Книга - A Healing Love

A Healing Love
Doris English


A MAN WITHOUT A PAST…When Brad Jeremiah's private plane crashed on a foggy hillside, Dr. Laura McBride risked her life to save him. And with Laura at his hospital bed, Brad woke to find he'd lost his memory. Discovering the handsome surgeon's identity was simple, yet his past remained a puzzling mystery….Did their love have a future?The healing touch of his beautiful doctor gave Brad hope and her faith gave him strength. Soon he imagined working beside her in the small mountain hospital. But as Brad prayed for help to uncover the secrets of his past, he feared the truth would destroy Laura's love, and their dreams of a life together….









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u97d5ddf6-7654-508f-a2bf-05988935d6f8)

Excerpt (#ufe832a65-1ff2-5d37-ba48-c6cf2ae3600f)

About the Author (#ub095bfc9-7420-5639-854e-cd2b62c81d3f)

Title Page (#ub2878b00-72dd-5dfd-9e1f-6555e7263964)

Epigraph (#ua66447d9-ba9b-57db-8b68-ab109a58c6a9)

Dedication (#u506e12f1-25d4-577e-9c34-38f11c9725e4)

Chapter One (#u60da9449-e344-5ec7-9e8e-afa088f2d23f)

Chapter Two (#u76006fb4-54d7-59b3-a06a-e0290efd4d96)

Chapter Three (#ua16fed8c-fbdf-5fce-b5ad-10a56826ebda)

Chapter Four (#u20ef8a3b-f6a3-57ad-92a1-a615f1accf24)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




“But I love you,” he insisted.


“Love is more than attraction, Brad.” Laura smiled gently. “It begins with friendship, compatibility—”



“I think we have that,” he replied.



“Then it grows into admiration and respect, where aspirations and values are shared,” she continued. “It involves being willing to place someone else’s happiness above your own. And I think it’s knowing you’d rather be with someone more than anyone else in the world.”



She paused and gazed up at him. “Those are the benefits of a sacred commitment. I determined long ago, I’d settle for nothing less.”



Brad’s gaze darkened. He took her hand.



“What about us?” he asked.



“Only time will tell. You never know what will happen when you regain your memory,” she reminded him, her voice husky with emotion.



“There’s nothing in this world that could change the way I feel about you, Laura McBride.”




DORIS ENGLISH


After only one year in college, Doris English left school to marry her high school sweetheart. Forty years later and more in love than ever, he is still the man of her dreams and she would do the same thing all over again.



Although marriage and children—three daughters— delayed her education and put her dream to write on hold, she nurtured that dream by pursuing her education when she could work it in between family commitments. In 1990, just one year before her youngest daughter graduated from college, Doris graduated from West Georgia University with a 4.0 average and a B.A. in history and a minor in journalism. Meanwhile, she fulfilled her writing dreams by writing articles for inspirational magazines, historical journals, newspapers and inspirational novels.



Doris and her husband, Bob, live on a small farm just outside of metropolitan Atlanta where she delights in sitting on the front porch of her modified French country home and watching deer graze in the pasture in front of her house. They enjoy travel and their cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains where Doris spends her most productive hours writing.



Doris’s message to young women in whose heart God has put a dream is don’t despair. Set your priorities in order and God will bring you the desires of your heart.




A Healing Love

Doris English







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new

creature. Old things are passed away, all things

become new.

—2 Corinthians 5:17


To the man of my dreams, my husband, Bob,

whose constant encouragement and steadfast belief

in my dream during the times when I struggled and

doubted, kept me faithful.




Chapter One (#ulink_0f7a98f9-7766-5b06-b6de-079e439e0c28)


Dr. Laura McBride eased her red sports car into the morning rush-hour traffic, headed toward the freeway. Once on the main north-south artery, traffic evened out and the young doctor had time to puzzle over why her former medical school suite mate, Darlene Coleman, had invited her into the city for a visit.

They hadn’t been in touch for several years—not since the two had left to do their residencies. When Darlene’s unexpected invitation arrived last week, curiosity had drawn Laura like a magnet. A weekend in the city seemed a welcome relief from her duties in her dad’s clinic, now a fully accredited hospital located in a quiet hamlet in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The congested neighborhoods of the inner city gave way to larger, towering structures. Laura saw the sprawling new medical center ahead, and beside it Darlene’s office complex. A twinge of envy clouded Laura’s countenance. She had rejected a residency at this very hospital to return to her father’s small clinic. Her refusal proved Darlene’s opportunity.



Laura stepped out of the glass elevator tower into a plush reception room of marble floors, lofty ceiling and a magnificent view of the river. Laura still had trouble visualizing her shy, somewhat stodgy, suite mate managing successfully in such an elite urban environment.

A woman in a tailored navy suit and silk blouse looked up from the reception desk and stared at Laura coolly. She reached a manicured hand behind her for an acrylic pad before asking Laura if she were a new patient.

Laura beamed, ignoring the woman’s frosty look. “No. Please tell Dr. Coleman that Dr. Laura McBride is here.”

“Dr. McBride?” the woman repeated as she scanned a computer screen. “I don’t have you down on her appointment list.”

“Nevertheless she is expecting me. Please tell her I’m here,” Laura insisted softly but firmly.

“Have a seat, Dr. McBride. It may be a while before Dr. Coleman can see you. She is quite busy you know.”

Scarcely five minutes had passed before a svelte blonde with long shiny locks pulled back in a fashionable chignon entered the room. Thick lashes fringed her large doe-shaped eyes. Perfectly applied makeup accented high cheekbones, and bright-red lipstick emphasized a full, sensuous mouth. The cranberry wooljersey dress she wore caressed her slender, well-contoured figure, and an expensive cameo surrounded by diamonds and seed pearls nestled demurely at her throat.

“Laura, how good to see you,” the blond vision said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Dar-Darlene?” Laura began hesitantly. “Is that really you?”

Darlene’s laugh was low, melodious. “A new improved version. A change was long past due for me. You, on the other hand, were always disgustingly perfect.”

“You look great!” Laura exclaimed.

“Thank you. I have enjoyed the change. As someone put it—from mousey to peacock.”

“No one would ever dare call you ‘mousey’ again.”

“I hope I’ve put those days long behind me. Now, enough of me. I want to hear about your exciting adventure in that mountain hospital and clinic with your famous dad. Tell me all the details about your work, the hospital, everything, but first give me fifteen minutes to finish seeing my patients and I’m free for the rest of the day.”

“You’re free this afternoon?” Laura cast a questioning glance toward the receptionist.

Darlene chuckled. “I’ve blocked out the rest of the day and weekend for you.”



Laura finished the last bite of her omelet and reached for a steamy cup of tea. Sitting in a sunny nook of Darlene’s kitchen, she relished this last full day in the city. It had been a perfect holiday for her. They’d attended a concert, dined in a fine restaurant and toured the hospital. The highlight of the weekend had been a lecture by Dr. James McNulty, a renowned endocrinologist. Once again, envy tugged her heart at the opportunity Darlene had working here and being exposed to the cutting edge of medicine. She quickly suppressed the thought, feeling somehow disloyal to her father and the choices she had made years ago.

She was about to ask what their plans for the day were, when Darlene interrupted.

“Laura, why did you choose to go home to help your father, when you could have had all this?”

“You captured this job on the basis of your performance,” Laura hedged, ignoring Darlene’s question.

“But why did you go back? I saw your eyes when Dr. McNulty was lecturing. You hung on his every word,” Darlene pressed, refusing to be diverted.

Laura shook her head, her eyes bright, candid. “Can’t deny I enjoyed it, and maybe envied your advantages for a moment, but I chose to go back because it was the right thing to do.”

Darlene narrowed her eyes. “Why do you think that?”

“It was something my dad had looked forward to since I was a little girl.”

“But what about what you wanted to do?”

“I’ve just never considered anything else.”

“What about your skills, your goals? I’ll wager that you live in your father’s shadow.”

Laura winced; her friend had hit too close to home. Having grown up in and around the hospital, she had yet to prove her mettle as a doctor. To most she was still Doc Dave’s little girl, Laura.

Darlene’s keen eyes noted Laura’s reaction and she pushed her advantage. “It’s time to take control of your future. Stop living someone else’s dreams.”

“Easier said than done,” Laura admitted lamely, once again feeling disloyal to her father.

“Why don’t you come to work here with me?”

Laura’s eyes widened; surprise rendered her speechless.

Darlene laughed. “Things are changing here. There is plenty of opportunity for both of us.”

When she found her voice, Laura asked breathlessly, not believing, “You’re offering me a job?”

“Maybe a partnership. As you can gather—” Darlene waved her hand around her well-appointed penthouse “—it doesn’t come without its advantages.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” Laura responded, then after a long moment shook her head, something akin to longing briefly flaring in her eyes. “But I couldn’t.”

“Don’t say no until you’ve met Brad. I’ve told him all about you. You’ll meet him tonight.” A knowing smile twitched one corner of Darlene’s scarlet mouth. “I haven’t met a woman yet who could resist his charms. Even I couldn’t You see—” she hesitated, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes “—we’re engaged.”

Strains of chamber music from a string quartet greeted Darlene and Laura as they entered Dr. Michael Bradford Jeremiah’s lavish apartment perched high above the street facing the river, now a mere ribbon of liquid gold in the departing sun.

People in evening attire gathered in small groups around the large sunken living room. Laura was glad she had worn her new violet crepe. The dress clung gracefully to her slender body, revealing her feminine curves. Above the deep blue, her eyes sparkled like sapphires and excitement flushed her cheeks. Conversation diminished when the two exquisite blond women entered the room. Laura’s hair fell like a cloud in lustrous waves to her shoulders, while Darlene’s was caught up in a French twist, held in place with glittering combs.

A tall man with close-cropped dark hair detached himself from a group in the back of the room and made his way toward them. He moved with the grace of a dancer, his broad shoulders looked wide enough to fill a doorway, yet his torso tapered to slender hips. His evening jacket and trousers were tailored perfectly. When he came nearer, the soft light revealed chiseled features a Greek statue could envy. His generous mouth turned up in a smile of greeting as he reached over to kiss Darlene’s cheek, but his dark, brooding eyes never left Laura.

When he turned to her, having assessed her, he nodded his approval and observed, “This must be the wonder woman I’ve been hearing about.”

Darlene’s smile had a hint of triumph in it as she acknowledged, “The very same.”

Laura handed her hand to the ebony-eyed giant and smiled broadly, her cheek dimpled. “Dr. Jeremiah, I’m pleased to meet you.”

He exuded charm and confidence with almost a touch of arrogance, yet she detected sadness, a wariness in his eyes, as he inquired, “Well, are you?”

“Am I what?” Laura asked, a puzzled wrinkle in her brow.

“Wonder Woman.” He chuckled.

“The last time I looked I was Laura McBride.”

“I know. I’ve heard about you for two years, and of late how much you need to come to Louisville.”

“And what was your response to that?” she challenged, lifting her chin a bit.

He laughed. “Guarded. That is, until I saw you walk through that door. Now, I’d say, you have definite possibilities.”



Dawn streaked the eastern sky just as Laura reached the interstate. Unwelcome emotions buffeted her as she rushed toward home. Like a forbidden fruit, the memory of Darlene’s offer kept playing through her mind. The lure of the city, the opportunities of a modern research hospital, couldn’t be denied.

But then there was her father, the clinic and Mark.

Mark! Yes, there was Mark. Capable, wonderful Dr. Mark Harrod, assistant chief of staff, was Dr. David McBride’s right-hand man and devoted to Laura. She shook her head attempting to dismiss Mark from the equation that plagued her. She frowned as his dear familiar face smiled from the corridor of her memory, only to be pushed aside by the image of a handsome, dark-eyed giant who whispered, “Well, are you Wonder Woman?”



Thunder rolled across the old heart pine floors, reverberating against the wall and waking Laura from a much-needed afternoon nap. A bolt of lightning illumined the curtained dimness of the room, followed by another peal of thunder and a gust of wind that shook the old farmhouse. Reluctant to move, she gathered the cool, smooth sheets beneath her chin and flinched as the furious storm outside vented its fury.

She closed her eyes and memories of last evening’s frenzy matched the rhythm of the squall outside her home. What a homecoming last night proved. No sooner had she reported for duty than she learned that for the first time she was to be left in charge of the clinic, with neither Mark nor her father in calling distance. They had been gone only a couple of hours when a major crisis had occurred.

She chuckled mirthlessly as she remembered her frustration tinged with envy when she had left Darlene yesterday. Driving home, she’d daydreamed of what it would be like to show the clinic that the youngest Dr. McBride had the skill and intelligence to be a competent physician and surgeon.

Her fantasy had become reality too soon. Near panic had engulfed her when Tom Watson arrived on a stretcher, his mangled limbs covered with blood from a logging accident. One look told her there would be no time to wait for assistance. She shuddered. The muscles in her shoulders still ached from the long hours holding a scalpel in her hand while fighting for the injured logger’s life.

Her smile broadened. Tom had survived and, without any unforeseen complications, would have only minimal disability. A warm glow spread through her even now as she remembered her dad’s arrival and the soft words of praise he spoke. Last night she had met a challenge and passed it with flying colors; now she no longer had to wonder about her ability to respond when the chips were down.

Suddenly, a sense of freedom released the tensions of last night and she sighed with relief and thanksgiving. Throwing back the covers, she hopped out of bed and bounded down the stairs to face the storm with a newfound confidence.

The red-gold boards of the flooring felt smooth and cool to her bare feet as she walked toward the front door of the stately old farmhouse. She tightened her robe around her waist and peered through the leaded-glass window in the massive oak door. The muted afternoon light caressed Laura’s face, revealing faint lines of fatigue around her eyes. She pushed against the door and stepped through.

The fierce spring squall that had rolled down from the mountains behind her, depositing a downpour on the valley, had departed as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the air washed sweet and clean. A heavy fog clung to the mountains, shrouding their peaks. Laura breathed deeply and savored the change.

A movement behind interrupted her reverie, and she turned to meet the warm affection in the eyes of her grandfather Jonah McBride. He sat in the oak swing that had been hanging serenely at the end of the porch for as long as she could remember.

She knew he had been watching the storm. “God’s fireworks,” he called them, claiming it helped a man to be reminded of the Almighty’s awesome power, lest he take it for granted.

Now his serene gaze questioned hers and he shook his head.

She explained sheepishly, “The storm awakened me.”

“Storm or not, you didn’t get enough sleep, Laura,” he barked in his gravelly voice.

“Is the doctor diagnosing the doctor?” She grinned, turning one corner of her mouth up, revealing a dimple.

“I don’t diagnose since I retired from practice. I’m just speaking as a concerned grandfather to the apple of his eye,” Jonah stated, his eyes bright blue under craggy brows. He patted the seat beside him and added softly, “Rough night, honey? Come over here and tell me all about it.”

Her smile broadened as she returned the warmth in his eyes. “As if you didn’t already know.”

“I’d still like to hear the whole story from you.”

“Dad told you about Tom?”

“Yes, but mostly he told me about a certain Dr. McBride, third-generation physician. Glowing report. Seems she saved a man’s life.”

“Not by myself.”

“You were the only physician available,” he reminded her.

“I thought I really wanted that opportunity and when it came—”

“You found out you were really a doctor,” Jonah proposed, an ancient wisdom firing his eyes.

“Yes, I found out, Papa,” Laura murmured, more to herself than him.

“And how did it feel?”

“Like sweet relief.”

Jonah chewed the side of his lip and raised one eyebrow questioningly.

“I didn’t let Dad down,” she explained haltingly.

“Is that what’s behind all this?”

“How could I ever measure up to everyone’s expectations? To most of the people around the clinic, I’m still his little girl playing with stethoscopes. Sometimes I think he still thinks I am.”

“Then why did you come back here, Laura?”

“Because I love him, and if I didn’t return, who would carry on his work? This clinic was his dream.”

“One man can’t choose another man or woman’s dream. I can’t choose for you.” He smiled, but sadness turned the blue in his twinkling eyes to gray as he added, “And neither can your dad. I should know. That’s what I did to him and it almost destroyed our relationship.”

“But his dream is noble and pure.”

Jonah chuckled a bitter little laugh, remembering. “Even so, you must find your own destiny, the one God has tailored just for you.”

“And what about the clinic? You know how vital it is to these people.”

“Then God will send someone else to pick up the mantle if you’re not the one.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?”

“No one except you. Search your heart to find the seat of your reluctance. When you find it you’ll have your answer.”

“Perhaps I’m afraid of what I’ll find,” she confessed. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“And join millions of others who have traded fulfillment for safety and security. You are unique with gifts and dreams fashioned by a loving God just for you. Choose any other game plan and you’ll miss the excitement of fulfilling your destiny.”

“Sometimes it’s easier said than done.”

“True. However, life’s not about being easy but about being productive,” Jonah added with a shake of his head.

“I can be productive here,” Laura insisted, not yet willing to reveal her doubts.

“Sure you can.”

“Then what do you mean, Papa?”

“That it needs to be your dream and not a lukewarm extension of your father’s. I only want for you to know it is here before you commit yourself. So you’ll never have to wonder or struggle with regret.”

“But how will I know?”

“Know what?”

“The difference between mine and his.”

The question hung suspended in air, unanswered, as a muffled roar sounded.

Jonah stood and moved stiffly toward the railing, looking up. He cupped his ear, tilting it upward toward the steady drone.

“Can you see anything, Papa?”

“It sounds like a plane, but who would be foolish enough to fly in this weather? Must be a truck down on the state highway straining up Clingham’s Bluff with a heavy load.”

Then from directly above the house came the unmistakable whine of an airplane engine.

Laura joined Jonah and the two of them stood transfixed as they watched a small, single-engine plane lose altitude, its bright-red stripes glowing valiantly in the gray afternoon light.

Laura moaned, “He’s too low. He’ll never clear the mountain.”

With one last sputter, the engine died. They stared at the mountain now enveloped in fog, unable to tear their eyes from the little plane hurtling toward disaster. The small craft struggled on, before disappearing into the fog. A few moments later a flash of light pierced the gray shroud, then only silence reigned.

Laura whirled from the porch railing. “Papa,” she yelled over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs two at a time. “Call the hospital and tell them we’ll need to get a medivac copter from Louisville. I’ll saddle Maleeka and go on ahead. It may be a while before they can take off, since that storm is between the city and us.

“But, Laura, what can you do all alone up there?” Jonah protested.

Laura shot her grandfather a mischievous look. “Who was just reminding me what a competent doctor I am?”

Jonah McBride, acquiescing, nodded, a lock of thick white hair falling across his forehead. “Do you think there is a large enough level space for the copter to set down?”

“I believe there is a small plateau near the top,” Laura answered, her voice muffled by her closed bedroom door.

Laura had suited up and returned with bag in hand in record time. Her heart was pounding when Jonah met her at the bottom of the stairs, his deep-blue eyes grave with concern.

“I called the hospital. They’ll be ready. Won’t you wait for Mark? That trail is pretty treacherous after a storm. You know your mom got stranded on it one time.”

Laura smiled reassuringly at her granddad, all the while fighting the temptation to wait for Mark. She knew he had the afternoon off and her father was in surgery. She couldn’t risk the wait. Besides, didn’t she need to assume more responsibility?

“There’s a difference between Mom and me. I know the trail—she didn’t.”

“Nevertheless, it’s not safe to go up there alone. You know what kind of condition it’ll be in after that storm.”

“Do you think Mark could change the condition of the trail?”

“No, but being a man—”

“I can ride just as well as he can, Papa.”

“And doctor, too, but you might need just a little more muscle than you’ve got.” His eyes lingered on her small slender frame.

“We don’t have time to wait,” she responded gently when she encountered the fear in his eyes. Then she added with more confidence than she felt, “I’ll take some extra rope and let Maleeka make up for the muscle I lack. Suit you?”

“I guess it’ll have to. I’d give anything if these old legs would let me go up there with you. Maybe if we saddled up Stormy I might make it—”

Laura shook her head at her grandfather. “Dad would have my hide, Papa. Anyway, I need you here to direct the rescue and keep an eye out for my flares. I’ll drop some about every quarter of a mile once I get on the mountain, so you can follow my path. You will be more assistance here than on that narrow trail.”

“How are you going to get back down?”

“I don’t plan to let night catch me up there,” she said.

“What if it does?”

Laura shrugged nonchalantly and bent over to kiss her grandfather. “We McBride women seem attracted to that mountain. Don’t you worry. I won’t be the first one to spend the night up there if I have to.”

Her light tone did nothing to reassure Jonah, and he frowned, worry etched in every line of his face. “I don’t think that’s anything to make light of, Laura. Your mother was lucky she didn’t get hurt any worse than she did. You might not fare so well.”

“Luck, Grandfather? You know better than that. Mom’s destiny awaited her there. Who knows—maybe mine does, too. Anyway, we have no other choice and I could’ve already had Maleeka saddled by now. Your ‘grandfathering’ has overcome your medical instincts.”

“I just love you so, kitten,” he responded, his eyes moist and bright.

“I know, but I’m going to be all right. You just help me and your ‘kitten’ will be back before you know it,” she teased, as a lump in her throat threatened her studied composure. It had been a long time since her granddad had called her by that childhood endearment.




Chapter Two (#ulink_528db517-1b4f-5724-9e60-6e75e696c1e4)


Laura spoke softly to Maleeka and the bay mare changed smoothly from canter to gallop as if sensing the urgency in the gentle command. For a few minutes her mistress remained tense in the saddle, as images of the disaster somewhere up above her tumbled through her mind.

Once again she was to face an emergency without the reassuring presence of Mark Harrod. She wrinkled her nose slightly at the thought of Mark and smiled. She had come to depend on him as a mentor, friend and adviser. He encouraged her when she was down, teased her unmercifully, yet was always protective of her. Perhaps her grandfather was correct—she had been hiding in Mark’s shadow, afraid to trust her own judgment.

Thick pine straw carpeted the trail, while the fragrance of cedar lingered in the air, fresh and clean smelling after the rain. The branches strewn here and there testified to the violence of the brief storm. What if there were larger trees ahead blocking the narrow path higher up the mountain? No need to borrow trouble; she would deal with that if and when she had to.

The broad trail eased up through the forest and she knew Maleeka would make good time for the first few miles. Soon the steady gait of her mare provided a rhythmic therapy. Her shoulders relaxed and her body leaned into her mount, as horse and rider became one.

The magnificent mare sensed the release and thundered through the forest. Gradually, the pure joy of riding pushed aside the memories of Laura’s hectic night, and the apprehension of what awaited her on the mountain retreated. For a few brief moments she gave herself completely to this balm of relaxation that could restore her alertness and quicken her reflexes.

Soon the grim line of her mouth eased but the fine lines of fatigue still lingered around her eyes. She closed them for a moment. The wind bathed her face in a refreshing coolness, and her abundant silvery blond hair escaped the scarlet ribbon that loosely bound it, to stream out behind her in wild profusion. Freckles sprinkled her slightly upturned nose and a determined chin hinted of an independent spirit, adding the final touch to a face that was half woman-half child and altogether enchanting.

The mare slowed her pace as the trail narrowed and bent sharply to the right, where it intersected another. They had reached the foot of the mountain. Laura reined Maleeka in and peered upward. The trail’s narrow, boulder-strewn surface was muddy and slick from the rain. Even though her mount was a strong, surefooted Arabian, it would take more than skill to maneuver up that mountain. She would need a miracle.

She hesitated, weighing her chances; then, unbidden, thoughts of Darlene and her immaculate city practice tripped through her mind. Had she envied Darlene’s life-style for its excitement? She chuckled while reaching into her saddlebag to drop her first flare. At least her grandfather would know exactly when she had started up the mountain.



About halfway up the steep trail Laura dropped a second flare. She glanced at her watch. It was 3:30, roughly four hours until dark, and she had yet to sight any of the wreckage. If she didn’t soon, night would catch her up here. She shuddered. The thought did not appeal to her. Squaring her shoulders, she forged ahead.

As she neared the plateau and her destination, the path brought her to the very edge of a rock precipice that plunged to the valley below. She dropped another flare, knowing Jonah waited anxiously below. Maleeka had to thread her way among boulders, making each step secure before taking another on the slippery surface. When Laura attempted to spur the bay on, the horse would not be hurried. She knew her business was to get her mistress safely up the treacherous trail.

Thirty minutes later the smell of scorched rubber wafted through the heavy damp air. The pathway turned inward, tunneling narrowly through walls of granite, before it opened onto a plateau in the side of the mountain. A stream cascaded from above and made its way around the inside perimeter next to a sheer granite wall. Against it rested a smoldering cockpit, nose down in the bubbling stream, and on the natural shelf fifty feet away sat the splintered tail section. Perhaps at the last moment there had been a break in the clouds and the pilot had attempted a landing on the broad ledge.

Laura dismounted and, after grabbing her bag, began a systematic search of the area. Wreckage lay scattered across the rocky terrain, while clothing and papers nestled in the softly swaying sagebrush. Inside the tail section only a shoe and a few books remained, silent evidence that anyone had inhabited the plane.

She left the aircraft and turned to the edge of the plateau. Peering over the side, she looked into a thick band of trees hugging the steep slope. She saw more debris scattered beneath the trees. Stepping into the evergreens, Laura grasped the prickly trunks, and, from one to the next, braced herself as she advanced toward the ledge, scanning for bodies. Several yards away she found a small notepad flung open and facedown, with the initials M.B.J. on the supple calfskin cover. Next to it was a pale-yellow jacket, now smudged with mud, monogrammed with the same initials. But no sign of the pilot. Had he escaped before the explosion? Why had she not found him somewhere on the ledge above?

Laura’s foot slipped on the wet foliage and she slid sideways into a stalwart evergreen, ripping her slicker. Rolling over on her stomach, she reached out toward a low sturdy branch to pull herself upright, when she spied a jean-clad leg protruding from beneath a tall bush just above her.

Urgency replaced caution, and she crawled, struggling through the dense undergrowth, oblivious to the vines and limbs catching and pulling at her clothes and hair. Reaching the small broad tree, she grabbed its prickly branches and jerked them back.

A tall angular man lay crumpled on his stomach. One arm was penned beneath him, the other lay flung out above his head, the hand stilled in a groping position. Laura shook her head. Something about the back of the man’s head, his broad shoulders, stirred a memory, a vague familiarity that danced just beyond her recall.

With pounding heart, she inched her way under the tree limbs toward him. Finally her hand touched him, then she moved in, positioning herself even with the upper part of his body. Gingerly, she sat up and slid one arm under his chest, while her other braced his shoulder. As gently as possible, she pulled him over. And came face-to-face with the inert form of Dr. Michael Bradford Jeremiah.

She took his limp hand in her icy fingers and detected a vestige of warmth still clinging to his. Frantically, she searched for a pulse. Leaning her face close to his, she felt a faint breath blow against her cheek…

“Oh, Lord, he is alive!” she exclaimed aloud, half in prayer, half in confirmation.

She dropped his hand to tilt back his head and further free his air passage. Then she jerked open her bag. Incredulity lit her face as she pointed her stethoscope to his chest and found a faint and rapid heartbeat. His skin was cold and clammy, partly from the weather but more likely from shock. She needed those blankets. And help. As soon as she could administer the necessary aid she would somehow climb back up the slope to her flares.

The wind moaned through the treetops and she cast an uncertain eye to the heavens. The clouds still lingered, but visibility, at least for now, was adequate for rescue. Still, she must hurry. Darkness came quickly on the mountain.

Cuts and scratches marred his handsome features; dried blood mingled with mud and pine needles clung to his clothes and skin. He appeared different from the debonair socialite she had met only two days before, but there was no doubt in Laura’s mind. This was the very same Dr. Jeremiah who could determine her future if she decided to leave the clinic. And Darlene’s fiancé.

Laura looked above her. The disturbed ground told a mute story of his tumble from the plateau above. He had probably pulled himself to the edge and rolled over, trying to escape the plane before it erupted in flames. He was lucky the dense bush had stopped his fall; whether or not it had saved his life still remained to be seen.

She completed her examination. His wounds appeared superficial; however, she suspected his leg was broken, probably in more than one place, as well as some ribs. He had a large knot on the back of his head where dried blood matted his thick dark hair.

As gently as possible she straightened his leg and brought his arm down to his side, but he made no movement. He was deeply unconscious, or the severe pain would have evoked some response. After taking sterile pads and alcohol from her bag, she bathed his face and with deft hands raised his head slightly to dress his wound.

Now she could leave him briefly for the climb up to the plateau above. Backing out of the bush, she sat on her heels, still holding the prickly branches in her hand. Pausing, she glanced at her patient. His damp hair clung to his forehead in dark curls, and his features, even with his eyes closed, were ruggedly handsome. His still form had a vulnerability about it that provoked a strange tenderness in Laura.

She remained rooted to the spot in front of his long, lean, muscular body, while questions rioted through her mind. What had prompted his flight to this area in this weather? Could he survive? What if he didn’t? Unwittingly, a deep sorrow burdened her heart, almost as if she were contemplating a personal loss.

She shook her head, puzzled at her strange response in this quiet stillness. Had her cool physician’s objectivity deserted her? she mused, just as the wind whipped a prickly branch into her hair, stinging her neck. She took a deep, calming breath and the physician in her once again resumed control.

Turning from him, she pushed her way, slipping and sliding, back up the embankment, where she retrieved blankets and discharged three flares—the signal there was a survivor. After setting emergency markers for the helicopter, she rushed back to her patient. Just as she reached him a small boulder dislodged beneath her feet and she fell, rolling down the steep slope, straight toward the sheer cliff below them.

Clutching the blankets in one arm, she groped wildly with the other for something to slow her descent. Blond hair and pine straw mingled in a matted mass. Her shoulders and legs painfully impacted rocks, but at last she grabbed on to a tree that held her, stopping her fall.

She sat up slowly, stunned for a moment, then winced as she touched her shoulder. She raised her arm; it moved with only minimal pain. Next she flexed her fingers. Amazingly, she seemed to have nothing more serious than a few scratches and bruises. She glanced hesitantly beyond her feet, where dense evergreens gave way to air, and shuddered. Ten more feet and Brad Jeremiah would have been alone on the mountain.

Laura’s mouth tightened into a grim line as she forcefully pushed the fearful “what might have beens.” aside. Stoically, she turned and began her climb back up to her patient, this time pulling herself from tree to tree while pushing her supplies before her.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was only minutes, she arrived at Brad Jeremiah’s side, to find his condition unchanged. He was still unconscious, and his breathing remained shallow.

She brushed the dirt and straw from the blankets and rolled them tightly to pillow each side of his head. Unable to assess fully his injuries, Laura knew that one jerk of his head, given a severe spinal injury, could put him beyond a surgeon’s help.

A few rays of afternoon sun filtered through the brush and Laura looked up gratefully. The light came from low on the horizon, but maybe the rescue crew could make it before nightfall. By the time Laura finished taking his vital signs again and administered what aid she could without moving him, the lateafternoon air had turned cool. She shivered, and realized that her patient must be cold, also.

After removing her bright yellow slicker, she covered him with it. As she placed the soft flannel lining around him, he stirred. Putting a hand lightly on each of his shoulders, she leaned in, her face close to his. Eyes like two small slits opened slightly.

Laura’s heart lurched as her eyes encountered his. Even now, a commanding power emanated from the ebony pools.

“Where—where—” He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his tongue seemed too thick to form any more words.

“Please lie still. You have had an accident. Your injuries don’t appear to be life threatening and assistance is on the way.” Laura spoke slowly, distinctly, while attempting a reassuring smile.

“What h-happened?” he persisted as his tongue stiffly formed the words. His eyes, showing no hint of recognition, burned into hers.

“Your plane crashed and you are on Boulder Mountain. A helicopter will be here to get you soon.”

“Crashed?” His eyes widened, and he struggled against the gentle pressure of Laura’s hands.

“Turn loose,” he commanded.

She smiled tightly and answered in a firm voice, without releasing her hold, “Until you are thoroughly checked out, you mustn’t move. Help will be here soon.”

“Who are you?” he asked weakly, gazing up at her beautiful image; her mud-smudged face and thick, golden locks, windblown and irrepressible.

“I’m Dr. Laura McBride from the Appalachian Clinic a few miles from here, Dr. Jeremiah,” she answered softly.

He closed his eyes and remarked, “No, wood nymph.”

He raised his hand in a helpless gesture, then his body relaxed beneath her grip. He had lost consciousness again. Once more Laura attached the blood pressure cuff to his arm. The gauge confirmed her fears: his pressure was falling. Help must arrive soon, for there was little else she could do for him. Placing her patient’s hand in hers, she waited for their rescuers.



The distant whir of a helicopter broke the stillness and jerked Laura from the lethargy that had claimed her. She had not realized how weary she was from the events of the past two days. Now her body moved reluctantly from fatigue.

A grim smile parted her lips. That ought to be some ride back down the mountain as sore and stiff as I am. She winced mentally as she thought about Maleeka patiently waiting for her.

A moan from her patient interrupted her anxious speculation and she put a cool hand to his forehead. Where it had been cold and clammy earlier, it was now warm with fever.

She whispered a prayer of thanks as the distant whir changed to a deafening roar. The trees overhead blew briskly as the chopper came to rest smartly between the red glowing markers.

“Haaalloooo, Laura. Where are you?” a familiar voice called from above.

Relief flooded through every fiber of her being when she recognized Mark Harrod’s voice.

“Here, Mark. And hurry. We need a stretcher and splints. But take care—the slope is very slippery.”

The warning had hardly been issued before Mark’s tall lean frame stood beside her. He took one look at her and, seemingly oblivious to the man prostrate on the ground, reached one long arm out and pulled her to him, enfolding her in his warm embrace, as he scolded softly, “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. You wait for help next time!”

He placed his hand beneath her chin and raised her face, really looking at her for the first time. His pleasant face creased with concern. His hand moved upward to caress the cuts and scratches on her face.

“What happened to you?” he asked worriedly.

“Just banged up a bit, nothing serious. I kinda took a fall…”

“Down this embankment?” Mark all but shouted. “It ends in the valley below via Clingman’s Bluff.”

“But I didn’t end up there. Please, Mark, don’t waste time with me. He’s the one who needs your attention.” Her voice rose with anxiety for her patient.

“That’s all right, Laura. I’ll attend to him. Let Mark take care of you,” said a deep voice behind them.

Laura stood on tiptoe and peered over Mark’s shoulder, straight into the twinkling blue eyes of her father. The blood rushed to her face, tinting it scarlet. David McBride’s eyebrows raised quizzically as he took in his daughter firmly entrenched in the arms of his chief surgeon.

She pushed harder against Mark’s embrace, breaking free of the pinioning arms. “I said I’m all right!” she insisted.

“You don’t look all right. Sit down and let me dress those wounds. I don’t want that gorgeous face scarred,” Mark commanded as he stooped to open his bag.

“Don’t patronize me, Mark. Just because I’m a woman you think I need pampering.” She railed irrationally, embarrassment and fatigue taking their toll.

The young doctor glanced up, his eyes lingering on her beautiful, defiant face. She stood there glaring at him with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed uncharacteristically.

Now that he was certain she was safe, amusement danced in his warm brown eyes and he drawled, “Well, my pretty maid, I’ll have to admit it would be mighty hard for me to forget you’re a woman.” Then he added softly, “Now or anytime.”

Laura couldn’t deny the message in his eyes, the tone of his voice. It melted her stubborn resistance, and the hint of scarlet on her cheeks deepened. She stammered, “O-okay, if you insist, but I’m not hurt.”

“I do insist, and you are hurt as well as on the verge of total exhaustion. It’s a good thing I got back in time to come with your father. He’d have had his hands full trying to look after both of you.”

“Now, Mark—” she began, her eyes snapping.

“You’re right there, Mark,” the older doctor agreed. His face was serious and the twinkle gone from his eyes as he observed quietly, “This young man’s condition is touch-and-go. He may have some internal bleeding. His blood pressure has fallen some more. Were there any other survivors?”

Laura shook her head. “No. I searched this area thoroughly.”

“Were you able to get any information from him?”

“He opened his eyes once, but he was delirious— talked about wood nymphs!” Laura said as the two men stared at her, before both simultaneously burst into laughter.

Laura frowned. “I’m afraid I fail to see any humor in that.”

Her father chuckled. “I’m sure that it must have caused him some anxiety that a wood nymph was administering first aid to him.”

Laura shot him a sharp look before replying, “How did you know that?”

“That’s what you look like—some wildly beautiful forest creature,” Mark explained as he reached out and picked up a lock of her hair cascading down her back.

“I must be a sight. Perhaps I should request that the pharmaceutical company design a medical bag equipped with beauty supplies just for women doctors,” she teased, all former traces of irritation gone.

“I’ll have to disagree with that. I think this ‘new’ you is enchanting,” Mark added, his eyes perfectly serious.

“Thank you, Dr. Harrod. You’re a true friend as usual, but dreaming or not, our patient wasn’t so injured that he relished being treated by a woman doctor.”

“So that’s what got your ire up, and you took it out on poor little old me,” Mark countered.

“What are friends for if we can’t take out our frustrations on them and they still love us, right?”

“You couldn’t be more right, my dear,” the young doctor responded.

And Laura recognized the same look that she had earlier seen lighting his eyes.

For a moment the two stood staring at each other, Mark’s brown eyes immersed in her bright-blue ones. Laura stirred, uncomfortable with the raw emotion displayed in the gaze of her friend, who was usually so casual and congenial.

David spoke, breaking the spell. “He’s ready to go to the clinic now, and from my observation, not a moment too soon.”

The three doctors stood aside as two medics hoisted the stretcher and passed them on the short treacherous upward journey to the waiting helicopter.

The older doctor reached out and put an affectionate arm around his slender daughter. “You did a good job, Dr. McBride.”

She wrinkled her nose, a warm glow returning the affection in his eyes, “Thank you, Dr. McBride. Wish I could’ve done more.”

“You may well have saved his life. For sure if you hadn’t found him when you did, his chances of survival would have been slim. How does it feel saving two lives in twenty-four hours?”

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” she reminded him softly.

“That’s true, but without you there’d be no hope for this young man or Tom Crews last night.”

Laura’s eyes grew bright with unexpected tears. “That is what it’s all about, isn’t it, Dad? To save lives, to give people a chance at a better life?”

“Yes, honey. At least to me, that’s what all the work and study are about. To have you here with me, sharing my dream, fulfills my deepest hope.”

Dropping her head, she murmured, “I know, Dad. I know.”

Mark interrupted, “Okay, you two, it’s time we tried our luck at climbing that bank. Think you can make it, Laura?”

A glance at Mark assured her that the familiar, comfortable friend she knew had returned, and the uneasiness left her face. She smiled at him impudently. “What are you talking about, Dr. Harrod? I’ve been up and down that bank—I’m a pro.”

“But this time would you forgo your tumbling exercises? We really don’t have time for that!” Mark teased.

“All right, Doctor. That’s enough. I only tumbled when I came down—not going up!” She flashed a smiling response to his good natured teasing.

Mark’s easygoing personality always provided just the right amount of lighthearted repartee when she took life or herself too seriously. But she also depended on him for the strength and compassion that lay beneath his casualness. She valued his friendship as much as she did his professional skill.

Today was the first time Mark had addressed her with an endearment, but it was not the first time she had seen him, in an unguarded moment, look at her with something more than friendship in his eyes. In the past it had lasted only a moment, quickly veiled by his charming nonchalance. She had pushed it aside, not wanting to encourage or deal with it. She preferred his friendship—needed it, in fact. Theirs had been a comfortable relationship, one she wanted to remain as it was, at least for the time being.

They maneuvered up the embankment without incident, except for the resistance of Laura’s aching body. Soon they stood at the edge of the clearing, waiting for the medics to load the stretcher.

“I’ll ride Maleeka back, and you get in the copter with your dad—that is, if you won’t think I’m disparaging you because you’re a woman,” Mark teased.

Laura grimaced. “Did I really act that ugly?”

“Yeah, pretty ugly, but I’ll survive. It was momentary hysteria brought on by fatigue and exposure to the elements, not to mention the absence of one Dr. Harrod. I picked a busy time to leave, didn’t I? Did you note I said nothing or even suggested you were a hysterical woman?”

“Yes, Dr. Harrod and I wholeheartedly agree with your diagnosis, but are you sure you can handle that little mare and get back down the mountain before dark?”

“No doubt about that. David, do you think you can manage things until I can make it back to the clinic?” Mark asked half authoritatively, half teasing.

David chuckled, his eyes merry. “I don’t think we have any choice. Our cowgirl here needs some medical attention herself, and I don’t know if this aging frame is up to that wild ride down the mountain. No, I guess I’ll just have to do the best I can until you can get there.”

Both younger doctors burst into laughter. David McBride’s physical prowess at midlife was greater than men half his age. His broad shoulders rippled with muscles and his narrow hips and flat abdomen testified to the vigorous physical activity that he enjoyed every day. In fact, only the sprinkling of silver through his hair and the deepening laugh lines at the corners of his vivid blue eyes and mouth showed his years. Dr. David McBride was a handsome man, and a commanding presence both physically and emotionally. His eyes glowed with an inner strength and his carriage proclaimed him a man who knew himself and was at peace with that knowledge.

Laura had inherited her thick blond hair and deep blue eyes from her father, her fragile frame and other facial features from her mother, but her eyes glowed with her very own inner beauty that mingled with an innocent curiosity about life. The promise of strength was there and would come later when she found those answers.

Without warning, a total weariness washed over her, and, too tired to continue their bantering, she agreed, “Thank you, Mark. I’ll owe you one.”

He twisted his face in a mock, leering glare. “Never you fear, my lovely. I’ll collect.”

As soon as Laura and David were airborne, Mark started down the long trail toward the sprawling Victorian farmhouse where an anxious Jonah McBride paced up and down the old front porch.




Chapter Three (#ulink_9c1fe288-85d8-51cf-b572-96da37110ba4)


A bright midmorning sun streamed in through the leaded-glass window as a gentle breeze wafted through the open casement, stirring the lace curtains. From outside, the soft whinny of horses and the metallic clang of feeding buckets told Laura that she had overslept.

Bolting upright in bed, she gave one short yelp as pain coursed through her head in throbbing crescendos. She raised her small scratched hands and pressed her temples. The room receded in darkness for a moment, then slowly refocused.

One foot slid from beneath the satin coverlet and testily reached for the floor. Now her muscles joined her aching head in a painful refrain. She managed to sit up and bring the other foot to rest on the floor, then paused to let the recurring darkness subside once more.

After arising stiffly, she shuffled to the window, a grimace of pain contorting her features. Standing beside the window, she let the refreshing breeze bathe her face and waited for the pain to diminish. It finally eased.

Outside, Jonah stood, one leg propped up on the split-rail fence, rubbing Maleeka’s head and gazing out toward the mountain partially covered by a morning mist. She knew he was reliving yesterday and the terror he’d felt before he saw her safe and sound again. He had been waiting at the hospital when the medivac copter had returned.

She smiled. What a blessing to have a grandfather to love. In fact, what a fortunate woman she was to have a family like hers. Why would she ever want to leave this place? And yet, would she?

She limped toward the bathroom, eager to sink her sore, aching muscles into the large oversize tub supported by stately claw feet. After filling it almost to the top, she settled into the warm water, the fragrance of a spring bouquet teasing her nostrils. She soaked, letting the gentle warm pressure soothe her aching muscles, and soon even the throbbing in her head had decreased to a dull ache.

The staccato of the phone rent the air as she put the large towel around her wet locks, turban style, and fastened a long white terry robe securely around her waist.

“Dr. McBride here,” she softly answered. A twinkle lit her eyes and the corners of her mouth curled in a half smile when the familiar voice of her father sounded on the other end.

“How are our patients?” was her eager response.

“Don’t you think I’d better come in and relieve you? You’ve been up for the most part of two nights yourself,” Laura reminded him as she heard the fatigue in his voice.

“Oh? Mark’s coming in. They’ll be in good hands for sure. Yes, sir, I’ll take doctor’s orders. Rest until three, eat a light breakfast and drink plenty of fluids. See? I am a good patient. Love ya, too. Bye, now.”

She replaced the phone on the bedside table, an affectionate smile brushing her lips. She was a “daddy’s girl,” no doubt about it. Her long fingers gently toweled her hair, as her mind tripped back over the years. Although she loved her parents equally, it was her father’s approval that had motivated her to excellence. In fact, if she faced the truth, it was he who had influenced her career choice. What would she have been were her father just an ordinary man?

A rap on the door interrupted her musings.

Jonah asked from the hall, “You decent, honey? I’ve got some coffee for you.”

“You old sweetheart. I was coming down for it,” she protested, leaning over to kiss him on his weathered cheek once he’d entered.

“Let me pamper you a little. Isn’t that what grandparents are for? Since I’m the only one you have, I get to do it twice as much.” He winked at her even as a shadow of wistfulness touched his eyes.

“You still miss Grandmother, don’t you?”

He nodded. “And I will until I draw my last breath.”

“But it’s been so long.”

“Forty years. I had her for only twenty, but that was long enough to know there’d never be another for me. Some people love like that. God blesses them with such a perfect love that no one else can replace it.”

“You didn’t ever date after she died?”

He chuckled. “Sure. People tried to fix me up all the time. Believe it or not, I was quite a catch in my day.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I think you’re still a catch. But no one could live up to Grandmother?”

“No, it wouldn’t have been fair to someone else. When you’ve had the best, you can’t accept second best. I’d always been comparing and they could have never met my expectations, so I’ve settled for my memories.”

“Good ones?”

“Some wonderful ones, but some regrets, too.”

“Regrets?” Laura asked, puzzled.

“Regrets that I spent too much of my time and energy building a successful urban practice. Time I took away from my Anna. I thought we’d have plenty of time later when I got my work established. It didn’t work out that way.” He turned his piercing blue eyes on Laura and added, “Don’t ever put relationships on hold, Laura. Savor them. You never know the future.”

“Do you think Grandmother had regrets?”

A deep sadness touched Jonah’s eyes before he answered her, then he nodded. “Disappointments, too, probably, but she never voiced them to me.”

“Why?”

Jonah sighed, a sad little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Because she had learned to savor the times that we did have together and refused to let anything tarnish their splendor. That’s why I have so many wonderful memories, kitten.”

“I’m sorry I never knew her.”

“You look an awful lot like your grandmother.”

“I thought I looked like my dad.”

“You do, but you’re a lot more delicate. He resembles her.”

“Her picture is so beautiful, but it’s almost ethereal. I don’t see myself like that.”

“You do have her golden beauty, but you’re right. Yours is not an unearthly quality. You’re spunky like your mother.”

“Spunky? What do you mean by that?” Laura was puzzled as she visualized her small, dark-haired mother with large indigo eyes.

“Sometimes you have a show-me attitude, and you’re always ready to speak your mind.”

“You think mom’s got a show-me attitude?” Laura arched an eyebrow questioningly. Her grandfather’s statement surprised her. He had always loved and admired his daughter-in-law. Was there a veiled criticism in his remark?

“It’s mellowed over the years to one of strong conviction, but when she’s convinced she’s right, there is no stopping her. She speaks her mind in no uncertain terms.”

“That’s for sure,” Laura agreed. “But isn’t that part of being a good writer—being a communicator? That’s why she’s had a successful career, even though she chose to remain here in this rural area. I’ve wondered lately why she stayed here. When I was younger I just took it for granted, but lately…”

“She’s a gifted woman, but one who set her priorities in order.”

“As I think back, she never seemed to struggle with balancing a home and a career,” Laura observed thoughtfully as she held the steaming cup of coffee in both hands, savoring the aroma before she put it to her lips.

“She struggled with that decision before she married your dad. First she came to terms with what the Good Lord wanted her to do with her life. Then the rest fell into place.”

“Easier said than done.” Memories of Darlene’s tempting offer haunted her for a moment.

“I didn’t say it was easy. What’s right is rarely easy. When your mom decided to marry your father and stay here, she thought her career was over. In fact, her publisher fired her, but God just brought more and better opportunities here.” Jonah’s eyes misted as he remembered.

“How so?” Laura’s interest was piqued.

“When your mom sacrificed her goals, her ambitions and her ability for what she knew God wanted from her—marriage, a family and living in this rural mountain valley—He gave them back to her enhanced with new opportunities.”

Laura pressed her grandfather, not quite convinced. “You don’t think she would have been successful in New York? Her talents were the same. There is opportunity there.”

“She would have enjoyed a measure of success because of her extraordinary talent, but God put her here, where there was a rich field of ideas. Not only did she achieve personal achievement and international recognition, but she was able to make a positive impact on other lives. She would never have had the knowledge or opportunity in New York.”

“Do you think God is interested in everyone’s life that much, or was Mom just special?”

“Your mom’s pretty special, but I believe God is interested in all His children’s lives. If He loves us and is our Father, then how could He not be? Do you not think He’s interested in your plans?”

“Um, perhaps. To tell you the truth, I’ve not thought much about it. I’d always planned to be a doctor, and since Dad’s destiny was here, I just assumed that I was to follow in his footsteps. That is, until lately.” Laura dropped her eyes and her voice, fearing she’d revealed more than she had intended, actually more than even she was ready to admit to herself.

Her grandfather looked at her steadily, then smiled slightly, before commenting dryly, “Sometimes distinguishing between God’s will, our will and somebody else’s is difficult. But if you achieve the fulfillment you need, you’ll have to come to terms with why you are working here with us. Are you trying to fulfill someone else’s vision for your life or the destiny God has ordained for you? Only by following God’s destiny can your life accomplish its highest purpose.”

“You don’t think I can attain my goals working with Dad?”

“First you have to define your goals and determine if they’re your God-given goals or your dad’s.”

“Dad never put any pressure on me to come back here,” she defended too quickly.

“He wouldn’t knowingly. But sometimes children subconsciously pattern their lives after their parents’ in an effort to win their approval. This is especially true if they admire them.”

Laura turned from her grandfather before he could see the uncertainty his words had stirred in her. She dropped onto her chaise nestled in the alcove, where the morning sun streamed in, then looked up into her grandfather’s eyes, a resolute smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I’m quite comfortable with my situation—helping Dad and Mark at the clinic, seeing Mom every day and living here with you. Really, who could want more?”

“Comfortable? Hmm.” Jonah stroked his chin pensively before adding, “But are you fulfilled?”



The acrid smell of disinfectant greeted Laura as she entered the hospital, and the familiar rush of adrenaline pumped her heart faster. To be even a small part of God’s healing process always excited her. Today was no different. Here, she could forget the nagging questions Jonah had stirred, the brief disloyal yearnings she had felt in Louisville. Wasn’t it enough to serve in this great field of medicine? Did it matter where, so long as she did?

“Hi, Doc Laura! We didn’t expect to see you today. Figured you’d be all tuckered out after yesterday,” Francie Dunwoody greeted the young doctor in a familiar Appalachian drawl that identified her as a local.

“I’m stiff but moving, Francie. Would have been tempting to stay put today, but I didn’t want to miss out on any excitement.” Laura smiled, accustomed to the almost maternal interest the staff took in her. She knew that behind her back they often speculated about her and Mark’s relationship, but as yet none had been so bold as to broach the subject with her.

“Your dad just went up to see the new patient. He’s got everybody buzzing. How he ever survived that crash is a real mystery. You know…” She chattered on as Laura walked briskly down the polished hallway with a wave of the hand, smiling as she compared Francie’s down-home chatter with the cool diction of Ms. Brown of Metropolitan Surgeons and Associates. Sometimes Francie definitely talked too much, but when people were distressed she was a godsend at encouraging and comforting them. Come to think of it, Laura would take Francie’s warm jabber over Ms. Brown’s frosty competence any day.

Laura took the stairs two at a time, sore, aching muscles forgotten. Arriving at her office a good half hour before shift change, Laura felt a new confidence and contentment. She grabbed her white jacket and slipped it over her navy turtleneck and denim skirt.

Looking in the mirror, she laughed aloud at her image. Francie is not the only “down-home.” employee in this hospital. With that she twisted her blond cloud of lustrous curls into a ponytail and tied it with a red-and-blue gingham ribbon. She looked little more than a teenager as she raced out the door toward ICU, where Tom Watson and Dr. Brad Jeremiah resided in adjoining rooms.

Picking up Tom’s chart, she noted Brad’s was missing. Her father or Mark must be with him. She ducked her head into Tom’s room, where Joan Johnson, head nurse on the surgery wing, intercepted her. “Dr. Laura, your dad wants you in temp ICU right away. Dr. Mark is already with him.”

Laura heard low masculine voices as she let herself into the sterile pale-green room where two floor nurses checked charts by a desk lamp. The overhead lights were dim and the blinds drawn, shutting out the bright afternoon sun and the glorious view outside the window of the deep narrow gorge that was Thunderbolt Canyon.

The room was sparsely furnished. With only the necessary equipment, it served as a temporary ICU unit when the primary unit was filled to capacity. The need for additional room in surgery and research had reached a critical stage, but so far the elder Dr. McBride had not found sufficient funding to finance the expansion plans. What a far cry this was from the streamlined, well-equipped units she had visited with Darlene. But then, funding proved no problem for Darlene’s clinic. Yet, did these patients deserve any less?

She moved the curtain aside, stepped in beside Mark and met the steady gaze of her father. Laura’s heart lurched.

“Dad?” she asked a little breathlessly. “Joan said you needed me.”

He lifted his head, the light catching silver threads in his hair. Lines of fatigue etched his eyes and mouth. Laura’s heart pounded harder.

“I do. Mark and I both have appointments and will be leaving shortly. I’ve opted to keep the patient in ICU until tomorrow.”

“How is he?”

“About the same—his vital signs are stable, but he hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

“Is he still sedated from the surgery?”

“Yes, but we don’t know whether it’s that or…”

“Or what?”

“He’s unresponsive from his injury.”

“From a broken leg?” Laura questioned.

“His injuries proved a little more complicated than we thought. After Mark finished, inner cranial pressure started building up and we had to go in to relieve it. Now we’re just waiting to see what damage, permanent or temporary, was done.”

Laura’s heart sank. How would the arrogant Dr. Jeremiah cope with news that he could very well have a permanent disability? “What is the prognosis?”

“We won’t know until he regains consciousness, and that’s where you come in. I’d like for you to stay with him. There is a possibility that we might have to go in and relieve the pressure again, so he needs careful observation and a doctor on duty, just in case.”

“Sure thing. I guess you’ve written everything I need to know on the chart.”

“Not quite. There’s a matter of just how much damage may have occurred.”

“Then you’re sure there is damage?”

“Too much blood for there not to be, I fear.”

Laura nodded in agreement. “If a third surgery is required will one of you be available?”

“No, my dear, you’re it. Dr. Merritt is on standby to assist you if needed.”

She shuddered and remembered Darlene. “Dad, do you think I should get in touch with Darlene?”

“Whatever for, Laura?”

“To tell her about Brad.”

“Brad? Brad who?”

“Brad Jeremiah. Your patient.”

“You know him?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Tell us? No! We’ve worked all night trying to find out this young man’s identity so we could contact his family—we needed permission to operate. Finally, we could safely wait no longer and went ahead. If he survives with a permanent disability, no telling what kind of liability that will incur. But I felt I had no other choice,” David McBride explained, the impatience with his daughter bordering on anger.

Laura dropped her head before her father could read the dismay in her eyes. “I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly last evening. We were so busy in the copter, and then later I went home. Until this moment I didn’t realize I had not told you who he is. I’m so sorry.”

David sighed. “What matters now is who this Brad Jeremiah is and if we can get in touch with the family.”

“His name is Dr. Michael Bradford Jeremiah, and he’s a physician in the same practice with Darlene. I met him briefly Sunday night at his apartment.”

Mark quirked an inquisitive brow in her direction.

Laura blushed and stammered, “I-it was a party with some of Darlene’s associates. She took me there.”

Mark drawled, trying to lighten the moment, “I didn’t know you went to Louisville to go a-partyin’ at some rich and handsome doctor’s digs. I’d have canceled your leave.”

“Did you meet his family or do you know where we can get in touch with them?” David bristled, his brows drawn together, the stress of the past two days showing.

“No, sir. Only Darlene. I’ll call her. She should know.” Laura’s answer was clipped.

“Then call her.”

“How much shall I tell her?”

“About the accident, of course.”

“How about his injuries?”

“Injured but stable, and we won’t know the extent until he regains consciousness. Ask how we can contact his family,” the older McBride snapped, then he wheeled on his heel and left the room.

Silence reigned for a few awkward moments, then Mark whistled. “Got his hackles up, I guess.”

“He was right. I did drop the ball,” Laura admitted, troubled.

“I don’t think that’s what’s wrong with him. I think he’s exhausted, and this beating the bushes for funds is not a role that suits him. As for yours truly, I kinda like it. It’s a challenge getting these folks to part with their money. In fact, the two committee men I met with yesterday are coming tonight to tour the hospital. That research grant will be ours if they give the go-ahead. Now how do you like that for my power of persuasion, my young Dr. Mac?” he teased, trying to take her mind off her confrontation with her father.

“I would never doubt your powers of persuasion, Dr. Harrod. Can anyone withstand your Irish charm?” Laura responded, looking up directly into his eyes, a ghost of a smile struggling to emerge.

Mark lifted his eyebrows, questioningly. “Hmm. How about you, Laura?” His voice teased, but his warm brown eyes grew serious.

Laura dropped her eyes, reluctant to go on to the next phase of their relationship. Her heart lurched at the thought of loosing her carefree give-and-take with Mark. It wasn’t that she couldn’t love Mark. He was everything she wanted in a man. He was sensitive and caring, a man of strong character and principle. He was handsome and fun to be with, and above all they enjoyed a shared faith and dedication to their work. Yet for some strange reason she wasn’t ready for that ultimate commitment.

Laura lifted her head, forcing her emotions under control, and winked at him. “I’ll never tell, for then you might have me in your power.”

Mark clicked his heels together and with a mock bow responded, “I shall live in anticipation of that day.”

“Now, if you two have finished clowning we’ll attend to the patient,” David McBride said as he strode through the door, charts in hand.

Laura turned toward him, to see his dear, one-sided grin aimed at her. The familiar twinkle in his eye told her that all was forgiven, and she breathed a sigh of relief.



Darlene had taken the news of Brad’s accident in stride. Giving Laura the name of his mother, who was somewhere in Delaware, she promised to come as soon as possible. Two of the physicians on staff at Medical Surgeons were away, and with Brad’s absence, Darlene’s workload prevented her from leaving on a moment’s notice.

Meanwhile, Laura would contact Brad’s mother and hold the fort until Darlene could arrive. She fervently hoped that the patient would be much improved before that. But her father’s concern lay like a heavy weight on her shoulders. What would be the aftereffects of Brad Jeremiah’s accident? And if there were any, how would he adjust? She drew in a ragged breath and prayed that his consciousness would soon return. Only then would they know what he faced and their part in his recovery.

Now for the unpleasant task of phoning his mother.

Her call proved fruitless. She was an invalid in a rest home on the Chesapeake Bay. The officials there would not allow Laura to speak to her, and said they would relay the message. A sense of lonely frustration swept over her. Drawn like a magnet to his room, Laura returned time after time to stand by his side, willing him to open his eyes, but to no avail. His condition remained unchanged, his breathing steady but labored, his other vital signs stable.

Imagine being confined to a hospital, with serious injuries and no loving family huddled around. She suddenly felt a great empathy for this man she hardly knew. She shook her head, trying to regain a physician’s objectivity. But she couldn’t. Until Darlene arrived, she was the closest thing Dr. Brad Jeremiah had to family or friend. And so she waited as anxious as any loved one. Fearful he wouldn’t awake, and even more fearful of what faced them when he did.




Chapter Four (#ulink_80b1d55d-b9bb-5ecc-8dfe-8af456174f31)


Midafternoon Laura went to her office to take a shower, hoping it would revive her from what felt like a drowsy stupor that was no doubt a lingering effect of the powerful sedative Mark had administered the night before. She kept a change of clothes in her closet for just such emergencies. She put on a softly feminine blue blouse and navy skirt, this time opting to leave her hair down. It billowed like a soft blond cloud around her shoulders. The mirror reflected her pale face as she carefully applied blush to her cheeks. The long, luxurious lashes framing her vivid blue eyes needed little mascara, just as her near-perfect complexion needed no makeup. Finishing up with a little color on her lips, Laura remembered Mark’s appointment and was glad she had changed from her denim skirt. If the prospective donors toured the hospital she wanted to present a professional image.

For the moment Laura felt refreshed, but she dreaded the long hours of limited activity, fearing her lethargy would return. She returned to Brad Jeremiah’s room to begin the long vigil again.

Several hours elapsed before she left him to check on Tom Watson and grab a bite to eat in the staff dining hall, after instructing the nurses to page her the moment they detected any change in the patient. Just as she was finishing her coffee, the PA announced her number, directing her to the surgical floor.

Five minutes later Laura alighted from the elevator. “What’s up, Hilda? Dr. Jeremiah awake?”

The short, ample nurse in her late fifties raised one lightly penciled brow. “So that’s his name, eh? No, but Tom Watson was asking for you.”

Laura took the chart Hilda handed her and walked swiftly through the door next to the nurses’ station. Tom Watson lay in the bed nearest the door, his eyes wide and alert. When he saw the young doctor, he grinned broadly, softening his homely features into pleasant contours beneath his bandaged head.

“How are you feeling, Tom?”

“I’m hurtin’ some, Dr. Laura, but thanks be to the Good Lord and you I can feel something, even if it is a little pain. That was a close call and I just wanted to thank you.”

“You’re right Tom—it was the Good Lord. Physicians can operate and medicate, but the miracle of healing is still in His hands. You can thank Him that you’ll be almost as good as new in a few months if you’re faithful to your therapy.”

“Aye, that I’ll be. Jenny and the kids—they’ll be needing me. I don’t know what I’ll do until then.”

“We’ll figure out something, Tom. You just worry about getting well.”

“Anyhow, thanks, Doctor.”

Laura took Tom’s hand and squeezed it, smiling. “That was my pleasure. I’ll check in on you later. I have another patient in the next room, so I’ll be here all night if you need me.”

Tom’s lopsided grin peeped from beneath the heavy bandages. “That’s comforting to know, Doctor.”

Laura said a quick goodbye and rushed down the hall to the Jeremiah room. She pushed open the door, only to find the scene much as it was when she’d left it, except now only one nurse, lovely and young Gretchen Evans, sat at the temporary station, poring over charts.

The blond, green-eyed girl looked up when Laura entered and smiled. “Dr. Laura, I was just about to page you. His condition is stable, but he’s been stirring some and mumbling. Shall I take his blood pressure for you?”

Laura returned the young nurse’s smile, shaking her head. She liked Gretchen. The daughter of a miner, she had grown up in Wales and been educated in England, then continued her specialized training in America by taking some graduate courses in Kentucky. Her clipped British accent mingled with the slow Southern cadence spoken in the hospital, creating a strangely pleasing mixture of sounds.

“No, thank you. I will. Suppose you go on to supper. Stop on your way out and tell Hilda you’re leaving.”

Gretchen looked at her watch and nodded. “See you at half past the hour unless I hear from you before then.”

Laura picked up the patient’s chart and walked toward the bed, her crepe-soled shoes making whispering sounds on the hard shiny floor. When she reached the bedside, she unbuttoned her jacket and took a stethoscope and a small flashlight from her skirt pocket.

Pausing for a moment, she studied the patient. His color was good; his breathing appeared normal; but his creased brow and the hard set of his mouth indicated that either his dreams were unpleasant or he was experiencing some pain.

She leaned closer. He moaned slightly and the frown deepened as his dark-brown eyes opened to stare blankly into hers.

Laura drew back at the intensity in them, catching her breath in an inaudible gasp; yet she seemed powerless to take her eyes from his. In that unguarded moment before full consciousness arrived, his eyes revealed pure, agonizing heartbreak while at the same time blazing with a fire and vitality that sent shock waves to Laura’s innermost being.

She remained close to him, mesmerized by what she saw, yet feeling like an intruder as he grappled to return to consciousness. For a moment she had gazed into the very soul of this man and, unknown to him, witnessed some deep, unidentified longing that tormented him. It both awed and fascinated her.

So entranced by what she saw, she failed to notice one muscular arm move from beneath the sheet. Suddenly, with lightning speed and inconceivable strength, it encircled her neck while his other hand grasped a handful of her hair. He pulled her face to his.

“Mona, Mona. Why? Why?” he groaned as his lips claimed hers.

Too stunned to recoil and too afraid of injuring him by forceful resistance, Laura closed her eyes and waited, locked motionless in the man’s embrace, waiting for the inevitable. She knew that soon the adrenaline would expend itself and he would slip limply from his semiconscious state back into oblivion, where he would have no painful recall of the past few moments.

Not so for Laura. Her heart thumped wildly and her inner ears reverberated with the name Mona. Who was she? The source of his agony, perhaps. She knew the answer. His kiss had told her. It contained no tenderness, only a commanding possessiveness. But what about Darlene?

He released her lips and his eyes closed. When Laura turned her head slightly, his arm locked like a vice around her neck and his fingers pulled her long thick hair.

Pushing against the bed with her hands, she maneuvered her body gently, straining to take some of her weight off him, hoping the gentle resistance would free her without injury to him, but his grip only tightened.

She groped for the emergency light and it fell with a clatter to the hard floor. Rising anxiety pumped Laura’s heart even more wildly; she was trapped.

She considered her alternatives. She could ring for Hilda, but by the time help arrived Laura might be free. Anyway, she’d just as soon the affable but talkative nurse didn’t find her in this situation. It would be the sole topic of hospital conversation by morning and for weeks to come.

She muffled a gasp. Her momentary position was not only embarrassing but painful. If he didn’t relax his hold soon she would be forced to call for assistance. The door opened quietly behind her and she heard soft footsteps in the room. Laura whispered, “Hilda? I need some assistance.”





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