by Amy Ruttan
Surprise hit Chrissie. “Yemen?”
“He works with Doctors Around the World.” A troubled look came over Agnes’s face, making her appear every one of her sixty plus years. “He’ll be leaving again soon. Unfortunately. He’s home because his only cousin had a baby and the timing fell right at the end of his contract.”
Chrissie’s gaze went back to Trace. Yemen. She knew that was in the Middle East, but she wasn’t sure exactly where. She probably should have paid better attention in geography class.
“I wondered if you two had stayed in touch while he was there and that it wasn’t a coincidence you were both volunteering again at the same time.” Agnes looked disappointed. “Obviously not.”
Chrissie shook her head. “No, meeting Trace four years ago was nice.” Nice? Ha, that was so not the right word to describe that meeting. More like naughty. “But neither of us fooled each other that our meeting was anything more. I didn’t know he’d be here.”
“Too bad,” Agnes countered. “That boy needs someone in his life.”
“You sound as if you know him well,” Chrissie mused, trying not to look overly interested.
“All his life. His father and Bud go back a long way. Well,” she clarified with a low laugh, “all the way back to elementary school. They were best friends. Trace was a few months older than our daughter. We’d always hoped they’d grow up, fall in love, and connect our families in yet another way.” Pain momentarily aged her face. “Instead, Kerry died and Trace spends his time overseas.”
“Are you gossiping about me, Agnes?”
Agnes quickly recovered, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. “Every chance I get to extol your virtues.”
“My virtues don’t deserve extolling.”
There was more to what he was saying than what appeared. But Chrissie’s own cheeks were burning too much with embarrassment at getting caught discussing him for her to over-analyze his comment.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Agnes countered. “So, where are we going to put our Chrissie to work this year?”
Chrissie frowned. She wasn’t their Chrissie. At least, not his Chrissie. But Agnes was smiling and chatting on about the medical tent and making sure everything was ready for the event kick-off.
“I’d like to do triage if that’s okay,” Chrissie spoke up. “It’s what I did last time.”
“You’ve been back?” Trace asked, studying her.
Agnes nodded. “Not for a few years, but our Chrissie is an angel from heaven, for sure.”
Yeah, Chrissie was pretty sure with the way her insides were burning that she was from somewhere way more south.
And Agnes knew that it had been four years. Why had she left the date a little vague?
“Maybe you could take her to the triage area and show her how things are set up this year?” Agnes’s question was directed at Trace.
“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze locked with Chrissie’s and he grinned as if she hadn’t cut him off earlier. “Follow me.”
His facial expression was so similar to one she often saw on her son’s face that her breath caught. Her feet refused to move. Her head spun.
“Chrissie?”
Shaking her head to stop the spinning, she stepped toward him.
Three days. Three days and then she’d change charities to volunteer at ones in Chattanooga so she’d never have to see Trace Stevens again.
Copyright © 2017 by Janice Lynn
ISBN-13: 9781488020599
Convenient Marriage, Surprise Twins
Copyright © 2017 by Amy Ruttan
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