The Forever Family

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, Sam—”

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

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

Brooding silence followed.

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

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

“Ready to go?” she asked.

He exchanged a glance with Gladys. “Yeah.”

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

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

Shutting out him.

Chapter Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pity.

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

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

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