Graced
A Love Letters Novel
Kristen Blakely
Copyright © 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Contents
Graced
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Haunted
Love Letters
About the Author
Graced
I've outgrown him, but I haven’t forgotten him...
My ambitions have always been bigger than the town of Havre de Grace, but when my father has a heart attack, I return home to find the town little changed—
—except that Connor Bradley, the high school nerd, is now the town’s doctor, a Grade-A hunk, and a widower with two young children.
He doesn’t have time for distractions, not while juggling single parenthood and his clinic on five hours of sleep a night. I’m the girl he remembers as the high school flirt who left Havre de Grace for the bright lights of the city. I’m a dangerous distraction he doesn’t want and can’t afford.
When Connor’s plans for his first Christmas without his wife are derailed, I know I can step in and save the day for his adorable children.
But do I want to?
I’ve come so far, and I don’t know if I can go back…not even for him.
Chapter 1
Ten dead in as many days.
It had reached the scale of an epidemic.
Thirty-year-old Dr. Connor Bradley braced himself for accusations of brutish ignorance and downright incompetence as he pushed on the door to enter the store.
The elderly gentleman behind the counter looked up with a smile. “Connor!” Moments later, his smile slipped, and the kindly blue eyes lost their friendly twinkle. “Another one?”
Connor nodded.
“Are you eating them for breakfast?”
“I don’t know what’s going on.” Connor held up a plastic container. “I brought a water sample, just in case.”
Huffing, old Mr. Langford tested the chemicals in the aquarium water. He frowned. “It’s perfectly balanced. Your filter and air pump working fine?”
“The tank looks great, but every morning, there’s a goldfish floating belly up in the tank.”
“And that’s the only goldfish, right?”
“We have only that one fish in that tank. I have a smaller tank in my bedroom closet with the backup goldfish, and that one does fine until he’s transferred to the big tank. The next morning, he’s gone too.”
Mr. Langford snorted, the sound edged with humor. “I’d say your tank is cursed, but that would be impossible. How hard is it to keep a goldfish alive for more than twenty-four hours?”
Connor dragged his fingers through his dark hair and scowled. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. Medical school was easier than this.”
“Good thing you’re a better doctor than you are a goldfish owner.”
“One would hope. Anyway, I need another backup goldfish. Better make it two to save me a trip out here tomorrow.”
Mr. Langford shuffled to the goldfish tank. Squinting at the flurry of bright orange fins and tails, he selected two that looked relatively alike and scooped them up with a net, before depositing them into Connor’s plastic container. “Has Grace caught on yet that you’re swapping out the dead goldfish with a live one every morning before she wakes up?”
Connor shook his head. “No. Thank God, the goldfish all look alike.”
Mr. Langford’s lips tugged into a half-smile. “You might want to think about telling her. She’s six; she ought to learn how to handle things like this.”
Like death. Tension stiffened Connor’s shoulders, and a muscle twitched in his smooth cheek. “Not yet. It’s too soon.”
The line furrowing Mr. Langford’s brow gave him a concerned look. “What are you doing this year for Christmas?”
“We’ll be in Orlando, visiting my parents and staying through the New Year. I’ll take the kids to Disney World for a few days. It seemed…smarter to get away from home this year.”
“You can’t outrun memories of Millie forever,” Langford said gently.
“No, but I can put it off for a year, maybe two, until Grace and Hope are older and I can explain to them how their mother died.” His voice cracked slightly. “Christmas will always be rough.”
“And how is Hope doing?”
“On track for a one-year-old. She alternates walking and crawling, but hasn’t started speaking yet.”
“I expect she will soon.”
Connor nodded. “What about you? Any Christmas plans?”
Mr. Langford rubbed at his lower jaw and neck. “Nothing special. We’ll be in town; just a quiet family Christmas.”
“Is Noelle coming back this year?” Connor asked, referring to the Langford’s youngest daughter, Noelle, who had entered high school as a freshman the year he’d graduated.
“No. She’s still in love with the bright lights of Los Angeles. You’d think that after eight years, she’d have come to her senses.”
Connor heard wistfulness in Mr. Langford’s voice. “The cities offer a great deal,” he conceded. “I had fun living in Boston for a while.”
“Yet you didn’t stay there.”
“The eight years for college and medical school were too long. Millie and I couldn’t wait to come back to Havre de Grace.” He shrugged. “We were just different, I guess. Homebodies.” He glanced at the two fish in the plastic container. “I should get them home and into the backup tank.”
“Do you have an automatic feeder for when you’re away?”
Connor nodded. “I do, and we’re not leaving for another two days. Our flight to Orlando leaves on Christmas eve.”
“Sounds good.” Mr. Langford grinned, displaying white teeth. “You mind those two fish you have there. I’m not selling you another one before Christmas.”
Connor chuckled. “Gotcha.” He turned to leave, but at Mr. Langford’s sharp inhalation of breath, he glanced over his shoulder. The older man sagged against the counter. Connor rushed back to him. “What’s happening?”
Mr. Langford pressed a fist against his abdomen. “Just heartburn.” His breath came in short pants, as if he could not get enough air into his lungs. “Feeling woozy. I’ll be okay if I just sit for a bit.” He sank with relief into the chair Connor brought to him and mopped the beads of sweat off his forehead.
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Any discomfort in your chest?”
Mr. Langford shook his head.
“Any discomfort anywhere else? I saw you massage your neck and jaw just now.”
The old man blinked, as if assessing his aches for the first time. He rolled his shoulders slowly. “Just a slight pain along my back and arms.”
“One or both?”
“Both.”
“Any nausea?”
Mr. Langford nodded. “Breakfast probably didn’t agree with me. Damn eggs.”
>
“Do you have any aspirin here?”
“Cabinet over there.” The old man indicated with a jerk of his chin.
Connor retrieved the bottle of aspirin and handed Mr. Langford a single tablet. “Don’t swallow it whole; chew it.”
Bewildered, the old man began chewing on the tablet as Connor tugged his smartphone out of his pocket and dialed 911. “This is Connor Bradley. Send an ambulance to Langford’s pet store right away.”
Mr. Langford clutched Connor’s arm. His hands trembled. “What’s going on?”
“I’m your doctor; I know your medical history. You’ve never had heartburn in your entire life.” Connor kept his voice calm. “Your symptoms…I think you may have just had a heart attack.”
Chapter 2
Noelle Langford slumped against the countertop at the nurses’ station. Her duffle bag hit the tiles with a loud thump, drawing the attention of the female nurse and male doctor engaged in deep discussion behind the station.
The frantic phone call from her older sister earlier that day had resulted in an overpriced plane ticket from Los Angeles to the Baltimore-Washington International Airport, followed by an hour’s cab ride to the Harford Memorial Hospital. Even so, nearly ten hours had passed since the phone call—each hour piling uncertainty upon stress. Her mind fluttered with panicked “what ifs,” none of which had any answers.
Noelle drew a deep breath, but her pulse continued to skitter without any regard for her meditative techniques. “I’d like to see Alan Langford.”
The nurse frowned. “Visiting hours ended at ten. You can come back tomorrow at nine.”
“Please. I’m his daughter. I just got in from LA., and I need to see him for myself. I have to make sure he’s all right.”
The nurse’s scowl deepened, but the dark-haired doctor spoke up. “Go on. He’s in 114. I think he’s still awake.”
“Thank you so much.” Noelle grabbed her duffle bag and continued down the hallway. The reflection of florescent lights off the polished tiled floors aggravated her headache, but she straightened her shoulders and smoothed away the hint of a frown. She tapped on the door, and a relieved sigh whispered out of her when she heard her father’s voice say, “Come in.”
She pushed the door open. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Noelle!” Her father sat upright in the bed. The IVs trailing along both sides of the bed made him look like a marionette with cut strings. “You came so quickly.”
“Of course. I wish I could have been here sooner.” She crossed to the bed and snaked her arms through the IVs to hug him. He was solid, warm, and alive. Tears stung her eyes. “I was so afraid.” She choked the words out past the lump in her throat.
He huffed as he gently stroked her hair. “Wish I’d known all along the trick of getting you back home for Christmas.”
“Not funny, Daddy. It’s not helping.”
“I’m just so glad to see you.” His voice caught too. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s okay. She made me promise to call her as soon as I got an update on your status.”
“Nursing home all right with her?”
Noelle nodded. “She likes it there; she’s made lots of friends.”
“I just bet.”
Noelle heard the rasp of unhappiness in her father’s voice. The divorce her mother had instigated was eight years in the past, but apparently her father was still not entirely over it. Noelle knew better than to dwell on it. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. “So, tell me, what happened?”
He rubbed a hand against his chest. “I didn’t feel any pain in my chest. I thought it was heartburn, and just some general aches, you know, from growing old. By the way, don’t do it.”
“Grow old? I’ll try not to. And then what happened?”
“Good thing Connor was in the store at that time. Smart lad noticed me rubbing my jaw and neck, asked me about the rest of my symptoms, and called the ambulance. When we got to the hospital, turns out he was right. I did have a heart attack. If I’d been alone or with someone who didn’t know the difference between a heart attack and heartburn, it probably wouldn’t have turned out well.”
Noelle clasped her father’s gnarled hands fervently. “Thank God. So what happens now?”
“They want to keep me here for a few days, for observation.”
“Okay.”
“But it’s Christmas. I don’t want to spend Christmas in a hospital room.”
“Holly and I will bring a tree and decorate the room for you.”
“It’s not the same thing. Can’t you talk to the hospital? See if they’ll make an exception for an old man?”
Noelle sighed. “I’ll try, but I want to make sure you get the best care.”
“And someone’s got to run the pet store. I have two boys minding the counter, but it’s not the same as having the owner there. Holly can’t; she’s got her own day job.”
“I’ve got the pet store covered until you get better, Daddy, but just so you know, this offer isn’t open indefinitely,” she said sternly when she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “You can’t use it as an excuse to keep me here.”
Her father’s gaze shifted to something behind her, and she turned around to see the doctor who had given her permission to see her father after visiting hours. The doctor smiled, a slight curve to his lips that gentled his otherwise stern expression. “How are you feeling, Mr. Langford?” His voice was a smooth baritone, ideal for calming querulous patients and anxious family members.
“I’m ready to go home,” the old man grumbled.
“We’d like to run a couple more tests—”
“I could bring him back in during the day for those tests,” Noelle interceded. “Please. He just wants to be home for Christmas.”
A muscle ticked in the doctor’s cheek as he sighed. His strong jawline was subtly dusted with a five o’clock shadow. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Connor,” her father said.
That was Connor? Not Connor Bradley, surely. Wasn’t he the tall, skinny guy who had been in the same class with her older sister? He’d worn glasses, then, and a perpetually worried expression, as if the cares of the world rested on his shoulders. He’d been a certifiable nerd, and endured his share of mockery and bullying from the jocks who ruled the social hierarchy at Havre de Grace Senior High School. He hadn’t allowed the bullying to upset his equilibrium or wreck his grades. When he graduated as the class valedictorian and enrolled at Harvard University, he placed himself out of the reach of his teenaged tormentors.
Sweet heavens, he had changed. His doctor’s scrubs couldn’t conceal his lean, muscular frame, and his sweet, worried expression had been schooled into professional compassion. He had apparently abandoned his glasses in favor of contact lenses or laser surgery. Probably the former, Noelle thought. The latter required more vanity than she imagined Connor possessed.
She stepped forward and extended her hand to him. “I’m Noelle, Holly’s sister. I don’t know if you recognize me—”
“I do.” His smile widened slightly. The corners of his tired eyes crinkled. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but welcome back to Havre de Grace.” He glanced at Noelle’s father. “Let me see what I can do to get you out of here.”
Noelle waited until he left the room. “That was Connor Bradley, right?”
“Yeah. You were in high school with him, weren’t you?”
“He was in Holly’s class. He was a senior when I was a freshman. I didn’t realize he came back to Havre de Grace after medical school. He’s your doctor?”
Her father nodded. “He’s much better at keeping people alive than he is at keeping goldfish alive.”
She laughed when her father gave her the lowdown on Connor’s repeated visits to the pet store. “That’s terrible. Who knew we had a goldfish serial killer in our midst?” She pushed to her feet. “Let me talk to him and see if we can get you back home tonight.”
Noelle found Connor on his cell phone. His back
was to her, so he did not see her approach. He had propped his shoulder against the wall, his frame subtly hunched. Connor shook his head as he spoke to the person on the phone. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know the timing is terrible, but nobody plans for these things to happen. …Yes, I realize Grace is going to be upset. …I don’t know; I’ll figure something out. It’ll be fine. …Yeah, I’m sorry. Maybe next year. …No, not early next year. Jason’s wife is due in January, so I’ll be putting in double time while he’s out on paternity leave. Maybe later. March, April. We’ll sort it out. …Yeah, we’ll Skype on Christmas Day, and don’t worry about sending the gifts. Overnight postage is crazy. The kids will get them when they get them. …Hope doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. …I’ll handle Grace; she’ll be fine. …Mom, stop worrying, all right?” Frustration seeped into his voice. “I’m fine. I just…I’ll talk to you on Christmas Day.” He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket.
Noelle stared at the wall of his back. She swallowed hard and then cleared her throat softly.
Connor turned around. “Noelle.”
The weariness on his face made her chest ache for him.
He made no reference to his phone call. “Let’s get your dad checked out, and I’ll give you both a ride back to Holly’s place.”
“He can leave?”
“Yeah, it’s all sorted out. I’ll let you and your sister know what danger signs to look for, and I’ll check in on him a couple of times a day.”
“I didn’t know you made house calls.”
“It’s Havre de Grace. We’re not big on formality here. Come on.”
In spite of the nurse’s stern frown, Connor expedited the paperwork and checked Noelle’s father out of hospital. Noelle grabbed her duffle bag and scurried to keep up with Connor as he wheeled her father out to a waiting taxi.
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