Love Inspired May 2015 #2

by Missy Tippens

  So he did what anyone else in his situation might do: he called the front desk and asked for recommendations.

  * * *

  Dr. Spring Darling was looking forward to tonight. The Magnolia Supper Club’s dinner meetings were always a highlight after a busy workday. And following the stress of this week, she needed the therapy of a relaxing evening with good friends and stimulating conversation that had nothing to do with work. They’d probably review the latest data they’d each gleaned about the mayor’s proposed boondoggle—a condo development and shopping center—as if the city needed more of either.

  She logged her notes from the last patient and was heading toward the volunteer lounge at the Common Ground Free Clinic and Health Center when a ruckus at the front receptionist’s desk caught her attention.

  “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed for the evening. The emergency room at Cedar Springs General can—”

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “I...I can’t go to the hospital. I was told to come here. Please, is there a doctor who can see him?”

  The clinic’s hours made no difference to Spring when a patient was in need. She quickly made her way back to the front, where Shelby Peters was trying to send a man on his way.

  The man was holding a small boy in his arms and pleading with the free clinic’s by-the-book receptionist.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Spring said, stepping forward.

  The man’s gaze connected with hers, and Spring felt as if a bolt of lightning had hit her. She knew there were people who claimed to know on first sight that someone was The One. Spring had always been the practical Darling sister and didn’t believe in such nonsense. Getting to know someone over time, discovering mutual interests, shared values and overall compatibility—those were the qualities that mattered, the elements that determined if a relationship had a chance at being successful. But this was different, and her breath caught from just one look at the man.

  The feminine side of her noted his dark eyes, sandy hair and the way he held the boy. She sensed in him a quiet compassion and strength, something that appealed to her on a visceral level. Spring wondered at her reaction to the man as she registered the flushed look of the boy’s face. Tamping down thoughts of relationships and the appeal of a dark-eyed stranger, the clinician in her was already running through the paces, assessing the child’s demeanor.

  “Dr. Darling, you can’t keep doing this,” Shelby said. “The clinic is not a twenty-four-hour operation.”

  “Maybe it should be,” Spring said. Then to the man holding the boy, she said, “I’m Dr. Darling. Follow me.”

  “Exam room five is prepped,” Shelby said, resignation in her voice.

  Spring led the way to the examination room. As they went down the hall, she asked, “What are his symptoms?”

  “He was complaining about a stomachache earlier,” he said. He put his precious load on the white-paper-covered examination table in the room. “I thought it was too many jelly beans. We got them free at a shop downtown.”

  Spring nodded. “Sweetings,” she said as she went to a small sink, washed her hands and then slipped on a pair of examination gloves. “They give kids free samples.”

  “The lady must have felt sorry for him—or us,” the man told her. “She filled a big bag and gave them to Jeremy. I didn’t think he’d eaten that many.”

  Spring checked the boy’s vitals.

  “He has a temperature,” he continued. “I don’t have a thermometer, so I don’t know how high, but...”

  “It’s a low-grade fever,” Spring confirmed a moment later. “You said his name is Jeremy?”

  The man nodded, his gaze boring into Spring’s. She felt as if she’d been overcome with a fever herself. She found it disconcerting but, oddly, not unpleasant.

  Shaking off the sensation, she told herself it was compassion, not attraction. The people who came to the Common Ground Free Clinic often had no other available recourse for health care. While her specialty was pediatrics, she, like all the other volunteer physicians, nurses and physician assistants, practiced general medicine here, doing what she could for the patients on-site and making referrals as warranted. Often the clinic picked up the tab for those specialty referrals.

  The free clinic’s clients were typically the unemployed or underemployed, the working poor who had low-wage jobs with no or inadequate benefits. And then there were the homeless, an ever-growing population in the city of Cedar Springs.

  She wondered which category the man and the boy fell into.

  He’d said he couldn’t go to the hospital. And then there was the overly generous handout at the downtown bakery and sweetshop. Spring could make a fairly educated guess about their financial situation.

  She sent the man a reassuring smile, then gave her full attention to her young patient. “Jeremy, sweetie, does it hurt anywhere?”

  He let out a moan in response.

  The man winced, a reaction that didn’t escape her. He hovered near the top of the table and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “My stomach hurts,” came a small voice.

  “Well, I’m Dr. Spring, and I’m going to see about that, okay?”

  Jeremy nodded.

  She gave him a cursory exam, feeling along his abdomen and chest, watching his reaction as she pressed or prodded.

  The boy moaned again.

  “Is he going to be okay?” The father’s concern and fear compelled Spring to reassure him in some way, even though she knew she couldn’t give him the blanket promise she knew he wanted to hear.

  “May I see you for a moment?” she asked him.

  He glanced at his son and then nodded. “I’m going to be right over here, buddy. You hang in there—the doctor’s going to make it better.”

  They took a few steps away, just far enough that the child couldn’t overhear.

  “I’m going to run a few tests,” Spring told him. “Just to be on the safe side. It could be a simple tummy ache, but I don’t want to rule out anything else unless I’m sure.”

  “Do you know how much—” the man began.

  Spring interrupted. “You don’t have to worry about the cost. Our focus here at Common Ground is wellness and health.”

  “I can pay,” he said.

  She touched his arm. “It’s all right. Really.”

  A little moan from the examination table drew Spring’s attention back to her young patient.

  “Everything will be fine,” she assured the boy’s father.

  * * *

  David didn’t know what was more distressing, Jeremy getting sick while they were out of town or this gorgeous doctor thinking he was some kind of deadbeat who couldn’t pay for his kid’s health-care needs.

  And gorgeous she was. Her blond hair, like spun gold sprinkled with shards of sunlight and honey, was pulled up on the sides and clasped with a large barrette to keep it out of her face. She wore simple gold hoops in her ears. Khaki slacks and a crisp white shirt were visible under the unbuttoned white lab coat she had over her clothing.

  But something about that name rang a bell with him. What had the receptionist said?

  And then he remembered. Darling.

  Someone named Darling was leading the opposition to his development project.

  Great.

  Just great, David thought. What else can go wrong?

  “I think it’s a case of gastroenteritis,” the pretty doctor said.

  David groaned. That sounded serious.

  “That sounds...it sounds bad,” he said. “Are you sure? Is he going to be okay?”

  Dr. Darling smiled and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. Again.

  “It sounds much worse than it is,” she said. “Gastroenteritis is what most people call the stomach flu. Has he ha
d any—”

  “Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “—diarrhea or vomiting?” Spring said at the same time.

  David’s eyes widened as he looked between the boy and the pretty doctor. She pointed toward the door.

  “Second door on the right,” she told him.

  David scooped up his son and dashed for the rest room.

  Twenty minutes later and with his son’s diagnosis confirmed, David got instructions from the doctor on what needed to be done.

  “He’ll need rest and plenty of fluids for the next few days,” Spring said. “It’s really easy for the little ones to get dehydrated with this sort of illness. He needs plenty of juice, tea or Gatorade. I’m going to give you a prescription. It’s an oral electrolyte replacement. Gatorade has some, but this will ensure that he gets all the fluids and minerals he needs. He may not want much to eat, but be sure you give this to him with food, even if it’s just a bit of banana or some peanut butter. The protein will do him good. But be sure he starts with soft foods.”

  “Dr. Darling, I’m not sure—”

  “It’s already taken care of, Mr.—I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”

  “Camden,” he said. “David Camden.” Then, wondering, he added, “What’s already taken care of?”

  “The prescription. All you have to do is take this to any pharmacy in town. Common Ground will see to the payment. You just need to make sure Jeremy takes all of the medication, even when he’s feeling better.”

  Her cheery explanation grated on David. Here he was in Cedar Springs to help develop its economic vitality and all she could see was a loser who needed handouts. That Carolina Land Associates, and thus David Camden himself, was one contract away from just that stung his psyche like salt in an open wound.

  For every degree of warmth in her voice, David’s dropped until ice chips formed on his words.

  “I am not a charity case, Dr. Darling.”

  Copyright © 2015 by Felicia Mason

  ISBN-13: 9781460381465

  The Doctor’s Second Chance

  Copyright © 2015 by Melissa L. Tippens

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  A Hometown Reunion

  Single mom Becca Norton is surprised to discover her high school crush Jared Donnelly is back in town. The motocross champion hasn’t been home in years, but the former bad boy is as gorgeous as she remembers. And his kindness toward her kids melts her heart. But when she learns his true purpose in town is to build a motocross school on land near her home, she has to put on the brakes. Her children’s welfare is her priority, and her former in-laws have made it clear they don’t approve of Jared or his plans. Soon Becca may have to choose between her heart…and her home.

  “Becca, I like you.”

  He didn’t care if he probably sounded like one of her high school students with a mad crush. He had to get it out. “I like spending time with you and your kids.” He stopped himself from telling her how much the remark made by the woman at the soft-serve ice cream stand about what a nice family they made had affected him. That would have been too sappy. “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and he bounced his leg in nervous anticipation.

  “Oh, Jared.”

  A chill went through him. She’s going to shoot me down. He’d had his share of brush-offs, but none of them had felt as crushing as this would.

  “I like you, too.” Her lips curved in a wobbly smile.

  He slid his arm along the back of the couch behind her.

  “It’s too soon.”

  Too soon? It had to be six or seven years since Matt had left her.

  “I’ve been praying for direction in my life, about the kids and the Nortons, about the Zoning Board decision…” Her voice softened. “About you.”

  His throat clogged.

  “The only answer I’ve gotten is ‘give things time.’”

  Jean C. Gordon’s writing is a natural extension of her love of reading. From that day in first grade when she realized t-h-e was the word the, she’s been reading everything she can put her hands on. Jean and her college-sweetheart husband share a 175-year-old farmhouse in Upstate New York with their daughter and her family. Their son lives nearby. Contact Jean at facebook.com/jeancgordon.author or PO Box 113, Selkirk, NY 12158.

  Books by Jean C. Gordon

  Love Inspired

  The Donnelly Brothers

  Winning the Teacher’s Heart

  Small-Town Sweethearts

  Small-Town Dad

  Small-Town Mom

  Small-Town Midwife

  Winning The Teacher’s Heart

  By Jean C. Gordon

  I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you.

  —Psalms 32:8

  To my editor, Shana Asaro,

  and my critique group BFS for helping me make Winning the Teacher’s Heart the best I could.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  “Look out, Paradox Lake. The Donnelly brothers are back in town.”

  Jared Donnelly fist-bumped with his younger brothers. He didn’t know about Connor and Josh, but if things worked out as he planned, he was back in the small Adirondack Mountains town for good.

  “What do you think got into Old Man Miller?” Josh asked.

  Jared studied a spot on the floor between him and Josh. That was a mystery to him, too. Bert Miller, their former neighbor, had unintentionally been a major factor in Jared’s professional success. At least Jared thought it was unintentional, although they’d become long-distance friends of a sort over the years since Jared had left Paradox Lake.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Josh said. “Without him, I’d be paying my student loans for the next two decades. But after Dad...”

  Jared stiffened. Their father was one of the reasons he was back.

  “You know,” Josh added, “Dad gave him nothing but grief.”

  “Dad gave everyone nothing but grief,” Connor said. “And sometimes we weren’t much better.”

  Jared eyed his youngest brother. “You’ve got that right.”

  Connor eyed him back. “I’m not surprised Mr. Miller set up a fund for H
azardtown Community Church. He was a lifelong member. I was surprised this morning when the lawyer said that the gift was added in a recent codicil to his will, made after I was called as pastor.”

  Josh leaned back against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Connor gets money for his church. I get my student loans paid off. Jare, I think you got shortchanged. All he left you is that raw land in the Town of Schroon on the west side of Paradox Lake. No water frontage, not even a house.”

  “Yep, just what I need,” Jared said more to himself than to his brothers.

  “What?” his brothers asked in unison.

  “The land’s good. I may have a use for it once I get a few details worked out.” He wasn’t going to leave himself open to any expectations, other than his own, until he was sure his plan to build a motocross track and school—sort of a Boys & Girls Club program—was solid. “But for now, I’d better get over to Gram’s. I’ve been in town since yesterday and haven’t seen her yet.”

  “Right.” Connor laughed. “If you don’t get over there, she’ll be tracking you down.”

  “Later,” Jared said as he pushed open the screen door and stepped into the bright afternoon sun. He grabbed his helmet from the back of his customized KLR650 motorcycle, slammed it on and threw his leg over the seat. The purr of the engine when he turned the key in the ignition got his blood rushing. He gave the engine a couple of good revs and raced off on the windy mountain roads to his grandmother’s house.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jared slowed to take the turn off the state highway onto the side road Grandma Donnelly—Stowe—lived on. He still had trouble thinking of her as Stowe, even though she and the also-widowed Harry Stowe had married several years ago. She was on the porch waiting for him when he pulled up in front of the house.

  “I heard you coming.” She shooed him inside. “The black flies are still bad this year, even though June’s almost over.”