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“How could you know?” Nicole kept nibbling, working her way around the icing words.
“If nothing else, I can see it on your face. You’re worn out. It’s partly the newness of the job, of course, but I believe it goes deeper than that. My nephew is not an easy man to deal with lately. He’s had too many surprises to render him totally accepting of his situation.”
“What do you mean?”
Miss Winifred sighed heavily, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“Joshua loved his wife and family. He loved his work. The inroads he made into giving this community quality care and providing for his family’s future drove him. Then suddenly that future was ripped away. He’s hurting, confused and discouraged. He feels he’s lost control of everything, that nothing is happening the way he wants. To Joshua, control is everything.”
“I don’t suppose losing his wife or his partner was easy.” A rush of sympathy washed over her. It had to be difficult managing under these circumstances, trying to keep everything together.
“No, it wasn’t. It tore apart everything he’d believed was true. Now he’s floundering.”
“He’s more than competent as a doctor. He gives first-rate care to everyone he sees,” Nicole reassured the older woman.
“Medically, yes. He does his job very well. But he remains aloof from it, outside his patients’ problems. He can’t let himself get involved, you see. And that’s a big problem.”
“It is?” What else was a doctor supposed to do, for heaven’s sake?
“Yes, dear. You see, over the past eight years this town has grown used to running to Joshua. They’ve seen him handle situations they never believed could be solved. They’ve grown to trust him with their lives, their children, everything. He’s served on town council, the school board—oh, a host of things.”
“I’m glad.” What else could she say? She, who’d never been deeply involved in anyone else’s life, though she’d longed to.
“But now he’s opted out.”
“Excuse me?” Nicole lifted her head to stare at her hostess. “What do you mean, opted out?”
Miss Winifred shrugged.
“Joshua doesn’t get involved. Oh, he diagnoses whatever’s wrong, just as he always has. He hands out the required prescriptions, deals with the injuries that need treating, repairs the wounds as best he can. But emotionally, he doesn’t get involved.”
“But—” Nicole stopped the words. What in the world could Miss Winifred mean? That Joshua was still mourning? Wasn’t that natural for a man who’d lost a beloved wife?
In a second Nicole’s mind flashed back to her own mother’s death and her father’s grief-stricken state. Surely this little baker woman couldn’t be suggesting that Joshua Darling—
“He’s locked himself into a rigid need for control.” Miss Winifred shook her head sadly. “My sister would have known what to say, how to get him to refocus. I’ve tried, but…” Her voice trailed away, sadness filling its soft tones.
“Your sister?” Nicole was getting lost.
“Joshua’s mother. She was such a bright, vivacious woman. She always wanted children, but they weren’t able to have any. They adopted Joshua when he was nine. He was a sober, determined little fellow even then, but Honey, my sister, could coax the joy out of him with just a word or a touch.”
“What happened to her?”
“She and my brother-in-law holidayed in Florida after they got it into their heads to be sailors. They were celebrating their eighteenth anniversary. A gale damaged their boat. They were lost at sea. Joshua was twelve then. I took him in, raised him. They’d have wanted that.”
“I’m sorry.” Nicole laid her hand over the smooth white fingers.
“Oh, don’t be. Honey never did anything if she couldn’t do it wholeheartedly. That’s why I know she’d know exactly how to deal with Joshua. Unfortunately, I don’t.”
There wasn’t anything Nicole could say. She wasn’t exactly sure what the problem was, but even if she understood completely, Dr. Darling would hardly accept any personal advice she had to offer. He’d made that more than clear.
“That’s why I was so hopeful when I knew you were coming. I believe God sent you here specifically to meet our need, Nicole.” The blue eyes flashed with intensity. “I think He intends to use you to help Joshua reenter life.”
Dread—stark, utter dread—rolled over Nicole, swamping her.
“Miss Winifred, I’m very glad I could come to Blessing, and if I can help out at the office, then I’m glad to do so. But I don’t think you should look for anything more.” She gulped, then took a sip of tea, her throat bone-dry. “Believe me, I’m not anybody’s answer to prayer.”
“Oh, sweetheart, my faith isn’t just in you. It’s in God.” The blue eyes glowed with inner fire. “Someone has to show Joshua that we don’t control the future. Someone has to help him understand that following all his rules and laws isn’t going to protect him from life.”
Miss Winifred got up from the table, rinsed out the teapot and dried it carefully. She set it inside her cabinet, closed the door quietly, then turned and faced Nicole, her intense scrutiny unnerving.
“I believe that someone is you. Good night, dear.”
“Good night.” The words tumbled out of their own accord, which was a good thing because Nicole couldn’t organize her thoughts at all as she climbed the stairs to her room.
Help Joshua Darling?
Her own world had now spun totally out of control, the surgical training she’d so carefully planned delayed by circumstances she couldn’t alter.
Nicole felt the burn down to her soul. She couldn’t even get her own father to see her as anything more than a mere replacement for her mother.
How in the world was she supposed to help a man who already had all the answers he wanted?
Chapter Three
“Rosalyn Alyssa Darling, stop that caterwauling. You’re not suffering from any life-threatening injury. If you will race through the house, you will get hurt. I’ve told you that before.”
Joshua almost groaned right along with Rosie when his youngest daughter sent up another heartrending sob that tugged at his heart. He felt totally helpless. Giving in to his emotions, he gently gathered his baby’s compact little body into his arms and cuddled her close, soothing her sobs as he always had.
“Kiss?” She tilted her chin up for his cure.
“Kiss,” he agreed, dabbing his lips against the alabaster skin and holding them there. She was so delicate, so precious. And such a fireball.
Three seconds after the kiss, she wiggled out of his arms to hurtle herself down the stairs in hot pursuit of her oldest sister.
“Rachel, help Rosie get dressed, will you? Please?”
Another Sunday morning, another two hours of sheer bedlam. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered dragging them all to church. But he knew the answer. Kyla. She’d insisted from the moment Rachel had come into the world that her children would know God in a personal way.
As if anyone could know God like that.
He stuffed the regrets down and concentrated on getting his tie straight. Wouldn’t want anyone to think anything was wrong in the Darling house.
Joshua offered a wry smile to his reflected image, twitching the tie into place as he did. Sheer pride, he owned. Such a stupid quality to hang on to. As if everyone in town didn’t already know something was wrong at the Darlings’. It was evident the moment you looked at the house, never mind what it looked like inside.
Why— He stopped himself, refusing to let the words gain hold in his brain. What difference did it make why it had happened? It had. The point he needed to concentrate on was managing what was left of his future. No matter what happened, the blame could not be laid at his door.
Not again. He’d do everything he had to, to make sure of that.
Control. Sure, steady, unblinking control. That would get him through.
“Uh, Dad? I think you better come down here. Like—now.”
Joshua groaned. What had they done this time?
He took the steps three at a time, ignoring the puddle of clothes left at the bottom.
“Rachel? Where are you?”
“In the kitchen.”
He burst into the room, expecting flames. What he saw made him just as nervous. Nicole Brandt stood inside the door, a white ceramic dish balanced in her hands. Her ash-blond hair fell in a shining curtain around her shoulders. She wore a navy dress with perfectly tailored lapels and a trim white belt. The merest little wisp of a blue hat sat on top of her head. It looked ridiculous.
She looked gorgeous.
Apparently his daughters thought so, too. They stood in rapt attention, mouths gaping. To her credit, the beautiful doctor didn’t bat an eyelash at the unwanted attention.
“Good morning, Dr. Darling. Miss Winifred asked me to deliver this. She said that if you put it in the oven now, at three hundred degrees, it will be ready to eat when church is over.” She held out the dish.
“Oh. That’s very kind of her. Thank you.” Joshua stuffed the dish into the oven and set the temperature. “But why didn’t you use the front door? Surely it’s closer?”
A funny looked washed over her model-perfect features. Chagrin, maybe? No, sheepishness, that was it. She licked her lips, fiddled with the white leather strap over her shoulder, then peeped up at him through her lashes.
“I would have,” she murmured. “But there’s an elephant on your step.”
Ruth Ann burst into delighted giggles, Rachel chuckled and even Rosalyn grinned.
“There’s no elephant!” He forced himself not to smile.
“Well, it’s not exactly an elephant.” She temporized. “But it’s huge and gray and has slobber dribbling all over its face.” Her disgust was obvious.
“Ladybug!” The girls turned and raced to the front door.
Joshua beat them to it.
“No way,” he said firmly, locking the door and setting the chain for good measure. “I do not want that animal traipsing through this house. Mrs. Tyndall can’t keep up with the cleaning as it is.”
“But— Dad!”
“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow at Rachel and saw her wilt.
“Nothing.” One by one the children drifted away to continue their preparations for church, leaving him alone with her.
“So now you can understand why I thought it best to use the back entrance.” Nicole Brandt flicked her eyes up to stare into his. “I hope that’s not a problem? Your dog is, er, rather large.”
He knew she wanted to add something to that. Probably a remark about the beast’s filth. He hastened to correct her.
“Of course I understand. And, no, it’s not a problem at all.” He glanced around, checking. What else? Oh, yes. The dog. “Ladybug does not belong to us, thank heavens. She simply visits frequently because my daughters insist on feeding her table scraps. I’ll phone her owners.”
He made the call quickly, stating his case in a cool, crisp tone. Why didn’t people leave animals that size on the farm? Or tie them up if they had to keep them in town?
“I’m sure they’ll pick her up soon.”
“I hope so.” She turned to peer out a side window. “It’s enormous. Why would anyone call it Ladybug?”
“If you find the answer to that, I’d really like to know about it.” He walked back toward the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder as he went. “It’s a mystery to me. Have a seat if you’re staying.”
“Hmm.” She sat, long, slim legs crossed delicately.
“Will you button my dress up? Please?” Rosalyn held up her favorite fluffy blue dress.
Joshua stifled his groan. It was several sizes too small. He should have given it away ages ago, but Ruth Ann clung to that dress like a lifesaver.
“Not that one, honey,” he murmured, and lifted up a freshly pressed cotton one Mrs. Tyndall had ironed yesterday. “It’s too small, remember? Try this.”
“I like this one.” Her bottom lip jutted out in that stubborn thrust she used to get her own way.
Joshua prepared himself for battle. But before he could speak a word, she intervened.
“I’d love to help you, Rosalyn. You’re such a big girl, aren’t you? How old?” Nicole waited for the requisite number of fingers. “Four? And you still fit into this?” She pretended to squeeze it over the little girl’s head. “Oh, dear.”
“What’s the matter?” Ruthie balanced in the doorway like a stork, one shoe on her foot, the other clutched in her hand.
“Her head’s too big.”
Joshua almost smiled as Nicole pretended to twist the dress this way and that, her fingers pressing down on Rosie’s scalp.
“Way too big. It just won’t fit.” She glanced up at him suddenly, her eyes glowing. “I think we’ll have to operate, Dr. Darling.”
“Operate?” Rachel turned from her stance by the window to stare at Nicole. “On what?”
“On the dress, of course. How else can we get a too-big head into a too-small dress? We may have to operate on the arms, too. They look pretty tiny.” Once more she tried to draw him into the game. “Don’t you think so, Dr. Darling?”
“Hmm. Asking for a second opinion, Dr. Brandt?” He allowed his eyes to indicate his view of this silly game.
“Oh, I think so. Don’t you? When a case is as serious as this I always—” She stopped speaking abruptly.
Joshua forced himself to stop staring into her eyes and figure out what she was doing. He glanced down. Rosie had tossed the favorite dress onto a nearby chair and now began to struggle into the cotton one he’d presented.
“Don’t op’rate on my dress,” she demanded, glaring up at Nicole.
“We were just teasing, honey. It’s your dress, and I wouldn’t dream of damaging it.” Nicole swept a soothing hand across blond frizz that never quite lay down no matter how often Joshua combed it. “It’s a special dress, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. My mommy made it for me.”
“Really?” Nicole got up and rescued the tired blue fabric from the chair. “Then we must take very good care of it. One day you can help your little girl into it and tell her about how your mama made this specially.”
A lump came into Joshua’s throat as he watched her slim fingers smooth the fabric into neat folds until the dress was a small square.
