The Forever Family

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Danny?” she whispered.

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?” Gladys asked kindly.

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

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

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

“Are you hungry?” Gladys asked.

Rachel shook her head, her stomach still queasy.

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovely and treacherous, just like a woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

“Ah, you fool,” he castigated himself.