomach. With everything happening, he hadn’t thought about that. “Of course. I’ll make sure it’s running smoothly.”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, Jackson. It’s Phoebe’s business, too, and she’s my aunt. I’ll take care of the restaurant. Unless you don’t think I can handle it. I do have a law degree, you know.”
Dr. Roberts’s laughter filled the room. “Okay, you two, there’s enough to do at The Bean for everyone.” He smiled. “Why don’t you work together? Phoebe would appreciate it.”
“What about your job, Jackson?” Her lips pursed.
Yesterday had been his first day off in a very long time, and he was on the schedule to return to duty tomorrow. He rarely took a vacation, so he had a lot of leave accumulated. Four years ago, he and Taylor had taken Rebecca on her first trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Rebecca was just learning to walk. He smiled as he recalled the framed photograph on his bedroom dresser. It was a photo of her first footprints in the sand. That was the last time they were together as a family. His world had never been the same.
“Yes, I do go back tomorrow, but I’ll talk to Tom tonight. I’ve got the time, so it won’t be a problem.”
Melanie rubbed her brow. “I really don’t think it’s necessary.”
“The Bean is just as important to me as it is to Phoebe. I’m half owner. If anyone is going to run the place while she’s recovering, it’s me.” Jackson’s jaw clenched. Why did this woman have to make everything so difficult? “Plus, won’t your big city law firm need you?”
Dr. Roberts shot Jackson a questioning look. He stood when the intercom announced he was needed in the ER. “Well, it’s agreed, then. You’ll both help Phoebe.”
Melanie nodded and glanced at Jackson. He returned a nod and shook the doctor’s hand. “When do you plan to move Phoebe to the rehab facility?” Melanie asked.
“I’ll call on Monday morning and schedule her for admission on Tuesday. Of course, that’s subject to change if there are any complications.”
Melanie’s eyes popped. “Complications, like what? I thought you said she’d be okay.”
“Don’t worry. Let’s take this one day at a time.”
Melanie wrapped her index finger around her purse strap. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Roberts. Aunt Phoebe spoke very highly of you after my accident.” She stood, placed her purse on her chair and gave the doctor a hug.
She didn’t let go until the intercom paged him again.
“I have to go. You two should head home and get some rest. It’s been an emotional afternoon.” He started to walk away, but stopped and turned around. “And, Melanie, you should give up the idea of moving Phoebe.”
“I agree,” Jackson said as he glanced at his watch. He needed to get Rebecca home and settled in for the night.
Melanie didn’t acknowledge either of their comments. She appeared lost in thought.
Jackson cleared his throat. “Dr. Roberts, before we leave, could Melanie visit with Phoebe for a moment?”
Melanie’s eyes brightened. “Oh yes, can I see her?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll send Sara. She’ll take you.”
“Thanks again, Doc.” Jackson shook his hand and thought about what a blessing this man was to their community. Once Phoebe returned to her old self again, he planned to do a little matchmaking.
“What are you grinning about?” Melanie asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Oh, nothing.” He tried to erase the grin.
She rolled her eyes and sat down. “Look, Jackson, about The Bean. Why don’t we cover it in shifts? Since it’s only open from 7:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m. for breakfast and lunch, I can take the first three-and-a-half hours and you the second, or vice versa.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Or we could alternate days. There’s no need for us both to be there at the same time.”
Jackson laughed and shook his head. “You don’t think there’s a need for both of us to cover it?” He rubbed his chin. “There’s no way you could handle the crowd alone, especially on a Saturday...with or without a law degree.”
Her knee bounced in agitation. “I think I’m perfectly capable of handling a little country restaurant.”
She didn’t have a clue. “Phoebe has a $4.99 breakfast special on Saturday. It comes with two eggs, two pancakes and two slices of bacon or sausage links, and to drink, orange juice and coffee. It draws a crowd.” Jackson’s stomach growled.
She arched her brow. “I hope there’s a gym in the area. It doesn’t sound healthy. How do people do anything else after such a big meal?”
He slid her a sideways stare. “Most folks around here have a working farm, and believe me, they get their workout.”
“I doubt they get their heart rate up riding around on a tractor.”
Jackson clenched his teeth. “We might not have a fancy gym like you’re used to, but trust me, we get our heart rates up every day.” He hesitated. “In fact, right now mine is through the roof.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. I just think The Bean should offer a healthier menu.”
Sara approached the couple. “Melanie, if you want to see Phoebe, you can follow me to her room.”
Melanie looked at Jackson. “Do you want to go?”
“No, you go, but give her a kiss for me.”
While Melanie visited with Phoebe, Jackson spent the time alone in prayer.
Ten minutes later, she returned with a huge smile splashed on her face. “Aunt Phoebe looked good, better than I thought she would. She couldn’t speak clearly, but I’m sure it will improve in time.”
Relieved to see Melanie more at ease, he glanced at his watch. “Let’s go get Rebecca, and I’ll walk you to your car.” He slipped on his leather jacket. “Before we go, let’s get back to the schedule at The Bean.”
Melanie spoke without hesitation. “I think you’re right. We both need to work together, for Aunt Phoebe.”
Jackson scratched the top of his head. Melanie had surprised him. She’d been so adamant about working alone. Why the sudden change? Was this all part of her scheme to move Phoebe?
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Just a while ago, you didn’t want me near The Bean while you’re there. And now—”
Her eyes softened, twisting his stomach inside out. “Aunt Phoebe told me you’re like a son to her, and that you know The Bean better than anyone. I know how important it is to her, so I promised when I went back to see her that we’d work side by side.”
Jackson gestured in the direction of the front doors. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
* * *
That evening, Jackson settled into his favorite leather chair in the corner of his bedroom. Thoughts of Melanie swirled in his head. Through the open plantation shutters, the hunter’s moon gleamed across the backyard. A coyote he’d seen hanging around for the past week stopped in his tracks and took a peek toward the window before scurrying into the woods.
He turned his attention from that view and ran his hand along the soft, worn leather arms. For thirty years, this chair had sat in his father’s insurance office. He missed his dad.
With heavy thoughts about Melanie and her plan to move Phoebe, he reached for the worn Bible given to him by his paternal grandmother. It had once belonged to his grandfather.
Jackson opened the Bible to his favorite verse. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. After his ex-wife, Taylor, left him and Rebecca for his best friend, Wilson, he meditated on these words daily. He did trust the Lord. It was other people, especially women, where he struggled.
“Daddy, I’m ready for my story.”
He closed the Bible. His heart melted at the sight of his daughter standing in the doorway. Dressed in her favorite Winnie the Pooh footed pajamas, she brushed a wild blond curl away from her eyes and sprinted across the room. Gigi, her favorite blanket, trailed behind her along the hardwood floor.
With one soaring leap, she was in his lap. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and smiled. She smelled of sweet honeysuckle from her bubble bath earlier in the evening. Their cuddle time always comforted him. He cherished this time with his daughter. The teenage years would be here in a flash, so he planned to savor every moment.
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Jill Weatherholt
Small-Town DaddyJackson Daughtry’s jobs as a paramedic and part-owner of a local café keep him busy—but the single dad’s number one priority is raising his little girl with love and small-town values. And when his business partner’s hot-shot lawyer niece comes to town, planning to disrupt their lives by moving her aunt away, Jackson has to set Melanie Harper straight. When circumstances forces them to work side-by-side in the coffee shop, Jackson slowly discovers what put the sadness in Melanie’s pretty brown eyes. Now, it’ll take all his faith—and a hopeful five year old—to show the city gal that she’s already home.
Small-Town Daddy
Jackson Daughtry’s jobs as a paramedic and part-owner of a local café keep him busy—but the single dad’s number one priority is raising his little girl with love and small-town values. And when his business partner’s hotshot lawyer niece comes to town planning to disrupt their lives by moving her aunt away, Jackson has to set Melanie Harper straight. When circumstances force them to work side by side in the coffee shop, Jackson slowly discovers what put the sadness in Melanie’s pretty brown eyes. Now it’ll take all his faith—and a hopeful five-year-old—to show the city gal that she’s already home.
Dear Reader (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842),
Growing up in the suburbs of Washington, DC, one of my favorite areas was the Shenandoah Valley. The beauty of the valley was prevalent year-round, but autumn was always my favorite time to visit. The magnificent colors painted on the Blue Ridge Mountains were a constant reminder of God’s presence in my life.
In 2015, when I heard about Harlequin’s Blurb to Book competition, I knew this was my opportunity to complete a project I started in 2010 but never finished. Like Melanie, who dreamed of having a family once again, my dream was to write a book.
God created us to have goals and dreams. The funny thing was, my dream was to write a book, but I never dreamed of having it published. That’s what makes our God such an awesome God. He took my little dream and turned it into a magnificent gift just for me.
I encourage you all to have dreams; God is listening and He knows your heart.
I love to hear from readers. You can email me at authorjillweatherholt@gmail.com or follow my blog at jillweatherholt.com (http://jillweatherholt.com/). I’m also a contributor at inspyromance.com (http://www.inspyromance.com).
Blessings,
Jill Weatherholt
“Daddy, you’re making goo-goo eyes at Miss Melanie.”
Rebecca grabbed her teddy bear and buried her face to stifle the laughter.
Jackson and Melanie broke out laughing.
“I was not.” He examined Melanie more closely. “Was I?” He winked and slammed the passenger door shut.
“Can Miss Melanie come with us to the apple festival?”
“Well, that’s up to Miss Melanie.”
Rebecca jumped up and down. “Please, will you come with us?”
“Yes, please.” He plucked a brilliant red wildflower and handed it to Melanie.
She brought it to her nose. “Ah…it smells so good. And yes, I’d love to go with you.”
Rebecca skipped down the dirt path.
Melanie smelled the flower again as she gazed at Rebecca.
Jackson took a deep breath. “I think there’s nothing more beautiful than you holding that wildflower.”
He saw the color bloom on her cheeks.
Jackson couldn’t resist any longer...she was getting into his heart.
Weekdays, JILL WEATHERHOLT works for the City of Charlotte. On the weekend, she writes contemporary stories about love, faith and forgiveness. Raised in the suburbs of Washington, DC, she now resides in North Carolina. She holds a degree in psychology from George Mason University and a paralegal studies certification from Duke University. She shares her life with her real-life hero and number one supporter. Jill loves connecting with readers at jillweatherholt.com (http://www.jillweatherholt.com).
Second Chance Romance
Jill Weatherholt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him,
and He will make your paths straight.
—Proverbs 3:5–6
To Derek, thank you for all of your patience
and encouragement. You’re my number one
cheerleader. And to my mother, father
and my sister, Jan, who’ve given me
a lifetime of support.
Contents
Cover (#ud7449e10-cf61-50ba-b4bb-9f36b084eb52)
Back Cover Text (#ub526d35c-9bf5-5cb0-82e4-183e37f74e33)
Dear Reader (#u6e9f6c94-30a4-5ec5-91b3-a033345e2211)
Introduction (#u3d62ac2e-fd4b-58ef-a625-9bf5fc69f616)
About the Author (#uf0c887c8-577b-5a10-8dc3-f26c63021a20)
Title Page (#u35e886fb-47d8-50f7-bcba-4579d00d72fd)
Bible Verse (#u1fe4b82e-72f2-5d57-a368-5a8744918771)
Dedication (#ua983c055-d136-5bc1-b392-033732c1d00e)
Chapter One (#u00c44233-c2d9-5837-8e40-d65769e334e4)
Chapter Two (#u7306fb61-dbb1-509a-9c36-c561ff2b4922)
Chapter Three (#u02255566-8d71-5c02-8f4b-483384abe206)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)
“Miss, can you hear me?” Jackson’s chest tightened. “C-can you open the door?”
The rain hitting his face felt like acupuncture needles. “I’m Jackson Daughtry, a paramedic. Can you hear me?”
The woman inside the silver Volvo didn’t respond. Her body slumped over the steering wheel, but he could tell she was breathing. Her flowing chestnut curls were covered in blood. He gripped the driver’s side door. It didn’t budge. He beat on the window. His knuckles burned.
“Hold on, miss.” It was Thursday, his first day off in ten days. Thankfully he was always prepared. Inside his trunk, he kept a fully stocked first-aid kit with compress dressings and bandages, all of the proper supplies for an emergency. “I’ll have you out before you open your eyes. You’ll be fine.”
Mud tried to tug his boots from his feet while he sprinted to his truck. Inside his Bronco, he wiped the pellets of rain off his face and grabbed his phone to call the station.
“Tom, it’s Jackson. I’m on Smith Farm Road, in front of the old Smith farm. I need an ambulance.”
“I thought today was your day off.”
“I was on my way to pick up Rebecca from the Whitesides’ house. She spent the night with her friend Mary.” He paused to catch his breath. “A deer darted across the road, and the car in front of me swerved straight into a chestnut oak. The driver is bleeding from her head, and she’s unconscious. Can you send the ambulance and contact the sheriff? I’ll make the report at the hospital.”
“Sorry, bud—I’ll call the sheriff, but the ambulance is at the Swanson place. They think Betsy had a heart attack. Poor Walter, he was beside himself when he called. Betsy collapsed while taking the roast out of the oven. It’ll be a while.”
Jackson’s stomach churned. The only downside of living in the small mountain valley of Sweet Gum, Virginia, was that there was only one sheriff’s car and one ambulance. “Call over to Waynesboro. They’ll send one.”
“No can do, my friend. I heard over the radio there’s a bad accident on Route 340.”
Jackson straightened his shoulders. “Never mind. I’ll take her to Sweet Gum Memorial myself.” He clenched his teeth, causing a pain to shoot through his jaw.
“Who is she, Jackson? Should I call her family?”
“She’s unconscious, man, and the car’s locked.” He massaged his temples. His head pounded. “The license plate says Washington, DC.” He remembered Rebecca, his precious daughter. “Do you mind calling over to the Whitesides’ house? Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Consider it done.”
Jackson pressed End. He grabbed the slim jim from his trunk, but it slipped from his hands and sank into the mud. He yanked it loose and sprinted to the Volvo. He jammed it down into the crack between the door and the window. Nothing happened. The car was a newer model. The slim jim wasn’t going to get him inside. He raced back to his trunk and grabbed a tire iron. He had no choice.
Standing next to the passenger window, he took a swing, and the glass exploded. With ease, he reached inside, popped the lock and flung open the door.
“You’ll be fine.” Please, Lord, let her be okay. “I’m going to unbuckle your seat belt and lift you out,” he told her, though she was still out cold.
The seat belt was stubborn. His knuckles throbbed from pounding on the window. “Hold on. I can’t get my hands on the release. One second and I’ll have you out.” Finally free, Jackson closed his eyes for an instant and tore off his bomber jacket.
“This will keep you warm and toasty.” He covered her with his leather jacket. Despite her slender frame, maneuvering her from behind the steering wheel wasn’t an easy task. His boots slid in the mud, and his knee rammed against the side of the Volvo. Rain pelted his face, stinging like sleet. He shivered when he glanced at the sky. It was dark as ink. Please, Lord, help me get her free. With precise movements he’d learned at the training academy and an answered prayer, finally she was in his arms.
She was featherlight. He carried her to the truck and laid her in the backseat as though she were made of antique china. “Let’s make sure you’re nice and comfortable,” he said, with hopes that his voice would somehow gradually bring her out of her unconscious state.
He scanned her face and pushed away a strand of blood-soaked hair. There were serious cuts on her cheek and forehead.
He dashed to the car to get her purse. Then he jerked open the passenger side door and spied a piece of paper on the floor. Drops of rain trickled down his hands when he picked it up. The ink had smeared, but it was still legible, and he could see it was directions to Phoebe Austin’s farm. He snatched the purse and bolted to his truck. He’d call Phoebe once he arrived at the hospital.
Inside the truck, he jerked the seat belt over his shoulder, turned and slid his phone from his shirt pocket. “Hold on. I’m going to get you to the hospital as fast as I can, but first I have to call to tell them we’re on our way.” Never one for high-tech gadgets, he opened his old flip phone. With the hospital on speed dial, he punched number nine. He tapped his foot while he waited for an answer.
After three rings, he heard a familiar voice. “Sweet Gum Memorial. This is Sara.”
He gulped in a deep breath. “Sara...hi. I’m glad you’re working. It’s Jackson.” He often had to dodge her advances, but she was a good nurse. He trusted her skills.
After giving her details of the accident, and their estimated time of arrival, he hit End and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel and closed his eyes. Lord, please watch over this woman. Guide us as we travel in these dangerous conditions.
Jackson started up the car, then jammed his foot on the accelerator and turned on the windshield wipers. The windows fogged. He rubbed his hand in large circles along the front windshield. He’d meant to get the defroster checked. There was never enough time.
“Are you okay back there?” He knew she wouldn’t answer, but maybe she could hear his words. “So, you were on your way to Phoebe’s house? She’s quite a character, isn’t she? We own a business together, The Coffee Bean. She runs the place. I’m just a backup, if she needs help. Did she tell you?” He blew out a breath. Lord, please, let her answer me.
The ride seemed endless. The pounding rain knocked the red maple leaves from the trees, splattering onto his windshield and littering the winding two-lane road. Deer grazed in a field, oblivious to the deluge. He eased his foot off the accelerator when his truck hydroplaned for a second time. “No sense in having another accident.” Up ahead a tree toppled over, thankfully not onto the road. He bit his lip. If only she would answer.
At last, through the foggy window, he spied the red glow of the emergency-room entrance. Thank You, Lord, for getting us here safe. Within seconds, Steve, a tall and lanky orderly, rushed toward his truck, pushing a gurney.
Jackson’s chest expanded. He unbuckled his seat belt and shot from the truck. “Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”
“Busy. This storm is creating lots of problems,” Steve said while he and Jackson removed the victim out of the truck and onto the gurney. “Has she been unconscious since you found her?”
Jackson wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. The rain tapered to a light drizzle. “Yes, she was out cold when I got inside her car.”
“Dr. Roberts is on duty,” Steve noted as he covered her with a blanket and pushed the rolling bed toward the hospital.
“That’s good.” Jackson turned and climbed into his truck. “I’m going to park. I’ll be right in.”
Inside the ER, Jackson approached Nurse Sara. With a clipboard in hand, she scribbled something with a red pen. She stopped and looked up. “Hi, Jackson. I’m glad you made it safe. Steve took the victim back to see the doctor.” She winked and flashed an overly whitened smile. “Did you find out her name?”
He handed her the purse he’d retrieved from the scene of the accident. “I don’t feel comfortable going through a woman’s things. You go ahead and check out her driver’s license.”
She took the bag and dumped its contents onto the counter. “Here it is. Her name is Melanie Harper.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know of any Harper in the area, do you?”
“I can’t think of any.”
Sara made it her business to know everyone’s business. If she said there weren’t any Harpers in these parts, there weren’t.
“According to the license, she has a Washington, DC, address.” Sara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You said you found directions to Phoebe’s house inside her car. That must be where she was going.” She scooped the contents back into the purse.
He reached for his phone. “I’m going to step outside and call Phoebe. If Dr. Roberts comes out, tell him I’ll be right back.” He headed toward the back entrance and prayed Phoebe was either at The Coffee Bean or at home. Just like him, she wasn’t a fan of tech gadgets. She didn’t even own a cell phone, which made it difficult to reach her sometimes.
Outside, the storm had passed, and a glimpse of the sun slipped between the drifting clouds. Autumn in the valley was his favorite time of the year. He hit the number two on his phone and took a seat on the only dry bench in the courtyard. It was under a roof, but the warmth of the sun tapped his face. He glanced at his watch and saw it was 12:30 p.m. Since The Bean’s first day, his mother and Phoebe had made the decision to open only for breakfast and lunch. He hoped the afternoon crowd was winding down so Phoebe would pick up.
“The Coffee Bean. This is Phoebe.”
Phoebe’s voice always brought a smile to his face. After his parents’ deaths, she’d been like a mother to him and a grandmother to his daughter, Rebecca. His mother and Phoebe had grown up together and had opened The Coffee Bean as co-owners. When his mother had died only a year after his father, she’d left her ownership to Jackson. Over the years, he remained a silent partner, since Phoebe wanted to run the show on her own.
“Phoebe, it’s Jackson.”
“Well, hello there, Mr. Daughtry.”
No matter her circumstances, Phoebe was always full of joy. Jackson loved that about her. “Were you expecting company today?” The last thing in the world he wanted to do was cause Phoebe pain, but he had to tell her about Melanie.
“Yes, my niece, Melanie,” she answered. “You’ve heard me speak of her.” Dishes clanked in the background. “She’s the successful divorce attorney from Washington, DC. The one who never takes a vacation.”
He remembered. Phoebe had tried to convince her niece to visit Sweet Gum for years, but she’d always been too busy. He knew that she’d made partner at her law firm at an unusually young age. He thought she had a family, but maybe he was wrong. Something had happened last year, but Phoebe never wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t the type to get into people’s business, so he’d never pursued the subject.
“Jackson? Are you there? Is everything okay?”
His chest felt heavy. “It’s Melanie.” He gazed across the courtyard. A squirrel scurried through the fescue, toting a nut in its mouth.
“Melanie?” The dishes stopped clanking. “What happened?”
Jackson knew Phoebe better than most, but he wasn’t quite sure how she would react to the news. “She’s been in a car accident.” He paused to give her time to take in the news.
“Oh my word! Is she okay?” Phoebe asked, releasing short breaths into the phone.
“She was unconscious when I pulled her from the car.”
“Unconscious!”
“Please calm down and let me finish. There’s a serious cut on her forehead and one on her cheek. Though I don’t know if she has any internal injuries or a concussion. She’s in the ER with Dr. Roberts.”
“Thank God he’s on duty. He’s the best. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Why don’t you stay put? I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive when you’re upset.”
There was no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous. It will take longer. Besides, I want you there with Melanie until I arrive.”
He’d learned years ago not to argue with her. “Please take your time. The rain has stopped, but the roads are covered in wet leaves. It’s very slick. Be safe.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been driving these roads since I was a teenager.” Phoebe hung up without saying goodbye.
Jackson turned and walked inside the hospital. He hoped to get a little information on Melanie’s condition from Sara, but he’d probably need to wait for Phoebe so they could both talk to Dr. Roberts.
Once inside, cleaning agents infiltrated his nose. He spied Sara chatting with a handsome young doctor. Jackson took a seat in the waiting room and prayed for the next ten minutes.
Finally Sara walked toward him. He stood and met her halfway. She brushed her blond bangs away from her eyes. “Dr. Roberts is ready to speak with Phoebe when she arrives.”
Jackson ran his hand across his chin. It was rough. He never liked to shave on his days off. One fewer thing to do. “How’s Melanie? Has she regained consciousness?”
Sara pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but you know I can’t talk to you about her condition. Neither can Dr. Roberts. You’ll have to wait for Phoebe.”
The young nurse disappeared through the ER doors, leaving behind a trail of potent fragrance.
Within a couple of minutes, Dr. Roberts appeared. Jackson had always admired him. With salt-and-pepper hair and slightly slumped shoulders, his experience was evident in his face and manner of speaking. He still worked five days a week and even made the occasional house call, if needed. He’d been on the staff at Sweet Gum Memorial for decades. He was not only an excellent doctor but also a pillar within the community.
“Dr. Roberts, it’s good to see you.” Jackson rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Another tension headache was setting in.
The doctor smiled and extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, too, Jackson. It’s been a while. How’s your sweet little girl?”
Jackson shook his offered hand. “She’s great. Thanks for asking. This year she started afternoon kindergarten. She’s a voracious reader.”
Dr. Roberts nodded. “That’s great to hear. Books can open up an entire world to a child.” He cleared his throat. “Now, back to the patient. You know the confidentiality laws prohibit me from talking to you about Melanie’s condition. Once Phoebe arrives, I’ll fill you both in if it’s okay with Phoebe. She’s next of kin, so she’ll make the call. I know you’re worried, so I’ll say only that you can relax.”
“That makes me feel better.” Although she was just a stranger, there was something about Melanie. He wanted to protect her. He wasn’t sure where these feelings were coming from. Maybe it was because of her relationship to Phoebe. What else could it be?
“Speaking of Phoebe, how is she doing these days?”
Jackson noticed a sparkle in Dr. Roberts’s eye when he asked about Phoebe. Many years had passed since Phoebe’s husband had died. Jackson always hoped for a spark to ignite between her and the doctor. He’d love to see her enjoy a little male companionship. She still had many years ahead of her, time she shouldn’t spend alone. Of course, people could have said the same thing about him. “Phoebe’s doing great, busy as ever. I called her about fifteen minutes ago. I told her I’d pick her up since the roads are so treacherous. Of course she insisted on driving herself.”
He smiled. “Sure sounds like Phoebe. She’s quite stubborn when she gets her mind set on something. I’ll never forget that after my sweet Jane went to be with the Lord, Phoebe brought me an enormous meal every day. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. I had mashed potatoes coming out of my ears.” Dr. Roberts laughed a deep belly laugh.
Jackson thought now was the time to slip in a good word about Phoebe, and perhaps devise a plan of action. “She’s stubborn, but you have to admit she’s a terrific cook. Her meat loaf and garlic mashed potatoes are the best in the valley.” He’d always heard people say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. “You should taste her new apple-pie recipe. She puts in just the right amount of cinnamon.”
“Stop, Jackson. You’re making me ravenous.” His tongue ran across his lips, and he rubbed his stomach. “I haven’t had time to eat lunch. I’ll probably have a slice or two of frozen pizza for dinner.”
Perhaps overstepping his bounds, Jackson took a chance. This man needed a home-cooked meal and a little female companionship. “I should talk to Phoebe about inviting you over for Sunday dinner. She always cooks enough for an army. Rebecca and I come home with a ton of leftovers.” Phoebe loved to have a house full of people. He’d definitely work on this.
Dr. Roberts nodded. “I like the way you think, young man. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.” He extended his hand to Jackson. “I’ll come out and talk to Phoebe when she arrives. Oh, and make sure she introduces you to Melanie. I’m sure she’d love to meet the man who rescued her.”
“Thanks again,” Jackson said and took a seat to wait for Phoebe’s arrival.
When she burst through the hospital entrance minutes later, he saw her quickly race down the hall straight toward him. “How is she, Jackson?” She removed her raincoat and flung it over her arm.
Sara came down the hallway holding a cup of coffee in each hand. “Hi, Phoebe. I saw you pull into the parking lot. I’m happy you made it here safe.” She smiled. “I thought you and Jackson could use this.” She handed them each a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I’ll let Dr. Roberts know you’re here.” She pointed to a private room next to the waiting area. “You can have a seat in there.”
Jackson nodded and took a quick sip. Strong and black, it was just what he needed. “Thanks for the coffee, Sara.” He took hold of Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go sit down for a minute.”
A small circular oak table and four chairs filled the entire windowless room. The strong aroma of the cleaning agents in the hallway gave way to the smell of pink tea roses in a crystal vase decorating the middle of the table. The chair screeched when Jackson pulled it out for Phoebe.
“Melanie’s going to be fine.” He reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. “I don’t want you to worry.”
They prayed quietly until Dr. Roberts, clipboard in hand, joined them. He took a seat and smiled. “Hello, Phoebe. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you, too. How’s Melanie?”
“She’s as strong as they come. She regained consciousness shortly after Jackson brought her in. Her memory appears fine, so that’s a blessing. The X-rays are all clear, no broken bones. But the MRI showed she does have a slight concussion, so we’ll keep her overnight, but she’ll be ready to go home with you in the morning.”
Phoebe clapped her hands together. “Thank God! The poor girl has been through enough.” She released a heavy breath. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”
Jackson considered Phoebe’s statement. Melanie must have endured some type of hardship, but now was not the time to ask questions. He squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Let’s stay focused on the positive.”
Dr. Roberts left, and they stood under the flickering fluorescent lights in silence. Phoebe stepped forward. “One day you’re going to make another woman very happy, Mr. Daughtry. Now let’s go check on my niece. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet.”
Jackson nodded. As they walked down the hall toward Melanie’s room, his breath quickened. At the doorway, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Why was he so nervous? He felt like a teenage boy getting ready for his first date.
* * *
Melanie opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again to escape the searing pain. The fluorescent lights burned her vision. Who in the world invented fluorescent lighting, anyway? It was the worst.
Images flashed through her mind of a whitetail deer tearing across the road, her car headed toward a tree, and then everything went black.
She opened her eyes again to see a woman’s face peering through a curtain.
Hospital. She should have known. Hospitals always had annoying fluorescent lights.
“How’s our patient feeling?” asked a petite blonde woman carrying a frosted pitcher and a plastic cup. She approached the bedside and smiled.
Stiff.
Exactly how Melanie had felt after she completed her fifth marathon, one month before her life had changed forever. She squirmed in an attempt to sit up, but a pain shot down her neck, like needles jabbing into her skin. She nestled back under the sheet.
“I’m Sara, your nurse.” She filled the cup with water and pulled a red straw from her pocket. “Try to drink a little. You need to stay hydrated.”
Melanie took the cup and placed the straw to her parched lips. “Is my aunt Phoebe here?” She sipped the cool liquid and flinched when it touched the back of her throat. “I remember a deer running in front of my car. Is that why I’m here?” She pressed her palm to her forehead. Her head throbbed as though someone bashed a rubber hammer against it.
“Here, take this. It will help with the pain, but it will make you sleepy.”
Melanie reached for the tiny clear cup that held the medicine as the nurse walked toward the window and tilted the blinds. “I’ve always preferred natural light.” She flipped a switch, and the fluorescent beacon vanished.
The pressure in Melanie’s head and around her eyes eased. “Thank you so much. I love the natural light, too.” She took another sip of the water, ran her fingers down the side of the cup and glanced out the window. “It stopped raining.” She wiped her fingers, wet from the moisture, onto her gown. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Sara placed her fist under her chin. Her fingernails were painted bloodred. “From what I understand, Jackson—”
“Jackson? Who’s Jackson?”
Sara flashed a mischievous smile. “Why, he’s the most handsome paramedic in all of Sweet Gum Valley, honey. Every woman within a hundred-mile radius would love to lasso the charming Mr. Daughtry, myself included.” She smoothed the back of her hair and placed her right hand across her narrow hip. “He’s the person who rescued you.”
Details were a blur, with the exception of the blinding rain, the deer and a tree. “Rescued me?” There were many events over the last year that she’d love to forget, but this wasn’t one of them. “Please, tell me what happened.”
“You were in a car accident on Smith Farm Road. Jackson was in the car behind you. He saw the deer dart across the road. You swerved to miss it and hit a tree.” Sara reached down and brushed a strand of hair away from Melanie’s face. “By the look of those cuts on your cheek and forehead, God was watching over you.”
Melanie put her hand to her forehead. He’s forgotten about me.
The white walls of the tiny room closed in around her. Why had she left DC? She wanted to go home and back to the job that occupied her mind for more than seventy hours a week—sometimes more. Work erased the pain of the past year.
When Aunt Phoebe had called last week and begged her to come for a visit, Melanie had finally given in. Phoebe was Melanie’s only living relative. She hoped to convince Phoebe to move to DC and live with her. Aunt Phoebe was her father’s younger sister. Somewhere in her attic, probably stuck in a box and gathering dust, Melanie had a photo of them together as children. She released a heavy breath. “I want to see my aunt Phoebe. Is she here?”
“Yes, Phoebe’s here. She’s down the hall, talking with Jackson.”
Sara headed toward the door and turned. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Push the button if you need anything, sweetie.”
Melanie rested her head against the mountain of pillows, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. She wished she could disappear through a crack in the drywall and go back to her home in DC.
Moments later she heard footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside the door, and there was a gentle knock. “Can we come in?”
Melanie gave the sheet a slight tug to cover her flimsy blue hospital gown. “Yes.” The sight of Aunt Phoebe’s smiling face in the doorway brought tears to Melanie’s eyes. The last time they’d seen each other had been the funeral. Had it really been a year? Some days it felt like an eternity.
“Oh dear, thank God you’re okay.” Aunt Phoebe glided across the floor to her bedside and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what would have happened if Jackson hadn’t been there. Your car was towed to Wilbourn’s Autobody, so no need to fret about that. It will be repaired in a couple of days.”
Her aunt turned toward the door, and Melanie’s eyes followed. Her breath caught in her throat. A gorgeous, tall man with dark, wavy hair and a muscular frame stood in the doorway.
Their eyes connected for an instant, and her heart fluttered when his cheeks flushed. “I suppose you’re the infamous Jackson.” When he smiled, she looked away, but not before she took notice of his hypnotic deep blue eyes. He was perfection—which was reason enough to avoid him.
“Come in, Jackson.” Aunt Phoebe beamed and extended her hand toward him. “I’d like to introduce you to my lovely niece.” She moved aside, and he sauntered toward Melanie’s bed with his thumbs through his belt loops. “Jackson Daughtry, this is my niece, Melanie Harper.”
Jackson jerked his thumbs loose and touched his hand to hers. She expected roughness. The silky smooth feel of his skin caught her off guard. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me to the hospital.” She looked up and curved her lips into a small smile. “I don’t remember exactly what happened, but Sara told me I was unconscious, and you pulled me from my car.” His touch was gentle. She shifted in the bed and pulled away her hand.
“It’s my job.” He smiled. “Anyone traveling behind you would have stopped and done the same.”
Aunt Phoebe laughed. “Now, Jackson, don’t be so modest. Jackson’s a paramedic, but he had the day off today. I think I know him well enough to say he never really goes off duty. Even as a child, he rescued anything he could.” She placed her index finger to her chin. “Do you remember Miss Pearson’s cat? Marcie... I think it was her name.”
Jackson smiled. “Yes, it was.”
“Well, she got stuck, and Jackson climbed all the way up a huge oak tree to save her.”
A hint of redness covered Jackson’s cheeks at her aunt’s praise.
“A cat, really? That’s commendable of you.” Melanie nodded.
A slight smile pulled on one side of his mouth. “It was when I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”
“Save cats?” Melanie blurted.
Judging by the raised eyebrow Aunt Phoebe threw in her direction, she obviously didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.
Jackson pushed his shoulders back. “Well, mostly people, but animals, too, if they need rescuing.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “I’ll never forget the feeling when I placed Marcie back into Miss Pearson’s wrinkled hands. She lived alone for thirty years after her husband died. Marcie was all she had.”
“Jackson has always had a good heart.” Aunt Phoebe grinned and patted his arm.
Barricaded.
That was what Melanie’s heart was now. She would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself from further anguish.
Aunt Phoebe took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You look tired, dear. Maybe we should leave so you can get some rest.”
Melanie squirmed, struggling to sit up. “First I need to talk to you about the reason I came to Sweet Gum.” She wouldn’t let the fact that she’d had an accident and was now in the hospital stop her from telling Aunt Phoebe the truth of her mission.
“You came to get some much-needed rest, child.” Aunt Phoebe slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves of her raincoat.
“Yes, it’s true, but the main reason is to bring you back to DC to live with me.” She blew out a breath. There, she’d said it.
“What?” Jackson shouted and looked around the room. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
Aunt Phoebe rubbed the top of Melanie’s head. “Dear, you’re talking crazy. I would never leave Sweet Gum.”
Melanie noticed Jackson listening intently. He even shook his head a couple of times.
“Now, you get some rest. Dr. Roberts said you can go home in the morning.” Aunt Phoebe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll prepare a big dinner, just like it’s Sunday.”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me. Besides, I’m not a big eater.”
“Nonsense. You need more meat on your bones.” She squeezed Melanie’s arm. “I don’t know how you keep warm. I’ll make you some crispy fried chicken. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” She turned to him. “You save your appetite, too. I’ll prepare a meal for the hero...and bring your sweet little girl since school’s out again tomorrow for that teacher workday.”
Jackson nodded. “Sounds great. Rebecca loves your fried chicken.” He looked in Melanie’s direction. “Rebecca’s my five-year-old daughter.”
Aunt Phoebe waved goodbye, and Jackson followed her. The door closed, and they were gone.
The IV drip hummed. Melanie covered her face with a pillow. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t come here to mingle with the locals. She just wanted to bring her aunt home. Jackson and his daughter weren’t family. Why did her aunt act as though they were related? Melanie took a sip of her water and rolled onto her side.
She wasn’t ready to be around children, not yet. Maybe never. She’d tried keeping a journal, like the doctor had suggested, but the pain felt even more real when she’d put her thoughts down on paper. What did her doctor know, anyway? He hadn’t lost his children—she’d seen the photo of him and his wife with three smiling boys on the corner of his mahogany desk. She yanked the sheet over her head, wishing she could stay hidden forever, but whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she’d be having dinner with Jackson and his daughter.
* * *
As Jackson headed to the Whitesides’ house, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca. While he drove along their half-mile gravel driveway, his thoughts drifted to Melanie. How dare she suggest moving Phoebe to DC? She’d never even visited and knew nothing about her aunt’s life and how happy she was living in the valley. It was obvious Melanie was a woman with a heavy heart, but that didn’t give her a right to uproot Phoebe.
He pulled in front of the Whitesides’ house and honked the horn. Within seconds, Rebecca flew out the door. He smiled and watched the love of his life, his vivacious daughter, sprint toward his truck. She ran as though she was trying to reach the finish line and he was the prize. For a second, his joy turned to sadness as he wondered how many more years she would think of him as her hero. He pushed the thought away and jumped from the truck with open arms.
“Daddy, can I have a puppy? Please, can I?” Rebecca pleaded and took a giant leap into his arms.
“What? Who wants to sell my baby a puppy?” Jackson decided he’d play around a little with his daughter. He placed her back on the ground.
Rebecca frowned. “I’m not a baby.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be six in a few months.”
“So tell me, what kind of dog is this?” The buzz around town was that Larry Whiteside was breeding a litter of Labrador retrievers.
With eyes wide and as blue as the ocean, Rebecca began to captivate him—as she always did. He’d have been the first to admit he was a softy when it came to his daughter and the things she asked for. “Mr. Whiteside said Sally is going to have her pups soon, and she’s big and yellow. He told me I had to ask you first,” Rebecca answered.
Jackson scratched his chin. “Let me think about it for a bit. Hmm...well, since our closest neighbors are ten miles down the road and they’re seventy-five years old, you just might need a little friend.”
Rebecca jumped up and down and then proceeded to twirl. She loved to twirl. “Yes! I’ll take care of her. I promise. I’ve already picked out a name. I want to call her Samantha.”
Jackson’s heart melted. He could never say no to his little girl. “We have a couple of days before the pups are born, and they will have to stay with their mama for a while.” He cupped her chin. “I do have one question for you, sweetie. What happens if all of Sally’s puppies are boys? What will you name him?”
“Daddy, come on. I’d call him Sam—duh.”
He laughed and gave her a big bear hug. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
Larry and Wilma Whiteside, along with their daughter Mary, Rebecca’s best friend, stood on their porch as he and his daughter walked to the front door to thank them for having Rebecca over. “Anytime Mary wants to come over for the night, she’s always welcome.” Jackson smiled as he reached to shake Larry’s hand.
As they walked back to the truck, Rebecca looked up. “Can she come tonight since tomorrow’s Friday and we don’t have school?” He lifted Rebecca in and buckled her seat belt.
“I think you two had enough time together for now. Besides, we have plans tomorrow.”
She bounced up and down in her seat. “What are we doing?”
He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. “Miss Phoebe has invited us over for an early dinner. Her niece is visiting.”
“Is she the lady you rescued?” Rebecca asked and kicked her feet against the back of his seat.
“Where did you hear I rescued someone?”
“I heard Mrs. Whiteside telling Mr. Whiteside you saved a lady today.”
“Yes, she was Miss Phoebe’s niece. She’s from Washington, DC.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know where DC is, don’t you?”
“Ah...duh, of course—it’s our nation’s capital.” She flashed a lopsided grin in the reflection. Jackson stifled his laugh. He wasn’t keen on her using “duh,” but sometimes it was too darn cute.
“Is she pretty?” The kicking subsided. “What’s her name?”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Her name is Miss Melanie.” Her face flashed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” He swallowed hard. Too pretty. What had he been thinking when he agreed to dinner?
Chapter Two (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)
“Jackson and Rebecca won’t be here for a couple of hours,” Aunt Phoebe announced from her kitchen. “Why don’t you go lie down and take a little nap?”
Melanie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The searing pain persisted in her neck. She’d been anxious to leave the hospital this morning, but now she wondered if she should have stayed. With the tips of her fingers, she touched the stitches on her cheek. No point trying to cover them with makeup. She stared out the living-room window in dreaded anticipation of the dinner guests, especially Jackson’s daughter.
Aunt Phoebe’s house, a charming country cottage, reminded Melanie of the gingerbread houses she’d made with her mother as a child. Although small in comparison to her three-level town house in the heart of Capitol Hill, Aunt Phoebe’s cottage sat on fifteen acres of immaculate tree-lined property, obviously maintained by a professional landscaper. Melanie had to admit it was stunning. The backyard exploded with shades of yellow and red. A quaint white gazebo sat near a small pond. Potted mums perfectly arranged along the interior of the structure provided an added pop of dazzling autumn colors.
Once upon a time, this had been her favorite time of the year, but no more. Her world was the same no matter the season. Dark.
Melanie peeled herself from the comfort of the La-Z-Boy chair. Now was a good time to discuss the move. Before Jackson showed up. She’d sensed his displeasure at the suggestion when she’d brought it up yesterday. She pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The combination of the bright October sun and the yellow-painted walls made her feel like she needed her sunglasses. “Aunt Phoebe, don’t you think it might be time for you to slow down? Have someone look after you for a change? You’re sixty-five years old. You can’t expect to continue to take care of this house and run The Bean.” As far as Melanie knew, she worked there every weekday and Saturday. And Melanie suspected the only reason she didn’t work on Sunday was because they were closed. Aunt Phoebe was a firm believer in going to church on Sunday and spending the rest of the day in fellowship with family and neighbors.
“Slow down?” Phoebe speared a piece of chicken with a fork and placed it on a floured baking sheet. “I’m hitting my stride.” She pushed out her chest. “In fact, I just signed up for the hospital’s 5K.”
Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t run. You’ll injure yourself.”
“Maybe I can’t run, but I can certainly walk. It’s for children’s cancer research, and if I have to, I’ll crawl across the finish line.” She sprinkled some pepper onto the chicken and rolled it in the flour. She turned her head when the pepper triggered a sneeze. “Excuse me.”
Nothing slowed the woman down. But in spite of how she felt now, if something happened to her, Melanie would find herself alone in the world. Her stomach turned at the thought. “So, what do you think about moving to DC with me?” She stared down at the chicken.
Aunt Phoebe shook her head. “Honestly, when you mentioned this crazy idea at the hospital, I thought you were joking. Why would I want to move? My life is here.”
The oven beeped. It was fully preheated and ready for the oversize biscuits.
Melanie expelled a weary sigh. “You’re the only family I have. I want to take care of you.”
Aunt Phoebe snatched the checkered dish towel off of the counter and dried her hands. “You don’t think I’m capable of looking out for myself?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just think your home and The Coffee Bean are a lot of upkeep for anyone.”
“You mean for an old coot like me?” She tightened the strings on her apron. “This is nonsense. The valley is where I plan to spend my last days on this earth, however long the good Lord determines I have.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Let’s end this subject. We’ve got company coming.”
“Don’t you get scared living out here alone?”
“Scared? Why would I be scared?” She pulled on her yellow gloves and, with an oversize sponge, scrubbed the cast-iron skillet with the tenacity of a twenty-year-old. “Besides, God is always watching over me. I trust Him to take care of me.”
Melanie dropped her arms to her sides. Her aunt was stubborn.
“What about you?” Aunt Phoebe set the skillet in the sink, took off the gloves and reached for Melanie’s hand. She guided her to the kitchen table, and they each took a seat across from one another. “Not a day goes by I don’t think about you living alone in that big ol’ town house. The loss you’ve suffered is more than anyone should ever endure in a lifetime.” Aunt Phoebe reached over the bowl of Golden Delicious apples to wipe the tear that escaped Melanie’s eye. Her touch was warm. “God has a plan for you. He’ll carry you through this, but you must have faith. And in the end, you’ll find peace.”
Melanie yanked her hand from Aunt Phoebe’s grasp. She stood and paced the kitchen floor. “Why would God steal my family? They were my world, Aunt Phoebe.” She turned toward the kitchen window. A chipmunk hopped along the split-rail fence. “Where was He when my children were trapped inside a burning car, while their father did everything in his power to save them but died trying?”
“Oh child, God will bring you through this difficulty if you’ll open your heart to Him.”
Melanie shook her head. “I’m not sure I can believe in Him again. I did once. I really did...but not anymore.” She turned from the window and walked toward the table. Her throat parched, she reached for her glass of water and took three large gulps before placing it back on the table. “I didn’t come here to upset you—please believe me. It’s just—” she picked up the glass and drained it “—I can’t seem to get my life back on track. I don’t know how to live without my family.” Chill bumps peppered her skin as her aunt took her hand.
“Put your trust in God, and in time, peace will flourish.”
Melanie gave Aunt Phoebe’s hand a quick squeeze. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down for a little while—” her footsteps tapped across the hardwood floors before she turned back around and faced her aunt “—unless you need my help.”
“No, of course not. I’ve got everything under control.” She walked toward the sink.
Inside the guest room, Melanie gazed up at the cedar ceiling. Her hand gripped the cold doorknob as she slowly pushed the door shut.
Peace. She hadn’t felt it since the last time she kissed her girls and husband goodbye.
A cold chill ran through her blood when, across the room, she spied the gift she’d mailed to Aunt Phoebe on her last birthday. Sluggishly she walked toward the dresser and picked up the present.
She studied the photo inside the frame, and her eyes erupted with tears. It was from the last trip they’d taken to the beach as a family. Her husband, Jeff, had asked a stranger passing by to take their picture. Tan and smiling, they had an amazing life. Her hands trembled as she placed the frame on the dresser. She wanted to crawl inside the photo and be with her family one more time. Her body quivered, and instead she crawled into the bed and sobbed.
After what felt like hours, but had probably just been one, Melanie entered the kitchen to the sound of chicken sizzling in the skillet. “I’m sorry, Aunt Phoebe. I should be helping you.”
Her aunt flung the dish towel over her shoulder and brushed her hand across her forehead, leaving behind a trail of flour. “You need your rest.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Besides, I’ve been cooking like this for over forty years. Making dinner for four is easy peasy.”
Melanie yanked a paper towel from the roll, turned on the faucet and swiped the towel under the water. “Here, let me at least do this.” She smiled. “You’ve got a little flour on your forehead,” she said, wiping away the powdery substance. She took in her aunt’s features. Despite a few wrinkles and hair as white as snow, her aunt still looked youthful.
“Thanks, dear. Oh, I think I hear a car.”
Melanie’s pulse rose. She listened to the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway. “I’ll go get the door,” she told her aunt. A chill traveled through her body as she walked toward the entrance. She wrapped her arms around herself. This wouldn’t be easy, but her aunt seemed happy, so she pasted a smile on her face and flung open the door. A flash of blond hair tore past Melanie.
The sound of prancing feet scurrying along the hardwood floor filled the room. “Phoebe, Phoebe...we’re here!”
She tried to catch her breath, her legs weak. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready to be around children. Not yet. The child’s blond ringlets sprouting from her head bounced like rubber balls when she turned and headed back toward the door. Melanie glanced down when the girl stopped in front of her. She wore a yellow dress covered in red polka dots. Her shoes were patent leather, and exactly like the ones Melanie had purchased over a year ago. Her stomach wrenched.
“Hello, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Rebecca.” The child looked up, extended her tiny hand and grinned. The smile lit up her entire face. Wide-eyed, she turned toward the door. “And that’s my daddy.” She giggled. “Oh yeah, you already know him. Remember, he’s the one who rescued you yesterday. He’s right. You’re pretty.” She released her hand and raced toward Aunt Phoebe as she exited the kitchen.
Melanie’s stomach churned. Did he really think she was pretty? She might have misunderstood. He was probably talking about the nurse. What was her name again? Yes, Sara. She appeared to have a crush on Jackson. They were probably dating. Not that Melanie cared either way. She didn’t want anyone to think she was pretty. She didn’t want people to think anything of her—she wished she were invisible. It would have been much easier.
“Hello, Rebecca. You look lovely today.” Aunt Phoebe took the child into her arms and gave her a kiss on her cheek.
Rebecca pulled back, her arms still around Aunt Phoebe’s neck. Their noses nearly touched. “Guess what? I’m getting a puppy.”
In a daze, Melanie watched Rebecca. It seemed like an eternity since she’d felt a child’s arms around her neck. Would she ever feel the softness of children’s smooth and flawless skin? Would she ever smell the sweetness when they were fresh out of the bathtub? She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder, erasing her negative thoughts, at least for now.
She turned and found herself face-to-face with Jackson.
A slow smile moved across his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He held two bunches of pink roses. “These are for you.” He handed her one bunch. How did he know they were her favorite? Her father had given her pink roses when she’d graduated from law school. It was the last gift she’d received from him. A single rose, now brown and crinkled, remained in her memory book, along with photographs from her life before it’d ended.
“You didn’t scare me.” She accepted the roses and swiped the bouquet under her nose. It seemed forever since she’d smelled the sweet scent of fresh-cut roses. “They’re beautiful.” She took another sniff. “It was thoughtful of you to bring them. Thank you.”
His focus remained on her. “Your color is better today. How are you feeling?”
His scrutiny made her face burn, but somehow, in the last couple of minutes, she’d forgotten about the pain in her neck and the rest of her body aches. “I’m feeling okay. Thanks for asking.” She played with a strand of her hair.
“Hello, Jackson. What do you have there?” Aunt Phoebe wiped her hands down her Kiss the Chef apron.
He smiled and handed the other bouquet to Aunt Phoebe. “These are for you, a thank-you for having me and Rebecca over.”
“Dear, put these in some water. We’ll use them as the centerpiece.” She handed Melanie the roses. Melanie headed toward the kitchen, inhaling the fragrance once more. The clicking of tiny feet came from behind and she turned.
“I know where the vases are, Miss Melanie. Can I help?”
Startled by Rebecca’s enthusiasm, Melanie nodded. Without warning, Rebecca grabbed hold of her free hand and led her into the kitchen. Melanie’s heart melted. She wanted to cry, but instead, she forced a smile, allowing the hand to remain as they entered the kitchen.
Melanie watched Rebecca take command. She certainly knew her way around Aunt Phoebe’s kitchen, finding the exact cupboard where vases of all sizes and colors were stored.
“Do you like this one, Miss Melanie?” She turned holding a white vase with tiny yellow daisies covering the sides, and large enough for both bouquets. “I love daisies, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” Melanie straightened her shoulders. She could do this. All she had to do was make it through a couple of hours. Surely they wouldn’t stay longer than two hours. “I think it’s a perfect choice.”
Melanie filled the vase with water and carefully arranged the roses. “How do they look?”
Rebecca nodded and smiled. “They look beautiful. You’re really nice, Miss Melanie. Do you have any kids my age?”
The yellow walls began to close in around her, and the kitchen whirled. Melanie tried to make it to the table, but her legs were weak. She had to sit. Without warning, the vase slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor.
The sounds of muffled voices filled the room.
“Melanie! Are you okay?” Aunt Phoebe raced to her side. “Did you cut yourself?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Aunt Phoebe placed her hand across Melanie’s arm. “Do you feel dizzy? Maybe you should go lie down? I’ll keep the chicken warm in the oven.”
“No, please, I’m okay. Let me clean up this mess so we can eat,” Melanie announced and pushed her hair from her eyes.
Jackson stepped forward. “Rebecca and I will clean this up. Phoebe, take Melanie into the family room.”
“Daddy, is Miss Melanie okay? I just asked her if she had any kids my age, and she dropped the vase.”
Melanie glanced toward Jackson. Their eyes connected before she looked away. “I’m fine, Rebecca. The vase was wet. It just slipped. No big deal.” She turned and headed into the family room with her aunt.
“You should sit down for a while?” Phoebe guided her toward the leather sofa. “We’ll take care of things in the kitchen.”
Melanie wondered what Jackson and Rebecca must think of her. How could she enjoy a meal with them when she couldn’t even fill a vase with water? “I’m okay. I want to help.”
Her aunt just smiled. “Rest for a bit. I’ll call you when dinner’s on the table.” She turned and walked back to the kitchen.
Melanie flopped down on the sofa. She knew she wasn’t truly fine. Her reaction to Rebecca’s mention of children was proof she was still hurting inside. This past year, she’d lived in a murky world, simply going through the motions of each day. She didn’t care about anything or anyone. Her dramatic weight loss was proof that she didn’t care about herself, either. Heaviness staked out a permanent residence inside her chest. A lump formed in her throat, and the tears escaped down her cheeks. If she could have gone back in time, she would have been the one driving the car instead of her exhausted husband...but she couldn’t go back. Her family was gone, and she’d carry the guilt with her for the rest of her life.
* * *
An hour later, Jackson leaned back in his chair. He placed his hand on his stomach and rubbed in a circular motion. “Every time you make fried chicken, Phoebe, it’s crispier than the last batch.” He picked up his napkin and placed it to his lips. A quick look at Melanie’s plate proved what she’d said yesterday. She wasn’t a big eater. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Melanie? You’ve hardly touched your meal.”
She fingered her necklace. “I don’t have much of an appetite. Maybe it’s from the pain medication I’ve been taking.”
Phoebe picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes and scooped a heaping spoonful. “These always taste good to me when I have an upset stomach.”
Melanie nodded and held out her plate. Jackson watched while she picked at her food like a child. Finally she tried the mashed potatoes. “These are delicious.”
“So, Phoebe tells me you’re a divorce attorney. Sounds like interesting work.” Jackson snatched a pinch of corn bread and popped it into his mouth. “I’m sure it’s never dull.”
“My mommy and daddy got divorced,” Rebecca announced. “I don’t remember her. She left when I was really little.” She quickly looked down. “I’m sorry.”
Jackson observed Melanie place her hand on top of Rebecca’s hand. “It’s okay. You can talk about your mommy if you want to.”
He nodded when Rebecca looked at him for confirmation. “She had really dark hair, kind of like yours, but shorter. I have a picture of her on my nightstand. You can come see it sometime if you want to.” She smiled. “Daddy said she liked to dance, and she was a good singer, too.” She tucked a stray curl that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “I think she left us to become famous.” Staring out the window, she placed her fist underneath her chin and tilted her head. “I think she’ll come back for me...for both of us, someday.”
Jackson’s heart ached for his daughter. The anger toward his ex-wife boiled to the surface every so often. Would the scars ever heal? Rebecca missed her, but it was a blessing she was too young to have witnessed her mother’s behavior. He’d rather she have good thoughts of her than remember the way things really were.
“Okay, who’s ready for a big hunk of Phoebe’s chocolate sour cream layer cake?” He looked at Melanie, and then Phoebe, and saw that both were wiping away tears.
Thankfully Rebecca hadn’t noticed how emotional the ladies had become. She sprang from her chair at the mention of the dessert. “I’ll get the plates and forks,” she yelled and ran toward the kitchen.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “I think I’ll go help.” She turned and shot a wink at Melanie. “I only allow one disaster a day in my kitchen.”
When her aunt left the room, Melanie turned to Jackson. “I wouldn’t call a broken vase a disaster.”
“She was only joking,” he said. “What happened in the kitchen earlier could have happened to anyone.” He sipped his iced tea. “I’m sorry if Rebecca upset you.”
The silence was deafening. Melanie played with the condensation on her glass. He studied her face and wished he could take away the sadness.
She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Your daughter is so sweet. Nothing she says could upset me. I guess I’m still rattled from the accident.”
Obviously she wasn’t going to share what really bothered her. He understood. They’d just met, and opening up to someone required trust, something he’d definitely lacked the past several years. “Jackson, I’m sorry about your wife. I’m sure it’s been difficult on you and Rebecca.”
He shrugged his shoulders, not ready to share, either. Yes, she was Phoebe’s niece, but he knew nothing about her. Less than twenty-four hours ago, their lives were separate from each other. Now, after an accident, their worlds had merged. But could he ever trust a woman who obviously didn’t put family first? She never visited her aunt though she lived only a couple of hours away. He wasn’t ready to confide in her, or any woman, for that matter.
“Rebecca and I get along fine.” He drained the last of his iced tea and reached for the pitcher. “Would you like some more?”
She shook her head.
Jackson filled his glass. “So, what prompted you finally to make a trip to see Phoebe? From what I understand, she’s been trying to get you to the valley for years. Too busy with your hotshot career, I suppose?”
She lifted her chin, and a moment passed before she spoke. “Like I mentioned yesterday at the hospital, I’ve come to convince Aunt Phoebe to move back to DC with me.” She held her shoulders straight, like a soldier in formation. “She’s getting older. It’s time she had family nearby.”
Jackson’s spine stiffened. “I didn’t think you were serious. Phoebe’s life is here.” His heart raced at the thought of Phoebe moving.
Melanie tapped her finger against her empty glass. “I’m her only family, Jackson. She belongs with me.” Her eyes kept a strong hold on his. “You asked what brought me here, and I told you. Can we please drop this conversation? I don’t want her to hear us. She needs time to adjust to the idea.”
“She won’t adjust,” he snapped. “Besides, she has family here—Rebecca and me.”
“You’re not blood, Jackson.”
“You don’t need the same blood in order to be family. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t take her away from the only life she knows and loves.” He bolted from the chair. It screeched along the hardwood floor.
“What in the world is going on out here?” Phoebe stood in the doorway with both hands on her hips.
“Melanie was just telling me a little more about your move.” He eyed Melanie, waiting for her to pounce.
Phoebe laughed. “We’ve discussed it already. I’m not moving and that’s final.”
“You haven’t had enough time to make a final decision.” Melanie walked toward her aunt and reached out for her hand.
Ignoring the extended hand, Phoebe paced the dining-room floor. “I don’t need more time.” She picked up her glass of water and took two long swigs. “What on earth has put such a crazy idea into your head? It needs to stop—now.”
Jackson took notice of Phoebe’s complexion. She looked pale, and tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. “Are you okay, Phoebe?”
She yanked a tissue from her apron pocket and blotted her forehead. “It’s just a little warm in here from the oven. I’m fine.” She slipped the tissue back into her pocket. “So, what do you think about Melanie’s plan, Jackson?”
He shook his head. “I think it’s a bad one. Your life is here with the people who love you.”
“I agree. And I won’t discuss this any further,” Phoebe announced.
“Wait, please,” Melanie said. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I love you, and I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m staying put...end of discussion.” Phoebe turned and headed back to the kitchen.
Jackson ran his hand down the front of his face, relieved the conversation was over, at least for now.
Melanie, on the other hand, did not look pleased.
“Daddy, come quick!” Rebecca’s scream had him sprinting toward the kitchen like a jackrabbit.
He burst through the door and saw Phoebe lying on the floor.
Melanie entered the kitchen and gasped. “Jackson, help her.” She raced to her aunt’s side. “What’s happening?”
Jackson heard Phoebe’s garbled speech and noticed the side of her mouth was drooping. “She’s having a stroke. I’ve got to get her to the hospital. Now!”
Melanie gripped his wrist. “Shouldn’t we call for the ambulance?”
He shook his head. “No, we can’t wait.” He scooped Phoebe’s tiny frame into his arms and headed toward the door. “You take Rebecca in your car. Don’t try to keep up. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Daddy... I’m scared.”
Jackson stopped at the front door and turned. “Everything will be okay. You go with Miss Melanie.”
Chapter Three (#u39b448fe-7b19-5423-92fa-39677bde9842)
Melanie grabbed Rebecca’s hand and raced through the ER entrance. She’d never imagined she’d be at this hospital—or holding a child’s hand—again. Doesn’t Jackson know how difficult this is—being around a child? Of course not. She hadn’t allowed Aunt Phoebe to share her past with anyone.
“Rebecca, over here.” Jackson jumped from a brown sofa and scooped his daughter into his arms.
“How’s Aunt Phoebe?” Melanie’s pulse raced. “Has the doctor come out yet?”
“No, not yet.” He placed Rebecca on the ground. “You’ll need to check in with Sara at the desk. She needs some information from you. I’m going to take Rebecca down to the playroom.”
Before Melanie knew what was happening, Rebecca had her arms tight around her waist. Her breath froze in her chest. She needed to break free.
“Daddy, I want to stay here with Miss Melanie.”
There was something about this little girl, but she had to play it safe—keep her distance. “You go with your daddy. I have to fill out some paperwork so the doctor can take care of Aunt Phoebe.”
The smell of coffee wafted from behind the front desk as she walked over.
“Hi, Melanie. Do you remember me?”
“Of course. How are you, Sara?”
The nurse organized some forms and attached them to a clipboard. “I’m doing well. I’m sorry about Phoebe.” She handed Melanie the documents. “Dr. Roberts is here. He got called in on another emergency, but he’ll be caring for her.”
Melanie took the papers and forced a smile.
“Just complete what you can. We already have her insurance information in our system.”
When Jackson returned and approached the desk, Melanie watched Sara’s face light up like a beacon.
“Hello there, Jackson,” Sara said. She fluffed the back of her hair and batted her false eyelashes.
Melanie stared at Jackson. A pang of jealousy took hold. Why would she be jealous over a man she hardly knew? Sure, he was gorgeous, and he seemed like a good father, but jealous—no way. Besides, he was nothing but a roadblock to her plan. Still, when he appeared oblivious to Sara’s flirtation, she felt relieved.
“Hey, Sara. Can you let Dr. Roberts know we’re here? We’ll be in the waiting area until he’s ready to speak with Melanie.”
Sara’s smile faded, and she jutted her chin out. “Sure, Jackson.” She turned on her heel and strutted down the hall.
Jackson pointed at four chairs lined close together in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. “Let’s have a seat over here. Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Melanie sat in one of the brown vinyl chairs and gazed out the window. A brisk wind whipped through the courtyard. Leaves fell from the trees and swirled along the ground. She noticed a man walking with two little girls, probably his children. Where was the mother? She was probably at work. Melanie’s heart sank.
Jackson blew a heavy breath and leaned back into his chair. “Look, Melanie, you were right. I should have stopped discussing the move when you asked. If I had, maybe Phoebe wouldn’t be here.”
She rubbed her hands across her arms. Why were hospitals so cold? There were those annoying fluorescent lights buzzing. “No, the move was my idea.” Melanie leaned forward and put her hands over her face.
After a few moments of sobbing, she peeled her hands away and shot Jackson a look. She closed her eyes, shaken by the truth. “I’m the reason she had the stroke, Jackson.” Tears gushed for the present and for the past. “I should have never come here.”
A shiver ran down her spine when he placed a hand on the small of her back.
“You’re talking crazy, Mel.”
Another shiver.
It was the first time he’d called her Mel. She liked it. Why did it sound good coming from his lips? Melanie pushed aside the thought.
Jackson moved his hand in tiny circular motions along her back. “Phoebe’s stroke didn’t happen because you want to move her to DC.” He paused, reached for a tissue from the table next to his chair and turned her face toward his. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment when she saw the tenderness in his eyes. With a gentle touch, he wiped the tears from her face.
Though she knew he meant only to offer comfort, his kind gesture made her edgy. Melanie took the tissue from Jackson and looked away.
Over the next hour, Melanie paced the floor, waiting for Dr. Roberts to give her an update on Aunt Phoebe. Periodically she glanced at Jackson, who spent much of his time in prayer. At least, that was what she thought he was doing. His head was down and his eyes were closed. His lips moved ever so slightly. Did he really think that God listened? If that were the case, she’d still have a family.
As though Jackson heard her thoughts, he looked up. “Do you want to pray for Phoebe together?”
She shook her head and turned away. With her arms crossed, she gazed out the window once more. The man and children she’d seen earlier were gone. A pain filled her gut. Gone...like her family.
Jackson stood and came toward where she was standing. “Do you not believe?”
“Believe what?” Her eyebrow arched.
“That the power of prayer is unstoppable. Nothing is ever wasted when you share it with Him, Mel.” He reached for her hand. “Whatever it is you’re dealing with, He’s there for you.”
His hand was warm. She found comfort in his touch. Afraid of what might happen if it remained, she jerked from his grip. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but I don’t believe that.”
Silence permeated the air. Several minutes later, Sara entered the room. “Excuse me. Dr. Roberts will be out to speak with you within the half hour. We’re busy today.”
“Thank you, Sara.” Melanie took a seat and released a heavy sigh. She prepared herself for the worst. After the past year, what else could she expect?
Jackson sat down and turned toward Melanie. “Phoebe is a strong woman of faith.” He bit down on his lip. “And she’s pretty stubborn, too.”
She smiled and nodded in agreement. Would she continue to be stubborn about the move? Melanie turned her attention back to the window, hoping to see the family once more.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Jackson spotted Dr. Roberts. He saw the man stop at the nurses’ station and hand some papers to the nurse working with Sara. He continued down the hall.
“Hello. I’m sorry you had to wait so long. The ER’s bustling this afternoon.” He paused and glanced at Melanie. “Have you been feeling alright since the accident? You look a little pale.”
“Yes, I’m fine. How’s Aunt Phoebe?”
Dr. Roberts referred to his clipboard and looked up. “The tests confirmed it was a stroke. Thankfully you got her here when you did. Any later and it could have been much worse.”
Jackson watched Melanie. She shook her head. Her shoulders stiffened. “This is my fault, Dr. Roberts,” she said.
The doctor scratched his temple and looked at Jackson before turning back to Melanie. “What in the world would make you say such a thing? You certainly didn’t cause her stroke.”
She threw a look toward Jackson. “She’s upset because I want to move her to DC.”
Dr. Roberts’s eyebrow arched. “Move to DC? Phoebe?”
“Dr. Roberts.” Jackson shook his head. He hoped the doctor would understand now wasn’t the time to discuss an impending move. “You were saying about Phoebe’s condition?”
The doctor pulled a seat in front of the couple and removed his glasses. He rubbed his eyes for a moment. “She’s having some trouble with her speech, and there’s definitely partial paralysis on her left side.”
“Paralysis!” Melanie sprang from her chair and walked toward the window. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she turned and looked at Dr. Roberts with wide eyes. “Will it be permanent?”
Placing his glasses on, he flipped through his papers. Dr. Roberts motioned for Jackson to bring Melanie back to her chair.
His boots pecked on the tile like a redheaded woodpecker as he walked over to her. Melanie flinched when he rested his hand on her arm. “Please, have a seat.”
She shadowed Jackson and sat down. Her breaths were short and rapid while she fidgeted in her chair. “I’m sorry, but she’s all the family I have, Dr. Roberts.”
Jackson’s heart ached for Melanie. Even though she never visited, it was obvious she loved her aunt. He reached over and held her hand. “She’ll be okay, Melanie.”
“Will Aunt Phoebe need rehabilitation?”
“Yes, she’ll need speech and physical therapy to strengthen her muscles.” The sound of the doctor scribbling notes filled the room while they both absorbed the news.
Dr. Roberts looked up and laid his pen on the clipboard. “Madison Village is an excellent facility in Harrisonburg. I’ve already called to check room availability.”
“How long will she have to stay?” Melanie twisted a tissue between her fingers.
“The paralysis won’t be permanent, but I can’t say how much time it will take to go away. Phoebe is incredibly strong, so ideally she’ll be back to normal soon. You’ll have to take care of The Bean, Jackson.”
A knot squeezed in Jackson’s stomach. With everything happening, he hadn’t thought about that. “Of course. I’ll make sure it’s running smoothly.”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, Jackson. It’s Phoebe’s business, too, and she’s my aunt. I’ll take care of the restaurant. Unless you don’t think I can handle it. I do have a law degree, you know.”
Dr. Roberts’s laughter filled the room. “Okay, you two, there’s enough to do at The Bean for everyone.” He smiled. “Why don’t you work together? Phoebe would appreciate it.”
“What about your job, Jackson?” Her lips pursed.
Yesterday had been his first day off in a very long time, and he was on the schedule to return to duty tomorrow. He rarely took a vacation, so he had a lot of leave accumulated. Four years ago, he and Taylor had taken Rebecca on her first trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Rebecca was just learning to walk. He smiled as he recalled the framed photograph on his bedroom dresser. It was a photo of her first footprints in the sand. That was the last time they were together as a family. His world had never been the same.
“Yes, I do go back tomorrow, but I’ll talk to Tom tonight. I’ve got the time, so it won’t be a problem.”
Melanie rubbed her brow. “I really don’t think it’s necessary.”
“The Bean is just as important to me as it is to Phoebe. I’m half owner. If anyone is going to run the place while she’s recovering, it’s me.” Jackson’s jaw clenched. Why did this woman have to make everything so difficult? “Plus, won’t your big city law firm need you?”
Dr. Roberts shot Jackson a questioning look. He stood when the intercom announced he was needed in the ER. “Well, it’s agreed, then. You’ll both help Phoebe.”
Melanie nodded and glanced at Jackson. He returned a nod and shook the doctor’s hand. “When do you plan to move Phoebe to the rehab facility?” Melanie asked.
“I’ll call on Monday morning and schedule her for admission on Tuesday. Of course, that’s subject to change if there are any complications.”
Melanie’s eyes popped. “Complications, like what? I thought you said she’d be okay.”
“Don’t worry. Let’s take this one day at a time.”
Melanie wrapped her index finger around her purse strap. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Roberts. Aunt Phoebe spoke very highly of you after my accident.” She stood, placed her purse on her chair and gave the doctor a hug.
She didn’t let go until the intercom paged him again.
“I have to go. You two should head home and get some rest. It’s been an emotional afternoon.” He started to walk away, but stopped and turned around. “And, Melanie, you should give up the idea of moving Phoebe.”
“I agree,” Jackson said as he glanced at his watch. He needed to get Rebecca home and settled in for the night.
Melanie didn’t acknowledge either of their comments. She appeared lost in thought.
Jackson cleared his throat. “Dr. Roberts, before we leave, could Melanie visit with Phoebe for a moment?”
Melanie’s eyes brightened. “Oh yes, can I see her?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll send Sara. She’ll take you.”
“Thanks again, Doc.” Jackson shook his hand and thought about what a blessing this man was to their community. Once Phoebe returned to her old self again, he planned to do a little matchmaking.
“What are you grinning about?” Melanie asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Oh, nothing.” He tried to erase the grin.
She rolled her eyes and sat down. “Look, Jackson, about The Bean. Why don’t we cover it in shifts? Since it’s only open from 7:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m. for breakfast and lunch, I can take the first three-and-a-half hours and you the second, or vice versa.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Or we could alternate days. There’s no need for us both to be there at the same time.”
Jackson laughed and shook his head. “You don’t think there’s a need for both of us to cover it?” He rubbed his chin. “There’s no way you could handle the crowd alone, especially on a Saturday...with or without a law degree.”
Her knee bounced in agitation. “I think I’m perfectly capable of handling a little country restaurant.”
She didn’t have a clue. “Phoebe has a $4.99 breakfast special on Saturday. It comes with two eggs, two pancakes and two slices of bacon or sausage links, and to drink, orange juice and coffee. It draws a crowd.” Jackson’s stomach growled.
She arched her brow. “I hope there’s a gym in the area. It doesn’t sound healthy. How do people do anything else after such a big meal?”
He slid her a sideways stare. “Most folks around here have a working farm, and believe me, they get their workout.”
“I doubt they get their heart rate up riding around on a tractor.”
Jackson clenched his teeth. “We might not have a fancy gym like you’re used to, but trust me, we get our heart rates up every day.” He hesitated. “In fact, right now mine is through the roof.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. I just think The Bean should offer a healthier menu.”
Sara approached the couple. “Melanie, if you want to see Phoebe, you can follow me to her room.”
Melanie looked at Jackson. “Do you want to go?”
“No, you go, but give her a kiss for me.”
While Melanie visited with Phoebe, Jackson spent the time alone in prayer.
Ten minutes later, she returned with a huge smile splashed on her face. “Aunt Phoebe looked good, better than I thought she would. She couldn’t speak clearly, but I’m sure it will improve in time.”
Relieved to see Melanie more at ease, he glanced at his watch. “Let’s go get Rebecca, and I’ll walk you to your car.” He slipped on his leather jacket. “Before we go, let’s get back to the schedule at The Bean.”
Melanie spoke without hesitation. “I think you’re right. We both need to work together, for Aunt Phoebe.”
Jackson scratched the top of his head. Melanie had surprised him. She’d been so adamant about working alone. Why the sudden change? Was this all part of her scheme to move Phoebe?
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Just a while ago, you didn’t want me near The Bean while you’re there. And now—”
Her eyes softened, twisting his stomach inside out. “Aunt Phoebe told me you’re like a son to her, and that you know The Bean better than anyone. I know how important it is to her, so I promised when I went back to see her that we’d work side by side.”
Jackson gestured in the direction of the front doors. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
* * *
That evening, Jackson settled into his favorite leather chair in the corner of his bedroom. Thoughts of Melanie swirled in his head. Through the open plantation shutters, the hunter’s moon gleamed across the backyard. A coyote he’d seen hanging around for the past week stopped in his tracks and took a peek toward the window before scurrying into the woods.
He turned his attention from that view and ran his hand along the soft, worn leather arms. For thirty years, this chair had sat in his father’s insurance office. He missed his dad.
With heavy thoughts about Melanie and her plan to move Phoebe, he reached for the worn Bible given to him by his paternal grandmother. It had once belonged to his grandfather.
Jackson opened the Bible to his favorite verse. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. After his ex-wife, Taylor, left him and Rebecca for his best friend, Wilson, he meditated on these words daily. He did trust the Lord. It was other people, especially women, where he struggled.
“Daddy, I’m ready for my story.”
He closed the Bible. His heart melted at the sight of his daughter standing in the doorway. Dressed in her favorite Winnie the Pooh footed pajamas, she brushed a wild blond curl away from her eyes and sprinted across the room. Gigi, her favorite blanket, trailed behind her along the hardwood floor.
With one soaring leap, she was in his lap. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and smiled. She smelled of sweet honeysuckle from her bubble bath earlier in the evening. Their cuddle time always comforted him. He cherished this time with his daughter. The teenage years would be here in a flash, so he planned to savor every moment.
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Jill Weatherholt
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Small-Town DaddyJackson Daughtry’s jobs as a paramedic and part-owner of a local café keep him busy—but the single dad’s number one priority is raising his little girl with love and small-town values. And when his business partner’s hot-shot lawyer niece comes to town, planning to disrupt their lives by moving her aunt away, Jackson has to set Melanie Harper straight. When circumstances forces them to work side-by-side in the coffee shop, Jackson slowly discovers what put the sadness in Melanie’s pretty brown eyes. Now, it’ll take all his faith—and a hopeful five year old—to show the city gal that she’s already home.