“When I think of the information she could have gotten her hands on…” She shuddered, thankful for Eli’s support.
“Trouble was, she had such good credentials. I can’t believe I was that blind. I feel so…unprofessional.”
Eli curved his fingers around her shoulder, his fingers warm through the material of her shirt. “You did good tonight, though. You knew better than Lorna what LaReese wanted.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And thanks to you, I might be able to pick out some shiny new equipment.”
In spite of her frustration, Rachel had to laugh.
“I am pleased that LaReese finally settled on a cause I know will be close to her heart.”
“So you can take it easy for a while?”
“I wish. Now I have to find another assistant—after I fire Lorna. I’ve never had to do that before.”
“I don’t suppose you could subcontract that job out?” Eli said, his faint humor making her smile again.
“No. This one I have to do on my own. I just hope she hasn’t done any other damage.” She bit her lip, then winced as again she hit the spot Gracie had banged with her head.
Eli frowned, then touched her lip with his finger. “This looks a little swollen yet.”
Rachel’s heart stuttered at his touch. “No,” she said, strangely short of breath. “It feels fine.”
“Good.” He shifted his weight, bringing him closer to her. As if it had a life of its own, her hand came up to rest on his shoulder. His face blurred and then his lips were on hers. Warm, gentle, inviting.
Rachel’s eyes drifted closed. And as she returned his kiss she felt a momentary panic, which almost caused her to pull away—until his arms slipped around her, held her close.
And for the first time in years, Rachel felt curiously whole. She leaned into his embrace, allowing herself to be supported.
Eli was the first to pull away, though he kept his arms around her.
He traced the line of her features with his fingers, as if reading Braille, his mouth lifted in that bemused smile that she had come to associate with him. Rachel slowly steadied herself, drew back, her hand resting on his chest. This felt good, right.
“Is this ethical?” She could barely get the words past the sudden constriction in her throat. But she needed to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere. To step back from the very place she had avoided falling into for so many years. “Kissing my sister’s pediatrician?”
She felt the rumble of his chuckle under her fingers. He smoothed a strand of hair away from her face, then stepped back as if giving them both some much-needed distance.
“I don’t think you’re going to report me and I doubt Gracie will lodge a complaint.”
She lowered her gaze, drew her hand away, retreating as the full implications of what they had just done registered. As long as she had denied her attraction to him, as long as she had kept herself apart from him, had been able to deal with these new and unwelcome emotions.
But now?
She had gotten a taste of something she had missed for so very long. She didn’t even know it until his lips had touched hers. Until she had surrendered her will, her emotions, her feelings to this man.
When she’d walked away from Keith’s grave site, devastated by her loss, she had vowed she would never allow herself to be in such a vulnerable position again. To allow herself to care for someone so deeply was to open herself up to the possibility of pain. It had taken her years to regain her equilibrium, to forget how devastated she had been when she had to face her life alone again.
But now?
“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” she stammered, wrenching her gaze away from his. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. And I know what you’re thinking, Rachel.” He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look up at him. “I think you’re scared.”
His very perception created a connection she had not felt with any man since Keith. That he knew and understood seemed to give her a solid footing from which to consider him.
“I am.”
He caressed her chin with his thumb. “That’s okay. I’m a little scared, too. But we have time. Lots of time.”
She sighed lightly, then smiled. “We.” In spite of her fear, she liked the sound of that.
He brushed a kiss over the top of her head, then, with a whispered “Bye, Rachel,” he left.
Rachel closed the door behind him, listening for the sound of his motorcycle going down the driveway. She leaned her head against the cool leaded glass, and felt a sudden need to pray.
“Watch over him, Lord,” she said quietly. “Please don’t let anything happen to him.” A familiar shaft of dread pierced her, shaking her to her core. Did she really dare do this again? Open herself up to someone else? Risk the pain of loss?
Gracie’s muffled cry filtered down the stairs and she pushed herself away from the glass. As she ran up the stairs to attend to her sister, she realized with a sinking feeling that she already had.
Eli tapped the button on the remote, surfing through the channels. Nothing caught his eye. Nothing caught his fancy. Though he was sitting on his own couch in his own house, his mind was firmly on the woman he had left behind over an hour ago.
The woman he had kissed over an hour ago.
What had prompted such an impulsive move?
Restless, he got up from the couch and walked up to the room he was currently sleeping in. Ben was supposed to come by and help him finish the master bedroom in a couple of days. If things went as he planned, his house would be completed in six months. The next step of the master plan was a new car. And then landscaping.
And then, according to the list, he was supposed to be building up his investment portfolio, and then, maybe then, looking at finding someone to share his neat, tidy and orderly life with.
The plan had seemed sound when he first drew it up. But that was before Rachel.
Eli pulled open the bottom drawer of his dresser and yanked out the box of photos he had taken from Peggy and Tyrone Cavanaugh’s place. He thought once again of what Rachel had suggested to him. That maybe the Cavanaughs had good reasons for keeping the pictures away from him.
He flipped through them, trying to find traces of himself in his parents’ faces. He thought he caught a glimpse of his chin in his mother’s, his eyes in his father’s. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.
He was adult enough to realize that it was the Cavanaughs who were his real parents, but at the same time, like many adopted children, he still had a desire to learn what he could about his own parents. His file at Tiny Blessings had held precious little information and any searching he had done had met dead ends.
So why did he care?
His mind, like a homing beacon, drifted back to Rachel again. He glanced around the house and wondered what she would think of it. He smiled at the direction of his thoughts. Wondered if his plan was slowly being worn away by a pair of hazel eyes.
Rachel stared with disbelief at the alarm clock. She had been tossing and turning for only an hour. It seemed like forever. Over and over she replayed the scene with Eli, felt again the touch of his lips on hers. Like a skip on a DVD, it played over and over again.
Each time it was as if a new emotion caught her. Elation fought with fear, which was replaced with confusion. For so long she had held her heart whole and to herself, she didn’t know how to let go of it, didn’t dare.
Her mind slipped back to the church service Sunday, how Reverend Fraser had encouraged them to let God take control of their lives.
She pushed herself out of bed, snapped on her bedside lamp, pulled a robe around herself and padded down to her father’s office. Papers were strewn over the desk in a completely un-Rachel-like fashion. She ignored it and walked to the shelves where she knew her father kept his religious books, and found a Bible.
She pulled it off the shelf and brought it back upstairs. Her parents had their own Bible by their bedside. This was a hardcover given to them the day of
their wedding.
She slipped back into bed and started reading randomly. A piece of paper marked a page, so she turned to it. It was the book of Second Corinthians, chapter twelve. An underlined verse caught her eye. “But He said to me ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness….’” She stopped there and read it again. Power made perfect in weakness? Further on she read, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
How could weakness be strength?
And again Rachel felt as if her perspective had spun around. She knew the verse and had heard it used in sermons. But now, during this time when she felt the least in control of her life, to read this was like a gentle push in another direction. Another way of looking at strength and weakness.
And letting go.
She considered the day she’d brought Grace to the gait clinic at the hospital—how her weakness hadn’t held her back. How she had relied on other people with a simple trust. Her dependence on other people gave her a strength she could not have on her own. The thought gave Rachel pause.
“How’s Mom doing?” Rachel curled up in the deep cushions of her favorite couch, the phone tucked under one ear. As she listened to her father she flipped through the papers of the file on her lap.
Another application to the Foundation. She was thankful this one was for a consultation on a donation. Something she hadn’t had for a while. Not since Lorna had started.
This morning she had made a special trip to the Foundation office to tell Lorna to her face that she was fired. It had been difficult to do, but while she cleaned up Lorna’s desk, she discovered that Lorna had lured away other donors while in the Foundation’s employ. She still felt the sting of Lorna’s betrayal, but even worse than that, she felt the heaviness of the workload.
She needed two more pairs of hands, eyes and ears if she was going to get done what she needed to. She stifled a yawn. Last night she had stayed awake longer than usual, reading through the Bible. Searching for comfort, for strength.
“Beatrice is very determined and the doctors are very pleased with her progress,” Charles was saying. “But she misses Gracie desperately. I don’t suppose there’s any way you could get her here to visit?”
Rachel closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, Dad, I am just swamped here.”
“Couldn’t you give some of your work over to those capable assistants you just hired?”
She hadn’t told him about Lorna yet. He didn’t need any more burdens on his shoulders right now. “‘Just’ being the operative word, Dad,” she said. “When did the doctors say Mom was able to come back?”
“They’ve revised the estimate. They figure now it should be in at least three weeks. Could I possibly talk to Gracie?”
“Sorry, Dad. She’s in bed now. She had a busy day.” Rachel had had to take Gracie to her office at the Foundation to clear up after Lorna was escorted out, and then to a visit to the hospital for yet another clinic. She was grateful that Gracie’s sunny disposition had been on display until they came home. But then Rachel was treated to the dark side of her sister. Gracie was cranky, irritable and wouldn’t eat. After her bath, Rachel put her in bed and the little girl was asleep in seconds. Which made Rachel feel even more guilty for dragging the poor child around.
She talked to her father for a few more minutes, her own work nagging at her even while she spoke. Charles seemed to sense her distraction and said goodbye.
No sooner had he hung up than the phone rang again.
Rachel sighed and hit the button without bothering to check who was calling. “Rachel here.”
“Hey there. How are you?”
Eli’s deep voice washed over her, smoothing away her irritation. Rachel sank back against the soft cushions. She had hoped to see Eli this afternoon, but all she got was a glimpse of him striding down the hallway with an entourage of interns. Enough of a glimpse to kick her heart rate up a notch.
“Just finished talking to Dad,” she said. “Mom’s doing good. But she won’t be home for three weeks yet.”
“Sorry I missed you at the clinic. I found out about the clinic the same time we had an emergency.”
“Everything okay?”
“Now it is.”
He sounded tired, too. “So what are you doing tonight?” she asked.
“As little as possible. I had hoped to get some work done on the house, but that isn’t going to happen soon.”
She asked about his house, he asked about her work. Their words danced along the edges of their feelings. The kiss wasn’t mentioned, though the memory of it was a palpable presence. They talked about movies. Books. Safe, easy topics.
“How are the plans for the picnic coming?” he asked.
“Good. Busy. Wondering if I can do it all,” she said.
“I’ve already heard mention of it among the higher-ups. It sounds like it’s a pretty big deal.”
“It’s supposed to be casual, but casual creates its own peculiar problems.” She hesitated for a moment. The picnic was a strictly “by invitation only” affair. Very exclusive.
And she wanted him there. “Would you like to come?” she asked.
Eli laughed. “I’ll definitely feel out of place, from what I hear.”
“Oh, c’mon. You seem comfortable enough around my parents.”
“Your parents are special.”
“I’ll say,” Rachel said with a laugh. Then she grew serious. “Please come. I’d love to see you there.”
She winced at what she had just said. She sounded desperate.
“In that case,” Eli said with a hint of a smile in his voice, “I suppose I could show up.”
Rachel relaxed again. “That would be nice.” She gave him the date, told him it was casual dress. He said he would see about getting the time off. They chatted some more, but then Rachel could hear that Eli had another call, and let him go.
When Rachel put the phone down, she felt as if she had come back to reality from a place of uncertainty. She had invited him to the picnic. It was a simple polite invitation, nothing more.
“You could give me some of the work for the picnic,” Reuben said, from the deep leather chair of her father’s study. It was early morning and he was taking notes on some files that Rachel had been working on.
“I hardly know where to start delegating,” Rachel said with an exasperated sigh. “Besides, where would you find the time? I feel bad enough that you had to work this evening.”
“I think I have more time than you do. My days aren’t as busy as they could be.” The tapping of his pen on the file relayed his impatience. “You look exhausted, Rachel. I know you’re busy with your sister. Now you have to find someone else to do Lorna’s job and train her, and I know you don’t have the time. Let me take care of some of this stuff.”
Rachel bit her lip, looking over the master file for the picnic she had pulled up on the computer. According to her list she had to verify some deliveries, confirm with the caterer and then arrange for extra help for the gardener. She knew exactly what she wanted, as she did every year. And every year the picnic was a huge success. Without being overly proud, she knew a lot of it had to do with her intervention. The picnic had been her brainchild and had become a premier event for the Foundation and a direct reflection on it. Much of the prestige the Foundation enjoyed was an indirect result of contacts made at the picnic. To let go of it now…
The tapping of Reuben’s pen increased. “Rachel, I think we need to talk.”
The words drew her attention. When men, who weren’t the “talking” types, made this proclamation, it usually meant something serious was coming down. “What’s on your mind, Reuben?” she asked, a feeling of dread pushing at her.
“Control. Job opportunities.” He shoved his hand through his hair and got up from the chair. “When I started this job, it was with the idea that I would slowly be taking over more responsibility. That I would be going somewhere.”
“You’ve only been wit
h the Foundation three months…”
“And in those three months, I have to confess I haven’t learned a whole lot. You do it all. In fact, there are times I think you do too much. I know I have a ways to go, but I am also starting to realize that I can see an end to this job. I’m young enough, but I know that I am not going to waste my time in a dead-end job. I don’t think it’s wrong to be ambitious, so that means I also have to be realistic.”
Rachel blinked. His words were a direct echo of Anita’s when she quit. She, too, had spoken of dead ends in the job. Panic clawed at her. She couldn’t afford to lose Reuben. Not now. But what else could she do? The Foundation had gotten to its current position thanks to her work.
She looked at Reuben, wishing she knew what to say.
“For when I am weak, then I am strong.” The words drifted into her consciousness, featherlight, yet they caught her attention.
“I should let you know that I’ve also been talking to Anita about this job.” Reuben’s gaze slid away. “It may sound like we were talking behind your back, and I mean no disrespect, but she said the same thing. In fact, she might not have quit if she had been given more responsibility.”
Rachel felt the words like a blow. Anita would have stayed?
She closed her eyes and pictured her fingers releasing their grip on what she thought she needed to hold on to. Had she been so controlling? But if she hadn’t taken charge of the company, what would have happened?
“Please, Rachel. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Reuben sounded truly distressed.
Rachel looked up at him as her thoughts reassembled. And as his words echoed through her mind, she realized he was right. She drew a deep breath and then took a chance.
“Okay. I do have an important job for you. Find a capable replacement for Lorna and I’ll put you in charge of the caterer for the picnic.” She pulled the pages out of the computer, glanced at them, then, before she could change her mind, she handed them to him. “This is a list that I usually go over. If you have any questions…”
Reuben grinned and flipped through them. “Okay. We’ll start simple.”
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