Chapter Four
N oah glanced at the next chart, even though he knew the contents by heart. Grace Stanton was in the exam room, ready for her first post-op consultation since she’d been released from the hospital.
Thinking of the personal therapy sessions he was continuing with her, Noah walked to the exam room.
Grace looked up when he opened the door. He could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. Again he was struck by the emotion contained in them.
“Afternoon, Grace.”
She nodded, her gaze going to the chart he held. “Afternoon.”
“Still doing all right?”
“Yes.” But the singular word contained a mass of apprehension as she waited for him to examine her face for the first time since her surgery.
His fingers were sure but gentle as he removed the bandages and examined her face. The progress was as he expected. “You’re healing well.”
“And?”
“There’s no other shoe to drop.”
“So it’s all good?” she questioned.
“This surgery couldn’t have gone better.”
She studied him closely. “And beyond this surgery?”
“Each surgery will be unique, but I feel confident we can expect similar progress.”
“And the end result?”
He couldn’t ignore her directness, nor could he tell her less than the truth. “It’s possible you can completely regain your previous appearance and it’s also possible that you may have residual scarring.”
“Will I be a freak?” she asked bluntly.
Noah sensed the pain behind the query. “I doubt that was ever possible.”
Grace shifted impatiently. “I don’t want the sugarcoated version.”
“That wasn’t my intent.” He remembered nearly identical words and emotion from years past. “Grace, we’re still in the tough stages.”
She swallowed, then averted her face. “Yes, I know.”
He knew she considered therapy torture. Coupled with today’s news, she seemed overwhelmed. He wished Grace could regain the grip on her faith. It would ease this difficult journey. But he didn’t want to press and drive her further away.
“Have you gotten out of the house other than to come here?”
Startled, she looked puzzled. “No. But—”
“That’s what the doctor orders. Fresh air, change of scenery.”
Grace appeared horrified. “Not necessary.”
“Hiding, be it in the hospital or in your aunt’s home, will inhibit your recovery.”
“I’m not ready to see anyone.”
He took another unprofessional step. “You’ve already faced me. Suppose I pick you up after dinner tonight? We can take a drive.” He held up his hand. “And I promise you won’t have to meet any new people.”
Grace studied him suspiciously. “This doesn’t sound like typical doctor behavior.”
He sidestepped the question, knowing he shouldn’t have made the offer. “I never said I was typical. Eight o’clock?”
“I’m not sure what Aunt Ruth—”
“She’s crazy about me,” he interrupted, knowing she was grasping for excuses, realizing he was a fool to not let her succeed. “She won’t mind.”
Grace sighed. “I suppose that would be all right. But you’re sure I won’t have to meet anyone?”
He held up his fingers in the Boy Scout sign. But he didn’t feel the responding lightness. “Cross my heart.”
“Hmpf,” she muttered.
Noah knew that she could easily hide away forever if she wasn’t shaken out of her mode.
He also knew he wasn’t the person to lead her beyond that.
Nervously Grace watched out the bay window. She had already tried to back out of the commitment, but Ruth had turned as obstinate as a hungry horse headed for the hay barn.
Convinced that the good doctor had taken her on as his “project,” Grace was nearly as sure he planned to introduce her to some of the locals. And that she couldn’t take.
Meeting strangers was almost as distressing as being considered a project by Noah. She’d hoped he could keep treating her like a normal person. Her hand strayed toward her bandages. But then, she wasn’t normal. Not anymore.
Grace chafed at the fact that she couldn’t escape this outing. Although it was comforting to be in Ruth’s cosseting care, at times it also made her feel trapped. Like tonight.
A sleek Porsche pulled into the driveway and she stared in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to drive something so sporty. Grace forgot about the car as she watched Noah stride to the front door.
Long and lean, he seemed very comfortable in his skin. He was handsome—she’d noticed that the first time she had seen him. It was hard to miss. Thick black hair, a bit on the long side, contrasted with his blue, blue eyes. She imagined that he attracted plenty of female attention. Yet he had said there was no special woman in his life.
The doorbell rang. Not hearing Ruth’s footsteps, Grace rose. Once in the front hall, she reluctantly opened the door.
Noah’s face was noncommittal.
And Grace suddenly wondered if he regretted the impulsive invitation.
She pulled the door open a bit wider. “Hi.”
“Sorry I’m late,” he began. “Things got pretty wild at the hospital.”
“It’s all right. I don’t have a lot of pressing engagements.”
Ruth reappeared from the direction of the kitchen. “Evening, Noah. You kids better get going if you want to have any light left.”
Grace exchanged an amused glance with Noah. Funny how easy it was for older adults to reduce them to “kids” in a moment.
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused dutifully.
Once outside, Noah chuckled. “I felt about ninety years old when I arrived. Nice to have some of that fall away.”
“Why so old?”
“Bad day at the hospital. I was asked to consult on a case with a disheartening diagnosis. Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring my problems with me.”
“How can you not? Doctors are human, too.”
“Yeah.” The tone of the single word was weighty, so much so that Grace searched his face, but his expression didn’t tell her anything.
Noah opened the car door for her, careful to settle her in without disturbing her injuries. “I thought you might enjoy this car more than my SUV. It’s practical and roomy, but not very high on the excitement level.”
“Not something I worry about anymore.” Still, she appreciated the fine driving machine. Grace realized she had been wrong. The Porsche suited him.
Noah drove toward the center of town. Rosewood was a charming, nineteenth-century small town that hadn’t lost its appeal with the progressing centuries. False-fronted store buildings were a comforting reminder of that past.
Noah turned on to Main Street. “I don’t want to sound like a tour guide. Have you been to Rosewood often?”
“Not really. We used to visit here when I was young, then after my mother died, Aunt Ruth came to Houston. She spent the summers with me and came for all the holidays.”
“How old were you when your mother died?”
“Eight,” Grace told him, the memory still painful. “My dad did his best, but no one can take the place of your mother.”
“Agreed. But I imagine Ruth tried.”
“She did. But not in an intrusive way. Somehow Ruth knew I wouldn’t welcome that. But she was great about being there for all the mother-daughter things.”
“Still rough losing your mother so young.”
“Doesn’t really matter how old you are,” Grace replied, thinking as she always did of the pain and loss associated with her mother. “You’re never ready to lose them.”
“What about your father?” Noah asked quietly.
“He died when I was eighteen.” And she had been devastated. Another promise had died with her father, one she’d never truly gotten over.
“You had hard lessons early.”
“And they keep on coming.” Grace didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, but she couldn’t grasp why she seemed destined for tragedy.
“It seems that way right now—”
“What’s next on the tour?” she asked, uncomfortable with examining such deeply emotional issues.
“Once we’ve exhausted the treasures on Main Street, I thought you might like to drive by the lake.”
Grace had a fuzzy memory of a happy day on the lake, when her parents had still been alive. There weren’t many of those memories. Her vivacious, beautiful mother had died before they could make enough of those mental-scrapbook days.
“Is that okay?” Noah asked when she didn’t reply.
She pulled herself out of the past. “Sure.”
Like most everything in Rosewood, it took only a few minutes to reach the lake. Noah drove slowly once they reached the gravel road that followed the shoreline; then he parked and turned off the motor.
“Why did you stop?”
He opened his door. “You’ll enjoy the lake more if we’re on foot.”
Grace scanned the surrounding area, but it was deserted at this late hour. “Oh.” Still, she was apprehensive as she left the car. She wasn’t at all ready to be subjected to the stares of strangers.
The soft grassy slope beyond the road led to the shore. The only activity on the lake was the swimming of a flock of wild ducks. Rays of the surrendering sun made the water appear golden. Noah was right. It was better close up.
Grace felt a portion of her tension escape as they strolled the quiet banks of the peaceful lake. Their presence startled some birds perched nearby and they fluttered upward, taking to the sky.
Unlike so many remembered things, the lake didn’t appear smaller or dimmer. The breeze was fresh, filled with the scent of the clean water.
“There’s decent fishing to be had here,” Noah commented.
Such a male thing, Grace thought with a smile. “Do you fish often?”
He shook his head. “Never seems to be enough time.”
“Perhaps you spend too much time on your patients,” she remarked pointedly.
Noah didn’t meet her gaze. “It’s my job.”
“Doesn’t leave you much time for a social life.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “I manage. But there’s not the mad rush of a big city to contend with here.”
“That’s true enough,” Grace acknowledged. “It’s not all bad, though. Living in the city, I mean.”
“I know. I spent a lot of years in one.”
“Of course. Is your family still in Houston?”
He shook his head. “We’ve all moved back here.”
“I know you took charge of your younger siblings. Are there many in your family?”
“Five sisters and brothers.”
“Whew.”
Noah chuckled. “Well said. How about you?”
“I’m an only child.”
Noah’s expression was reflective. “You don’t act like one.”
“I suppose that’s meant to be a compliment.”
“It is.”
Grace remembered words from long ago. “My father said there were two types of only children. Terribly spoiled ones who became that way because they didn’t have to share either their possessions or their parents’ affection with siblings and therefore considered everything solely their own. And equally generous ones, for virtually the same reason. Because they didn’t have to share, or fight with siblings for what was theirs, they never felt threatened, so they were extremely generous.”
Noah glanced at her. “And which type are you?”
“I guess that’s for others to say.”
He kept his tone benign. “You don’t seem spoiled or selfish.”
“Wouldn’t be diplomatic of you to say so even if I were.”
They passed beneath a canopy of great, green trees. “I suppose not.”
Unexpectedly she laughed, realizing that was his intent.
He pointed across the lake. “See that huge oak? The one that dwarfs the others?”
She saw it easily. “Yes.”
“When I was seven, two of my friends dared me to climb it. Of course I couldn’t refuse. When I got really high in the branches, it was like being on top of the world. Never occurred to me that it wouldn’t be so easy to climb down. I was stuck in that tree till nearly nighttime.”
“Didn’t someone come to help you down?”
“Eventually. My friends didn’t fess up until the last minute, figuring they were going to get in trouble.”
“Did they?”
“Yep. One of the rescuers was the fire chief—my friend’s father.”
“Ouch.”
“And then some. Of course, my parents weren’t real thrilled with me, either.”
“But I bet it kept you out of the tree.”
“For two more years.”
She smiled. “Another bet?”
“Nope. Did it on my own the next time. And I almost made it down without injury.”
“Almost?”
His expression was wry. “Only broke a rib. Nothing life threatening.”
“Sounds like you led a charmed life.”
“Sounds that way.”
She remembered his mother’s accident. “You liked growing up here.”
“Shows, does it?”
“Only a bit.”
He tossed a pebble over the bank, making it skip along the water. “It’s a good place to raise a family.”
Grace swallowed, thinking of her own dreams, ones that were now smashed. “Hmm.”
“And it’s a town where neighbors still know each other by name and look out for each other.”
“Do you ever want more?” she questioned. “Rosewood’s nice, but it’s so small.”
His lips tightened fractionally. “I came back because everything I want is here.”
Grace wondered if there was a special girl he hadn’t mentioned. One he hadn’t yet made his girlfriend. “Then you’re lucky. Most people aren’t that certain.”
“I wasn’t always.”
That seemed unbelievable. Dr. Noah Brady always appeared in control, a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. But then she’d once felt the same way.
He took her elbow. “No more deep thoughts. We’ve done enough excavating for one evening.”
It was only after he’d taken her home that Grace realized he’d kept his word. Settling in for the night, she wondered if that was something she could count on. Then she remembered. In her new world, no man could be counted upon.
Chapter Five
G race watched her aunt, wondering what she was up to. Ruth had been scurrying around all day.
The pit in Grace’s stomach grew as she hoped her aunt’s behavior didn’t signal guests. Ruth had been urging Grace to allow visitors. Still raw from looks of pity while in the hospital, she wasn’t ready to face new people.
The more Ruth bustled about, the more Grace worried. She was concentrating so intently that when Ruth called her name, Grace jumped. “Yes?”
“Let’s go outside.”
“Why?”
Ruth sighed. “It’s not a surprise party, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Grace hid the automatic flinch. “Not exactly.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, child. You’ll know when you’re ready to let other people into your life.” Ruth’s wise eyes held only kindness. “And I intend to let you set the pace.”
“I know you’re only thinking of my best interests,” Grace admitted.
“Then let’s head outside.” Once out of the house, Ruth went to the side of the garage and mounted the stairs that led above the structure.
Grace couldn’t remember what was up there and immediately was curious.
At the top of the stairs Ruth opened a door, and they entered a well-lit room.
Grace looked around in surprise at the compact apartment that smelled of lemon oil and fresh flowers. “I didn’t realize you had a garage apartment.”
“When your grandmother became ill, we hired a woman to help us care for her. The apartment was hers. Since then I’ve used it as an overflow guest room, but that hasn’t been often.”
Strolling to the French doors that opened on to a small terrace, Grace glanced down at her aunt’s yard and beyond. “Nice view from here.”
“Do you like the apartment?”
Grace turned back around, her gaze encompassing the warm, tidy area. “It’s very cozy.”
“It’s yours,” Ruth replied, looking expectant, tremulous and nervous all at once.
“Mine?”
“If you’re ready for it,” Ruth explained. “I love having you in the house, but I expect since you’re used to having a place of your own, you could use some quiet time without your auntie hovering.”
“You don’t hover!”
Ruth smiled. “Kind of you to say so, but believe it or not, I was young once.”
“You still are where it counts.”
Ruth’s eyes misted. “And you’re still the sweetest child I’ve ever known.” She made a production of straightening a few pillows, then turned to one corner of the apartment. “The kitchen’s small, as you can see. Well, everything is—even the piano’s a spinet.” She glanced briefly at Grace’s hands. “And I’ll still be cooking, so you won’t have to worry about that. I freshened up everything. The colors were a bit dated, so I bought a new throw, curtains, rug and—”
“It’s lovely, Ruth. The apartment and the thought. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She sniffed a bit, then turned to Grace with her usual hardy expression. “I’ve had the telephone man put in a separate line for you.”
Grace doubted it would get much use, but she didn’t want to spoil Ruth’s generous gesture.
“And I’ve put a few treats in the fridge,” Ruth continued. “The sheets and towels are fresh. And I’ll take care of the washing and tidying up. And anything else you need, of course.” She looked around critically. “I guess that’s it.”
“I’m overwhelmed,” Grace told her honestly.
“I want you to be sure you’re ready, though.” Ruth fussed. “There’s no hurry.”
Grace smiled. “I think it’s time to kick me out of the nest.”
Ruth raised one eyebrow. “Sure you’re ready to fly?”
“Yes. And I know where to go if I crash-land.”
Ruth looped one arm around Grace’s shoulder. “All right, then. We’ll have some dinner and get you moved in.”
Grace looked at her wounded hands, unable to hide her distress. “Oh.”
“Don’t mind that. I’ve called in the reinforcements, just in case you were ready.”
“Reinforcements?” Her distress multiplied.
“Noah said he’d be happy to help.”
Grace didn’t know whether to be relieved that she wouldn’t have to face strangers or to be exasperated because her aunt insisted on asking Noah to constantly go beyond his duties as her physician.
Glancing down at her useless hands, she tried to repress the pang that shot through her. The accident had taken more than her face—it had stolen her freedom.
It wasn’t as though she’d ever been vain about her looks. She supposed she had been a nice-looking woman before, but that was simply a gift of genetics.
But she didn’t know how to deal with dependence. Losing her parents so early, she’d been forced to become self-sufficient. And now it was more than a habit; it was a way of life.
Despite Noah’s assurances, her right hand was still stiff, unresponsive. Again she thought of the Houston doctors, their insistence that the severed tendon wouldn’t heal.
Even though she couldn’t understand why Noah was so certain they were wrong, secretly she had harbored hope. But weeks of therapy hadn’t made any difference.
Now she wondered if his optimistic diagnosis of her face was manufactured, as well.
“Are you ready?” Ruth’s voice interrupted the thought.
Glancing up, Grace saw that her aunt stood expectantly at the door.
Ruth took a step back inside. “Is this too sudden for you? I still plan to help you with everything you can’t do yet with your hands and—”
“I know I can count on you for help. I’m still having trouble with that concept, though.”
Ruth nodded in understanding. “We Stantons are a strong, proud lot.”
This time Grace accompanied her down the stairs. Once in the kitchen, she did what little she could to help. She could use the fingers on her left hand, even though she didn’t have much strength in it yet. Hearing the doorbell, she glanced at Ruth.
“That should be Noah,” Ruth said, bending over the oven, checking on the rolls. “Ask him to stay for dinner, will you?”
Grace kept the groan to herself. Still, her steps lagged as she walked to the entry hall.
Opening the front door, she gathered what composure she had. “Hello.”
“Evening,” he replied, his voice and manner easy, comfortable.
“Won’t you come in? Ruth asked me to invite you to dinner.”
His lips curved in amusement. “That was direct.”
Embarrassed, Grace opened the door wider. “Sorry. But I’m afraid Ruth is asking you for too many favors.”
“You mean moving your things to the apartment?” He shrugged as he entered. “She doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I told her you were bound to grow tired of me soon and want to meet other people.”
Now Grace felt thoroughly rotten. “I’m not tired of you!”
“In that case, I will stay for dinner. Do I smell homemade rolls?”
“That you do. We didn’t churn the butter, however.”
Noah chuckled. “What’s wrong? Too much Little House for you?”
“Not at all. I’m getting awfully spoiled, though. Living on my own, I got used to TV dinners and takeout. Now a quick meal means a sandwich made on freshly baked bread.”
“When I was about ten, I did some yard work for Ruth,” Noah mused. “She paid me, then set out some lemonade and chocolate chip cookies and told me to have my fill. I ate the whole plate of cookies.”
“Ooh. Stomachache?”
“A rotten one. But they were still the best cookies I’d ever eaten. But don’t ever breathe a word of that to my mother.”
Grace laughed unexpectedly. “I forgot you aren’t a lonely bachelor to be pitied and pampered with home-cooked meals. I doubt your mother lets you starve.”
“Busted,” he admitted. “But I take any rescue I can get from hospital chow.”
She glanced out the window at his expensive car. “Surely you can eat out in nice places.”
“Yes. But Rosewood or Houston, down-home or gourmet, restaurant fare is restaurant fare.”
“I suppose so.”
“Do you like the apartment?”
“Very much.”
“It’s not too…small-town for you?”
She wrinkled her eyebrows in surprise. “Of course not. Ruth put a great deal of thought and effort into making it a cozy, welcoming place.” Grace wondered suddenly if he thought she felt herself above what Rosewood offered. “That’s it,” she said aloud. “You think I’m a snob.”
“No. But it’s not what you’re accustomed to, is it?”
Grace thought of the large apartment she’d left behind in Houston. “I’ve had to become accustomed to a lot of things since the accident. But I’m not attached to belongings.”
“I never thought you were.”
She remembered his words the evening they had strolled around the lake. He had said then that he hadn’t believed her to be spoiled. “Then why do you think I look down on Rosewood?”
“Not look down. Compare.”
“The two places are apples and oranges.” Grace thought of her fast-paced career. There had been few quiet moments in her life in those days.
“And which do you prefer?” Noah’s gaze met hers. “The apple or the orange?”
An unsettling feeling came over her. Throat dry, Grace realized that she was seeing Noah as more than just her doctor. A ridiculous pitfall, she realized. And one she couldn’t indulge. Wonderful doctor or not, she was through with men.
“It’s all right.” He answered for her when she didn’t speak. “It wasn’t a fair question.”
Ruth bustled in, bringing with her the aroma of the newly baked rolls. “Noah! Perfect timing. Dinner’s ready. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Always,” he replied, his voice light, sparing Grace one last glance before walking to the dining room with Ruth.
Trailing them, Grace shelved her questions. But she found it wasn’t quite as easy to dispel her thoughts.
Noah carried the few boxes up to the apartment easily. Ruth unpacked each, consulting with Grace before putting things away.
Grace remained strong throughout the process and Noah suspected the effort was for her aunt. As he had since meeting her, Noah admired Grace’s uncomplaining nature. Sorrow had settled deeply in her eyes, but he wouldn’t have expected less.
Even more admirable, she was always concerned about others. Many of his patients ceased to think of anyone but themselves. Noah wondered if Grace realized how singularly astonishing that was.
“Ruth, you must be tired.” Grace was looking at her aunt in concern. “You’ve fussed all day to make everything perfect.”
“I’m fine,” Ruth insisted. But fatigue had begun to set in the lines of her face.
“Okay, then. I’m tired.” Grace smiled ruefully at her aunt. “Could we finish tomorrow?”
Ruth couldn’t completely hide an expression of relief. “Of course, dear.”
“I’ll take the empty boxes down,” Noah offered.
“That’s kind of you,” Ruth replied. “I think I’ll go downstairs and make a pot of tea.”
Noah glanced at the older woman, seeing her fatigue, guessing she would make another trip up the stairs with tea for Grace. “Ruth, is there a kettle in the kitchen here? And tea?”
“Yes, but—”
“I could bring you the tea…” Grace began.
Noah could see the frustration when Grace belatedly remembered she couldn’t.
So he offered instead. “I can bring over a cup for you, Ruth. Give you and Grace both a chance to rest.” He glanced between the two self-sufficient Stanton women, imagining each’s mental tug-of-war.
“That would be nice,” Ruth said finally. “I’m ready for my fuzzy slippers and an early night.”
After her aunt left, Grace turned to him. “That was kind of you. Ruth doesn’t often feel her age, but she’s been overdoing it ever since my accident. I want to help….” She held up her hands. “But I’m useless.”
He met her gaze. “Don’t sell yourself short.” Silently he marveled at the depth of her compassion in spite of her own injuries. “What you give Ruth can’t be measured in physical terms.”
Suddenly she looked vulnerable. As vulnerable as she had the day he’d first met her. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely.”
“The lack of independence is one of the hardest things about my accident,” she confessed. “I was accustomed to doing for myself and for others. It chafes me to stand by idly and ask for help.”
“It’s not a weakness, you know.”
Her eyes widened, their color tonight taking on the hue of the surrounding blue walls. And again he glimpsed pleading. “But it is for me. It goes against my nature.”
“Can’t you accept it as a growing experience?” he asked quietly.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Grace protested, her lips trembling slightly. “How can it be an asset to become dependent?”
“There’s a difference.” Noah couldn’t ignore the nudging of his faith. “Sometimes we have to ask for help in things greater than we are.”
She grimaced, new pain marking the portion of her face that was exposed. “Perhaps you do.”
“We all do.”
Grace bent her head, then turned toward the open French doors. “It’s not that black and white.”
“You’re right. That might be too easy. And faith is more complicated.”
Her voice was both small and sad. “Yes, it is.”
Noah wanted to probe further, but he could see the agitation in her tense muscles, the pain that was deeper than a physical one. So he crossed the room to the tiny kitchen. “Do you know where the tea bags are?”
“The cabinet over the sink.”
The kettle was on the counter. After filling it with water, he put it on the stove. Between movements, he watched Grace as she continued to stand by the French doors. Her tawny blond hair was lit by a stream of moonlight. Her pose was quiet and still. And from his angle, no bandages were visible. She was lovely—a sculptor’s vision. But cold marble couldn’t do justice to her extraordinary warmth.
Nor could stone convey the depth of her incredibly changing eyes. Noah wondered what color they were right now. He was tempted to cross the room to see if her eyes would be silvery-gray, taking on the cast of the early moon.
The kettle whistled, startling them both.
Grace turned toward him. But Noah didn’t see bandages. He still saw the same lovely vision. She was aptly named, he realized. She was full of grace.
Her gaze drifted from the screeching teakettle back toward him.
Seeing the questions forming in her expression, he turned to the counter and poured the hot water. “It should be ready soon.”
“I’m glad Ruth’s willing to have an early night. She’ll appreciate the tea.”
Noah put tea bags into the cups. “I’ll take hers over now.”
It didn’t take long to deliver the tea and then return. “Ruth had already put on her fuzzy slippers,” Noah reported, going to the kitchen.
He poured the mostly cooled tea from one mug into a small glass that Grace could get her fingers around. Picking up his own mug as well, he joined her on the small terrace. The fragrance of roses, touched by the day’s sunshine, mingled with that of wild honeysuckle, drifting up and over the railing.
“It’s so nice out here,” she mused, her voice soft. “I miss the fresh air.”
“I’ve told you to get all the fresh air you can tolerate.”
“I know. But in the dark, no one can see me, judge me.”
“You’re so certain they would judge you in the light?”
She paused for a moment. “It’s human nature. I’ve already seen the looks of pity. And curiosity. I’ve thought back on the times when I saw someone disfigured in some way. I remember the pity mostly. And I’ve always considered myself a fair-minded person. Still, it was there. Why should I expect any less from other people?”
“It seems you are expecting very little from people.”
“I wonder if you’d say the same thing if we traded places.”
“I’ve been very close to where you are,” Noah reminded her quietly. “The scars my mother bears were shared by all of us.”
Grace met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to minimize your mother’s injuries. I suppose I thought they’d occurred so long ago that the memories might have dimmed. It was wrong of me to think so.”
“It’s natural. My mother’s injuries did happen a long time ago. And it changed all of us in different ways. I have the luxury of the viewpoint of a surgeon, but no two people react exactly the same. My mother was consumed by guilt for the stress on the family, all the adjustments we had to make, but she remained strong. Some people become so despondent they never recover emotionally.”
She swallowed visibly. “Do you think I’ll be one of those people, Noah?”
High above, the stars combined with the moon to illuminate the abbreviated terrace. And he knew he had to offer both gentleness and truth. “No. I think you are the exception, Grace. A true exception.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes revealing a touch of hope, and Noah wondered what he was doing. Grace was a patient and he had sworn it wouldn’t happen again.
She turned away to quietly sip her tea, and Noah remembered.
It had been four years ago. Noah’s life and ambitions were right on track. He had a prestigious position at one of the foremost hospitals in the country. He was making more money than he’d ever dreamed of and his social life was equally satisfying. His relationship with girlfriend Jordan Hall had grown serious. Although Jordan was high-strung, she had a magnetism he hadn’t been able to ignore. It seemed everything he touched was charmed.
Then Jordan began a relentless campaign to have him perform cosmetic surgery on her face. Initially he hoped to dissuade her by telling the truth—that she was lovely as she was. Jordan wasn’t convinced. Her superficiality aside, he told Jordan that he never worked on people he knew, and even if that wasn’t so, he didn’t perform frivolous operations. He worked only on major reconstructive jobs and birth defects. She continued to cajole him, but he remained firm. Then she told him she was going to another surgeon, one whom Noah knew to be inept.
Noah again tried to convince Jordan to change her mind. She also refused to consider any plastic surgeons Noah recommended. He was the best, she insisted, and she wanted him.
When she wouldn’t be swayed, Noah reluctantly agreed to perform the operation. But to his horror, Jordan encountered unexpected complications. She had a heretofore undetected heart valve problem that would have come to light only with an echocardiogram, which wasn’t one of the standard pre-op tests, especially for a young, apparently healthy young woman.
And despite his best efforts, Jordan died.
Noah remembered that agonizing time. Not only had she died, he had been responsible. Unable to shed the guilt, he had reevaluated his life, left behind his job and status. One thing he had carried with him—the resolve never to mix personal with professional.
Noah glanced at Grace, seeing the melancholy that had returned to her expression. She needed his help.
And he needed to stay far away from the temptation she presented.
Chapter Six
B ut distance wasn’t easy to maintain. Several weeks later, Grace had sunk deeper than ever into her self-imposed isolation. Noah was concerned that her failing optimism would be echoed in her recuperation. As was Ruth.
She had asked for his help again. The voice of the older woman—worried about Grace—had held repressed tears as she’d asked him to intervene.
Against his better judgment Noah had agreed. But luring Grace out wasn’t easy. Speaking with Ruth, he learned some of Grace’s hobbies. Her favorite was music—playing the piano.
Noah thought of the members of his band. It was a small group he had formed a few years earlier. The four members were all friends, people he could trust.
The band member Noah specifically had in mind was Cindy Thompson Mallory. He felt she was the person most likely to draw out Grace, to ease her back into relating with other people. Hearing Grace’s story, Cindy immediately agreed to help.
For the first attempt, Noah decided it was best to have only himself and Cindy. The entire band, even though small, might still be too much for Grace.
He had cajoled Grace into coming with him on the pretext that he needed a pianist. Although she protested she couldn’t help with only one hand, he had insisted.
He had spoken of Cindy often while they had therapy. And when he told Grace that she would only have to meet Cindy, she finally capitulated.
Now, in the car, Noah glanced over at Grace, seeing her nervousness. “It’s going to be okay.”
She fiddled with her shirt, tugging again at the hem. “Sure.”
But she didn’t look sure at all. Now smoothing the fabric of her skirt, she watched out the window as the houses rolled by. “Like I’ve told you, Cindy’s a good friend.”
Grace’s head bobbed uncertainly.
“I met her when I needed a friend,” Noah confided, not sure where the admission came from. “After I left Houston I was trying to find out just where I fit in again.”
Grace finally pulled her gaze away from the disappearing landscape. “That’s hard to believe.”
He angled his head in her direction. “Oh?”
“You seem very certain of yourself.”
Noah considered that. “It’s a good cover. But I wouldn’t recommend adopting it.”
Her head dipped downward. “I doubt any cover will work for me.”
He hated the discouragement in her voice. “The bandages won’t last forever.”
“In some ways I wish they would.”
Noah knew that many patients hated the thought of their residual scarring being exposed. He glanced again at Grace. Although only half her face was visible, it was consumed by emotion. He suspected tears were only a breath away and knew she needed a distraction. “How old were you when you began to play the piano?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Five. My mother taught me.” Grace laughed softly. “She was as insistent as you are that I stretch my hands.”
Noah watched as the memory played over her face. “Smart woman.”
“Hmpf.” But her lips twitched.
Slowing down, Noah turned into the church parking lot.
Grace squealed. “What are we doing here?”
“This is where the band practices—in the rec hall.”
“That’s the only reason?” she asked suspiciously, studying the graceful architectural design of the church.
“No hidden motives.” He placed one hand on his chest. “Cross my heart.”
Grace suspected that Noah hoped some of the sacred ambience the church radiated would rub off on her. But she knew it wasn’t that easy.
However, once inside, she felt a rush of memories. Deep in her past she had felt welcome in church. Not anymore.
They walked down the hall toward a small room, and to her relief they didn’t meet anyone on the way.
Still she was nervous. “Are there any other people here today?”
“Shouldn’t be. The pastor’s office is in her home. She has a growing family, so it’s easier for her to work there.”
“Her?” Grace questioned in surprise.
“Yes. Katherine Carlson. She is our first female minister—one of the best decisions we ever made.”
She had scarcely absorbed that when a woman approached them. Grace had a startling impression of red hair and vivacity.
“Hello,” the woman greeted her. “I’m Cindy Mallory. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Grace managed, the words coming more easily than she expected.
“Yipes,” Cindy replied with a wry but warm smile. “That’s scary. And yet you came anyway.”
Grace found herself relaxing a fraction. “It was all good.”
“Noah’s too kind,” Cindy replied, her warmth compelling.
“I’ve heard about your triplets.” Grace had loved Noah’s tales of the precocious girls.
Cindy’s face softened. “I shouldn’t brag, but they’re wonderful children. I’m constantly amazed by their imagination and whimsy. And even though they look nearly alike, they’re very different. Especially as they’re getting older. Such individual personalities that at times it’s hard to believe they’re triplets. And don’t even get me started on my oldest son. He’s the smartest boy in his class, and the baby…” Her voice filled with chagrin. “I’m sorry, I’m going on and on about them.”
“I enjoyed it.” No longer certain children were in her future, Grace liked hearing the tales of the triplets.
“You’re sweet to say so. I know I babble endlessly about the children. My husband just rolls his eyes. It’s okay if you do, too.”
Grace was surprised but not overwhelmed by Cindy’s exuberant personality. “What if I withhold judgment?”
Cindy grinned. “Spoken like a woman after my own heart. I’m glad you’re able to sit in on the practice today. Usually I’m stuck with the guys.”
“Thanks,” Noah responded, sounding properly insulted.
But Cindy didn’t seem particularly concerned. “Pooh. You know that you men talk about sports and cars and other equally fascinating subjects.”
Grace stiffened. “Will they be here today?”
“Just Cindy and me today,” Noah replied.
“I need the extra practice,” Cindy explained. “My family takes up so much time that I haven’t learned my lyrics.” She cocked her head. “Do you sing?”
Grace fumbled with a reply. “Not in your league.”
“I asked because sometimes I can’t make a performance and Noah could use another singer.” Cindy didn’t wait for a reply, turning to Noah. “Which reminds me. I can’t perform next week. My Rainbow class has a special activity.” She turned back to Grace. “The Rainbow class is a pet project of mine. I started it a few years ago for children who need a little extra attention, and it’s grown considerably.”
“And you love it,” Grace guessed.
Cindy’s smile softened again. “Absolutely.”
Grace could see why Noah had chosen this particular woman as the first person for her to meet in Rosewood. Cindy was warm, open and accepting. A bit more of her tension subsided.
Cindy picked up some pages of music. “Noah told me you play the piano.”
Grace swallowed, feeling the weight of her injuries. “I used to.”
Cindy didn’t look surprised, nor did she give Grace that pitying glance she’d become accustomed to. “Do you think you could pick out the melody line with your left hand?”
“I don’t really know.” Grace tentatively stretched her fingers. “This hand is getting better.” She speculated for a moment, then came to a decision. “Why don’t I try?”
Cindy and Noah both grinned.
“Don’t expect too much,” she warned them, walking to the piano. She settled on the bench, then tentatively ran the fingers of her left hand over first the smooth, dark wood, then the keys.
As she picked out the notes of a familiar song, Grace felt a small spurt of her old confidence. Neither Noah or Cindy commented and Grace was glad they didn’t feel compelled to cheer her on. She couldn’t take any overly inflated rah-rahs.
When Grace finished, Cindy placed a sheet of music on the piano. “Could we try this one? You could play through it before I sing.”
Grace nodded. Luckily it was an easy piece. The second time, Cindy added her voice. And Noah came in with his guitar. By the following verse, Grace found herself humming.
Humming, she realized with a start.
It was hard to imagine.
“I think that was pretty darn good for the first time we’ve practiced together,” Cindy declared. She shuffled through the music, lifting out another sheet. “Why don’t we run through this one, as well?”
Noah’s beeper went off just as Grace accepted the music. He glanced at the digital readout. “I’m sorry, ladies. I have to run to the E.R.” He glanced at Grace, then Cindy. “If Grace doesn’t mind, could you give her a ride home?”
“Sure,” Cindy replied, looking at Grace.
Relieved that she already felt comfortable with Cindy, Grace nodded. “Fine with me if it doesn’t take Cindy out of her way.”
“Thanks. Sorry to cut this short.” Noah replaced his beeper, then sprinted toward the exit.
“Ah, the life of a doctor,” Cindy said with a sigh. “The band has learned to be very, very flexible.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind the interruptions. But then, I haven’t known him nearly as long as you have.”
“Noah’s a rare and special man.”
Grace glanced up at her curiously.
Cindy read the silent question. “No. I was never involved with him. When I met Noah, my heart was already taken.”
“Your husband?”
Cindy nodded. “Although he wasn’t my husband at the time. Now, there’s a story.” She paused. “Maybe we could have some lunch, get to know each other.”
Grace felt regret laced with panic. “I don’t go out.”
Cindy wasn’t fazed. “We could pick up a pizza and take it home, if you’re game.”
Unused to fielding social situations in her new condition, Grace hesitated.
“I really am a bull in a china shop,” Cindy continued. “If you’re tired, I don’t mean to press.”
It had been a big day for her, agreeing to meet Cindy, entering the church—both had been taxing. But Grace didn’t want to turn into a fragile butterfly afraid to even eat lunch with a new acquaintance. “Actually, lunch sounds nice.”
Cindy smiled widely. “Great. Now, for the big decision…”
Grace smiled, as well. “Pepperoni or cheese?”
By the time they were on their second slice of pizza, Grace felt she had known Cindy for years. Also a woman without pretense, Cindy was easy to talk to, honest and refreshingly frank. She neither dwelled on Grace’s injuries nor pretended they didn’t exist.
While Grace had invited her aunt to join them, Cindy had casually gone about setting the table. Ruth had declined, suggesting the “girls” should have some time on their own.
Cindy didn’t pepper her with questions. Instead she told Grace about her husband, Flynn Mallory, how she loved his three daughters as her own, and how they’d come to adopt their son.
“Your husband sounds like a very special man,” Grace observed.
Cindy’s expression grew reflective. “He is. We had impossible circumstances to overcome, but with the Lord’s help…” She paused, then smiled ruefully. “You don’t want to hear all this!”
“Actually I do,” Grace protested. “Unless it’s too personal.”
“No, not anymore.”
“It used to be?”
“When I loved him from afar, so to speak, I only told my best friend, Katherine. It was too painful to share with anyone else.”
Grace studied the other woman. “I realize I’ve just met you, but you don’t strike me as the shy type.”
Cindy laughed. “I see you’ve read me perfectly. No, I’m not shy, but Flynn was married to my sister. We both met him at the same time. I fell hard. He did, too, but in Julia’s direction. So I moved here to Rosewood.”
“It must have been a difficult situation for you.”
Cindy nodded. “I loved Julia with all my heart and I wanted her to be happy. She and Flynn had each other and the triplets. Their life seemed picture-perfect.”
“And?” Grace questioned quietly.
“Julia died.” Cindy swallowed, sadness flashing in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Cindy acknowledged the sympathy with a shake of her head. “Even though I could never love another man the way I loved Flynn, I would never have chosen to lose my sister in order to have him.”
“Of course not!” Grace’s intuition told her that Cindy had a good heart.
The leap of faith was rewarded with a huge smile. “It helps me to know that I can raise Julia’s girls the way she would have wanted.”
“I think it takes a special person to do that and to adopt another child.”
“Funny,” Cindy mused. “I never think of myself as special, just lucky.”
“Which is probably why you’re special.”
Cindy smiled again. “I definitely see potential in this friendship!”
Grace smiled as well, thinking how refreshingly normal their lunch had been. No talk of injuries or the accident.
And Grace read the genuine regret in Cindy’s expression when she glanced at her watch.
“I can’t believe it’s so late! Flynn will be worried if I’m not home soon. He’s great about watching the kids, but I don’t like to take advantage of him.”
“I understand completely.”
“Let’s do this again soon, okay?” Cindy picked up her purse. “You’re so easy to talk to I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
Grace was surprised at how much she’d enjoyed the day. “I feel that way, too.”
“We can probably reschedule another band practice for later this week. Would that work for you?”
Thinking of her empty days, broken up only by medical appointments and therapy, Grace nodded. “I think so.”
“I’ll talk to Noah and call you,” Cindy said with a wave.
Noah. Grace had him to thank for persisting until she agreed to meet Cindy. She remembered the other woman’s words about him. A rare and exceptional man. Perhaps, but he was still a man. The growing accolades simply made her more suspicious. Noah was beginning to sound too good to be true.
By evening Grace was tired. But in a good way, she thought.
“So, it was a fun day?” Ruth asked, handing Grace a dessert plate.
Grace eyed the cheesecake with an interest she hadn’t felt in months. “Yes. And it surprised me.”
“Ah. Couldn’t foresee that?” Ruth asked sagely.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Grace reminded her.
“No one said you were.” Ruth examined her piece of cheesecake critically. “Think this stacks up to the big-city variety?”
Grace took a bite. “It’s delicious! I doubt there’s better cheesecake in all of New York.”
Ruth smiled. “After the final surgery, we’ll have to go there and find out.”
Grace felt the lump in her throat thicken. “I doubt there’s much traveling in my future.”
“Pish. I’ve been waiting all my life to visit New York City. If I can handle the journey, so can you.”
“You know it’s not the traveling,” Grace replied, voice tight.
“Gracie, every day is going to bring more healing. Yesterday you wouldn’t have believed meeting Cindy would be fun.”
“I suppose. But that’s a far cry from traveling.”
Ruth carved a second small slice of cake. “One step at a time, dear.”
Grace couldn’t imagine such a day.
But before she could comment, the phone rang.
“Would you get that, Gracie?” Ruth held up cheesecake-covered fingers.
Expecting one of Ruth’s many friends, Grace was startled to hear Patrick’s voice.
“Grace? Is that you?”
She couldn’t speak.
“Grace? I thought Ruth would answer.”
She cleared her throat, fighting the rush of emotions. She had hoped to hear from him, despaired of ever hearing from him, had imagined her own scathing response should he dare. But now only silence echoed over the wires.
“Grace? I…I’m not sure what to say….”
“Why are you calling, Patrick?”
He seemed stunned by the blunt question. After seconds of silence, his voice was hesitant. “I want to see how you’re doing.”
“You don’t really want to see me, do you, Patrick?”
“Grace, it’s a bad choice of words. I want to know how you’re doing, if you’re feeling okay.”
“Okay?” The ludicrous choice of words rocked her. “Okay is for a day that’s not great, or food that’s good, even if it’s not your favorite. Okay does not apply to a person who’s been disfigured beyond repair.”
Patrick stuttered for a few moments. But Grace didn’t feel any pity for his discomfort.
“Obviously I’ve called at a bad time.” In control of his voice again, Patrick seemed determined to control the call as well. “So I’ll say good-night.”
“Goodbye.”
The click of his phone disconnecting sounded unnaturally loud.
Grace replaced the receiver and turned around. The knowing look on Ruth’s face reinforced the discomfort of the call.
“You didn’t give him much of a chance,” Ruth observed.
“More of a chance than he gave me.” New hurt sliced over the old. “He didn’t even intend to talk to me. It was a duty call so he can report back to our friends and not look as though he’s run away.”
“But your friends—”
“Bad choice of words, Ruth. Our social circle is made up of associates, people we networked with. Patrick has an image to maintain.”
Ruth hesitated. “Have you spoken to any of them since you’ve been out of the hospital?”
“No. They sent obligatory flower arrangements, but that’s as personal as it will get.” Grace reflected on the people she had surrounded herself with in the city. Close friendships from her younger days had withered from lack of care. People moved on and away.
“I’m blessed to have friends in my church, ones I can count on for anything,” Ruth commented.
“I’m happy for you,” Grace replied tactfully. She didn’t need any more hints right now about seeking out the church. Patrick’s call only reinforced her feelings. The Lord had turned His back on her again.
Nearly a week later, Grace had a call of another sort. Noah and Cindy needed her for another practice. She and Cindy had spoken several times since they’d met. The fledgling friendship reminded Grace of a time, years earlier, when she’d spent more time with friends than in concentrating on her career. She hadn’t thought it was something she missed, but now she wondered.
The pace in Rosewood seemed to allow for more introspection. Grace realized that she had excess time because she wasn’t working, but it was more than that. Every hour of every day in Houston had been packed, brimming with activity.
Now, as she watched out the window, Grace wondered if this was simply part of healing, these different feelings about things once familiar. She would ask Noah.
Expecting him any minute now for what he called a new approach to therapy, she also wondered if it was normal for her to look forward so much to seeing her doctor.
And that she couldn’t ask Noah.
The Porsche turned in to the driveway, its sleek lines gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. The sun also lit Noah’s dark, thick hair. There was both energy and strength in his movements. It struck her again that it was hard to believe he was still unattached.
Walking to the door, she opened it just moments after he knocked.
“Well, hello,” he greeted her, clearly surprised by the speed of her response.
“I saw you coming up the walk,” she explained. This man had seen her worst scars, yet she didn’t want him to know how much she enjoyed watching him.
“Am I late?”
“No. I’m early.”
He didn’t question her response. “Then I take it you’re ready?”
Grace swallowed, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. “I think so.”
Noah had been asking her to come to the church to practice on the organ, believing it would be good for her more damaged hand. Having kept at the exercises he imposed, she was beginning to have some slight movement in her right hand.
And he had convinced her that this was another step in her therapy. In a weak moment, she told herself.
Because she hadn’t intended to go back to the Rosewood Community Church, despite encouragement from Noah, Ruth and now Cindy. But it had been difficult to argue against Noah’s reasoning.
As they drove through town, Grace marveled at all the people who recognized Noah and waved to him. “I think you could run for mayor and win.”
He laughed. “A doctor in a town this size is well-known. Occupational hazard.”
“And the Porsche is hard to miss.”
“Don’t I know it. But it was impossible to turn down.”
She turned to stare at him. “You mean it was a gift?”
“From a grateful patient. I refused at first—told him to donate the money to the Rosewood Medical Foundation. He said he’d donate twice the value of the Porsche, provided I accepted the car as well. The foundation was in its beginning stages and I couldn’t say no.”
She studied him. “That’s a big tribute to your work.”
“I was only doing my job, which I tried to explain to him. But when it comes to people’s children, emotions overrule logic.”
“You operated on his child?”
“Yes. His daughter was burned in a camping accident and he was distraught.”
“But you were able to help her?”
Noah glanced over at her. “Yes. And the child has a bright future.”
Grace cleared her throat. “Is that a pep talk?”
“You asked about the Porsche.”
“So I did.” She paused. “And maybe I do need a pep talk today.”
“Which is bothering you more—therapy on that hand, or going to the church?”
“Everything has been so jumbled since the accident—it’s difficult to sort out a lot of things.”
“I can understand that.”
“You have a unique perspective, having been on both sides of this—patient’s family and physician.”
“My mother’s accident impacted me a lot. Not only did it guide my career, it taught me what was valuable.”
Grace remained quiet for the next few minutes as they completed the short drive to the church. Once out of the car, Noah didn’t turn toward the rec hall. Instead he walked to the doors of the sanctuary. Taking out a key, he put it in the lock.
Grace watched in surprise.
He caught the question in her eyes. “I have a key because I’m the music director. And I work with the youth, through the music program, so the key comes in handy.”
She realized he was more than a simple churchgoer. He was clearly committed to the church despite his already crowded schedule. “You enjoy it, don’t you?”
“Yes. You know how I feel about music. And the kids are a bonus.”
“Does that come from having a large family? Liking kids, I mean.”
“I suppose so. I just hate the thought of a kid failing or not reaching his potential because no one took an interest in him.”
Never having known a man like him, Grace was overwhelmed by his sense of honor.
When she didn’t speak, he took her elbow, leading her inside. The sanctuary was quiet, dimly lit. But as she glanced farther inside, she saw sunlight flowing in from the stained glass windows, the bright beams piercing the interior, glancing over the pews.
They walked up the wide center aisle and Grace felt a bittersweet rush of feeling. She could see her mother’s smiling face, then the pain on her father’s. It was a sense of homecoming, yet a sense of betrayal. Confused, she followed Noah up the steps to the organ.
He gestured to the bench. Hesitantly she sat down. When Noah joined her, she felt immediate relief. It occurred to her that the physical pain of this new therapy might fall far short of the emotional distress.
He leafed through the music, put one piece on top and quietly began to play. The artistry he demonstrated in the operating room spun from his fingers, his song filling the empty room.
Grace closed her eyes against the emotion the notes evoked. Beneath his hands, the music spoke of beauty. It reached out to her, touched her. Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Grace acknowledged how much she missed the tactile feel of the piano keys, the beauty of the notes.
Finishing the piece, Noah took her hand. She would have resisted the gesture, but knew he was acting only as her doctor. The formerly massive bandages had been reduced so that the fingers of her right hand were now fully exposed. They were stiff and unresponsive, but that didn’t deter him.
He put her through the warm-up exercises they had been doing. Then Noah stretched out her fingers, gently placing them on the keys. When they didn’t respond, he covered them with his own larger fingers, pressing on them gently.
Grace bit her lips. She was used to the pain of stretching her hand, but this wasn’t the same.
Aware of his touch in a different way, she held her breath as he carefully moved her hand in unison with his. It was as though they held hands. And, to her surprise, her skin tingled beneath his. Of course it did, she told herself. After all, it had been months since she’d held a man’s hand.
Intensely aware of her terribly flawed appearance, Grace swallowed, hoping her feelings would subside. Afraid to look at him, she stared instead at the organ keys, quiet pressing around her.
A sudden noise in the back of the church made them both look up at the same time.
A teenaged boy hurried up the aisle. “Noah?” The boy didn’t stop, charging toward them.
Grace shrank back as Noah rose.
“Robert?” Noah questioned as he walked down the steps. “What is it?”
“Your office said you might be here.” The boy was breathless, perspiring.
“Take a breath. What’s wrong?”
Making certain she couldn’t be seen, Grace peeked around the organ, seeing the teenager’s distress.
Robert’s breathing slowed as he held out a wrinkled piece of paper. “The scores on my college admission tests.”
Noah accepted the letter. “You’re a junior. You’ll have another chance to take them.”
“My English scores aren’t going to get better if I take the test a dozen times, Noah.” The boy’s voice dulled with discouragement. “And if I blow the test I won’t get my scholarship.”
“There are no problems without answers, Robert. You know that.”
Robert shook his head. “If I don’t get the scholarship, I won’t be able to go to college.”
“Then we’ll have to find you an English tutor.”
“You know my dad got laid off. There’s no money for a tutor. I give the pay from my summer job to my mom to help out. It’s what I want to do, but still that doesn’t leave any extra.”
Noah placed an arm over the boy’s shoulders. “Robert, I promise we’ll work this out. I wish I were better at English. Science was my strong suit. We’ll think of something, though.”
“I never thought about what I’d do if I didn’t get to go to college,” Robert said in a defeated voice.
Grace felt her heart go out to the young man. Although she had been on her own when only a few years older, the sale of her parents’ home had left her enough money to attend college without worry.
She watched Robert as he confided in Noah. The boy should be rewarded for working to help his family, not penalized for their situation.
She admired Noah’s deft handling of the boy. Clearly he had a good relationship with the youth for Robert to show such trust in him.
It was a shame that Robert was having trouble with English. That had been her best subject in school.
An idea crashed into her thoughts. She could help the young man. And money wouldn’t be an issue.
But could she handle it?
Grace was quiet as they finished the day’s therapy, distracted by thoughts of the defeated-looking teenager.
As they drove the short distance to her home, Grace kept imagining how it would have felt to be in the boy’s shoes, to doubt you even had a future.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Noah commented.
“Just thinking about Robert. That’s a big burden for someone so young.”
“He’s resourceful.”
“He shouldn’t have to be. He should be enjoying this time. It’s supposed to be carefree, not fraught with worry over whether he has a future.” Her mind made up, she turned in her seat. “Noah, I could tutor Robert.”
Stopped at a traffic light, he looked over at her in surprise. “You?”
“I’m no teacher, but English was my minor.”
He studied her. “I’m just surprised.”
“I guess I am, too.” Grace knew she might have given up on herself, but not on others. Especially the young man.
“Robert’s a good kid. His family’s had a rough time, but he’s still concentrating on his grades. With the right schooling, I think he’ll make a lot of his future.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure that happens,” Grace said with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Meeting Noah’s gaze, she glimpsed the approval in his eyes.
And was terrified to realize how much that mattered.
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