Copyright
ISBN 978-1-59789-454-8
Copyright © 2007 by Andrea Boeshaar. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All scripture quotations are taken from the holy Bible, New International version®. Niv®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
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One
The late April sunshine sparkled off the blue-green water in the swimming pool and bounced off the blacktop on the tennis courts. Up in her third-floor condominium, Ravyn Woods stepped away from the window and breathed in a sigh of contentment. “What a view!”
“Yep. You’ve got a nice place here, sis.”
“Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder at her younger sister, Teala, who had stayed overnight to help her unpack. “I’ve saved for a long time to buy this condo.”
“I think it was worth it, although Mom and Dad are of the opinion you paid too much for your unit.”
The remark didn’t surprise Ravyn. She knew her parents couldn’t understand her need to move out and into a home of her own. “Oh, they’ll just miss my cooking and cleaning and paying rent each month.”
“Yeah. Now Violet and I have to pick up the slack.”
Teala laughed and Ravyn smiled. The truth was Ravyn never minded helping with housework and paying her folks the small rental fee they charged. In fact, she often purchased groceries and stocked the kitchen cupboards. She cooked supper, too, on the nights she was home, although that wasn’t often. Nevertheless, she saw to it that there was food in the house. Ravyn only hoped her family didn’t starve to death now that she’d moved out of their modest home on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Grinning at her facetious thought, she peered outside once more. She stretched like a feline and appreciated the scenery below. Life couldn’t get any better. But the best part would begin Monday night. That’s when Ravyn would officially begin her new job as a registered nurse in the emergency room at the prestigious Victory Medical Center. It was the job she’d been striving toward for years and the stepping-stone she needed to attain the rest of her goals.
“It’s all coming together,” she muttered. “Just like I planned.”
“Did you say something, Rav?”
“Oh, just muttering to myself.” She turned from the window just as Teala reentered the room.
“I took something into the kitchen and missed what you said.”
“I was just thinking aloud, that’s all.”
Teala continued to empty one of the many boxes strewn around the living room. “I hope you’ll let me come and stay with you sometimes.”
“Of course I will.” Ravyn watched her sister blow a strand of tawny hair out of her aquamarine-colored eyes. “You can stay with me anytime. Violet can, too, although if you two come at the same time you’ll still have to share a room.”
“Oh, I plan to visit, all right,” Teala said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, “but are you ever going to be home? Being a nurse seems awfully demanding.”
“If I know you’re coming for a visit, I’ll adjust my schedule.”
Teala paused and regarded her askance. “Don’t you think you work a little bit too much? Mom thinks so, and she worries that since you’ve got this condo now you’ll be working more than ever.”
Ravyn shrugged out an initial reply, then added, “I do what I have to do. I’m single. I don’t have kids. Why shouldn’t I work hard?”
“That makes sense, but—well, you might stop and smell the coffee sometimes.” Teala grinned at her.
“Oh, I smell the coffee. It’s the sustenance that gets me through those double shifts. In fact, I bought a new latte machine. It’s around here someplace.” Ravyn eyed each box, trying to recall where she’d packed her new “toy.”
“What about church?” Teala removed bathroom paraphernalia from the box she continued to empty. “I’m not taking attendance or anything, but Mom and Dad are concerned because you never go to church anymore.”
“I will. As soon as I get my life on track.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon. I’m almost there. I mean, a few years’ experience in Victory’s ER and then I can apply for that research position I’ve been coveting at the University of Wisconsin Hospital in Madison.”
“You’re such a brain, Ravyn.” Her sister laughed. “And you’re a hard worker. I admire that.”
“I just don’t want to end up a charity case like Mom and Dad were all those years. A real job means money in the bank. Don’t let anyone try to convince you that ministry alone will support you financially. It doesn’t. We know that firsthand.”
“Some ministries do.”
“Maybe, but I’m just emphasizing what I believe. God expects us to be responsible.” She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you remember how many times we went to bed hungry because Mom and Dad were waiting for God to provide our next meal?”
“That wasn’t God’s fault. He provided. It’s just that instead of going to the grocery store, Mom and Dad spent their last dollars on paint and canvases for Dad’s next production.”
“Yeah, well, that won’t happen to this girl.” Ravyn pointed her thumb at her chest. “I never want to emulate our parents’ lifestyle. They were—irresponsible.”
“I agree.” Teala wiped her dusty palms on the back of her blue jeans. “But, you’ve got to admit, people have to enjoy what they do. At least Mom and Dad have been happy all these years.”
“I can’t argue with that. They’re like big kids.” Ravyn gave her head a few wags in exasperation. She’d had to grow up fast and help take care of her family—including her parents. But her childhood hadn’t been all responsibility and no play. Most of the time her fond memories overshadowed the difficulties. Her family was, in fact, very close-knit, and Ravyn felt especially grateful for her younger sister’s companionship. Although Teala was six years younger than she, Ravyn thought of her as a special friend.
“Hey, Rav, I forgot to tell you; I’m changing my major again.”
“Again!” She shook her head in wonder. This was the third time Teala had changed her college major. “So what is it now?”
“Communications. I found out the hard way that a degree in business isn’t for me.”
“Well, I’m sure you can do a lot with a communications degree. It’s general enough.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” A mischievous gleam entered her eyes. “On the other hand, I suppose I could marry a millionaire and buy a house as big as this entire condominium complex.”
“Sure, and you could capture a rainbow, too.” Ravyn arched a brow. “You’ll marry Greg. He’ll continue to be a hardworking Christian day-school teacher and you’ll be a professional student the rest of your life.”
“Oh, you just hush. What do you know, anyway?”
“I know you, that’s what I know.” Ravyn couldn’t contain a little chuckle.
Teala feigned an indignant look.
“You’re smitten and that’s the end of it.”
Acquiescence poured over her features. “You’re right. I am.” A faraway look suddenly entered her eyes.<
br />
“Good grief.” Ravyn sent her sister a pathetic glance. However, as Teala’s big sister, she heartily approved of Greg Charney, the tall, blond, handsome young man who could easily be a modern-day John Wayne. “Teala, you’re a dreamer. Just like our folks. I knew it all along.”
“Hey, I have a mother who is, by her own words, a ‘paintress’ and a father who heads up a Christian theater group. I was doomed from birth.”
“Yeah, maybe I was, too,” Ravyn conceded. “But every time I think about how Mom or Dad would handle a situation, I do the opposite.”
“Ooh, yeah. That’s a good idea.” Teala smiled and sat cross-legged on the plush carpeting. She tipped her head and strands of her golden-brown hair fell over one shoulder. “But you know what? Whether we want to admit it or not, we all have our dreams—including you.”
“I have goals, not dreams. And they’re all very practical.” Ravyn lowered her slender form onto an adjacent cardboard box. “But what’s really important to me is that I have a meaningful career and enough money to live on. I want new clothes—not raggedy ol’ things that even resale shops won’t sell—and I can see myself driving a hot red sports car.”
“With lots of speeding tickets,” Teala added with a snort of laughter.
“Oh, stop it.” Ravyn shot her a look of annoyance. “I just want the conveniences a woman in this day and age require for a comfortable lifestyle. In other words, I want my needs met for once in my life.” She glanced around her new home. “And it all begins with this place.”
“Um, aren’t you missing something very important in all your goals?”
Ravyn regarded her sister askance. “Like what?”
“Like love!”
❧
Her younger sister’s reply haunted Ravyn for the next twenty-four hours. But, as she drove to Victory Medical Center where she’d soon begin working the night shift in the ER, she pushed aside the notion that her goals in life didn’t include love. Of course they did. Every twenty-seven-year-old woman Ravyn knew wanted to get married and raise a family—including her! At the present, however, she didn’t have time to cultivate a romantic relationship.
Ravyn clutched the steering wheel of her two-door compact car. The vehicle was far from the hot-red sports car that she had mentioned to Teala, but its dependability suited her needs for the time being. But someday that shiny new auto would be as real as her condo. As for love. . . Well, the sports car seemed more attainable.
Ravyn stopped at a red light. Up ahead she glimpsed the hospital’s impressive brick structure, illuminated by numerous street lamps. She recalled her announcement to her family years ago that she would become a nurse. Her parents were disappointed at first. They would have preferred that she pursue something in the arts. But Ravyn knew firsthand that the term starving artist wasn’t just a mere cliché, and she wanted more in life than to wear secondhand clothing and depend on public transportation.
Now she was in the process of attaining those goals.
Ravyn drove into the concrete parking structure connected to the hospital and pulled into a slot. She couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous, even though she was confident about her abilities. She’d spent the last few years working on the surgical floor in preparation for this job as an ER nurse. Now tonight, after a week of hospital orientation, two weeks in the urgent care department, and another ten days training in the triage area, she was officially beginning the job she’d longed to do for years: work in the ER.
Entering the hospital through its employee entrance, Ravyn headed for the locker room that she shared with several other female nurses. Once she had changed into her light-blue scrub pants and a colorful printed smock top, she strode toward the ER. The soles of her white athletic shoes squeaked against an unfamiliar gleam of fresh wax that shone from the light-colored floor tiles. Sounds of a vacuum cleaner off in the distance added to Ravyn’s odd feeling; she was accustomed to being here during the daytime when this hospital bustled with patients and visitors. Now it seemed—deserted.
Her perspective soon changed, however, as she walked through the emergency room’s automatic doors. A kind of controlled chaos buzzed all around her, and in that moment, Ravyn felt like a lost little girl at a crowded shopping mall.
Moments later, a tap on her shoulder caused Ravyn to turn. She immediately came face-to-face with Liz Hutchinson, a veteran trauma nurse. Ravyn had become acquainted with Liz during her training in the triage area, and Liz was assigned to be Ravyn’s preceptor for the next eight weeks. The middle-aged woman had a bawdy edge to her personality, an edge that ran contrary to Ravyn’s private, no-nonsense qualities. Nevertheless, Liz’s nursing skills had impressed Ravyn from day one.
“Bus accident,” Liz said as she snapped shut the chart she held.
“Are you kidding?” Ravyn couldn’t hide her disbelief.
“Honey, I’m as serious as a blood clot.” Weariness shone in Liz’s blue eyes. “A tour bus was on its way back from a Wisconsin casino when the driver went off the road. Busy night—and I just happen to be working a double shift. I was hoping things would be quiet, but. . .” She glanced around. “The dice didn’t roll in my favor.”
Ravyn grinned at the pun, then gazed around at the numerous patients on gurneys. Some of the portable beds lined the outer wall of the ER’s main area called the arena.
“No life-threatening injuries,” Liz continued. “Just your typical lacerations and a few broken bones.”
Ravyn nodded for lack of a better response and followed Liz’s stocky form to one of the counters that ran parallel to a row of exam rooms.
“Are you punched in?”
“Yep.”
“Good. I could use some help.”
“Sure.”
Liz sent her a grateful smile, then bobbed her head, causing the top of her short, light-brown hair to bounce. “Get George over there to sign these orders so we can discharge the patients in rooms 6 and 7.” She slid the paperwork over to Ravyn.
“Who’s George?”
“The resident over there.” Liz inclined her head once more and this time Ravyn followed her coworker’s gaze to where three men stood near the health unit coordinator’s desk. “See the guy who looks like that actor from that hit TV show—”
“Oh, right. I see him.” Ravyn had never watched the TV series, which, in her opinion, was nothing more than a nighttime soap opera, but she’d heard enough about it and read plenty of reviews. “That show is totally unrealistic. Who should know that better than you, an ER nurse?”
“What can I say? I love the drama.”
Ravyn couldn’t keep the grin off her lips as she regarded George. He stood not even twenty feet away from her—the man in the white MD jacket worn over light-green scrubs. He was average in height and weight, with dark-brown hair, graying just slightly at his temples. It was true; he did resemble the actor.
She froze as recognition set in. She narrowed her gaze. No, it can’t be. She blinked. It’s him!
“His name is really Mark but we tease him—mercilessly, I might add.”
Ravyn knew exactly who he was: Mark Monroe. He’d grown up in northern New Hampshire and when Ravyn knew him, he’d loved the Lord and the theater—or so it had appeared. One summer, almost eleven years ago, he’d stayed with his great-aunt and great-uncle here in Dubuque and performed in one of her father’s productions. Mark had played the lead opposite Ravyn’s best friend, Shelley Jenkins. Ravyn knew her friend had fallen hard for the guy and entertained thoughts of spending the rest of her life with him. But then, after Shelley got sick with some sort of stomach flu, Dad had insisted Ravyn step into Shelley’s role. She’d rehearsed enough with Shelley, and had even agreed to be her understudy, but that had merely been an excuse to hang out at the auditorium.
They’d had a lot of fun that summer, she and Shelley and Mark, along with the rest of the cast members. They’d occasionally go out for pizza after rehearsals and, on a rare day off, they had attended a couple of Dubuqu
e’s riverside festivals. Ravyn had fond memories of those days, even with her little sisters, Teala and Violet, tagging along. The cast and crew never objected. Ravyn had thought of Mark as a good friend, and Shelley was her very best friend.
Then things had changed.
Shelley became ill and Ravyn had been forced to step into the lead role. Unfortunately for her, she’d dreaded being in front of an audience. Mark had spent hours coaching her, but it hadn’t seemed to help. And if stage fright and flubbing her lines hadn’t been bad enough, Ravyn felt she betrayed her best friend each time she acted out the last scene in which she and Mark kissed. Every time he took her into his arms and her lips met his, Ravyn’s guilt had mounted. It hadn’t mattered how much she’d told herself that it was a play. Acting. Pretend. She’d enjoyed it. Worse, she’d been able to tell that he had, too.
And then the worst that could happen happened—Mark broke Shelley’s heart and dashed her hopes and dreams for the future. Weeks later, Shelley disappeared. Rumors circulated that she’d gone to live with some relative in Florida, but although she’d tried, Ravyn could never confirm it. Shelley’s parents had refused to talk about it. Months later, they were gone, too. Obviously the situation had devastated more people than just Shelley.
And Mark Monroe was to blame.
“He hates it when we call him George.” Liz’s deep voice brought the present back into focus. “But that only makes razzing him all the more fun.”
Ravyn gathered her wits along with the paperwork. “Which form does he sign?”
“This one—oh, and, I should warn you. George is spoken for. See Carla over there? The x-ray tech?”
Glancing across the ER, she spotted the curvy blond and nodded.
“I guess she and George are dating—at least that’s what Carla told us last week when a bunch of us went out for breakfast.”
“I couldn’t care less,” Ravyn said, “because I’m totally not interested in George.”
Liz snorted with laughter. “Famous last words.”
Ravyn scooped up the documents, walked over to the three men, and tapped George on the upper arm.
Prescription For Love Page 1
