Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Brought Together by Baby

Brought Together by Baby
Carolyne Aarsen
To: Anne, Meg, PilarFrom: RachelRe: Updates on Mom, baby Gracie and the hunky doc!Well, Mom is making great strides in physical therapy, and taking care of Gracie is an unexpected joy. Because my adopted little sister was a preemie, she's had lots of checkups…and her green-eyed pediatrician is gorgeous! Each time we visit Eli Cavanaugh, he makes me want to embrace life, finally let my hair out of its almost-daily bun and dream a little. I have to tell you, being temporary mommy is making me long for a family of my own…with Eli!



“I think you don’t dare open your heart again because you don’t believe God uses everything for our good. Pain is all part of the chance we take when we open our hearts,”
Pilar said, touching her friend on the shoulder.
“Well, right now I don’t have time for heart stuff. I haven’t met anyone who is my type,” Rachel responded.
“Not even Eli Cavanaugh?”
Rachel tried to ignore the little rush she felt at the mention of his name.
“I think he’s very attractive, very appealing. And by the flush I can see creeping up your neck, I think you are thinking the same thing,” Pilar teased.
BROUGHT TOGETHER BY BABY—
Carolyne Aarsen (LI#312)

CAROLYNE AARSEN
and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children, and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in her office with a large west-facing window through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

Brought Together by Baby
Carolyne Aarsen


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to caregivers of handicapped people young and old. May God bless you and give you strength for your task. May you find peace in His love and His purpose. I’d also like to thank Mindy Starns Clark for her valuable and selfless help on nonprofits and charities.
My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.
—II Corinthians 12:9
Eli—Hebrew name meaning “ascended.” This Old Testament figure was a high priest of Israel and instructed the young Samuel.
Rachel—Hebrew name meaning “ewe.” In the Bible’s Old Testament, Rachel was the favorite wife of Jacob and the mother of Joseph and Benjamin.
Grace—A Latin and English name meaning “lovely or graceful, a virtue.”

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
Letter to Reader

Chapter One
“I’ ll speak to LaReese Binet about where she’d like her donation to go myself, Reuben.” Rachel Noble tucked her papers into her briefcase, one eye on the clock hanging on the wood-paneled wall of her office. “I don’t have time to talk now. I’m due for dinner at my parents’ place in twenty minutes.” She frowned as her assistant launched into a litany of complaints, then cut him off. “Just let me know if she calls again.” She hung up, picked up her cell phone and dropped it into her briefcase along with the small gift she had bought for little Gracie, a penance for not visiting her newly adopted sister more often. The offices and hallways of the Noble Foundation were quiet as Rachel hurried down to the parking garage.
Her mother’s weekly invitation to the Noble plantation had included the warning to dress casually. Her mother was always nagging her to cut loose and relax. Rachel glanced at her dove-gray tailored suit and peach silk blouse. Her mother would have to take her as she was. She didn’t have time to go home and change.
When Rachel returned to Richmond after a five-year absence, her parents had begged her to move back onto the plantation with them. But Rachel had been on her own too long. Instead she had opted for a modern condo west of Main Street. Though she was seldom home, it suited her.
She stopped behind an SUV at a four-way stop, trying not to tap her manicured nails on her steering wheel as the driver in front of her let car after car go by. It looked like she would have time to speak with Reuben after all.
Rachel stiffened, as a motorcycle pulled up beside her. Its obscene roar drowned out the gentle Brahms symphony coming from her car’s CD player.
The driver stopped. He straddled the motorcycle, easily holding it up as he waited. He wore a denim jacket, blue jeans and cowboy boots.
Rachel clenched the steering wheel. She hated motorcycles. If Keith had been driving his truck that night—
She pushed the futile thoughts about her late fiancé aside. That was in the past. Over.
In spite of that, she couldn’t seem to avoid giving the man on the motorcycle a quick glance.
He pushed his helmet back and, as she caught his eye, a slow smile crept over his mouth, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. Wisps of blond hair curled out from the front of his helmet, framing a lean face.
She looked ahead, angry with her flicker of reaction to his lazy good looks.
As she made the turn leading to her parents’ home, the biker roared past her, leaving her frustrated and with unwelcome memories.
She ejected the CD, found a radio station that played classic rock and turned up the volume. As she drove, she focused on the work that she had to do tomorrow. The jobs that needed her attention. She had to leave the past in the past.
By the time she turned onto her parents’ tree-shaded drive, she felt back in control again. The evening was going to be just fine.
She steered her car through a narrow opening between two rows of clipped shrubs that surrounded the main house, pulling up in front of a converted four-car garage.
And her heart flipped over.
The motorcycle that had zipped past her now stood parked on the inlaid brick drive in front of the garage, a helmet hanging from the handlebars.
Great.
She took a long slow breath, just as her yoga instructor had taught her. Focused on the now, the present.
She picked up Gracie’s gift and walked with careful, deliberate steps up the brick paved drive to the front door. Maybe the motorcycle belonged to a deliveryman. Or one of the maid’s boyfriends.
Her parents’ visitor was most likely coming later.
As she stepped inside the door, Aleeda, the housekeeper, swept down the square rigged flying staircase toward her carrying an armful of linens.
“Well, well. You’re back again,” she said, smiling at Rachel. “Your mother is in the kitchen, concocting…” She shrugged. “Something.”
“Thanks for the warning, Aleeda. Do you have any idea what she plans to feed me?”
“They’ve got company.” Aleeda gave her a mysterious smile. “So I think she’ll be doing something more traditional for you and their guest.” Aleeda gave her a quick nod, and then strode off to the back of the house before Rachel could ask her who it was that had arrived on that dreadful motorcycle.
Rachel caught her reflection in the mirror hanging in the front hall and took a moment to smooth a wayward strand of chestnut-brown hair back from her forehead. All neat and tidy, she thought. The dark lashes fringing her hazel eyes didn’t need mascara. Her cheeks were, well, pale. But so be it.
She whisked one hand down her skirt as she walked along the narrow hallway toward the kitchen, brushing away the few wrinkles she had gotten from driving.
Her mother stood at the huge counter that served as an island in the modernized kitchen, her knife flashing as she chopped vegetables. She wore a bright orange, loose, woven shirt over a wildly patterned silk T-shirt in hues of turquoise, orange, red and gold that accented her short chestnut-brown hair, worn in a spiky style. The kitchen table, tucked away in a plant-laden nook, was set with her mother’s earthenware dishes. Definitely casual.
“Ah. There you are.” Beatrice put down her knife and swept around the island, arms spread out, her shirt and matching skirt flowing out behind her. She enveloped her daughter in a warm hug, holding her close. “I’m so glad you came. And right on time.” She drew away, cupping Rachel’s face in her narrow hands, her hazel eyes traveling over her. “You’re looking a little pale, my dear. Have you been taking your kelp supplements?”
Rachel lifted her hand in a vague gesture. “I’ve been busy…” She laid the present for Gracie on the counter.
“Honey, honey, honey.” Beatrice shook her head in admonition. “You have to take care of yourself. Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. God needs healthy servants to do His work on earth.”
Rachel merely smiled. She wasn’t going to get into a discussion with her mother over what God needed or didn’t need. For the past eight years she had put God out of her life. Or tried to. Now and again glimpses of Him would come through, but she generally managed to ignore them. She preferred her independence, and God required too much and gave too little.
Beatrice slipped her arm around Rachel’s shoulders and drew her toward the counter. “Your father and I have a lovely surprise for you. Gracie’s pediatrician said he would come and visit us.”
“He’s here now?”
Beatrice nodded, giving her daughter a sly grin. “I thought you might want to meet him.”
A moment of awareness dawned. “Is he the fool on the motorcycle?”
Beatrice frowned and tapped her fingers on her daughter’s shoulders. “Rachel Augusta Charlene Noble, you shouldn’t use words like that. Especially about someone as wonderful as Eli.”
Rachel had hoped that adopting not-yet-two-year-old Gracie would satisfy her mother’s deep-rooted desire for grandchildren. Well, this was one romance she was going to nip in the bud. “I’m sorry, Mom, but as far as I’m concerned, anyone who drives a motorcycle isn’t firing on all cylinders. Especially if he’s a pediatrician.” Rachel picked a baby carrot from the bowl sitting on the counter and took a bite. “Where’s Dad?”
“He and the estimable Dr. Eli are out in the garden with Gracie. I do believe they’re coming back now.”
Rachel wandered over to the window overlooking the grounds, popping the last of the carrot in her mouth. A tall, narrow-hipped man sauntered alongside her father, the tips of his fingers pushed into the front pockets of his blue jeans, his softly worn shirt flowing over broad shoulders. He reached over and feathered a curl of Gracie’s hair back from her face, smiling softly at her. Gracie laughed up at him and snuggled closer to her father.
Rachel couldn’t mesh the picture with the one she had created of Gracie’s Dr. Eli. Until her mother’s pronouncement, she had always pictured the man her parents spoke so highly of as an older, portly gentleman, not this…cowboy.
Who drove a motorcycle.
A chill drifted over Rachel and she spun away from the window.
“And what are you making for dinner?” she asked, looking for a distraction.
When Rachel was younger, her mother had hardly darkened the doorway of the kitchen except to give Francine, their cook for the past fifteen years, directions on when to serve which course. But in the past few years, Beatrice had started exploring various culinary options and had settled on macrobiotic cooking. The result was that Francine turned up her nose at what Beatrice wanted to make and had quit and been re-hired a number of times. The two of them had settled on part-time work, which suited Francine just fine and gave Beatrice the space she needed to create her concoctions.
Beatrice looked up from the salad she was working with her hands. “Polenta with corn, herbed black soybeans, carrots and broccoli with ume dill dressing and a pressed Chinese cabbage salad.”
Rachel thought of the fast-food outlets she had passed on her way over here and her stomach growled.
“Francine made sure there was herbed chicken for you, Gracie and Eli, and she made your favorite chocolate cake for dessert.” Her mother gave her a quick smile. “I know how much you love your empty calories. That’s why you’re so pale, you know.”
“I’m fine, Mother.” Rachel ate another carrot as if to show Beatrice that she knew how to make healthy choices.
“Is that my little girl?” Charles called out affectionately.
Rachel looked back over her shoulder just as her father burst into the room. He strode to her side, and gave her a quick one-armed hug, balancing his youngest daughter on the other arm.
“Hello, Dad,” she said, leaning against him. “Good to see you.”
She glanced at Gracie, who grinned at her, her curly brown hair framing a heart-shaped face. She wore blue jean overalls today with a soft pink T-shirt. Fairly normal considering her mother’s personal taste in clothing.
“Hey, there,” Rachel said with a quick smile, stroking her sister’s shoulder. Gracie held her arms out to Rachel, overbalanced, and tried to compensate, her movements jerky. Rachel restored her back to her father’s arms but took a step away from them.
Gracie was adorable, cute and loving. But every time Rachel was around her, she felt inadequate and, quite frankly, a little nervous.
It hadn’t helped that the first time Rachel saw the girl that had captured her parents’ hearts the child had been attached to a respirator, monitor, IV and other machines. Gracie had cerebral palsy and had been recovering from a bad seizure. Her parents had just applied to adopt her. So they had asked Rachel to come with them to meet her.
Rachel had thought she’d overcome her hatred of hospitals, but five minutes of standing by Gracie’s bedside was all she could take. The hiss of the respirator and the pervasive scent of disinfectant broke over her in a wave of angry memories and nausea.
She gave her parents her blessing and left as soon as she could.
Since then, every time she saw the girl, she saw helplessness and sickness and hospitals. And she felt uncomfortable.
“Here, little one, I brought you a present.” Rachel offered the toddler the wrapped box as a peace offering.
“What do you say, honey?” Charles prompted.
“Hank you.” Gracie said with a proud grin at her father.
Charles tried to catch Rachel’s gaze, but she looked away. She knew her father didn’t always understand her reaction to her adorable little sister. Rachel didn’t always, either. But there it was.
Charles looked behind him at the man she knew had been watching them. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet Dr. Eli. He is Gracie’s pediatrician. Eli, this is our daughter, Rachel.”
“I believe we’ve already met,” Eli said, the same lazy smile crooking his mouth as he held out his hand to her.
She gave him a polite smile. She could do that much. It wasn’t his fault that her parents were itching to be in-laws. “The motorcycle man.”
“That’s me.” His hand was warm, his fingers long, and at his touch she felt a flicker of awareness that had been dormant for a long time now.
She didn’t like it.
“I’m surprised that you ride one,” she said, unable to stop the defensive note from creeping into her voice. “You being a doctor and all.”
“And all what?” His grin mocked her comment.
It was an overreaction, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “And all the responsibility you carry,” she added.
“What if something happened to you?”
“It’s cheap transportation. And I’m careful.”
“Famous last words,” she said with a chill in her voice.
His sea-green eyes held her gaze, his head angled to one side as if trying to figure her out. Well, he could try all he wanted. The only time their paths might cross again would be at a Noble Foundation fund-raiser for the hospital. He didn’t need to know more about her than her name.
“We can eat,” Beatrice announced, taking Gracie from her husband’s arms. “Why don’t we unwrap your present when we have dessert,” she said to Gracie, setting the gift aside. “Rachel, you get your usual spot. Eli, you can sit across from her.”
Beatrice shepherded them all toward the cozy eating nook whose floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the kitchen garden. Rachel sat in “her” chair, noticing the place setting.
When the Nobles first moved to Chestnut Grove from their old home, Rachel and her mother had gone touring the local market. Rachel stopped at a booth that displayed brightly colored earthenware dishes, each place setting unique. Her mother insisted that Rachel choose one for each of them and a couple for her aunt, uncle and cousin. The dishes only came out on family occasions, never when they had company.
Rachel gave her mother a quick glance now, recognizing the not-so-light hint her mother was giving her. At any other time she might have been amused, but Eli and his irresponsible motorcycle had unnerved her.
Beatrice suddenly busied herself buckling Gracie into her specially made high chair, making sure she was comfortable.
“This looks lovely, Beatrice,” Charles said, holding out his hand to his daughter on one side, Eli on the other. “We usually say grace before our meal,” he explained to Eli.
“That’s fine with me. So do the Cavanaughs.”
That seemed an odd way to talk about his family, but Rachel didn’t have time to wonder. Her father had squeezed her hand, and she bowed her head as he began to pray.
She heard her father talking to God, but couldn’t join in on his heartfelt prayer. Though she had been born and raised with faith, she had drifted away over the past few years. She didn’t need God, or what He supposedly offered her and she knew He certainly didn’t need her. Her parents weren’t happy with her choices, but she was thankful they kept their distance. And probably prayed over her.
“Help yourself, Eli,” Beatrice said when Charles was done. “We don’t stand on formality here. The only rule we have is start with what’s in front of you and pass it to the right.”
“And finish what’s on my plate, I imagine,” Eli said with a quick grin at Beatrice.
“If you can,” Rachel muttered, grimacing at the bowl set nearest to her.
“Don’t pay attention to the carnivore,” Beatrice said, fluttering her hands in dismissal of Rachel’s comment. “In spite of being raised with gourmet cooking, Rachel’s idea of a well-balanced diet is cake in one hand and a burger in the other. I pity the man she ends up marrying.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a man,” Rachel said with a warning glance at her mother as she passed on the bowl of soybeans. “Or any intention of getting one.”
“As you said, famous last words, my dear,” Beatrice threw back, unfazed by Rachel’s pronouncement. “One day you’ll swap that impersonal condo of yours for a house with a yard like Eli’s. A nice cozy colonial.” Beatrice turned to the doctor. “I understand that you’re in the process of fixing it up?”
“Actually, my brother Ben has been working on it. He’s the carpenter.” Eli took a small helping of what looked like corn with a pained expression that made Rachel smile in spite of herself. “He’s been nagging at me to make some decisions about the kitchen, but I’m not sure if I want to go modern or stay with the colonial theme.”
“Rachel might be able to help you there,” Charles said, ignoring the prod of Rachel’s foot, beaming at Eli like he was already a favored son. “She’s very good at interior decorating.”
Rachel didn’t know where that had come from. Her parents didn’t like the eclectic mix of masks, rugs and memorabilia from her many trips that graced her condo. Said it made her place look like a museum, not a home.
“I know what I want. My biggest problem, however, seems to be finding time to make the decisions,” Eli said, glancing at Rachel as if he too understood what was going on.
“No woman pushing you to get done?” Charles asked.
Rachel gave her father a harder nudge.
Which he also ignored.
She shot her mother a warning glance to make sure she didn’t join in. But her mother was trying to coax some food into Gracie, who sat in her chair, back rigid, lips pressed together.
“I’m not ready for a woman yet” was all Eli said.
Rachel was thankful when the conversation moved on to traffic downtown, the changing pace of life, and a smattering of politics, and then to some of the fund-raising activities the Noble organization had been involved in.
“There’s the annual Noble Foundation picnic coming up soon. You’ll have to make sure to attend,” Beatrice said, carefully lifting Gracie out of her high chair. “Rachel takes care of it and has it here, on the plantation.”
“You make it sound like I do it single-handedly,” Rachel admonished her mother. “I have a large staff that does a lot of work, as well.”
“But you don’t delegate enough. I thought hiring those two assistants to replace Anita would ease your workload, but if anything, you are even busier.”
“They’re still so new, Mom. I can’t just hand them the files and expect them to deal with all of it.”
“They are well trained.”
“They need just a bit more experience.” She gave her mother another warning look. They did not need to discuss this in front of a complete stranger.
“I love you dear, but I also know you,” Beatrice said, as if ignoring Rachel’s warning, “and you have to stop thinking you can control everything. Sometimes you have to let go and let God.”
“I don’t want to delegate to Him, either,” Rachel muttered. “Can we change the subject?”
Beatrice only sighed, smoothing Gracie’s hair. “Do you want to hold Gracie?” she asked.
Rachel glanced at the toddler who lay passive in her mother’s arms. This was not a subject she was comfortable with, either. She knew she should accept, but she was scared she’d do something wrong.
“She won’t hurt you,” Eli said quietly, as if sensing her apprehension.
His comment hung between them.
Then in her peripheral vision she saw Gracie twitch. The child’s arms splayed out, her legs became rigid. She gave a pathetic little wail.
“Gracie. C’mon, girlie.” Beatrice tried to make her sit, but she wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.
Rachel’s heart jumped in her chest at the sight of the girl’s head thrown back and her body stiff.
“Massage her legs. It looks like a muscle spasm,” Eli said, his voice calm, in control. He squatted beside Beatrice, demonstrating.
Beatrice did what he said, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as Gracie’s body slowly relaxed.
“See? Not that bad.”
“No. I was a bit frightened, though.” Beatrice glanced at Rachel. “You can hold her now.”
Rachel’s pager buzzed at her waist and she couldn’t stop the twinge of relief. Reuben to her rescue.

Chapter Two
R achel gave her mother an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mom. I have to take this call. Excuse me, Dad. Eli.” Thankful for the distraction, she strode down the hallway to her father’s den to use the phone there in private.
“Talk to me,” she said as soon as Reuben picked up.
“LaReese Binet changed her mind again.”
Rachel tapped her fingernail against her teeth as her mind scrambled around this new problem.
“She said she wants to see us tonight,” Reuben continued. “In fact, you should have been there about five minutes ago, but I knew you were at your parents’ place and I held off as long as I dared.”
“That’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. Polenta, ume dill dressing, matchmaking and Gracie.” She shuddered slightly as she remembered the sound of her sister’s helpless cry. She admired her parents for taking this child in. She knew she couldn’t have done it.
“Pardon me?”
“Never mind. What is the problem now?”
“Mrs. Binet wants to see the quarterly statements of the Barnabas Society. Wants to make sure they’re on the up-and-up.”
“They’ll see that as an insult.” The Barnabas Society was a network of older Southern belles who had been around since after Reconstruction. Well established, well endowed, they had set up a camp for inner-city children, but never said no to extra dollars. Though not at any cost. They did have their Southern pride after all.
“I’ve been in touch with the director. Said he’ll see what he can do.”
“I really don’t know how good a match the donor and recipient are in this case.” Rachel tugged on her earlobe, pacing the carpet. “LaReese likes control but so does Barnabas.”
A faint knock at the door of the study interrupted her train of thought. Frowning, she glanced up. “Yes?”
Eli stood in the doorway, filling it with his height. “Your mother asked me to tell you that they’ll be serving cake and coffee in the gazebo.”
“Thank you. I’ll be with you all in a couple of minutes.” She gave him a tight smile, feeling suddenly awkward. They hadn’t started off on the right foot and that scene with Gracie hadn’t helped.
But he turned on his heel and strode away before she had a chance. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but she had a vague sense of discomfort.
She turned her attention back to Reuben, wondering why she cared what Gracie’s attractive pediatrician thought of her. “Tell Mrs. Binet that I’ll be by in…” She glanced quickly at the grandfather clock in the corner of her father’s study. “About forty-five minutes.”
“I hate to pressure you, Rachel, but could you make it sooner?”
“That is sooner. My goodness, Reuben, she lives right on the edge of Winchester Park. I’ll be lucky to get there that soon by the time I’ve parked and walked up to her condo,” Rachel said. “I just have to say goodbye to my parents. And then I’ll be on the road.”
“Okay, then. I’ll probably be there when you arrive.”
Rachel pressed the button to end the call, biting her lip. Her parents wouldn’t be happy, but there was nothing she could do about it. LaReese Binet was too important to the Foundation. She was a regular contributor and a part of Rachel’s network whenever she needed to pad out a guest list for celebrity events.
LaReese had come into a great deal of money when her husband died and had already been approached by every possible organization that could find her number and pester her. If Rachel did not handle this woman exactly right, LaReese could easily decamp and end up giving her money to the smoothest-talking charlatan that came down the pike.
And there were enough of them. It made Rachel’s blood boil every time she heard of organizations that seemed legitimate but ended up taking up to eighty percent of their client’s money in so-called “administration fees.”
Her parents were already sitting in the gazebo, tall cups of iced tea on the wicker and glass table in front of them, when Rachel rejoined them. Gracie was playing on a large blanket at their feet, looking content and perfectly normal. She smiled up at Rachel, her light brown eyes sparkling in the early evening light. She was adorable—that much Rachel had to concede.
“Excuse me, Mom, Dad, Dr. Cavanaugh.” Her eyes grazed Eli, who was lounging in his wicker chair, swirling the ice cubes in his glass, looking too much at home. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to excuse myself. Reuben just called. We have an emergency with one of our clients.”
“Oh, honey, why don’t you let him take care of it?” Beatrice turned to her husband. “Charles, talk to her.”
Charles simply shrugged and smiled up at his daughter. “I wish you could stay, dear. We don’t get to see you very often. Gracie hardly knows you.”
“Besides, I have chocolate cake that Francine made just for you,” Beatrice added, her voice taking on a petulant tone. “You know your father and I don’t eat that kind of thing.”
“I’m really sorry, Mom, and I’d love to have some cake but—”
“I’ll pack some up for you.” Beatrice slipped out of her chair, waving at the men to stay in their seats. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
Rachel surreptitiously eased the cuff of her shirt up to catch a glimpse of her watch. She had given herself enough time to say goodbye, but at this rate she would have to risk a speeding ticket to get to LaReese’s place on time. As she shrugged her shirt into place, she caught Eli watching her, a half smile tugging on his lips. She held his gaze as if challenging his humor, but he didn’t even blink, or look away. Rachel wasn’t used to that. Most men were intimidated by her. And she liked to keep it that way.
“I heard that you’ve been talking to LaReese Binet,” her father was saying.
Rachel pulled her attention back to her father, taken aback by his words. Had she spoken LaReese’s name aloud?
“Oh, don’t get all confidential on me,” Charles said with a huge laugh. “Phillip Thewlis told me at the fifteenth hole at the new golf course.” He frowned. “Or maybe it was the fourteenth. I remember he was working his way out of the sand trap and I believe that’s on the fifteenth—no, wait…”
Don’t tap your foot. Don’t fidget.
Charles snapped his fingers. “What am I thinking of—it was the twelfth hole.” He shook his head as if surprised at his own foolishness. “Phillip heard from LaReese’s beloved nephew that she was eager to redeem herself by giving away a bit of the money she inherited when her husband died.”
Rachel would hardly call 2.3 million dollars “a bit” of money. That’s why the personal hand holding. LaReese had been making noises about putting her money into other places, and right now the Noble Foundation needed dollars if they were going to be able to fulfill all the requests they had earmarked for funding.
“Can’t buy redemption, you know,” Charles said sadly.
“I would like to tell her that. God’s love and sacrifice are the greatest free gifts known, or unknown in many cases, to man.”
Impatience with her father’s sermonizing flashed through Rachel, and right behind it, shame. Her father was sincere in his faith. That she didn’t share it wasn’t his fault. In fact, there was the occasional moment when she wished she shared his trust in God.
She glanced at Eli, wondering if her father’s easy mention of God created discomfort in him as well.
He was looking down at his hands, his expression serious as he rubbed the fingers of one hand over the back of the other, again and again. It was then she noticed the long jagged scar that ran from the knuckle of his pinky to the base of his thumb. It was white and puckered, as if it had been poorly stitched. She wondered if he’d gotten it riding his motorcycle.
At that moment he looked up at her, giving her a languid look that she was sure most women would find a challenge. She just found it annoying.
“Here’s your cake, dear.” Beatrice held out a large foam container.
“This is half of it,” Rachel exclaimed, weighing it in her hand.
“Your father and I won’t eat it—you may as well take it home.”
“Looks like chocolate cake is on the menu for my next few meals.”
“Honey, no.” Beatrice frowned and was about to take it away from her.
“No, you don’t.” Rachel winked at her mother as she pulled the container out of reach. “Don’t worry. I’m just kidding. I’ll have a piece tonight and take the rest to work. I’m sure Reuben and Lorna will be fighting over it.”
“Just make sure you do that,” Beatrice warned. “Now give me a kiss and you better get going.”
Rachel gave her mother a quick hug and a kiss, then bent over to do the same with Charles and Gracie.
Before she left, Rachel risked a glance at Eli. Her cheeks warmed when his eyes snagged hers. He was fifty feet away, but even across that distance his gaze felt as real as a touch.
As she walked to her car she shook the feeling off. Basic chemistry. That was all. He was good looking; they were both single.
Only, she wasn’t looking. She thought she’d made that clear to her parents when she moved back here. Guess it was time for the classic mother-daughter chat. In reverse.

Rachel stifled a yawn as she opened the file of the next item on the agenda. The meeting last night with LaReese Binet had taken too long and yielded too little.
“And how are we sitting on the dream home program for the children’s hospital?” she asked Lorna as she glanced through the file. The Noble Foundation took care of some of the hospital’s fund-raising activities, and next to the annual celebrity dinner and ball, this was their premier fund-raiser.
“I’ve got the mock-ups done on the brochures.” Lorna Kirkpatrick laid the papers on the low cherry-wood table between them. “The construction company was concerned about the placement of the name and logo, so I modified it. I hope it’s what you want.”
Rachel glanced over the brochure, frowning as she leaned back in the leather couch. “This blue is too flat.” Rachel circled the block of color behind the lettering, “And I’d like this yellow intensified. I’ll call them and let them know.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of that?” Lorna said.
“Thanks, Lorna, but I know exactly what I want to see.” Lorna nodded, but Rachel could see she wasn’t happy with the decision.
“Anything else you want me to do for now?” Lorna asked.
“You can see how Zoe and Hamilton are doing with the fund-raising for Nagy’s golf tournament. See if they need some help.”
Rachel laid her the papers with the changes on them on her desk and turned to Reuben as Lorna left the office. He didn’t look as if he had spent most of last night over endless cups of coffee convincing a finicky, elderly lady to wait with her donation while they did some background work on her charity of the day. “I imagine it’s a bit early to expect anything from you, Reuben.”
“Au contraire.” Reuben bent over and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his leather briefcase. “This is rough for now, but I printed this off their Web site…” He handed them to her. “I did some phoning around and got this from a source.” More papers. “And I had a personal chat with the head of the organization just before the meeting.”
Where did he get his energy? Rachel got tired just thinking about all he had accomplished after their meeting with LaReese.
“This is great, Reuben. Our next step is to check their charitable donation status and, if we can, get a copy of their mission statement and do some deeper background work on them.”
“Consider it done.” Reuben flashed a smile. “And while I’m at it, I thought I would check out a couple of other possible places, just to see what might interest her. Lorna has been looking, as well.”
Rachel frowned at him. “If LaReese gives her money to the Foundation, we have more than enough places that the money can go. I would like us to work with what we have. We’ll connect again as necessary.”
As Rachel pushed herself up from the couch, taking a moment to button up her suit jacket, Lorna buzzed her. Her mother was on the line.
“Thanks again, Reuben,” Rachel said before she picked up the handset. “For someone who has come on board only recently, you have done exceptional work.”
He gave her a nod, then turned and strode out of the office.
Rachel walked around her desk to drop into the large leather chair behind it. “Hello, Mother,” she said into the phone, “what can I do for you?”
“So businesslike.”
“Considering it’s your business I’m running, you should be pleased.” Rachel spun her chair around, looking out over the skyline of Chestnut Grove.
“Honey, I’m always pleased with you. You know that.”
“The chocolate cake was really good. Reuben and Lorna send their thanks.”
“I’m glad to know you shared it. But I have a favor to ask of you. Your grandfather wants us to come to Vermont in a couple of weeks, but I don’t dare take Gracie along quite yet. Would you be willing to baby-sit?”
Rachel clutched the phone. Willing? Maybe. Capable? No. “When would that be?” she asked, turning around to check her appointment book. Please let there be a conflict. Please.
“The last weekend of the month.”
Bingo. Charity fund-raiser. Big deal. Big celebrities.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m booked up.”
“Oh, dear. That was the only weekend your grandfather can have us.” She sighed lightly. “And I can’t leave Gracie with just anybody. She’s too fragile yet.”
So why would you leave her with me?
“Why don’t you talk to Dr. Eli about your predicament,” Rachel suggested. “Surely he could recommend a private nursing agency or something similar?”
“Eli stressed that Gracie stay with someone familiar, especially because Gracie’s natural mother was so casual with her care.”
She shouldn’t feel guilty, Rachel thought. It wasn’t her idea that her parents take this child on. And it wasn’t her fault that Gracie made her feel incompetent and helpless. Two feelings she had promised herself she would never allow to take over her life again.
“However, if you can’t take care of her, then you can’t,” her mother continued. “I’m sure Eli would know where we could bring Gracie.”
“I’m sure he would,” Rachel agreed, relief flooding her.
“And what did you think of Dr. Eli? He’s such a pleasant man. So good with Gracie.”
“He seemed very nice.” Now was the time to make it clear to her mother that her matchmaking wouldn’t work.
“But he’s not my type.”
“What did you say?”
The innocent tone of her mother’s voice almost fooled her. “The matchmaking stuff. Mom, please. You know I don’t have time for anyone right now.”
“You didn’t have time for anyone in the past eight years. You don’t have much of a social life. All you do is work.”
Rachel frowned, rocking her chair a little harder. “I need this work, Mom.” It was what gave her life direction. And it was a good direction.
“What about your relationship with the Lord? Does that get pushed aside for your work, too?”
“Mother, what I do is all about helping the needy, the helpless. The very things that Jesus wants us to do on this earth.” Rachel knew the right words that would appease her mother and she used them shamelessly.
“Works without faith is dead, dear.”
Check. Her mother may come across as eccentric at times, but when it came to her faith, Beatrice had all the intelligence and knew all the strategies.
“This is what I do, Mother,” Rachel said finally. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend and I don’t have the inclination for one. So please, no more awkward dinners.”
She hoped her mother’s silence meant that she had surrendered.
“I’m happy, Mom.” She pressed on, determined to make her mother see the light. “I live a busy, active life that has purpose and meaning. I have friends and I have a community and a job that is important. And I have you and Dad and Gracie. I don’t need more.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought you and Eli would hit it off. He’s a good, kind man.”
Rachel thought of the smirk she’d caught on his face. The appeal of his languid good looks. Good and kind were not words that came to mind in connection with Gracie’s pediatrician.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll make someone a wonderful husband. But not me, Mom.”
Beatrice sighed. “Point taken, my dear. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You created an awkward situation. But you didn’t offend me.”
“Good. Well, I’d better go. I have an appointment with a physical therapist and after that Dr. Eli. Shall I tell him you said hello?”
Her mother was irrepressible. “Do whatever you want, Mom. Love you.” Though she said the words automatically, she did mean them. Her mother could make her crazy at times, could embarrass her at other times, but Rachel loved her parents dearly.
“Love you, too, dear.”
Rachel couldn’t help but smile when she hung up the phone. Dear Mom. Rachel had thought her mother’s adopting Gracie would satisfy her nesting instinct, but it looked like Rachel was going to have to be on her guard.

“Okay, guys. Final play of the game and we can’t afford to lose.” Alex crouched down, his back to the opposing team, and sketched the play in the grass in front of Eli and the other two teammates. “Eli, Ben is going to be watching you and we want to use that. See if you can fake him out.” When he was done, he held up his fist, his deep brown eyes sparkling with fun. The guys in the circle around him all hit it, called “break” and jogged to where a handkerchief on the grass of the park showed the line of scrimmage.
For the past three years, Sunday mornings would find Eli, his brother Ben, and their friends lining up against one another in Winchester Park for their weekly touch football game. Sometimes the wives and girlfriends came, sometimes they stayed at home. Sometimes Eli’s pager would go off and the game would be called. Sometimes Ben’s daughter Olivia would get tired and want to go home. But mostly they managed to finish their games.
The one constant was that Ben and Eli consistently played on opposing teams. It was a vague throwback to when they were young and constantly in competition with each other. Growing up had eased the competition, but hadn’t erased it.
Eli unbuttoned his shirt and wiped the sweat from his forehead with one end, squinting up at the sky, hazed over with humidity and heat. If he’d known it was going to be this warm, he wouldn’t have worn blue jeans.
“Hey, Doc, I’m watchin’ you.” Ben grinned at Eli and nodded. “I know you have a plan.”
Eli crouched down, resting his hands on his knees. “You do that, Ben. Don’t think we’re not counting on that.”
“You’re workin’ me, Eli. Playin’ me.”
“Now, Ben. Don’t be so mistrustful. Do what you think is right.” He leaned a little closer. “Use the force, Luke.”
Alex called out the play, and Eli could see doubt clouding Ben’s face as Alex glanced down the line away from Eli. As he did, Eli broke away, and Ben took the bait and veered away from him. Eli turned, and Alex spun in a different direction and snapped the ball directly to Eli, who caught it against his chest, cradling it like a child, grinning at Ben’s shout of disappointment.
Eli ran past the stroller that marked off the goal line, and spun around, holding up the ball in a gesture of victory. Ben was coming at him, vengeance in his eyes.
With a laugh, Eli swung left to avoid his brother. He looked up and, too late, saw Rachel Noble coming directly at him. She had veered off the walking path, a soft leather briefcase slung over her shoulder, cell phone clamped to one ear, a sheaf of papers in her free hand.
They would have collided, but at the last possible moment, Eli dropped his football and caught her by the shoulders to steady her and catch his balance. Her papers fell out of her hands and her briefcase slid down her shoulder as she came to an abrupt halt, teetering. She almost dropped her cell phone, as well, but it bobbled in her hands and she managed to hang on.
“What are you—?” She yanked the strap of her briefcase up her shoulder, but it stopped when it hit his hand.
“Are you crazy?” She looked down at her papers. Hitched her strap up again. Hit his hand again.
Then looked up at him.
As her hazel eyes met his, anger snapping in their depths, he felt it again. A light flutter, somewhere in the region of his heart. He had experienced it when he pulled up beside her at the stop sign and she had looked over at him. And felt it again at her parents’ place when he and Charles had come into the kitchen and he realized the beautiful woman he’d been openly flirting with, moments before, was his patient’s sister. Daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Chestnut Grove.
She wore another suit today. This one was olive green with a white shirt. Tidy. Together. With a hint of uptight. He wondered what she would look like in blue jeans, with her hair down.
She blinked once, and to his surprise, the anger seeped out of her eyes. If she hadn’t looked down, he could have seen what replaced it.
“Excuse me, please,” she mumbled, pulling back against his hands.
He had forgotten he was still holding her. He released her, reluctantly.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you.” His apology sounded halfhearted even to him. “I was just trying to avoid Ben here.” He glanced back over his shoulder at his brother, who had kept his distance but was watching the two of them with avid interest.
“That’s okay. I was off the path.” She was about to bend down to pick up her papers.
“Here. I’ll do that.” He gathered them up, but as he handed them to her he belatedly saw the dark smudge marks his fingers had left on the white sheets.
As she tried to brush them off, he realized he had left the same marks on her suit coat. “Sorry about that,” he said, pointing to the faint marks of four fingers on her upper arms. “I’ll pay for the cleaning.”
“Please, don’t worry.” She gave him a quick smile that revived that flutter again. “It was my fault.”
Eli rubbed the back of his neck, aware that his unbuttoned shirt hung open. He lowered his arms, tucking his hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans. He angled his chin toward her papers, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. “Do you work every day of the week?”
Rachel frowned up at him. “I do what needs to be done. My work is very important.” Her voice took on a chill that made him take a step away.
“Of course.” Brilliant, Cavanaugh. You won the football game, but here and now you’re officially a loser.
“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“I guess.” She gave him a polite smile, and with that she became again the aloof woman that had sat across from him at Charles and Beatrice Noble’s table.
“You still there, Rachel?” A man’s tinny voice called out from the cell phone she still held. And without another glance at him, Rachel continued her interrupted phone conversation.
“I was at LaReese’s place and thought I’d slip across the park to Bernie McNamara,” she was saying. She glanced up at Eli, and for a moment he felt it again. A subtle connection.
Then she turned and started walking away, still talking. Still working.
He must have imagined it.
As Eli watched her go, Ben came up beside him. “Very nice, Eli. But I thought your life plan didn’t include women for at least another year.”
“Two years,” Eli corrected, bending over to retrieve the football. “And even then the plan doesn’t include spoiled, haughty women.” Eli grinned at his brother and handed him the ball. “My life plan is firmly intact.”
“Pay down your loan, buy a house, the right car, and then look for someone to share your neat, orderly life.” Ben tapped Eli on the chest with a football, his expression turning serious. “Beware of plans, my brother. They have a way of flipping you midstream.”
Eli didn’t reply to that. He knew his brother was talking about the pain he and his daughter Olivia suffered when Ben lost his wife, Julia, to cancer.
Eli knew from personal experience that life didn’t always cooperate. At one time he had a girlfriend and other plans. But the girlfriend’s parents were leery of the question mark hanging over Eli’s life. Eli had been adopted at age six by the Cavanaughs and the only thing he knew about his natural parents were their names, Darlene and Zeke Fulton. The last memory he had of them was a car spinning out of control, a horrifying crash and then his own life turned topsy-turvy. When the girlfriend’s parents convinced her to break up with Eli, he was determined that the only way he would enter another relationship was if his own life was in order. So he made a plan and stuck to it.
But as he followed his brother back to the game, Eli threw a glance over his shoulder.
Rachel was looking back at him, as well.

Chapter Three
R achel surveyed the homey interior of the Starlight Diner, looking for her friends Pilar Estes, Meg Kierney and Anne Smith.
She had rushed through her interview with Bernie hoping to get here on time. It had been a while since she and her friends had been able to get together for brunch and they had lots of catching up to do.
“You looking for the girls?” Sandra Lange, the owner of the diner, met Rachel at the door, her blond hair worn in its usual teased up-do. She was tying on her apron. “I just got back from church myself, but I believe that Miranda put them in the far corner, by the window.”
“Thanks, Sandra.” Rachel paused before joining her friends, noting Sandra’s drawn features. “How have you been doing?”
“Oh, not too badly,” Sandra said, with a smile. “I have to go to the cancer clinic again and the doctor will tell me what I can expect. I’m just thankful for each day God gives me. And thankful that the wheels of God grind slowly, but they do grind and each movement brings me closer to the truth.”
She was talking in puzzles, but Rachel sensed that she wouldn’t get more out of Sandra right now. The difficulties Sandra had faced in her life had created strength of character that many people underestimated. “I’m glad that you have your faith, Sandra.”
“It’s not just faith, Rachel. It’s a relationship with a loving Father.”
Rachel didn’t want to refute Sandra’s comment. Rachel had her own issues with God, but didn’t want to get into that right now. So she simply smiled and excused herself to join her friends, who were already chatting and laughing around the table.
“Good morning, lovely ladies.” Rachel pulled a large envelope out of her briefcase and dropped it on the table.
“Meg Kierney, these are for you.”
With a squeal, Meg pounced on the envelope, her pale blue eyes shining with anticipation. “Wedding pictures?”
“Fresh from the developer. Picked them up on my way here.”
Anne and Pilar leaned over to look at the photos Meg had pulled out.
Old rivals Meg and Jared had met at the thirty-fifth anniversary for Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency. Meg had already gone through a bad divorce and Jared was a widower. When they discovered that their respective adopted boys, Luke and Chance, were twins separated at birth, the only practical solution was to get married for the sake of the boys. However, as they spent time together, they truly fell in love and later had another, private, more meaningful ceremony at the Chestnut Grove Community Church. It was this ceremony that Rachel had pictures of.
“Oh. Look at Luke and Chance. They’re so cute! I would love to have twins.” Anne traced the faces of the boys with a longing look. “Actually, I would love to have kids, period.”
“You will,” Pilar said, reaching over and hugging their friend. “You just need to realize that you truly are beautiful. And someday some lucky man will see that, too.”
When Rachel and her parents moved to Chestnut Grove, Pilar, Anne and Meg befriended Rachel, unfazed by her parents’ wealth and unimpressed by her background. Rachel was a quick, bright student and as a result had skipped two grades, making her younger than the children she went to school with. Younger and, in spite of her brains, unable to defend herself in the rough and tumble that comes with changing schools. Her youth, combined with her New England accent and her parents’ money had created a situation ripe for teasing from other girls who saw Rachel’s quiet shyness as snobbery. One day some of the girls in her class had her cornered in the playground and were teasing her. Anne, Pilar and Meg had found her. The older girls had intervened and taken Rachel under their wing. Eight years ago, Rachel had moved away, but since her return she had slipped back into their lives as easily as if she had never been gone. Through the ups and downs of life, they had become her confidantes, advisers and dearest friends.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to meet with a couple of clients close to Winchester Park. I thought church would be longer.” Rachel set her briefcase down on the floor beside her and brushed her hand over her hair. Still in place, surprisingly enough. When Eli Cavanaugh plowed into her, she was sure her hair had come loose.
“You look fine,” Pilar said. Then she frowned, touching the smudges on Rachel’s suit jacket. “Wait, what happened to you?”
“I interrupted a football game.”
“What?”
Rachel waved one well-manicured hand. That little confidence was a mistake. “Never mind.” She didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, she preferred not to think about Eli, his shirt open, and his hair curling damply over his forehead.
“And you’re blushing about that ‘never mind,’” Pilar teased.
Meg glanced from Pilar to Rachel and laughed. “She is. Look at that, girls. I didn’t think anything could faze our resident math whiz.” She elbowed Rachel lightly. “C’mon. Who is he?”
“It’s not a he.” And her cheeks got even redder as she unconsciously brushed the other sleeve.
Pilar turned her around. “Look, a matched set on this arm. Someone has been manhandling our friend, amigas. Should we rush out to defend her honor or should we make her sit here and eat her fries without ketchup until she confesses who did it and why?”
“Unless, of course, she went through ketchup withdrawal and then we’d have to rush her to the hospital,” Anne said.
“Too bad Dr. Cavanaugh is a pediatrician,” Pilar said with a soft sigh, twirling her dark hair around her finger.
“I bet Eli could melt this woman’s cold heart with those dreamy green eyes…”
“Look at her. She turned red as a beet when you said Eli’s name,” Meg cried out.
They were getting dangerously close to the truth. Rachel knew her friends weren’t going to quit until they solved her little mystery. “He was playing touch football and he ran into me while I was walking through the park, okay?” She looked around the group, from Anne’s gentle expression to Meg’s slightly cynical one to Pilar, who was grinning like she had discovered a deep, dark secret.
“I could run into that man any day,” Anne said. “He’s got an earthy appeal. He’s almost as good-looking as…” She glanced around the group and laughed self-consciously. “As Jared,” she said, flashing a smile Meg’s way.
“Well, that’s what happened,” Rachel said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now, can we order? I’m starving.”
“Eli’s single, I heard,” Meg said, looking from Anne to Pilar, still hot on the trail. “And isn’t he Gracie’s doctor?”
“Which has nothing to do with me,” Rachel emphasized. So much for diversion. The conversation was getting out of hand.
“I don’t know, Meg,” Pilar said with a wink. “I think this girl has been struck by the arrow of love.”
Rachel looked around at her so-called friends, sighed and pulled out the heavy ammunition. “He drives a motorcycle. Okay?”
The silence that followed this pronouncement showed Rachel how well her friends understood what that meant to her. She’d lost one man to a two-wheeled death machine.
“Are you ladies ready to order?” Miranda Jones stood in front of them, her arms clasped behind her back, her dark brown hair pulled up in a twist.
They were distracted in the flurry of ordering. After that, as they settled into their usual conversation, catching up on one another’s lives, Rachel felt herself relax. They ribbed her about her dedication to her work. Pilar shared some of her struggles with one of her most recent cases, Meg talked about her twin boys, Anne about her work at the church. Rachel settled in to the conversation, thankful for her friends and their company.
Then, as she was halfway through her hamburger, her cell phone chirped.
“Leave it,” Pilar, Meg and Anne all said at once.
But Rachel could no more let her cell phone ring than she could let her hair fly loose as her friends were always encouraging her to do.
She glanced at the call display. It was her father.
With an apologetic smile at her friends, she answered the phone, half turning away from her friends. “Hey, Dad.”
“Rachel, honey—” His voice broke.
Concern flashed through Rachel. “Dad. What’s the matter?”
“It’s your mother. We’re at the hospital. She broke her leg.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
She closed her phone and pulled her wallet out. “That was my dad,” she said, her voice trembling. “Sorry, girls, but I have to duck out. My mom broke her leg and is in the hospital.” She laid some bills on the table, enough for her meal and a large tip.
“Oh, no. Do you want me to take you over there?” Anne asked, half rising from her seat.
“No, no.” Rachel waved her down as she got up from the table. “I’ll be okay. Really, I’ll be fine.”
“Let us know how she is,” Pilar called out after her as Rachel hurried from the diner.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled open the door of the hospital and her brave words to her friends melted in the pervasive scent of disinfectant and ammonia. It rolled over her like a wave, dragging with it memories she wanted to be rid of.
Her steps faltered, but thoughts of her mother in pain drew her past her long-held dread of hospitals. The too-familiar nausea and fear gripped her with their icy fingers.
Stop. Stop! Your father needs you.
She pressed her fingertips to her forehead just as she heard her father’s voice coming from one of the cubicles. She followed it, slipping past the curtain and stopping at the scene in front of her.
Gracie sat on the bed, and Eli, wearing a white lab coat over his shirt and blue jeans, was bent over her, shining a light in her eyes as her father held her still.
Her father looked up as she came in and gave her a wan smile.
“Where’s Mom?” Rachel gave him a hug and glanced at Gracie, who twisted her head around to see who was here.
“Easy, Gracie.” Eli’s quiet voice drew the child’s attention back to him, and she reached out for the stethoscope that hung around his neck as he finished his examination.
“Let’s have a look here.”
“Mom’s in surgery right now,” her father said. “It was a bad break and they’re not sure they can do what they need to here.” He blew out a breath and wiped his shining forehead with a hanky.
“How did it happen?” Rachel struggled not to sway.
Don’t faint. Not in front of the cowboy. Dad needs you.
“She was carrying Gracie down the stairs, lost her balance and twisted to break her fall. She caught her leg in one of the uprights on the staircase.”
“How is Gracie?” Rachel studied the girl who, at first glance, seemed okay.
“So far so good. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Eli snapped the light off and dropped it into a pocket of his lab coat. A light frown creased his forehead as his eyes took in Rachel. “You’re a little pale.”
“Rachel dislikes hospitals. She spent—”
“Do you know exactly what kind of break mom had?” Rachel felt rude interrupting her father like that, but Eli Cavanaugh didn’t need to know her personal history.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” said Eli. “But I can go find out.”
“Could you? Please?” Rachel gave him a careful smile and was surprised to see him return it. In spite of her surroundings, she felt it again, that little frisson of awareness. A sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“I’ll be right back.” He touched Gracie on the nose and left.
The hiss of oxygen from a cubicle beside them, the rattle of carts and gurneys slipped into her consciousness, pulling memories along with them. She sucked in a breath, and another, fighting the light-headed feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.
Her father was wrong. She didn’t dislike hospitals. She despised them. They held out the offer of hope, but really despair walked their halls. And now her mother was upstairs. How badly was she really hurt? What would happen to her?
“Here, honey. Sit down.” Her father took her by the arm and sat her in the only chair in the curtained-off cubicle.
“Eli was right. You look very pale.”
Rachel shook off her growing panic. “I’m okay, Dad.” Though, the way the room tilted around her gave lie to her protest.
After a few long slow breaths, she was standing up and in control again.
“Go down. Down,” Gracie insisted, holding out her hands to her father.
“Can you take her, Rachel?” Charles asked, steadying Gracie, who was trying to wriggle off the bed.
Rachel was surprised to see her usually jovial father looking drawn. Then she glanced in the direction he was looking and saw Eli swishing the curtains aside, followed by another doctor. She hadn’t heard either of them coming down the hall.
She glanced at Gracie, bit her lip and then, carefully, picked the child up off the bed, not sure if she was holding her right.
“I’ve got news. I’m afraid it isn’t good,” Eli said.
The serious tone of his voice quashed the faint wall Rachel had erected against her fear. He was bringing bad news. How could he?
“This is Dr. Mendoza. He can tell you more,” Eli said.
In spite of Dr. Mendoza’s smile, Rachel could see that he had his “professional” face intact, and her dread grew.
“We just got the results of your wife’s X rays back.” His almost black eyes took them both in, compassion in their depths. “She sustained a very serious fracture of the femur, complicated by what looks to be an older fracture farther up the bone. We want to talk about airlifting her to New York to be operated on there by an orthopedic specialist.”
“New York?” Charles reached blindly behind him as if to steady himself.
Rachel, still holding Gracie with one hand, caught him and slowly pushed him toward the chair she had just vacated.
In the process Gracie overbalanced backward, her arms flailing. Rachel tried to grab her, but Eli was right there, catching the toddler just before she fell, settling her back in Rachel’s arms.
“Thank you,” Rachel said, feeling woefully inadequate. She couldn’t even hold the child without almost dropping her.
“She does tend to be a bit restless,” Eli said quietly, his hand still on Gracie’s shoulders. “It’s the C.P. that causes the sudden unexpected movements.”
Rachel’s stomach fluttered and, to her shame, she felt dizzy again.
“Can you please take her,” Rachel asked, thrusting Gracie toward Eli before she fell, still holding the squirming child.
Eli gave her a questioning glance, but took Gracie, easily swinging her into his arms.
Rachel looked away, pulling in another long, slow breath as she moved past her father to lean against the bed before she turned back to Dr. Mendoza. “I’m sorry. You were telling us about my mother. What are her chances for a full recovery?”
He slipped his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, rocking lightly on his heels. “They are excellent. What slows it down is the intensive rehabilitation she will have to undergo. There’s a facility connected to the hospital in upstate New York that specializes in orthopedics and will be taking care of her.”
“When will she have to leave?” Rachel asked.
“We are setting up the transfer right now.”
So soon, Rachel thought, still unable to process the fact that her always capable mother was disabled. But like a drowning swimmer, she clung to what the doctor told her. Doctors didn’t use words like “excellent” unless there was a very good chance the patient would be all right.
“How long will she be there?” Charles asked.
“Approximately three to four weeks, which is contingent on how well she heals and how well the femur and surrounding tissue respond to therapy.”
“That long.” Charles slumped back, rubbing his chin with his hand, looking lost and forlorn.
He glanced up at Rachel, and she caught his hand in hers, her heart stuttering at the thought of her always strong and capable mother, helpless and in pain.
“I can’t be apart from her that long,” he said quietly.
“I know, Daddy.” She squeezed his hand. “Is there a way he could go upstate and stay with her, Dr. Mendoza?”
“Of course. This institute gets people coming in from all over the United States. There are facilities where your father could stay. It would probably be better for your mother if he did.”
“And what about Gracie?” Charles asked.
Dr. Mendoza looked over at Eli. “I think Dr. Cavanaugh can answer the rest of your questions. I must return to your wife and prepare her transfer.” He shook Charles’s hand, then Rachel’s. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news, but at the same time, we can be thankful that she didn’t injure herself worse.”
“Thank the good Lord, no,” Charles agreed, but Rachel could hear his heart wasn’t in the pronouncement.
“Can we take Gracie along?” Charles asked Eli as Dr. Mendoza left.
Eli shook his head. “I think it would be best if she stayed here.” Eli glanced at Rachel, then back at Charles. “Beatrice is going to need your full attention if you want to help her, and it wouldn’t be good for Gracie’s health to get moved around that much.”
Charles nodded, releasing Rachel’s hand. He pressed his hands against his knees and, like an elderly man with too many worries pressing down on his shoulders, slowly got to his feet.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to make a decision about our little girl.” He passed his hand over his balding head and gave Rachel a careful smile.
“Rachel, honey. Would you be able to take care of Gracie?”

Chapter Four
“M e? Take care of Gracie?”
Rachel’s shocked look was unmistakable to Eli. She pressed her hands together, then ran them down the sides of her skirt.
“But I’ve got so much to do…” She caught her lower lip between her perfectly straight teeth.
“She’s attached to you, Rachel,” Charles continued, the pain evident in his voice.
“I am not sure I could devote the time necessary to Gracie that she needs.” Rachel pressed her lips together as if holding back words she knew condemned her.
Charles sighed lightly. “I would hire a nanny, but she doesn’t take well to strangers. I know she is comfortable around you.”
Rachel crossed her arms, as if weighing and planning this inconvenience in her life.
Just as Eli was about to make an alternative proposal, Rachel put her hand on her father’s shoulder and straightened her shoulders. “However, she is my sister. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
“Thank you, dear,” Charles said, patting his older daughter on the shoulder. He turned to Gracie and picked her up, holding her close. “Can I take her up to see Beatrice?” he asked Eli.
Eli held the curtain aside. “Beatrice might be too medicated to recognize her, but you can try.”
Charles left first with Gracie, but as Rachel passed, Eli put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She pulled back, her hazel eyes flashing her annoyance. Another small chink in her usually cool facade.
He held his hands up as if to show his innocence. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment,” he said quietly.
Rachel glanced from him to her father, then nodded. “Sure. Just for a moment.” She composed her features again. Businesslike. He suspected this was the face many of her clients and co-workers saw every day and for some reason he liked the annoyed look she had just given him much better. Made her seem more approachable.
Eli slipped his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and decided that being straightforward was the way to go with this woman. “If you can’t take care of Gracie, I’m sure I could find an alternative for you.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need an alternative. She’s my sister. I can see to her care.”
Her assured statement surprised him. He thought he was offering her a reasonable out. But it didn’t sound like she wanted to take it.
“I’ve never taken care of a toddler before, but…” Her confident voice faltered for a moment. Then she lifted her chin and held his gaze as if underlining her next statement.
“I will do this.”
And for a moment, a grudging admiration snaked past his concern. She was loyal, he gave her that. “I can give you what information you need if you are willing to come to my office,” he said. “Can you bring Gracie by after this?”
Again a heartbeat of hesitation. “I can give you half an hour,” she said.
Eli wondered what Rachel was going to do with Gracie after that. One thing was for sure. In spite of her insistence that she could take care of Gracie, he knew he would have to keep a close eye on the little girl. He wasn’t going to let her care suffer for the sake of this Rachel woman’s pride.
“I’ll see you there in about twenty minutes.”
She nodded, then swept past him, leaving in her wake a vague scent of peaches and almonds. But as she walked away, he wasn’t surprised to see her pull out her Palm Pilot and then her cell phone.
He blew out a sigh as he caught sight of the clock in the outpatient department. Three o’clock. He had hoped to get some work done on his house today. He guessed that would have to wait.
He waved to the outpatient nurse as he strode out of the hospital. In minutes he was on his motorcycle and headed toward his office. As he rode he remembered Rachel’s comment on his mode of transportation. Someday, he hoped to get a decent car. But for now the motorcycle was efficient and cheap. He didn’t understand her reaction, but he wouldn’t dwell on it.

Half an hour later Rachel sat across from his desk, a pen in one hand, notebook in the other. This woman was all business. “So what kind of care am I looking at for Gracie?”
“I have this basic information on Gracie’s condition,” he said, slipping a sheaf of papers across the table toward her. “Gracie has what is technically known as hemiplegia. In other words, her cerebral palsy affects one side of her body, her left arm and left leg.” He explained the various people involved in her care—the physical therapist, the occupational therapist, and how often she had to see each.
“She has been fighting an ear infection so she is on antibiotics.” Eli picked up his pen and fiddled with it, avoiding Rachel’s gaze. In spite of her insistence in the hospital, he could tell Rachel wasn’t comfortable taking care of Gracie. If that was the case, how would she take this next bit of information?
“I get the feeling there’s something else, Doctor,” Rachel said with a note of impatience.
Of course she would be impatient. Probably had an urgent phone call to return. May as well lay it on the line.
“Gracie is afflicted with seizures from time to time. They have been coming more often and we are monitoring that carefully. So that means you need to keep track of them, as well. If she has too many and any severe ones, we will have to adjust her medication. Unfortunately, since she is fighting an infection, she’s more susceptible to them right now.”
Rachel glanced at the paper, then at Gracie, asleep in her stroller. He was surprised to see fear flash across Rachel’s face. The woman was not as “in charge” as she liked to project.
“How do I know she’s having a seizure and how bad are they?”
“They can vary. You need to look for tremors in her arms, flutters of her eyelids. If you have any major concerns, bring her in. I’m at the hospital three days a week, but I can come in at a moment’s notice if it is serious enough. And if I can give you some advice…” Eli waited, realizing that Rachel would not appreciate what he had to say. But his first concern was for Gracie. Rachel needed to know what was at stake with this child.
“I’ve been taking care of Gracie since she was a newborn. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating, that while she looks good from a physical standpoint, she is still considered medically fragile. If we can keep her healthy for the next few years, then I know she can turn the corner. If not, we are looking at far more serious medical problems.”
Rachel made a quick note, but Eli could see a faint tremble in her hand.
“What kind of medical problems are you talking about?”
“Fluid build-up in her brain that would necessitate a shunt. And with shunts come further infections and more problems.” Okay, maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but she needed to know. The more information she had, the better decisions she could make.
And if he were to be perfectly honest, he was trying to goad her into reacting. Into being more than a cool, self-contained woman who saw Gracie as a duty. He wanted to know that she cared. That Gracie, who he had to admit was special to him, was going to be in good hands.
He handed her a card. “This is the hospital emergency number, my home number and my pager number. If you need me, call.”
Rachel drew in a long, slow breath, as if absorbing the information with it. She slipped the paper in her briefcase and the card in her purse. “Okay. I’ll see how this goes, then,” she said, standing. Then, to his surprise, she reached across the desk to shake his hand. “Thanks for your time, Dr. Cavanaugh. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”
He took her hand, surprised at how cool it felt.
Just like the rest of her, he thought.
She slipped her briefcase over her shoulder and Eli strode around the desk to open the door for her. But this time, as she passed him, she glanced up at him.
Their gazes met and held, and for a moment Eli felt it again. That tug, the age-old signal of two people attracted to one another in spite of circumstances.
He didn’t know where it came from. She certainly had not encouraged it and he certainly wasn’t looking. He was building up his practice, working on his house, paying off his loan, keeping his life ordered and on target.
He almost laughed as he watched her leave, putting down that flicker of awareness to the basic reality of his life. Though he casually dated, he knew he could not devote himself to a full-fledged relationship. And not with someone like Rachel Noble. Besides, he was devoted to his work.
Too devoted, according to his last serious girlfriend. She had other issues, he had found out, but she chose to make his job the main reason for the split. He found out afterward that her family had discouraged her from dating him mainly because they did not know what his background was. They did not know his biological parents, did not know what possibly sinister secrets lay in his genetics.
With a light laugh at the melancholy drift of his thoughts, he grabbed his helmet, left the office and headed for home.
The phone was ringing when he entered the house and a glance at call display made him smile.
“Hey, Mom, how are you?” he asked, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he bent over to pick up a shirt he had left lying on the floor. He knew his mother couldn’t see the state of his house, yet he felt guilty.
“I’m just fine. Where were you all morning?” Peggy asked. “I tried a couple of times.”
It wasn’t hard to hear the expectant tone in her voice, which made Eli feel even more guilty.
“Ben and I had a Sunday morning football game and I got called to the hospital.” He threw the shirt on a pile of laundry to be brought to the cleaners and slipped the DVDs he’d been watching the other night back in their cases.
“Ben was there, too?” He recognized the mixed message in her disappointed tone. It was as if she was saying that Eli’s defection from church was difficult but not unexpected. That Ben, the apple of their eye, was heading down the same path seemed harder to take. Ben’s reasons to stay away from church made perfect sense to Eli. Losing his beloved wife Olivia to cancer had pushed Ben away from God.
“It was his idea.” As soon as he spoke the words, he felt like a heel. He was an adult. He didn’t need to play these silly “he did it, too” games that he and Ben had grown up with.
It was just that his relationship with his adoptive parents always held undertones of his not fitting in. It hadn’t helped that he had come to them as a child of six, after being orphaned by a car accident that took his only living relatives away from him. Ben, their other son, also adopted, had come as a newborn baby with no extra baggage. No mother, no father, no family that he knew of. The Cavanaughs had been able to start with a clean slate with Ben, whereas with Eli there was always a measure of friction. He had wanted to know about his parents but the Cavanaughs could tell him nothing.
Or would tell him nothing. Last year he had found a box of photos in the attic when he and Ben had helped their parents clean up. He had never seen them before: they were of him and his natural parents. Peggy and Tyrone had had them since he was young. When confronted with them, Peggy had said that the pictures had always made him very upset, so they put them away, then forgot about them. It seemed plausible; however, since then their relationship had become more awkward.
“You said you got called to the hospital,” Peggy was saying. “I hope it wasn’t anything too serious.”
Eli thought of Rachel and Gracie and rubbed his forehead with his finger. “Not with my patient. She fell, but she’s okay. How are you and Dad doing?”
“Good. But I was hoping we could come up sometime and help you and Ben finish the house.”
“That’s okay, Mom. I don’t want you and dad to trouble yourselves. It’s too far to travel from Florida to Richmond just to pound a few nails.”
His mother’s moment of silence created another twinge of guilt. “I see. Well, we will be up Labor Day. I hope we can see you then.”
“Of course.”
Peggy asked a few more general questions as the conversation drifted into the final goodbye.
Eli punched the button to end the call and tossed the phone aside. Then he sat and leaned his head back against the soft leather of the couch as he looked around the house. Much as he did not want to admit it to his parents—or his brother Ben, for that matter—he’d been wondering more and more if buying this house wasn’t a colossal mistake. All his life he had wanted a place of his own. A place that he could build up himself. It wasn’t something he could easily explain to Peggy and Tyrone, much less to himself. Not even Ben understood why a confirmed bachelor wanted to tie himself down to a mortgage when he was still single.
But then, Ben did not have the memories of family that Eli had. And it was those vivid memories of a previous life that he clung to in the traumatic first year after witnessing his parents’ lives snuffed out in front of him. He had loved his parents and it was that love that had caused some misunderstandings with Peggy and Tyrone Cavanaugh when he first went to live with them. It was as if they did not quite know what to do with a child who came with other memories.
So they never talked about his parents. Never mentioned them.
Eli had accepted that. Until he found the pictures.
He had taken the box of photos back with him, and now and again took them out as if trying to discover who these people were, these people who had given him life and had taken care of him those first few years.
Unconsciously he rubbed the scar on the back of his hand, a mute reminder of the accident.
He thought of Gracie Noble. She was young enough that she would not have any memories of her mother. As far as he was aware, the Nobles had encouraged contact with Gracie’s mother, but the woman had left town as soon as she had put Gracie up for adoption.
Eli had been Gracie’s doctor since she was born and it was really amazing that the child was as healthy as she was. Of course, she’d spent most of the first year of her life in and out of the hospital—whenever her mother seemed to think she needed a break from the demands of taking care of a handicapped child, which was every weekend and often during the week, as well. Eli had been the one to contact Pilar Estes, a social worker with Tiny Blessings—and a friend of Rachel’s, he’d later discovered—with his concerns. Thanks to his intervention, Gracie had found a stable and loving home with the Nobles.
As Eli pushed himself up from the sofa, he thought of Rachel and wondered again if she was the best person to be taking care of Gracie. She had the same attitude Gracie’s mother had had toward the child’s handicaps. Though Rachel had tried to hide behind a cool facade, he had noticed the fear in her face when she first entered the hospital room.
He would have to see how she managed. If he had any doubts at all about Gracie’s care, he would get her put into a better place.

“Reuben, I want you to leave Mrs. Binet to me,” Rachel said, accelerating through a yellow light as she spoke on her hands-free cell phone. “If we push too hard, she could easily end up throwing it to some questionable organization. I’m going to be seeing her tonight and I want to advise her to wait.” Provided Pilar could still baby-sit Gracie.
“We just need to find the right combination for her and I think I found one,” said Reuben.
“Which one?” This was news to her. Last time she and Reuben had spoken to the woman, LaReese was still undecided.
“It’s a new one that I’m investigating.” He gave her the name, and Rachel frowned in puzzlement.
“Never heard of them.”
“It is like a Make-A-Wish foundation and the focus is children of prisoners.”
Rachel glanced at the clock on the dashboard of her car and stifled panic. She was already fifteen minutes late and the day care where she had brought Gracie this morning was another ten minutes away.
She slowed down, stuck behind a bus that was trying to make a left turn across two lanes of traffic. She glanced behind her and saw two lanes of traffic bumper to bumper behind her. This was not looking good. Today was the second day in a row she was going to be late.
“Doesn’t sound like a match to me, Reuben,” Rachel said, tapping her fingers restlessly on the steering wheel.
“From our last meeting I got the impression that Mrs. Binet is looking more closely at health issues, rather than social ones.”
“I think we could get her excited about this group. So far they seem on the up-and-up.”
“The ink must barely be dry on their license. Why don’t you give me what you’ve got? I’ll see about showing it to her tonight.”
“You don’t trust me?”
Rachel glanced past the bus and saw a hole in the on-coming traffic she could slip through.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carolyne-aarsen/brought-together-by-baby/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.