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  “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

  “Me? 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 transpo
rtation. 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.