The Nanny's New Family (Caring Canines)

by Margaret Daley

  “So what I’m hearing is that you blame yourself for your mother’s death.”

  “I was at fault.”

  “Okay, let’s say what you did led to your mom dying.”

  Her throat full of unshed tears, Annie nodded.

  “You think you need to spend the rest of your life paying for that mistake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Who said that? Certainly not the Lord.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I saw how you were with the McGregor children. You have a gift and a lot of love inside you. God sent you there when they needed you most.”

  “You’ve been talking to Amanda.”

  “Yes, I wanted some background so I could help Jeremy and Rex bond.”

  Annie folded her hands together and rubbed the back of one.

  “You’ve spent fourteen years mourning your mother’s death and keeping yourself apart from others emotionally. I don’t believe God asked you to do that. I think you decided you had to without asking Him.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because I did the same thing. When my first husband died, I blamed myself. I was the reason he was on the ladder he fell from. My husband now, Jake, helped me to see the error of my thinking. It’s okay to forgive yourself, Annie. God did a long time ago. That’s the beauty with Him. All we have to do is ask Him from our hearts.”

  It sounds so easy. But I know it isn’t.

  “Do you have feelings for Ian?”

  “Yes. I haven’t let myself feel anything for a long time. I don’t...”

  “Embrace them. They are a gift from the Lord. He wants you to be happy.”

  Was that possible?

  * * *

  When Annie returned to Ian’s house, it was ablaze with lights, a beacon in the dark. The kids were usually in bed by now. Had Jeremy had a bad seizure? She hurried through the breezeway and into the utility room and kitchen. Her heartbeat pounded a mad staccato against her rib cage. She charged into the hallway, paused to check the den. Empty.

  At Ian’s office she peeked in and saw him sitting in his chair, staring at his desktop. The forlorn expression on his face rent her heart into pieces.

  “Is something wrong? Jeremy? One of the other children?”

  Ian peered up at her, and he erased the look from his face. “I didn’t hear you come in. The kids are okay. I need to go up and tell them good-night, but I don’t know how much sleep they’ll get.”

  “They overheard us?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I wish they hadn’t.”

  “Oh, well, they needed to know, and I would have stewed over how to tell them.” Ian sat forward, resting his elbows on the tan blotter. “Have you decided to leave now?”

  Annie heard defeat in his voice. Without saying a word, she strode to him and leaned against the desk next to him. He swiveled his chair to look at her.

  “I’ve decided to leave—never.”

  He blinked.

  “How can I leave the man I’ve fallen in love with? Especially when he told me he loved me?”

  For a few seconds Ian’s face was blank, and then a grin broke through. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

  “Never about something this important. Ian, you’ve been right all along. I didn’t think I had a right to be happy. I was afraid of feeling anything good. But I love you and the children. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  Ian jumped to his feet and drew her into an embrace. “You’re sure?”

  “I went to my church, talked with Emma and came away feeling like a new woman. God forgave me long ago. I just had to forgive myself. If I didn’t, I would be hurting a lot of people I care about—including you, your family and mine.”

  Ian put his hand on her cheek. “Annie, I don’t care what you decide about the surgery.”

  “I believe you.”

  Ian bent his head toward her and kissed the scars on her neck and cheek, then trailed more to her mouth. When he stopped he said, “This has been the worst and best day of my life. I won’t let you forget how much you mean to me, Annie.”

  “Let’s go tell the children. I have to make everything right with them.”

  Ian looked over Annie’s shoulder and laughed. “I don’t think you have to.”

  All four children along with two dogs poured into the room and surrounded her and Ian with laughter and hugs. I’ve finally found what I always wanted. Thank You, God.

  Epilogue

  “Shh. They’re here. Hide.”

  Coming down the hall, Annie heard Jeremy’s words a few seconds before she and Ian entered the den. “I guess my sister hasn’t brought them home yet,” she said, playing along with the kids wanting to surprise them by hiding.

  Ian wrapped his arms around Annie. “Hmm. That gives us more alone time. What do you think we should do?” He kissed her loudly on the mouth.

  “Yuck,” Jeremy said while the other children, along with Amanda, jumped up and said, “Surprise!”

  Jeremy had to help Annie’s sister stand up. She was eight months pregnant and big. As Amanda waddled toward them, the children swarmed Ian and Annie, all wanting to know about the honeymoon. Ian actually blushed, then told them about the places they’d visited in Key West.

  Amanda hugged Annie then whispered in her ear, “You look great. I see married life agrees with you.”

  Annie pulled back, chuckling. “How were the kids?”

  “Perfect, except...”

  Everyone looked at Amanda.

  “Except what?” Ian asked.

  “They threw me a baby shower.”

  Annie settled her hands on her waist. “You did that without me?” She tried to look angry.

  “It was a trial run,” Jasmine said. “We’re gonna do another one next week with everyone, including you.”

  “That is if the baby doesn’t come early.” Amanda laid her hand over her stomach.

  “He’d better not. I have my last laser treatment next week in Dallas. I can’t miss the baby’s birth.” Annie snuggled into the crook of Ian’s arm, so glad she’d finally done something about her scars. They were still there, but less obvious, and her prosthetic ear was so realistic looking. But the best part was that Ian had left the decision to her, emphasizing that he thought she was beautiful as she was. Annie knew, without a doubt, he loved her no matter what.

  Amanda cleared her throat. “Kids, let’s go in the kitchen and get dinner ready.”

  “But—” Joshua sputtered to a stop because Jade had put her hand over his mouth.

  “We’re gonna help Amanda. All of us, Joshua.” Jade tugged on her brother’s arm, pulling him toward the hallway.

  After the children left with Amanda, Ian went to the den doorway, looked up and down the hallway then shut the door. “That’s just in case they decide to eavesdrop again.”

  Annie nestled within his embrace. “Our kids don’t eavesdrop. They told me they were just keeping themselves informed about what was going on in the family.” My new family.

  Ian kissed the tip of her nose, then settled his mouth over hers, pressing her against him. When he nibbled her ear, she shivered.

  “I love you, Mrs. McGregor.”

  Annie leaned back slightly and looked up at him, running her fingers through his hair. “I might have been a little slow to grasp that, but I know now. And I love you.” She pulled his head down so she could kiss him again.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE DOCTOR’S PERFECT MATCH by Arlene James.

  Dear Reader,

  The Nanny’s New Family is the fourth book in the Caring Canines miniseries. In this story, I dealt with epilepsy, and how the hero copes with the fact that his eldest son has the disorder. As a teacher, I used to work with children who had seizures. I was surprised at what a service dog could do to help a person who has seizures. They are truly amazing animals.

  I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at margaretdaley@gmai
l.com or at PO Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101. You can also learn more about my books at margaretdaley.com. I have a newsletter that you can sign up for on my website.

  Best wishes,

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired every month!

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  The Doctor’s Perfect Match

  by Arlene James

  Chapter One

  Even in Buffalo Creek, Texas, with the bright sunshine streaming down and the utter absence of wind, January meant chill temperatures. Still, the willowy blonde had found a unique way to gather a crowd for her sales demonstration. Beneath the awning that she’d erected beside her minivan, she chattered and joked, flipping her long, straight butter-yellow hair, winking her big catlike eyes at her laughing onlookers, the colorful scarves draped about her person waving languidly. All the while she worked, she pressed bits of string and wood, gravel and broken glass into a damp clay disk, which she would presumably then bake in a small microwave oven at her elbow.

  As tired as he was, Dr. Brooks Leland would have liked to have paused and joined in the fun, but he’d promised his best friend, Morgan, that he wouldn’t be late to dinner. For once. Besides, since the untimely death of his pretty blonde wife, he avoided women—especially blondes—like the plague. Oh, he would do it again, go through all the pain and the grief, just for those two short years with Brigitte. He would not, however, risk that kind of loss for anyone else, let alone stand in the cold just to watch a lovely woman try to sell unusual objects of art created on the spot.

  Hurrying past the crowd, he crossed the parking lot to the entrance of the grocery store. Once inside, he picked up the multigrain bread requested by his hostess and, on impulse, grabbed a bouquet of flowers.

  He’d given up trying to make his old buddy jealous. Not that he’d ever had any real interest in Lyla Simone anyway, but it had taken a mighty shove to make the confirmed bachelor professor tumble into love with his comely graduate student, and Brooks had been only too glad to deliver the blow. Once he’d fallen, Morgan Chatam had fallen hard. He was not a man to give his heart lightly, as Brooks understood all too well. It did Brooks’s heart good to see his old friend so happy after all these years, and for that reason alone he would take Lyla Simone flowers forever. The joy of having a goddaughter—Lyla and Morgan’s child—suddenly thrust into his life only gave him more cause. They’d named her Brigitte Kay, after Brooks’s late wife and one of Morgan’s aunts. She was an adorable little thing, happily and unabashedly spoiled, and in truth, she was the one thing Brooks envied his old friend.

  Brooks made it through the checkout line, but before he could take his change, a teenaged male by the name of Jason Crowel burst inside, yelling for him.

  “Doc Leland! Doc Leland! She fell down, and blood’s all over!”

  Leaving everything behind, Brooks bolted for the door. He saw the crowd as soon as he hit the parking lot. Brooks sighed inwardly. It would be the blonde. Jason caught up to him, bouquet and grocery bag clutched in his hands. The sides of Brooks’s overcoat flapped like wings as he sprinted across the pavement. Digging into the pockets of his dark slacks, he found his car keys and plucked them out as he drew near the van, Jason at his heels. He set off the car alarm so the young man knew which car to go to, then tossed the keys to Jason.

  “Leave the groceries and flowers, grab the medical bag off the backseat.”

  “Yessir.”

  Elbowing his way into the crowd, Brooks asked, “What’s happened here?”

  Several people began speaking at the same time.

  “She started talking gibberish and just toppled over.”

  “Hit her head on the pavement before anyone could catch her.”

  “Splattered blood all over.”

  The woman sat up, blinking at Brooks in confusion, blood streaking her pale hair. He checked her pulse, which was rapid and erratic, while speaking in a calm, reassuring tone.

  “I’m Dr. Brooks Leland. You’ve taken a nasty blow to the head. Try not to move. Can you tell me your name?”

  She lifted a hand toward her head. He caught it and gently pushed it down again, repeating his question.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Tharestershestersaben,” she babbled.

  Jason returned with the medical bag, and Brooks took out his penlight, instructing firmly, “If no one has already done so, please call an ambulance.”

  He made a quick examination, determined that her pupils were unequally reactive and that she needed stitches in her scalp, at the very least. Moreover, she seemed painfully thin, despite a suspiciously shapely figure beneath a heavy black leotard and all those artfully draped scarves. After applying a compress to staunch the flow of blood from the laceration to her scalp, he glanced around him.

  “Any idea who she is?”

  Murmurs of denial went through the crowd before someone said, “License plate on the van is Missouri.”

  Not a local girl, then, though even with Texas license plates, she might not be known. Texas was a big state, and the eight-million-strong Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex sprawled just thirty-five miles to the north of Buffalo Creek, which itself boasted some twenty thousand souls.

  The ambulance arrived within five minutes, but in that time he managed to stop the bleeding from the scalp wound. His patient remained remarkably composed, though she said not a single coherent word. He suspected a stroke and feared that she might be bleeding inside her skull. He made a phone call.

  “Morgan, I’m afraid I’m going to be late for dinner, after all.”

  * * *

  Eva recognized the tap-tap-tap of typing even before she opened her eyes. The room swam for a moment, refusing to come into focus and seeming much too bright. She automatically lifted a hand to shield her eyes, which ached with a ferocity that alarmed but also reassured her.

  The light flickered out just as a pleasantly masculine voice said, “Welcome back. You’ve been sedated.”

  She remembered all too well struggling to get up off the X-ray table and telling them over and over again that she categorically refused to have pictures made of her head, but of course they hadn’t understood a word she’d been saying. Still, the sedation had been a dirty trick. Reminding herself that they had merely been trying to help, she cleared her throat, swallowed and attempted to speak.

  “That’s a relief.” The greater relief was that the words had come out clearly. Flush with success, she quipped, “For a minute I thought it was one of those deals where I’d had so much fun I’d forgotten.”

  “Your speech has cleared. You experienced expressive aphasia. That’s a condition where—”

  “My brain was speaking English, but my tongue was talking Martian. Yeah, I got that.”

  “Is your head hurting?”

  “On a scale of one to ten, if a plastic doll is a one and Marilyn Monroe in her prime is a ten, let’s go with Marilyn,” she gritted out, gingerly fingering the heavy bandage on the back of her head. At the same time, she realized that most of her clothes were gone, replaced by a hospital gown, though she still wore her leggings and socks. “So did I crack the bone?”

  “Just your scalp, thankfully.”

  “How many stitches did I wind up with?”

  “About twenty.”

  “Yowza. Did they have to shave my head?”

  “We did,” he answered.

  “But your hair’s so thick it will cover up the bald spot nicely,” said a reassuring female v
oice. At the same time, movement to Eva’s left drew her attention to a nurse adjusting the drip on a saline bag.

  “That’s good,” she muttered. Wouldn’t want to leave an ugly corpse.

  “You almost certainly have a concussion,” the doctor went on smoothly. “Your pupils are not equally reactive. I really did not want to have to sedate you.”

  The nurse added, “You gave us no other option. Doctor hasn’t left your side since, though.”

  Eva closed her eyes and carefully turned her head in his direction, gasping despite her best efforts to deny the pain. “It’s the ICP,” she murmured.

  “Intracranial pressure,” he said. “Yes, that would be my guess. Are you a medical professional? You seem familiar with the terminology.”

  “Worked as a transcriptionist.”

  “I see. Well, I’ve already administered IV medication that will reduce the swelling,” he told her, “and now that you’re awake, I can give you something to help with the pain. Are you allergic to any drugs?”

  “Nope. None I’ve ever tried, that is. Hey, that’s not a confession, by the way, just in case you’re a DEA agent in deep cover.”

  She heard him chuckle as he tapped. Then he moved around, supposedly injecting something into the IV line as he spoke. “Not a DEA agent. Just a doctor. That should take effect soon.”

  “Not soon enough.”

  “I’ve ordered an EEG, and—”

  “No,” she said.

  “An EEG will tell us—”

  “It won’t tell you anything of significance,” she said, forcing open her eyes.

  After the first flash of pain, her vision cleared and the pounding inside her skull settled to a survivable throb. He was even more handsome than she remembered, ridiculously so. She tried to focus on the black slacks, white shirt and black tie worn beneath an immaculately white lab coat, but she couldn’t ignore the tall, fit, broad-shouldered man inside them.