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The Forever Family
Leigh Bale


Seeking a fresh start, widow Rachel Walker headed west.She never expected a freak Nevada storm–or the rugged Sam Thorne to rescue her. With a broken arm and a young son to care for, Rachel is depending on the kindness of the handsome stranger. The gruff small-town vet isn't thrilled Rachel and Danny have invaded his well-ordered life.But with Rachel's strong spirit and gentle faith, the walls around Sam's barren heart soon come tumbling down. Can they both put their painful pasts behind them and join together as a forever family?












Sam couldn’t get her off his mind.


It had nothing to do with her clear blue eyes filled with worry for her son, or the way she’d cried out while she was injured. No sirree. She was trouble, and he wanted nothing to do with her.

But against his better judgment, something about Rachel Walker drew him like a moth to a flame. By midday, word would spread all over town that a new woman was moving into Finnegan’s Valley. No doubt she’d draw attention from every bachelor for miles around.

Not him. He didn’t have time to notice a pretty woman. He’d accepted his fate as a confirmed bachelor long ago. He’d had his chance at love and ruined it. But deep down inside, he still couldn’t help yearning for a family of his own.

Someone to shower his life upon. Someone all his own who loved him in return no matter what.

With Rachel in his life, somehow he sensed he would never be the same again.




LEIGH BALE


is a multiple award-winning author of inspirational and romantic fiction. In 2006, Leigh won the RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart Award and sold her first book to Steeple Hill Books’ Love Inspired line. A member of Phi Kappa Phi Honor society, Leigh also belongs to various chapters of RWA, including the Sacramento Valley Rose; the Faith, Hope and Love Chapter; the Hearts through History Romance Writers; and the Golden Network. She is the mother of two and lives in Nevada with her professor husband of twenty-seven years. When she isn’t working or writing, Leigh loves playing with her beautiful granddaughter, serving in her church congregation and taking classes to finish her graduate degree. Visit her Web site at www.LeighBale.com.




The Forever Family

Leigh Bale








In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God. Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.

—Psalms 62:7–8


This book is dedicated to my dear Aunt Shirley,

the bravest fighter in the ring.

And many thanks to Dr. David Baggett, DVM, for answering my veterinarian questions. To Chris Platt, the best critique partner a girl could ever ask for. To Melissa Endlich, for believing in me. And to Dan Baird. Thanks, Dad.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Rachel Walker blinked her eyes, which were gritty with fatigue. Exhaustion burned through her body, but she fought it off. She had to stay awake. Had to focus on the dark road. The window defroster had stopped working fifteen miles outside of Finley, Nevada.

She peered at the clock on the dashboard. Two thirty-five in the morning. Just a few more miles and she could sleep.

A shiver trembled over her body and she tightened her frozen fingers around the steering wheel of her blue 1984 compact car. Her breath made little puffs each time she exhaled. Without heat, the windshield kept fogging over. She rubbed her gloved hand in a circular spot on the glass pane so she could see out.

Heavy snow blanketed the car, falling from the night sky in thick, wet dollops. With no more than forty feet of visibility in front of her, she slowed to a crawl. She should have stopped at the last town instead of going on in this blizzard, but she didn’t have a lot of money for a motel, and she needed to make her cash last as long as possible.

Dread swept her when she thought of the impending holiday season. Without any family around, baking a turkey, pies and rolls for Thanksgiving dinner wouldn’t be much fun. And then Christmas.

Even worse.

Though she still mourned her husband, she had to think of Danny and try to build happy memories for him. After losing his father ten months earlier, he sure needed something joyful in his life. She glanced in the rearview mirror at her seven-year-old son sleeping in the backseat. She smiled as she gazed at his sweet face. So trusting, so serene.

A thatch of blond hair peeked out from beneath Danny’s red knit cap. Blond like his father, with dazzling blue eyes, an impish nose and a mischievous smile that melted her heart.

The top of Danny’s seat belt slanted across his small body. With these horrible road conditions, she’d insisted he wear it before she bundled a heavy quilt around him. He obeyed begrudgingly, hunched against the teddy bear stuffed between his head and the cold door. She wished she dared let him remove the seat belt and lie down. He’d be more comfortable, but it wouldn’t be safe.

He shivered. With the heater inoperable, they both wore thick winter coats. Soon, they’d be at their new home and could get warm. Soon, they’d be safe.

An occasional glimpse of the tops of the guardrails kept Rachel from driving off the road into the snowy embankment. She’d never felt more alone than right now.

Please, God. Please keep us safe tonight.

The last time she came to see Grammy, Alex had been driving. They’d passed through Nevada just over a year ago, heading for the sunny beaches of California to enjoy a short vacation. She’d invited Grammy to come along, but the elderly lady refused. Within two months, Alex had died of a brain aneurysm, taking her heart with him—

Enough of that! The memory of her beloved husband brought tears to her eyes and she brushed them away. She could barely see out the window already. The year since Alex’s death had been followed by a long struggle to make ends meet. When she received the call last month that Grammy had died quietly in her sleep, Rachel decided to move west. Grammy had left her old farmhouse to Rachel, and she intended to live there with Danny and start a new life.

The rhythmic thwacking of the windshield wipers brought her comfort. The wheels of the small travel trailer she pulled behind her car thumped through the heavy snow. The trailer contained her worldly possessions: bedding, clothes, picture albums, Danny’s toys, and the oak rocking chair Alex presented to her the day they brought Danny home from the hospital. Her grandmother’s house contained all the furniture they would need. She had enough money to get them settled and then she’d find a job. They’d make do or do without.

Four more miles. In this storm, she might get lost or stuck in the snow if she tried going out to Grammy’s house along the dark country roads. Maybe she’d get a cheap motel room after all, just for tonight. She’d drive out to Grammy’s place in the morning, once the snowplows had time to do their work. The house hadn’t been occupied since Grammy died. It had a solid roof, but Rachel figured the place would need a thorough cleaning.

As she entered the outskirts of town, several small billboards appeared on her right, listing various services, clubs and churches in the community. Through the falling snow, Rachel couldn’t make out any names. Again, she rubbed at the windshield to clear a spot to see, longing for friends. Wanting to belong. Maybe she could get involved in her new community.

Driving down Main Street, she scanned the dim lights of the bank, diner and drugstore. Everything closed. Good thing they’d stopped earlier for a hamburger and fries in Eureka. The haze of streetlights gleamed eerily in the falling snow, not another soul in sight.

Just ahead, she made out the large yellow sign of a Best Homestyle motel; the only one in town. Clean and inexpensive. Relief flooded her fatigued body. Sleep seemed a treasured dream about to become a reality.

The windshield wipers stopped dead in midswing. Rachel gasped and flipped the lever back and forth, desperate to clear the heavy snowflakes from her view.

“Please don’t stop now. Just one more mile,” she whispered, trying to get the wipers to work.

A prayer for help rose to her lips just as the red stoplight appeared out of nowhere. As she crossed the intersection, she slammed on the brakes. The car surged forward, sliding on black ice. The trailer jackknifed. Terror shot up her spine and she spun the steering wheel, trying to regain control of the car. The trailer groaned, then slammed against the car, wrenching Rachel’s head to one side. An enormous shape appeared out of nowhere. Oncoming headlights blinded her as a large, white truck loomed into her path.

“No!”

The cry tore from her constricted throat. The car and trailer squealed, careening into the other lane. As the other vehicle struck her car, her ears filled with the horrible sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. Danny’s frightened scream filled the air. Pain shot through her left side. The impact caused her head to flip forward like a rag doll and smack the steering wheel. It happened so fast, yet everything moved in slow motion. One thought pounded her brain.

Danny! Wearing his seat belt. In the backseat. Away from the collision.

Her heart thudded as the car came to a jerking stop. She sat with her nose pressed against the car door, her seat belt biting into her shoulder. When she tried to move, a shot of pain flashed through her head and arm. Her body felt bruised.

Broken.

A thin whimper came from the backseat. She clawed at the door handle. She had to check Danny. Had to make certain he was okay.

The door opened, and snowflakes fell from the sky like wet confetti on New Year’s Eve. She lifted her head, staring into a wind tunnel of white, trying to clear her vision. Trying to focus on the man’s face materializing in front of her.

“Hey, lady, you okay?”

Her tongue felt like a chunk of wood and she couldn’t speak. She reached her hand toward the man, mumbling her concern for her son. Begging this stranger to help her. Knives of pain sliced through her left arm. She inhaled sharply, fighting off the dizzying stars that seemed to spot her vision. Her eyelids slid closed and everything went black.



“She’s awake, Doctor.”

Rachel blinked her eyes, feeling disoriented as she stared into a bright light pointed at her pupils. She clenched her eyes shut, her mind spinning. She tried to sort out what had happened.

“Danny!” she croaked, trying to sit up.

Firm hands pressed her down. “Easy, now. Just lie still for a moment.”

A man’s voice reached her consciousness, soft and soothing.

“Alex?” she whispered, forcing herself to open her eyes. She choked back a hoarse cry as pain pierced her brain.

No, this man wasn’t her husband. Too handsome, his hair and eyes too dark. His brow furrowed as his gaze focused on her face.

“My son…where is he?” she asked.

“He’s fine. Good thing you wore your seat belts. It saved your lives.”

“I want to see him,” she insisted. She had to know Danny was safe. Had to see him for herself.

“I’ll get him.” A woman’s voice, then retreating footsteps echoed down a hallway, but soon returned. A rustling of movement sounded beside her.

“Mommy!”

She opened her eyes and found Danny’s sweet face nearby. The boy leaned across the bed—no, a cot pushed against the wall of what appeared to be a storage room. The smell of antiseptic filled the air. Candles sat on the nearby table, their flames flickering in the shadows. The storm must have thrown the power out. Shelves lined the opposite wall filled with samplesized bags of dog and cat food and boxes of medical supplies.

Where was she? The town of Finley didn’t have a hospital, or even a clinic. Maybe she’d been taken to Elko, over one hundred miles away. But they couldn’t get her through the snowstorm, could they?

Danny’s brows scrunched together with concern. “Mommy?”

“Oh, honey. Are you okay?” She tried to reach for him, but pain shot through her left arm. She lay still, wishing she could hold him in her arms.

“I’m fine, but you don’t look too good. Your head’s bleedin’ again.”

“It is?” She brushed her fingers across her forehead, feeling a large bump and a butterfly bandage someone had put there. No wonder her head throbbed.

“Are you gonna die?” His mouth puckered as if he might cry.

“No, of course not, baby. I’ll be fine. You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, look what Gladys gave me.”

Who was Gladys?

Danny stuck a red lollipop in front of Rachel’s eyes. Focusing made her stomach churn. In her hazy vision, she could make out the doctor and a woman standing behind Danny, both wearing blue smocks. A stethoscope dangled from the man’s neck beside a name badge that read: Dr. Sam. He leaned close to Danny and smiled, showing a dimple in his left cheek. “All right, son, why don’t you go with Gladys, now? She’ll get you something to eat and put you to bed. We’ll take good care of your mommy.”

“Okay.” Danny slid away.

Rachel reached for him, feeling a sinking of dread. Her fingers grasped air. “Where…where are you taking my son?”

The doctor spoke close by. “Gladys lives just down the street. Danny can bunk in with her son, Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, the two boys are the same age. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. I’ll take you there just as soon as you feel well enough to walk.”

Rachel relaxed for a moment, then reconsidered. “Am I going to be okay?”

In the vague light, she could make out the doctor’s frown and intelligent brown eyes. A thatch of hair the color of a crow’s wing fell over his high forehead. He brushed his hand across the raspy stubble on his chin and his brows gathered together in perplexity. “Of course. You just need rest.”

Good. Danny needed her now more than ever.

She felt the doctor’s hand against her shoulder, warm and comforting. How she missed her husband. How she missed his firm, take-charge manner. Thinking about Alex caused tears to bead in the corners of her eyes.

The doctor patted her hand and placed it beneath the thick quilt covering her. She allowed her body to relax.

“Take it easy. You’re safe now,” the doctor said.

Buoyed by his words, she tried to think good thoughts. Somewhere in her imagination, a dog barked, followed by the bleating of a sheep.

A sheep? She must be dreaming.

“Oh,” she groaned. If only this muzzy feeling would vacate her brain, she’d be able to think clearly.

She listened to the woman’s muted tones as she spoke to the doctor, aware of their presence in the room but unable to make out their words. She tried to focus, but her insides felt jittery. “Can you give me something for the pain?”

“Sure. What would you like?”

How odd. Shouldn’t the doctor know what to give her in a situation like this? “My arm and head hurts.”

She opened her eyes and peered at the man standing beside the door. She recognized his stance. Legs braced. One hand cocked on his hip. Gaze piercing her to the bone. The kind of man who knew how to handle himself and never backed away from a fight. In the depths of his eyes, she saw a shadow of frustration. She couldn’t blame him. It was the middle of the night after all. No doubt he resented her for disturbing his sleep.

He leaned one hip against the counter and spoke to the cabinets as he picked up a bottle of pills and popped the lid. He shook several white tablets onto the palm of his hand. “Your arm has a bad sprain and you’ll have a nasty bruise, but nothing’s broken. I think you might have a concussion, so we’ll keep an eye on you for a few more hours. I don’t have any powerful medications for humans. Will some aspirin suffice?”

She looked away. A patchwork quilt draped her body. Definitely not normal hospital issue. She expected white sheets and a sterile blanket. “Aspirin is fine.”

He brought her a paper cup with water and watched as she took it and swallowed the pills down. She handed the empty cup back to him and he balled it up and tossed it at the garbage can, where it made a perfect two-point shot.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a veterinarian.”

She laughed, her mind whirling as she flung back the quilt to free her legs. Still dressed in her jeans and heavy blue sweater, she wriggled her bare toes. Someone had removed her socks and shoes. The doctor or Gladys? It made her feel odd to think of a strange man handling her bare feet. “You’re kidding.”

“Afraid not.” He gave her a look that told her he was serious. He pointed at her shoes sitting beside the bed, and she swung her legs over the side of the cot. Her feet rested against the cold linoleum floor, helping her feel grounded. From the outer room, she caught the distinct sound of a cat meowing.

She stared at the collar of his denim shirt, listening to the deep timbre of his voice. “Doctor Greene’s out of town until Wednesday. If we weren’t in the middle of a blizzard, Lloyd would have driven you to Elko for X-rays. Instead, he brought you here to me.”

“Lloyd?”

“He’s the local law-enforcement here in Finley. Carl called him after you hit his truck.”

Her head kept spinning. “Who is Carl?”

“Carl Frasier, the driver of the truck you hit with your car.” He sounded slightly annoyed at having to repeat himself.

Of course! She remembered the accident with frightening clarity. “I’m sorry you had to come out in the middle of the night to help Danny and me.”

He didn’t respond and a swelling silence followed.

“Where…where are my car and belongings?” she asked.

“The accident totaled your car. Lloyd towed your trailer over to Gladys’s house. It’s intact, but the contents are a mess.”

Great! No transportation and no money to buy a decent car. Thankfully, she still had collision insurance. Too bad she’d sold Grammy’s old sedan when she came in for the funeral. She only got five hundred dollars for the junker and used the money to buy a travel trailer. How was she going to get to Grammy’s place, five miles outside of town? She prayed nothing else went wrong.

She struggled to stand and instantly regretted it. Her legs wobbled and she feared her knees might buckle. Nausea settled in her stomach. A jolt of pain swept her arm, leaving her weak and shaking. As she sat down, she bit back a groan, wishing she could sleep for a few hours. But she had to think of Danny. Had to find out how serious her predicament was.

“Easy there,” the doctor urged, as he reached to help her up. Once she found her bearings, he withdrew quickly, as if touching her burned his fingers.

His gaze swept her forearms where a myriad of pink and purple scars covered the smooth flesh. She jerked her sleeves down to hide the ugliness; a constant reminder of why she feared and hated dogs. And why she usually wore long sleeves.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.

She almost flinched, wishing he hadn’t noticed her scars. Shaking her head, she leaned against the wall and clenched her eyes closed, willing her insides to settle. “No, they’re old wounds I prefer to forget. Where am I?”

“You’re in my medical office,” he said.

She swayed, her hands shaking.

“You sure you feel like sitting up?” He stood beside her, all broad shoulders and narrow hips, wearing faded blue jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. Rachel wasn’t surprised by his attire. Not in this ranching town. Tall, lean and ruggedly handsome. The complete opposite of Alex, who’d been only five feet eight inches tall, always wore an Oxford shirt and ties even on Saturdays, and had a slight paunch. It never mattered to Rachel. Alex would always be the love of her life. From the first day they met, he’d been the kindest, gentlest man she ever knew. A good provider and fiercely protective of her and Danny. Ah, how she missed him.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, but take it slow.”

She reached for her socks. “You mean to tell me this Lloyd person brought me to a vet for medical assistance?”

No doubt her shrill voice sounded ungrateful.

“With a blizzard and Doc Greene out of town, Lloyd figured I was the next best thing.” Lloyd had probably dragged the doctor out of bed in the middle of the night to help her.

She pulled her tennis shoes on and tied them, trying to sort out everything. Finley had only one small grocery store in town, no movie theater and one family-owned diner where they served the best steak fries she’d ever eaten. Claridge’s Diner. Maybe they needed a waitress.

Grammy used to drive almost two hours to the nearest dentist and hospital in Elko. The only medical doctor in Finley had retired from Los Angeles ten years earlier and opened a two-room clinic on Mondays and for emergencies. What more could you expect from a ranching community with less than three thousand people?

The window rattled with a gust of wind. Rachel flinched and stared at the door. She was jumpy as a frog.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Sam Thorne.” The doctor held out a hand and she shook it, feeling the gruff calluses on his palm. Strong hands, capable of mending fence and riding wild horses. The complete opposite of Alex and his soft accountant’s hands.

“And who are you?” He lifted one brow, showing a hint of amusement. Yet his quirked smile showed only friendliness.

“I’m Rachel Walker. I guess I’m lucky Finley has a vet. Thanks for helping us.”

“You’re welcome.” Dr. Thorne gave half a smile, showing that dimple in his cheek. He appeared to be in his midthirties, maybe seven or eight years older than her. His face looked rustic and too gruff, his chin too blunt. He had a nice mouth and a devil-may-care smile that should send any sensible girl running in the opposite direction. So why did she smile back?

His expression faded and he turned away, replacing the lid on a bottle of hydrogen peroxide before tossing soiled gauze into the trash can. “Where were you headed before the accident?”

“Here. I own a farmhouse in Finnegan’s Valley. Danny and I plan to live there.”

His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. “The old Duarte place is the only farmhouse out there.”

“Yes, Myra Duarte was my grandmother. She left the house to me when she died six weeks ago.”

He gave a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. You’re Myra’s granddaughter.”

A statement, not a question.

“You knew my grandmother?”

“And your grandfather. When I was young, I bucked hay for Frank Duarte during the summer months to help pay my college tuition. Sad thing, losing Myra. She made the best watermelon pickles in five counties. She used to take after me with a broom whenever Craig Seeley and I raided her apple orchard.”

That sounded like Grammy. Ask her nice, and Myra Duarte would give you her last crust of bread. But steal from her, and watch out!

Talking about her grandparents made Rachel feel warm and nostalgic. How she missed their generosity and quiet strength. They never had much, but they always opened their home to her during the summer months when she was a kid.

Dr. Thorne studied her face. “I seem to remember you bouncing around in pigtails when you came to visit as a child.”

Rachel studied the doctor. A foggy recollection filled her mind of a young, handsome man wearing a scruffy cowboy hat as he worked the fields with the other hands Grandpa hired each summer. Back then, Sam Thorne had been too old to pay much attention to Frank Duarte’s little granddaughter from back east. And she’d been too young to care about anything more than swimming in the pond and trying out the new shade of nail polish Grammy bought for her at Granger’s General Store. Her grandfather died almost ten years ago, and she had no other family. They’d be content in Finley. Nothing else mattered.

Dr. Thorne tossed a quick glance her way, his ears reddening. He seemed embarrassed by her close scrutiny as he dropped a small pair of scissors into a sterile jar of green fluid. “We’ll be neighbors. I live about half a mile east of your place.”

“So, you’re the one who bought my grandparent’s farmland a few years ago.”

“Yes, I built a house and barn in Finnegan’s Valley. Someday, I hope to build a large animal hospital out there.”

“I remember Grammy telling me all about it in her letters. I saw your place when I came in for her burial.”

A doctor in Elko had called to let Rachel know Grammy had died. Rachel never even got to say goodbye, although she had told Grammy often over the phone and in letters that she loved her.

Dr. Thorne took a deep breath and let it go. “After Frank died, Myra received quite a bit of money from the sale of her land. I’m sure she left you well set for life.”

Her head pounded like a sledgehammer. “I was her heir, but I only received the house.”

His brow furrowed with doubt. “Then who got the money?”

“There was none. Grammy had no bank accounts. She always paid her bills in cash.”

That was so like Grammy. Knowing she was dying, she had settled her obligations beforehand. Tears burned the backs of Rachel’s eyes. How she wished she’d been here when Grammy died.

“Come on. I’ll take you over to Gladys’s house where you can get some sleep.” Although he reached to help her, she sensed his detachment. Even though he spoke with fondness for her grandparents, he seemed ill at ease with her. They’d gotten off to a bad start and she wasn’t certain why.

“You came all the way from Finnegan’s Valley in this storm just to help me?”

He shook his head. “I was already here. I came into town earlier to eat supper with Gladys and Charlie and I couldn’t get home because of the blizzard.”

Ah, Dr. Thorne must have a thing for Gladys. Surprising, considering Gladys looked older than Sam by at least six years. Maybe in a small town like Finley, the pickings were slim.

He snorted, as if reading her thoughts. “Gladys is my older sister and Charlie’s my nephew.”

“Oh.” A flush of embarrassment heated Rachel’s face.

As he took her arm, she felt the strength in his big, solid hand. The electricity came back on, flooding the office with light. Rachel blinked her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow with the lights on, the doctor didn’t seem as threatening or her situation quite so bleak.

“That’s a good sign.” Dr. Thorne blew out the candles before he stepped to the door and disappeared from view.

“Wait!” Rachel called, unable to explain the panic rising in her throat.

Dr. Thorne returned with her coat. “I’m not leaving you.”

She breathed a deep sigh and nodded, trying to calm down. Still, she couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. She didn’t want to impose on the doctor, and yet she didn’t want to be alone either. She felt caught in the middle of her own emotions.

When Dr. Thorne handed her the coat, he stood close to her. Too close. Rachel took the garment, then stepped away.




Chapter Two


Sam watched as Rachel Walker struggled to put her coat on over her sprained arm. When she flinched, he lifted the weight of the garment so she could slip it on. She smiled her thanks, fumbling with the zipper.

A lock of blond hair fell across her eyes and she tucked it back behind her ear. With her manicured nails, dainty features and soft hands, she reminded him too much of Melanie. He could spot a city girl from a mile away. It didn’t matter that she was Frank and Myra Duarte’s granddaughter. He doubted this woman had ever worked a hard day in her life.

No, siree. He wanted nothing to do with her.

He stood back, feeling surly. Against his better judgment, something about Rachel Walker drew him like a moth to flame. By midday, word would spread all over town that a new woman was moving into Finnegan’s Valley, just south of town. No doubt she’d draw attention from every bachelor for miles around.

Not him. Not only was he too old for her, but he didn’t have time for a pretty young woman who demanded lots of attention. Love passed him by long ago. He’d had his chance and ruined it. He accepted that. But he still couldn’t help yearning for a family of his own. He had Gladys and Charlie, but it wasn’t the same.

As he walked to the front door, he felt Rachel’s eyes boring into him like a drill. When he turned, he found her checking her wristwatch. “What time is it? My watch must have been damaged during the crash.”

“Just after four a.m. Almost time to get up. I may have to take a snowmobile out to my place to feed the livestock.”

“Do you have a lot of animals out at your place?”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “You could say that. Twenty-three head of cattle, eight horses, five cats, three pigs, two dogs and a new litter of pups born last week. I fed them before I left last night, but they’ll go hungry if I’m not back in time to feed them and break the ice over their watering troughs.”

She gave a short laugh. “I can’t imagine caring for that many animals. I killed Danny’s goldfish when I forgot to feed the poor thing for three days. Danny still hasn’t forgiven me. What he really wants is a dog.”

Yeah, she looked like the goldfish type. Probably didn’t do well with live plants, either.

She clamped her mouth shut, as if realizing she’d told him too much. He didn’t speak as they walked past the kennels to the front office. A tabby cat lay curled in its cage, watching them with glowing eyes. A dog stood and stretched lazily before giving a shrill bark. Rachel jumped, her eyes widening with fear.

“It’s okay. They won’t bother you,” he assured her.

“Are they sick?” she asked.

“Nah, they’re just boarding with me while their owners are out of town. Gladys and Charlie feed and play with them a couple times each day. Gladys is a trained vet tech and works for me.”

“Oh, and what does a vet tech do?”

“Basically, she’s my assistant,” he explained.

“Oh.”

He left her standing in the front office while he locked the back door. When he joined her again, he caught her staring at a sign in his front window that read: Help Wanted—Receptionist. Inquire inside.

Great! Now she’d ask for the job. She obviously needed an income. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to hire her. She couldn’t be worse than the last receptionist he’d hired, but something about this woman put him on edge. She made him feel strange and out of sorts.

He discouraged further conversation by flicking off the light and opening the front door. A blast of wind and snow struck them, rattling the front windows. Rachel gasped. Her first step outside, the rubber soles of her impractical tennis shoes slipped against the icy pavement. She cried out and grabbed for his arm, and he found himself holding on to her so she wouldn’t fall. In the dim shadows of the street light, she stared up into his eyes, her mouth rounding with surprise.

Sam didn’t smile, but his heart rate sped up. He cleared his voice as he clasped her elbow. “Sorry, ma’am. I should’ve taken your arm.”

“It’s okay.” She spoke above the roar of the storm, flashing him a forgiving smile that melted his frozen heart.

He knew then he’d crossed an invisible threshold he didn’t understand. As he sheltered her from the brunt of the storm with his own body, he realized he couldn’t go back in time and sensed he would never be the same again.



Hunching her shoulders against the wind, Rachel shuffled through the snow down the dark street. She was highly conscious of the strong man walking beside her, holding onto her arm. The cold and wet beat against her, stealing her breath. She could barely see in front of her feet, but Dr. Thorne seemed to know the way. His presence comforted her for some odd reason.

By the time they reached Gladys’s house, Rachel’s ears, feet, hands and nose felt numb with cold. Snowflakes wet her face and she brushed them away. Her hair felt weighted down with dampness.

Dr. Thorne led Rachel to the back porch, where he immediately released her arm. In the darkness of the storm, she could just make out the color of blue trim around the shutters. He opened the screen door, and she brushed off her coat before preceding him inside. Warmth engulfed her, and she caught the tantalizing scent of cinnamon. A night-light by the kitchen sink gleamed red across the refrigerator, table, four chairs, and yellow daffodil wallpaper.

Rachel stomped off the snow on a large, fluffy rug before doffing her coat. The doctor carried the garment into the other room. Rachel followed and watched as he spread it on a chair before a low fire burning in the living room hearth. His consideration confused her. She didn’t think he liked her much, but he was still polite.

A single lamp had been turned on, sitting on a table beside the flowered sofa. She peered through the shadows, noticing the simple but comfortable recliner, afghan and pillows, family pictures on the mantel, a small television set and a basket of yarn and needles sitting nearby. The surroundings reminded Rachel of Grammy’s farm house. Humble but comfortable and inviting. A place where you found refuge from the world.

“Where’s Danny?” she whispered.

Placing a finger against his lips, Dr. Thorne beckoned her to follow as he led her down a narrow hall to a bedroom. The door creaked as he pushed it open. The tall shadow of a bunk bed showed her son sleeping soundly in the bottom bed. Another boy about the same age as Danny slept in the top bunk.

Rachel tiptoed across the room and knelt beside her son. She cupped his warm cheek and listened to his even breathing. He gave a deep sigh, his mouth puckering. She could sit and watch him sleep for hours. Knowing he was safe brought her the greatest peace. She could hardly believe complete strangers would take him in, feed him and give him a bed. Dr. Thorne and Gladys’s kindness touched her deeply.

A movement beside the door caught her attention. Gladys stood beside her brother wearing a pink bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Rachel pulled the quilts around Danny’s shoulders, then stood and backed out of the room before Gladys closed the door. She followed the doctor into the kitchen where Gladys turned on the light. Rachel blinked her eyes against the sudden brightness.

“How are you feeling?” Gladys asked kindly.

“Better, thank you. I’m sorry for this intrusion. We could go to the motel.”

Gladys waved a hand. “Nonsense. They’d charge you sixty-nine dollars for the night. Besides, Sam thinks you have a mild concussion. You’ll need someone to look after you and we can’t do that over at the motel. Not in this snowstorm.”

In the living room, the woman picked up a fresh cotton sheet and flipped it in the air to open it wide. It floated down across the sofa as she made up the Hide-A-Bed.

“Are you hungry?” Gladys asked.

Rachel shook her head, her stomach still queasy.

“Don’t worry. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Sam tells me you’re Myra’s granddaughter and you’ll be staying out at the Duarte place.”

“Yes.”

“I knew Myra well. She told me you lived back east.”

“Yes, my husband and I lived in Rochester.”

Dr. Thorne frowned and shifted his feet, but he didn’t say a word. Feeling the weight of his curious gaze, she looked away.

“Let’s get you into bed.” Gladys flipped off all the lights except the night lamp sitting on a small table beside the Hide-A-Bed.

Now that she’d seen her son, Rachel longed to curl beneath the warm blankets and sleep for a trillion years. In sleep, she could forget her aching heart and the financial troubles plaguing her since Alex died. Even though he’d been gone almost a year, it still felt like she’d lost him just yesterday. She wondered if her heart would ever recover.

“I’ll say good-night.” Dr. Thorne reached for the door.

“Where are you going in this storm?” Rachel asked before she could stop herself. It wasn’t her business.

“When I stay in town, it’s usually because we’ve got a sick animal at the clinic. I’ll sleep over there. Gladys will check on you periodically through the night, just to make sure you’re okay. She knows what to do.”

“Thanks again.”

“No problem. I’ll see you in the morning.” With a nod, he turned and left, a burst of wintry wind echoing his passage.

Rachel stared after him, longing to call him back. She couldn’t explain it, but his quiet strength brought her a sense of security. He reminded her just how lonely and vulnerable she’d become over the past year.

“Come on, honey.” Gladys led Rachel down the hall, where she dug out a flannel nightgown from a chest of drawers. She retrieved a fluffy bathrobe and a new toothbrush, then showed Rachel to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Rachel slid between the chilly covers of her bed and lay awake, too tired to sleep. For just a moment, she allowed herself to feel self-pity. She’d lost her car and couldn’t afford another one, her arm was injured, and who knew what shape her possessions inside the travel trailer were in? How was she going to find transportation out to the farmhouse? She couldn’t work if she had no wheels to get into town. If only Alex were here. He’d know what to do.

Her situation seemed hopeless, and hot tears wet her cheeks. Then, she remembered God had been with them tonight, guiding and protecting them. It hadn’t been easy, but the Lord had brought them through. They could recover, if she just kept her faith.

In the morning, she’d buy a few groceries and find a way out to Grammy’s place. Maybe she could hitch a ride with the snowplow. She’d build a new life for herself and Danny. They’d be alone, but they’d be happy and safe.



Sam shivered as he tromped through the snow in his knee-high boots. The storm had tapered off to a light flurry. Nine inches of pristine snow made the night air seem almost as bright as midday. Long shards of ice crystals hung from bare tree branches. The only sound was the crunch of his footsteps. Mother Nature’s beauty never ceased to astonish him.

Lovely and treacherous, just like a woman.

This small town was no place for a beautiful young woman like Rachel Walker. She could find a better future in a city somewhere.

Sam snorted. She denied receiving any money from her grandmother’s estate, but he found that hard to believe. He couldn’t help wondering how Rachel had gone through so much money so fast.

He tried to shake off his uncertainty as he kicked the snow off his boots and stepped into the reception area of his clinic. Even though she was a stranger, he couldn’t explain his desire to help Rachel. He should keep some distance from her and her son. Yet, their desperation pulled at his heartstrings. The last thing he needed was another shallow, beautiful woman messing up his calm, solitary life. Loving Melanie had brought him enough pain. And in the end, he’d destroyed whatever happiness they might have shared.

Rachel had no car, very few possessions, and a small son to support. When Sheriff Lloyd looked through her purse for some ID, he’d found her billfold. It consisted of exactly one thousand six hundred and two dollars and eighty-nine cents. No cell phone. No credit cards. No checkbook. Her funds wouldn’t buy her a decent car or groceries for very long.

The Duarte place seemed pretty run-down since Frank died some years ago. The possible repairs needed to the pipes and wiring could take every cent Rachel had in her purse.

And how would she get back and forth between her house and town without a car? In this frigid weather, she and the boy couldn’t walk. She’d be all alone out there without a phone or anyone to help with heavy projects. She wasn’t strong, he could see that from the size of her shapely arms. And those scars! Although old, he recognized a dog bite when he saw one. Rachel had been attacked, probably using her arms to shield her face until help arrived. Sam could only imagine the internal scars such an experience like that would leave on her mentally. He’d seen her reaction to the animals in his clinic. She didn’t say so, but he sensed she had a phobia for canines.

Shaking his head, he walked to the back room and stared at the uncomfortable cot. After he shed his coat, hat and boots, he sat down and reached for the alarm clock sitting close by. He set it for six a.m., one hour away, then wriggled his toes. One poked through a hole in his woolen sock. He’d mend it later, when he finally washed his piles of laundry.

Even Gladys finally stopped telling him he should get a wife of his own. He’d dated quite a bit during veterinarian school, but after Melanie, his heart never took flight again. His career became more important.

Until now.

“Ah, you fool,” he castigated himself.

He’d just met Rachel Walker. She needed help. That was why he couldn’t get her off his mind. Kind of like feeding and becoming attached to a stray cat. It had nothing to do with her clear blue eyes filled with worry for her son, or the way she’d cried while she was unconscious. From the few things she’d mumbled, he knew her husband’s name was Alex and she still mourned the man’s death. But he couldn’t get involved. Her problems weren’t his business.

As he lay back on the cot, he folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His nose crinkled, catching Rachel’s clean, floral scent.

It felt good to be needed by Gladys and Charlie. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep them safe. He’d accepted his fate as a confirmed bachelor, but he never liked it. He’d been born a family man and never accepted the empty hole in his heart. Except for Gladys and Charlie, he’d been alone most of his life. Even God had abandoned him after he lost Melanie.

For some reason, Rachel Walker dredged this up in his mind. The longing. The regrets.

He yearned for someone to shower his love upon. Someone all his own who loved him in return. No matter how full his life got, he’d never get used to the emptiness in his heart.

Or the loneliness.




Chapter Three


Rachel awoke to the smell of bacon frying. She opened her eyes, blinking at the bright sunlight filtering through the lacey curtains in Gladys’s living room. The snow had stopped.

Turning her head, Rachel saw Danny and another boy she assumed was Charlie sitting together in the recliner next to the Hide-A-Bed. The boys giggled, their legs dangling over the seat as they stared at her.

“See? I told you she’d wake up soon,” Danny told the other boy.

She smiled, unable to resist the merry twinkle in Charlie’s eyes. “Good morning, boys. How are you?”

“Fine,” Danny responded.

“You slept in.” Charlie’s freckled nose crinkled.

Rachel stretched, finding her body stiff and sore from the accident. Thinking about her crumpled car made her groan. “What time is it?”

Charlie shrugged, raking his short fingers through the unruly mop of red hair falling over his brow. “I don’t know.”

Danny glanced at the cartoon character watch Alex gave him for his sixth birthday. “Almost eleven o’clock.”

Wow! She had slept in, but they’d gone to bed so late.

“Good morning! Are you hungry?” Gladys called from the doorway of the kitchen. She wore her long chestnut hair curled and loose around her shoulders. Dressed in a red checkered apron, she clutched a plastic spatula in one hand.

Rachel sat up and slid her bare feet to the hardwood floor. Still dressed in the nightgown and bathrobe Gladys gave her the night before, she barely felt the cold in the snug house. “I am hungry, actually.”

“I laid out clean towels in the bathroom. Sam brought your bags in before he left.” Gladys pointed the spatula to where Rachel and Danny’s blue suitcases sat near the Hide-A-Bed.

“Where did he go?”

“He drove out to his place early this morning, to feed and water his livestock.”

“He was able to drive through the snow to Finnegan’s Valley?”

Maybe he’d give her and Danny a ride out to Grammy’s place. She hated to impose, but she had few options.

“Sure! A country doctor knows how to get around any impediment. His truck has 4-wheel drive with a plow blade attached to the front fender. If he gets stuck, there’s a snowmobile and an extra can of gasoline in the back.”

Hmm, impressive. Rachel stood and hugged Danny, breathing in his warm, sweet skin. She gave silent thanks they were safe. When she thought of what could have happened last night, she almost shuddered.

She didn’t recognize Danny’s pajamas and thought he must have borrowed them from Charlie. Both boys wore animal slippers, Charlie’s brown with floppy-eared dogs on the insteps, Danny’s yellow with ducks that squeaked when he walked. She reached to tickle the boys’ ribs with her good hand. Both of them squealed and scrambled away.

Charlie raced to the television set and flipped it on. “Hooray! Now your mom’s awake, we can watch cartoons.”

Both boys plopped down on a love seat and shared a red afghan for warmth. Charlie worked the remote control, flipping through channels.

Rachel watched her son, who seemed to accept their predicament quite well. In spite of the accident, it lightened her heart to see him so happy.

“While I finish making breakfast, why don’t you get ready? Sam should be back any time now,” Gladys told Rachel.

This information prompted Rachel into action. Running a hand over the blue bathrobe, she realized she didn’t want Dr. Thorne to see her like this. Why she cared about a stranger’s opinion, she refused to contemplate. Instead, she hurried to get ready.

Forty minutes later, she emerged from the steaming bathroom dressed in practical blue jeans and a warm sweater, her hair curled and her makeup in place. As she walked into the living room, she saw the Hide-A-Bed had been put away and Gladys had folded the quilts Rachel used the night before. Danny and Charlie now sat at the kitchen table wolfing down pancakes and eggs.

“I know it’s several days away, but why don’t you and Danny share Sunday dinner with us?” Gladys said.

“Oh, we couldn’t impose.”

“Nonsense. You’ll need time to get settled. I always fix Sunday dinner over at Sam’s place. He has a huge kitchen.” Gladys stowed the pile of sheets and blankets in a hall closet.

Rachel hesitated. She didn’t feel up to cooking much right now. But she wasn’t certain what she thought of having dinner at the doctor’s home.

“Stop worrying.” Gladys squeezed Rachel’s good arm. “You can invite us over to your house later. Now, come have something to eat. You must be starved.”

Rachel followed Gladys into the cozy kitchen. She sat at the table, feeling lazy and confused by Gladys’s generosity.

“We’ve already blessed the food, so dig in,” Gladys said.

“Sam says our car got totaled in the crash.” Danny spoke with both cheeks bulging.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, son.” Rachel wished he hadn’t reminded her of their ruined car.

“Yes, I saw it. What’ll you do for transportation?” Gladys stood at the stove, stirring scrambled eggs.

Rachel looked down at her plate, noticing the small blue corn flowers swirling around the outer edge. The Lord would provide for them. She had to trust in Him. “I’m not sure.”

“How are you fixed for money?”

Wow! Gladys was certainly blunt.

“We’ll get by.”

“We’re looking for a receptionist over at the clinic. Do you need a job?” Gladys sat down with her own plate of food.

“I, uh, yes I do.”

But at a veterinarian clinic? She squeezed her left forearm, touching the scars beneath the fabric of her sweater. She swallowed, hating to admit dogs scared her to death. Ever since she was eleven years old and a dog belonging to a neighbor had attacked her. She figured goldfish were harmless enough.

“Can you type?” Gladys asked.

“Absolutely!” No more than forty words per minute, but she’d taken some evening classes at the community college in Rochester. She wasn’t fast, but she knew word processing and spreadsheet programs. How hard could it be?

“Sam wants someone with lots of receptionist skills. The last gal he hired couldn’t even type. If you want the job, I’d have to get his approval, first.”

“That’d be great.” If only he agreed. A laugh of relief bubbled up in Rachel’s throat. She might have a job. Working in a vet clinic wasn’t what she had in mind, but her options were pretty slim.

Gladys didn’t look at her as she took a bite of syrupy pancake. Rachel got the impression the other woman tried not to smile. “I’ll warn you, it’s a busy office.”

“Sam mentioned you work there, too.”

“Yep.” Gladys nodded. “We were both raised on a ranch. After my husband died, I brought Charlie to Finley and Sam put me back on my feet. He gave me a fresh start.”

“My husband died last year and I miss him terribly.”

“Oh, you’re a widow, too. I’m sorry.” Gladys’s eyes crinkled. “No wonder we’ve become fast friends. We have a lot in common.”

Tears burned Rachel’s eyes and she looked away. Her sudden emotions ambushed her. The pain of losing Alex still felt raw. Yet the kindness and generosity of these strangers gave her hope that she and Danny could make it here on their own.

A thud sounded outside on the back porch. The kitchen door opened and Sam came inside with a burst of chilly air.

The moment he entered the room, Rachel felt his presence like a tangible thing. She couldn’t understand why the doctor would have such an effect on her.

“Brrr! Close that door.” Gladys reached to help him off with his heavy coat.

Sam closed the door before removing the beatup cowboy hat from his head. His short, dark hair curled against the nape of his neck. He set his damp gloves on the washing machine, his cheeks and nose red. He smiled, his gaze sliding over to Rachel. “It sure is pretty outside. You boys want to play in the snow?”

“Yeah!” Danny and Charlie answered in unison.

Sam chuckled. “Then you better get dressed.”

Charlie hopped off his chair and raced toward his bedroom followed by Danny. Rachel heard the slamming of a door. Whoops of glee and copious amounts of laughter filtered down the hall.

“You’d think it was Christmas morning.” Gladys chuckled as she handed Sam a plate of food.

He turned and paused. Rachel felt the weight of his gaze as he stared at her bare toes. Standing, she helped Gladys fill the sink with sudsy water. Sam sat and reached for the butter. “The snow’s deep, but we should be able to get out to your place this morning.”

Rachel paused as she dried a glass with a dish towel. “I’d really appreciate a ride.”

“Sam lives up the road from your place,” Gladys chimed in. “He can make sure your furnace is working.”

“Yeah, I’ll check things out.” Sam’s voice held no enthusiasm.

“You’ll need groceries, too. I packed some canned goods, but you’ll need to stop at Granger’s to pick up some milk and perishables.” Gladys jutted her chin in the direction of a large box sitting by the back door.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Rachel almost breathed an audible sigh of relief. She had a ride out to Grammy’s place.

“It’s no trouble.”

It’d been six weeks since Grammy lived in the house. Any number of things could have gone wrong. The power could have been knocked out or the old furnace might no longer work. Having Sam and Gladys accompany her out to the house brought her a measure of comfort.

When she glanced at Sam, Rachel couldn’t deny the surly set of his shoulders, nor the way he avoided meeting her eyes. Last night, he’d been kind, even gentle with her. Now, he seemed irritated. She couldn’t blame him. He probably had lots to do and resented a woman and kid taking up his valuable time.

“Have you got fuel for the furnace?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.” Rachel hadn’t thought about that.

“I’ll check your propane tank. If not, I’ll call Shorty Keller and see when he can get his truck out there to fill the tank.”

“I can help you clean the house,” Gladys offered. “Sam’s a whiz with repairs. There’s nothing he can’t do. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer before taking another bite of food. His cheek bulged as he chewed, and Rachel took his silence as a good sign. There was no mistaking Gladys’s confidence in her brother’s abilities, but she felt uncomfortable asking for his help. Alex had difficulty installing child locks on the cupboards. He just hadn’t been good at fix-it jobs. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Gladys lifted her hand and waved the air. “Many hands make light work. It’ll be our pleasure to help.”

“Um, maybe I should get ready.” Rachel was as ready as she’d ever be, but she needed an excuse to get out of this kitchen before she burst into tears of gratitude. She cut through the living room and hurried into the bathroom, where she sat on the edge of the tub for at least five minutes before finally brushing her teeth.

Outside the window, she heard childish laughter in the front yard. She peeked past the flowered curtains and saw Danny and Charlie, both dressed in winter coats, scarves, hats, gloves and boots as they rolled snowballs to make a snowman. No doubt Danny had borrowed some of the clothing from Charlie. Her son’s smile melted her heart. She hadn’t seen him laugh like this since—

She sighed. They both missed Alex, and she was glad Danny had found a friend like Charlie. Exiting the bathroom, Rachel came up short in the living room when she heard Sam’s deep, disapproving voice. The exasperation in his tone was obvious. After listening for a few moments, Rachel realized she now had a bigger problem on her hands.



“I can’t believe you want to hire her as our receptionist.” Sam shifted his weight on the linoleum floor in the kitchen.

Gladys stood in front of the refrigerator, putting away the milk. Sam waited until she turned and looked at him, but he didn’t like the expression on her face. He knew that look. Her stubborn I’m-your-older-and-wiser-sister look.

“You put me in charge of hiring a new receptionist and I want to hire Rachel,” Gladys insisted. “She doesn’t have much experience, but she’ll do better than Tiffany.”

He almost groaned. Did she have to bring up Tiffany? The girl had been down on her luck, just like Rachel. Two months after he hired her, the girl absconded with all the money in his safe. Now he had a bad feeling about Rachel. Like knowing you were about to get hit in the jaw, but your hands were tied behind your back so you couldn’t protect yourself. “What are Rachel’s skills? Can she even type?”

Tiffany had used the hunt-and-peck method, typing with her two index fingers. Sam’s busy office needed a receptionist who could take charge and help out.

“Of course,” Gladys said. “And she knows word processing and spreadsheet programs. If I can learn, so can she.”

“What are her references?”

“Frank and Myra Duarte, two of the finest people I ever knew,” Gladys insisted. “I’ve always been a good judge of character, and that gal will do just fine for us.”

He took a deep breath, wondering if he’d ever find a way to tell his sister no. The fact was, he loved Gladys very much, but this was pushing him near the edge. Something about Rachel Walker tore at the deepest recesses of his heart. He’d noticed her pink-painted toenails, so feminine and attractive they made him crazy. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try. If she were working in his office every day, always underfoot, always smelling like springtime, he sensed he’d have an internal fight on his hands before long. And he’d promised himself he’d never care for another woman again. His heart couldn’t take it.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. “I don’t feel good about this, Glad.”

“What have you got against her?” Gladys brushed past him and reached for the laundry basket. He stared after her in a daze, watching dumbly as she folded towels and piled them neatly on the clean kitchen table.

“For one thing, she’s a complete stranger,” he offered lamely.

Gladys spoke without looking up, her fingers working nimbly as she matched pairs of socks. “She comes from good people, Samuel Nathan.”

Samuel Nathan. The name Gladys called him when she disapproved of something he’d said or done.

“But we don’t know anything about her,” he argued. “Her work ethic, her reliability, her integrity.”

“She needs a job. She needs our help. Do you want to just throw her out on the street?”

“Of course not, but I don’t want to take in strays and give her a job just because you feel sorry for her.”

Gladys pursed her lips. “She’s sweet as can be. Don’t you think it’s time you got over Melanie? That was years ago. You need to move on with your life.”

“This has nothing to do with Melanie.” A swell of anger washed over him. Even as he said the words, he knew it was a lie. His voice sounded strained as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh, doesn’t it? You haven’t looked at another woman since. Not until last night.”

He snorted. “Stop matchmaking. I’m too old for Rachel.”

“Oh, pooh! She’s a widow and six years age difference between you doesn’t matter much.”

“Closer to nine,” he snarled. “Did she tell you she’s a widow?”

“Yep, and from the look in her eyes, she loved the man.”

Well. He felt sorry for her, then. He knew the pain of losing someone he loved and it never left his heart for one single minute. “She’s not working for us. Period.”

“Now, Sam—”

“I said no.” His soft words resonated through the kitchen like a shout. He rarely put his foot down with Gladys, but when he did, he meant it.

Gladys clamped her mouth shut, her lips pursed with disapproval. In her eyes, he saw disappointment and hurt, but he wouldn’t budge on this decision. He couldn’t take the chance.

Brooding silence followed.

The rattling of the bathroom door announced Rachel’s presence before she stepped into the kitchen. Sam stood at the door wearing his coat, hat and gloves. He held the doorknob in a choking grip, desperate to escape. He couldn’t help feeling as though he’d just ruined something beautiful. Like a delicate flower crushed beneath the heels of his work boots.

Rachel met his gaze with a challenging lift of her chin, and he hoped she hadn’t heard his conversation with Gladys. He felt ashamed for his lack of charity toward this woman. No doubt God would be disappointed in him again. But it was just one more notch on his conscience. Surely God couldn’t be any more disappointed in him than He already was. And yet, Sam couldn’t look away from Rachel. Something in her eyes held him captive. A sense of quiet strength he didn’t fully understand. She was vulnerable, he knew that. Even frightened. Yet, he could see in her eyes that she would do what had to be done, no matter what. For that reason alone, his respect for her grew.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

He exchanged a glance with Gladys. “Yeah.”

So much for not getting involved. He turned away, confused to his bones. One minute, he found himself attracted to this woman in ways he couldn’t explain. The next minute, he wanted to strangle her and she hadn’t done a single thing to him…except walk into his life and make him start to feel again. Old emotions he thought he’d suffocated twelve years earlier. He must set some boundaries.

“I’ll be waiting outside.” Sam picked up the box of groceries and juggled it as he pushed the screen door wide with his shoulder. It slapped closed behind him as he stepped out onto the back porch. Gladys closed the kitchen door, shutting out the frigid air.

Shutting out him.




Chapter Four


Rachel took a deep breath as she pulled on her coat and followed Sam outside onto the back porch of Gladys’s house. Strays! She tensed when she thought of the conversation she’d overheard between the doctor and his sister. She was tempted to tell Dr. Thorne what he could do with his precious receptionist job.

Obviously Sam had been dumped by a woman named Melanie and hadn’t gotten over her yet. Now, he seemed to hold a grudge against Rachel.

She wrapped her scarf around her neck and jerked on the thick leather gloves Gladys had loaned her.

She didn’t want anyone’s help. But she would need it if she was going to make it here in Finley. The thought of accepting anything from Sam Thorne almost frosted her garters, as Grammy was fond of saying.

Thinking of her grandmother and the funny adages she used brought a smile to Rachel’s face. And that was when she saw her small travel trailer. Someone had parked it beside the garage. Probably Sam, who currently stood over the front hitch, hooking it to his truck.

She gravitated toward the back, her gaze searching for damage. As she rounded the corner, she gave a sharp exhale. One side of the trailer had been bashed in, no doubt struck by the oncoming truck she had hit last night. She groaned, wondering how severe the damage might be inside. Every possession she owned was inside this trailer.

She joined Sam, wishing she didn’t need to speak to him. Her pride still stung from being called a stray. As she drew deep drafts of cold air into her lungs, her nerves settled. “Will it make it out to Grammy’s place okay?”

“Sure, the tires are sound,” he said without looking up.

She lifted the latch and opened the double doors, peering through the shadowed interior. Tears filled her eyes. Clothing, towels and bedding lay folded in haphazard fashion. The books she’d packed so carefully were now bundled in disorderly piles, their ruined boxes tossed to one side. Her precious photo albums lay heaped together, their torn pages and pictures sitting on top. The rocking chair Alex had given her the day she came home from the hospital with Danny had been moved to one side. The spokes and one bottom rocker lay broken on the blue padded seat. Someone had leaned the chair against the far wall of the trailer so it wouldn’t fall over.

Rachel’s heart wrenched. She couldn’t contain a small moan as she picked up the splintered pieces of wood. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she caressed the shining oak with her gloved hands. It was just a chair, and yet it meant so much more. Seeing it ruined like this reminded her of Alex’s death and her shattered life. How could she ever repair the damage? When would her heart stop aching for her loss? She was too young to be a widow, and Danny was too young to be without his father. Alex should be here, protecting them, loving them—

The crunch of footsteps warned her of someone’s presence. She set the broken rocker pieces aside.

“Everything okay?”

Sam! Why did it have to be him witnessing her moment of weakness? Of all the emotions she felt right now, why did he have to see her cry?

Her knees wobbled so hard she feared they might buckle. She took a shuddering breath and turned away. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

A handkerchief appeared in front of her nose. Not a tissue, but a genuine, crisply starched, white linen handkerchief with his initials embroidered in one corner. Murmuring her thanks, she accepted his offering and wiped her eyes.

He peered into the trailer. “I tried to tidy up a bit, but I wasn’t sure where everything belonged. At least it’s out of the weather.”

Her throat tightened and a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. He’d sorted through her things! He’d looked through her pictures and folded her quilts and towels and placed her broken rocking chair against the wall.

“Yes, that’s fine.” She kept her face averted. No doubt her eyes were red and puffy.

“I’m sorry.” He laid a hand on her arm.

No, no! She pulled away, unable to accept his compassion. “Do you think you can close the doors for me?”

“Sure. I’ve got it hitched to my truck so we can take it out to your place.”

She stepped back and gave him room to secure the trailer. With his back to her, she dabbed at her eyes, hoping her mascara hadn’t smeared all over her face. She watched as he hesitated, standing in front of the rocking chair. When he rested his hands on the splintered wood, she gave a shuddering breath. Somehow, it felt as though he held her heart in his hands. The gesture seemed too personal, too intimate for her to comprehend.

Without another word, he stepped back and closed the trailer doors. Then he turned to face her. In his eyes, she saw compassion and the one thing she just could not accept from this man.

Pity.

She turned away, praying he held his silence. If he said another word, her broken heart would melt and she’d blubber and cry in front of him. And she couldn’t get that close to another man. Her heart wasn’t ready to let go of Alex yet.

“Rachel, I can take care of the chair for you.”

She nodded, realizing it was for the best. No sense in keeping a broken rocking chair just for the memories. He’d toss it into the garbage pile and she’d try to forget about it.

A snowball came out of nowhere and struck Sam firmly on the side of the head. The missile knocked the scruffy cowboy hat off his head, saving Rachel from an embarrassing moment.

They both whirled and stared in surprise. A giggle came from behind Sam’s truck and two little heads covered with ski masks popped up. Rachel found herself suddenly bombarded with snowballs.

“Why, you little monsters.” Sam laughed, then grabbed Rachel’s arm and pulled her with him as he ran for cover. He crouched behind the trailer, scooping up a handful of snow to pack together.

“We’re about to get pelted. Look out!” he yelled at Rachel.

She ducked just in time. A snowball exploded against the side of the trailer, inches away from where her head had been. As she stooped beside Sam, more snowballs showered overhead, thudding against the side of the garage or landing harmlessly at her feet.

Sam reached for handfuls of snow, pounding them together in his big, gloved hands. “Don’t just sit there, lady. We need ammunition.”

His booming voice shook with amusement and she stared, stunned by this sudden change in him. This couldn’t be the same rude man who told her she couldn’t work for him. The same man who offered his handkerchief and apology for her loss.

His words spurred her into action and she started making snowballs. Sam fired missiles as fast as Rachel produced them. Soon, Sam gave up on the snowballs and charged. The enemy scattered in a melee of fleeing boots and gleeful screams. Not quite knowing what she should do, Rachel chased after Sam, her ears ringing with laughter.

Sam tackled the boys, rolling with them, flinging snow in their faces. They clung to the big man like two small koala bears.

“No fair, Sam,” Danny yelled. “You’re bigger than us.”

Rachel laughed, until her sides ached and tears ran from her eyes. And when she realized what was happening, it made her heart stand still and she felt such poignancy that she gasped with pain.

Alex never played with her and Danny like this. He’d been romantic in his own way, but never spontaneous. He’d played with her and Danny, but in a dignified, remote sort of way, usually from a park bench or with a board game between them. In the six years they’d been married, she’d only heard Alex belly-laugh twice. Never this up-close-and-personal, undignified heap rolling at her feet.

“Okay, okay, I give!” Sam held up his arms and stood before dusting snow off his coat and blue jeans.

When Danny threw his arms around Sam’s long legs in a bear hug, Rachel’s mouth dropped open, and she stared wide-eyed. “Let’s do it again, Sam. Let’s do it again!” Danny cried.

Over the tops of the boys’ heads, Sam met Rachel’s eyes. His face flushed a deep red. Then he looked away, breaking the magical moment. No doubt he’d remembered who she was and how she came to be here and that was that.

“Ahem.” Sam cleared his voice, and he stepped away from Danny. “I think we’d better get going. Daylight’s a’burning.”

“Yay! Let’s go to your place,” Charlie hollered as he ran toward Sam’s truck.

Danny followed. Both boys yelled excitedly.

Gladys came out of the house carrying a picnic basket. Sam took the basket and placed it in back, then helped her into the truck before reaching to take Rachel’s elbow.

“Careful, it’s slick.” He leaned his head down, his words brushing against her cheek. His nearness made her feel giddy.

As she stepped up on the high foot rail and climbed inside, she heard the window defroster running against the windshield. Sam got into the driver’s seat. Even with Gladys sitting between them, his attention unnerved Rachel.

He shifted the truck into gear, ready to pull out of the driveway, but then looked in the rearview mirror. “Buckle up, boys. We’ve got a bumpy ride ahead of us.”



The drive out to Grammy’s place didn’t take long. When they hit the dirt road, Sam shifted his truck into 4-wheel drive and skimmed through the drifts of snow with steady ease.

Rachel pointed off to the distance. “Danny, there’s our house.”

Danny scooted forward against the backseat, leaning his face over her shoulder to get a better view out the window. She reached back her hand and pressed her palm against his face.

The old 1930s farmhouse and barn sat together in a field of white, a single power line leading out to the house. Painted white, the clapboard boasted nothing special except a quaint charm left dowdy by years of neglect. Fruit trees surrounded the front yard with limbs void of leaves and covered with frost and icicles. Snowladen evergreens edged the long gravel driveway. The top of the fence line stood just visible above the blanket of snow.

A classic winter scene.

“There’s Uncle Sam’s place,” Charlie shot a finger toward a large, modern house about a quarter of a mile down the road.

Slim colonnades lined the wraparound porch, supporting a pretty portico and balcony on the second story. The porch framed the first floor. The white clapboard and blue trim looked newly painted. A detached four-car garage painted the same color as the house sat nearby, along with spacious corrals.

An enormous, shiny-roofed barn nestled in the small valley beside the pond brought Rachel awe. When she came here to visit Grammy just before Alex died, the house hadn’t been finished and Sam didn’t live here yet. This was where he planned to build his large animal hospital. Impressive, considering he’d built his home on land that used to belong to her grandparents. Rachel remembered a time when herds of grazing cattle and horses roamed these fields. She couldn’t begrudge Sam. It seemed fitting that he make use of the land he’d purchased from her grandmother.

“Hey, Mom, we have a lake,” Danny exclaimed.

She looked at the body of water nestled in the valley between her farmhouse and Sam’s place. A thin layer of ice had formed over its surface, the shore edged with tufts of frozen sedge grass, cattails, and tall elm trees. The tops of posts jutting above the snow showed where the small dock sat on the east side, close to Grammy’s farmhouse.

“That’s not a lake,” Charlie laughed. “It’s a pond. In the summertime, ducks and geese nest along the shore. You should see the baby goslings. They’re so cute.”

Rachel pointed at the dock, where a tall tree stood out over the water. A thin rope with a big, black tire hung from one sturdy branch. “I used to sit on the dock with a fishing line. Some of my happiest memories are of swinging on that tire before plunging into the water below. Grandpa always swam with me while Grammy laid out a picnic lunch for us to enjoy.”

“You think we can fish there again?” Danny pressed his nose against the window.

“I’m not sure. Grandpa seeded plump rainbow trout into the pond for that very purpose, but the fish might be all gone, now.”

“Can we go ice skating?” Danny asked.

“No!” The adults responded simultaneously.

Sam looked in the rearview mirror. “You mustn’t ever go out on that ice, Danny. It’s not safe. You’d fall through. Okay?”

Danny shot him a mutinous frown. “Okay.”

Sam flashed Rachel a grin over the top of Gladys’s head and she couldn’t resist smiling back. At times, being with him felt so comfortable and normal. Like she and Danny actually belonged here.

What a crazy notion.

A distant look flashed in Sam’s eyes and he frowned, as if an unpleasant memory had surfaced. He looked away, his jaw tight.

“I hope we’re not keeping you from something important,” Rachel said.

“Of course not. Don’t be silly,” Gladys responded.

Sam looked straight ahead. Rachel peered out the back window, checking the progress of her travel trailer as it sloshed through the slush.

As they pulled into the yard at Grammy’s place, a large black Labrador came out of nowhere, barking. Sam parked the vehicle, and the noisy animal bounded toward Rachel’s side of the truck, jumping up to plant its front paws on the window. Rachel scooted back, gaping in horror at rows of sharp teeth and a damp, black nose. Even with the glass and metal of the door shielding her, memories of terror and pain swamped her. The dog barked over and over again. Rachel’s body ached with fear and a rush of panic caused her pulse to hammer in her ears. She felt as though her lungs might explode and dug her fingernails into the cloth seat.

Oh, please! Don’t let me faint now.

“Go away!” her voice squeaked.

Sam opened his door and slid out of the truck. “It’s okay, Rachel. It’s my dog and I’ll take care of him. Wait here for a few minutes.”

That suited Rachel fine.

Sam clapped his hands, calling to the big dog. “Shadow! Come here, you mangy mongrel. Don’t you have any manners?”

Gladys patted Rachel’s knee. “I don’t know why Shadow’s over here at your place. He should be home minding his business.”

The dog bounded over and jumped up on Sam, growling playfully as the man rubbed the animal’s ears. From the backseat, Danny rested his hand on Rachel’s shoulder, his blue eyes creased with worry. “It’s okay, Mommy. Sam won’t let his dog hurt you.”

Her son’s concern touched her heart. She didn’t fully understand her own phobia. She tried to tell herself everything was okay, yet she couldn’t seem to gain control over her anxiety.

Sam pushed the dog away and pointed toward his place. “Go home, Shadow. Go!”

The dog whined, then took off like a shot and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief.

“There, everything’s fine now.” Gladys smiled.

Sam came and opened Rachel’s door slow and careful. “You okay, now?”

Her voice came out as a small, indistinguishable croak. Instead, she nodded, wishing he hadn’t seen visible proof of her fear.

“Shadow won’t bother you again. Come on.” He reached to take her hand and guide her out of the truck. The little boys followed, scrambling into the yard.

Rachel looked at the house. Peeling paint covered the white clapboard. The green trim appeared dull and faded. A shutter hung loose at an odd angle against the outside wall. Half of the picket fence had fallen over, buried in the depths of snow. The front windows stared back at them, black and vacant.

Just like her heart.

She waited beside Gladys while Sam used the plow blade on his front fender to clear the driveway. When he finished, he called to the boys who romped in the snow. “Let’s see if we can clear a path to the front door. I’ve got plenty of snow shovels, so I’ll expect you boys to help. Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

Sam’s take-charge manner gave Rachel confidence. As the boys scrambled to help, Sam lifted three snow shovels out of the back. He handed one to each child. Rachel pulled on her gloves. “How can I help?”

“I’m out of shovels. You and Gladys can supervise and let your injured arm heal. Once we clear a path to the house, you can go inside.”

Rachel stood in the deep snow, her feet warm and snug in the boots Gladys had loaned her. The women waited as the boys and Sam bent their backs to the work. Sam shoveled snow away from the picket fence. His heavy thigh muscles flexed beneath his blue jeans as he cleared a wide path, revealing gravel and then the cement walkway leading up to the front porch. As he worked, his breath came out in little puffs. His lean cheeks reddened and he sniffed against the cold air. Occasionally, he glanced at his progress, then went back to work.

Realizing she was staring, Rachel turned and went to the back of the truck and opened the travel trailer. With Gladys’s help, they sorted her things and stacked boxes.

Within an hour, the boys had cleared all the walkways leading up and around the house, barn and tool shed.

Danny wiped his red nose on the back of his coat sleeve. “Are we done yet?”

Sam surveyed their work and nodded. “Yep! Good job, boys. You’ve earned some free time.”




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