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Rachel stared at the closed door, feeling as though her universe had been knocked off-kilter. She should be the one checking on the patient, the one in control. But here, in this hospital, she was a loved one, not a doctor.
“Rachel.”
She braced herself and turned to find Josh’s expressive hazel eyes regarding her with compassion. Her arms dropped to her sides and she resisted clenching her fists. She wouldn’t let him see how scared and uncertain she felt. She didn’t need his pity.
And his comfort would ultimately only harm her.
He held out a steaming cup of coffee and she relaxed slightly.
His square, blunt fingers engulfed the disposable cup and thin white scars stood out against his tanned skin. As she took the drink she noticed her own hand, the skin pale and smooth from years of being scrubbed and encased in rubber gloves. How different their lives had become.
The brush of his fingers scorched her skin. A splash of coffee wouldn’t have been as hot. Or as painful. She steadied herself. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
Just as she feared, his presence was comforting. Like a solid oak tree in a windstorm. Able to sway and bend but never break.
“You’re welcome.” He stuck his hand into the pocket of his casual khaki slacks and pulled out packets of sugar and cream. “I didn’t know…”
“Black,” she said, moved by his concern.
Josh returned the items to his pocket.
Rachel took a fortifying swig from the cup and savored the robust flavor, until the hot liquid hit her empty stomach with an acidic thud. She grimaced. She’d forgotten to eat again.
“That bad, huh?” Josh asked, his expression softening as he gave a small laugh.
She sucked in a quick breath and could only stare. This man standing before her may be the boy she’d loved in high school but he’d matured into an appealing man she didn’t know. A man who made her want to believe a dancing hot flame could heal as well as harm.
And she had no intention of playing with fire, no matter how fascinating the blaze.
The moment stretched to an almost unbearable ache, then abruptly Josh asked, “So, what’s chaparral tea?”
Rachel blinked, but took her cue and slipped easily into her professional demeanor. “The tea leaves come from the creosote bush, which is found in the southwestern states. The healing properties of the tea have been used by Native Americans for centuries.”
“And the ND…?”
“NDGA—nordihydroguaiaretic. It’s the proponent in the plant that seems to help in reducing cancerous mass.”
“You think this tea will help Mrs. G.?”
Her poise slipped a notch as she stared down at her coffee. She wanted to believe it would help, but the doctor in her knew the chances at this point were slim to none, just as Dr. Kessler had said. But she refused to give up and reject anything that might help. She hated this feeling of helplessness.
She shrugged. “At this point, it’s hard to know what will help and what won’t.”
“That’s a typical doctor answer,” he said with the slightest trace of teasing in his tone.
She glanced up. “Pretty vague, huh?”
The corners of his generous mouth tipped upward and he sipped from his coffee.
“Habit, I suppose. As a doctor, you try not to give false hope or bad news before you’re absolutely sure.”
“Rules of the trade,” he remarked dryly.
“I suppose.”
They lapsed into silence again. Rachel drank from her cup and watched Josh. She tried to view him objectively. Adulthood had etched lines around his eyes, and the outdoors had weathered his skin to a burnished sheen. His broad shoulders looked as though they could carry heavy burdens. Sometimes she wished she had someone to share her load with, but her life didn’t have room for sharing.
“So, Rachel—” Josh broke the silence “—I hear you recently got a promotion.”
She met his gaze, expecting to be assaulted by the disdain she’d seen earlier, but his expression was curiously friendly, as if he’d just asked if she liked rainbows and sunshine instead of probing at an old wound. A wound inflicted by the choice she’d had to make.
Josh had offered her a different path, one so inviting that she’d begun to doubt God’s plan for her life. But, no matter how tempting, it would have been selfish of her to choose Josh over what she knew to be her purpose. No matter how much it hurt.
Chapter Two
“Yes. Yes, I did,” Rachel replied, proud that her voice didn’t betray her feelings.
“Good for you.”
Uncomfortable with the thought that he’d discussed her with Mom G., she wondered what else he knew about her. He certainly didn’t know what was between her and God. No one knew how emotionally crippled she was because of the way her mother had died. If anyone found out then she would be perceived as weak. And if she were viewed as weak then she wouldn’t be able to achieve her goal of making sure her mother hadn’t died in vain. No one would take her seriously. “I’ve worked extremely hard to get where I am.”
“The fast track to success,” he stated, his voice devoid of inflection and his eyes now remote.
She narrowed her gaze. “I’m on the fast track. This recent promotion will be one of many. But it’s not about success. It’s about changing the way things are done so no one else needlessly dies. My ultimate goal is to be chief of staff in a prestigious hospital where I can further the research in new and innovative triage techniques.”
“That’s certainly ambitious.”
“That’s the only way things get done.”
He shrugged. “Is being a doctor everything you thought it would be?”
Irritation flared at his casually asked question. She’d had to make a tough choice all those years ago. He’d forced her to make the choice. It was all or nothing with him. “Yes, I love being a doctor.”
He nodded, but made no comment. He shouldn’t be so calm and collected, not when her world was spinning out of her control. She wanted to shake a few leaves off his tree.
“It’s who I am.” She couldn’t help the defensiveness in her voice.
A tawny brow arched. “Must be very fulfilling.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Anger stirred in his eyes. “Nothing.” A leaf fell.
Something inside Rachel made her want to pick a fight. Anything to distract herself from what lay ahead with Mom G. “You obviously meant something by that remark, Josh. If you’ve something to say to me, then say it.”
“You’ve changed,” he stated matter-of-factly, his gaze assessing.
She almost smiled. Almost. The woman she’d become was very different from the young girl who’d left. “What? I’m not mousy like you remember?”
“You were never mousy.”
She chose to ignore the compliment in his tone. “My job’s very satisfying. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” The tension visible in his jaw claimed he was far from the ambivalence suggested in his tone. “But it doesn’t leave much room for anything else, does it?”
“I’ve never wanted anything else.” She narrowed her gaze. “Why are you still so angry?”
“I’m not angry.” His denial rang false. Leaves fell all over the place.
“Yes, you are.” She put voice to the suspicion she’d always had. “You’re angry not because I became a doctor, but because you didn’t get what you wanted.”
He looked her square in the eye, his expression derisive and taut. “You’re right, Rachel. I didn’t get what I wanted. I wanted you.”
“You didn’t want me,” she scoffed. “You wanted a wife.”
“I wanted you to be my wife.”
“No, Josh. You wanted a cookie-cutter wife. Someone you could put in a box and mold to your specifications. And it didn’t take you six months after I left to find one, did it?” Her own anger and pain reared up, making her chest ache. “That only proves how deep your undying love went, doesn’t it?”
He drew back. Hurt—desolate and unmistakable—darkened his hazel eyes. “I did love you, Rachel.”
He sounded sincere. But then, he’d always sounded sincere. “Oh, save it, Josh. I’m not buying it this time.”
“What did you expect? You left and made it very clear you weren’t coming back.” The sarcasm in his tone dug at her heart.
“But I hadn’t given up hope that we’d work things out once I finished school.” Hurt-filled tears burned behind her eyes, making her more angry that she was losing her control. Shaking her head, she admitted, “I lay in my dorm room every night and agonized over my decision. Was being a doctor worth the risk of losing you?” She gave a bitter laugh. “But I never really had you.”
Josh opened his mouth, but no words came. His perplexed expression galvanized her into adding, “You never once checked on me. No phone call. No letters. Nothing.”
He shook his head. “I was hurt and angry, Rachel. You chose your dream of being a doctor over my love. I certainly didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.” His tone seethed with anger and resignation.
“No, you were too busy planning your wedding.” Thinking about the blonde who’d been after him all through high school made her insides twist with…jealousy? No, never. “And how’s dear Andrea?”
A spasm of pain, or perhaps guilt, crossed his features. “Andrea’s dead.” He stepped around her and walked toward the elevators.
Shock doused her anger like a swollen rain cloud emptying itself. “Oh, no.” Sympathy and regret tore through her, and she hurried after him. “Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He jabbed his finger on the elevator call button. “Not your problem.”
She reached out, wishing she could retract her words. Josh reared away as if she were contaminated. Stung, she let her hand drop to her side. Feeling small and petty, she said softly, “I’m truly sorry.”
The elevator doors opened and he stepped in. He turned and stared at her, his eyes cold with fury and his face a hard mask of stone. An oak tree never looked so intimidating.
“Josh, please,” she implored, wanting somehow to make amends.
He looked away and the elevator doors slid shut in her face, leaving her alone.
Should she go after him?
Rachel took a deep, shuddering breath. Her unruly tongue had caused enough damage for one day. Leaving Josh alone and staying as far away from him as possible while she was in town was the best thing she could do for him…and herself.
Andrea was dead.
Compassion filled her heart to overwhelming proportions. She ached for what Josh had lost. His wife, his helpmate, his dream.
How long ago had Andrea died? How did she die? Did they have children? Goose bumps of remorse tightened Rachel’s skin.
Years ago, she’d made it clear to Mom G. the subject of Josh and his bride was off-limits. She hadn’t wanted her assumptions of his picture-perfect life confirmed. How arrogant she’d been.
The resentment she’d used to close off the pain of Josh’s marriage deteriorated, exposing her to fresh wounds.
Slowly she walked back down the hall, rubbing away the goose bumps from her arm.
How had Josh taken the news of Andrea’s death? Had he been with her at the end? Or had he been at work and received a call? How had the doctor told him? With compassion? Coldness? Understanding? Detachment?
The questions plagued her mind. And she welcomed them as she stopped in front of Mom G.’s door. As painful as it was, thinking about Josh kept her from worrying about Mom G.
Rachel leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
Lord, why does life have to hurt so badly?
She hoped, when all was said and done, she’d have enough mortar left in her to repair the crumbling wall around her heart.
“Dr. Maguire?”
Rachel’s eyelids jerked open. She pushed away from the wall. “Dr. Kessler?”
He smiled kindly, his big gray eyes peering at her through his glasses. “Olivia’s asking for you.”
Relief surged in her chest. “How—how is she?”
“Holding her own for the moment.”
Relief gave way to a dull ache at the words meant to give comfort but not false hope. She nodded her thanks and stepped into the room. Her footsteps faltered slightly as she approached the bed.
A nurse hovered over Mom G. For a panicked moment Rachel feared something was wrong, that she wouldn’t have a chance to tell Mom G. how much she loved her, how much she appreciated her.
The nurse straightened and moved away, a reassuring smile on her face. Rachel resumed walking, her heart rate slowing to normal. As she reached the bedside, Mom G.’s eyes opened and she smiled. “I’m so happy to see you.”
Rachel winced at how weak and breathless her mother sounded. Taking her hand, Rachel held on tight. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” She wanted to say she should have been called right away but she didn’t want to lay guilt on Mom G. It would serve no purpose.
“You’re here, now. There’s so much to say before—”
“Don’t even go there,” Rachel interjected. “We’re going to make you well. I’m going to make you well.”
Mom G. shook her head. “I’m dying, dear. We must accept that.”
“Nooo!” Tears clogged her throat. She didn’t like constantly being on the verge of tears. Even when she’d bounced from foster home to foster home, she’d never been this scared or so close to the breaking point. She wanted to draw into herself as she’d done as a child. But she couldn’t. Mom G. needed her. And she needed Mom G.
