by Lois Richer
Jaclyn, with her generous smile and infectious laugh was getting to be a big part of his formerly solitary life.
Too big a part?
“Another time,” she said, a flicker of hurt in her voice. She shrugged, turned away. “See you.”
Jaclyn had made it out the foyer door before Kent caught up to her.
“I’d be very happy to share whatever you prepared,” he said. “I’m sure it’s all delicious.”
“It’s not necessary, really. I got the message, Kent.”
“That’s funny because I wasn’t sending any message. I admit I kind of zoned out there for a minute, but that had to do with Heddy.” He grimaced. “Somehow she always manages to corner me and talk me into something I don’t want to do. I was trying to think up a way to decline her latest request to be in charge of the emergency measures planning committee and I wasn’t paying attention to you. Sorry.”
“Heddy wants to be in charge—oh, dear.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “If she was in charge a lot of people wouldn’t help. I can’t think of a way to refuse her.”
Jaclyn studied him. “Okay, lunch it is. We could go out. You don’t have to eat what I made.” Her perfectly arched brows lowered. “It’s probably not that good anyway.”
“I won’t be able to tell until I have some,” he said. “I’ll follow you to your place, shall I?”
The drive to Jaclyn’s town home was short. Curiosity built as he trailed her up the path to her front door.
She unlocked it and invited him inside. Kent glanced around. It was more or less what he’d expected—very stylish, quite modern and extremely tidy.
“Your home is lovely,” he said. “I would have known it was yours.”
She laid her purse on the sofa then turned to look at him. “How?”
“The red,” he said. “It’s your signature color, I think. I notice you usually wear some touch of red, most of the time in the form of funny earrings.”
“You think my earrings are funny?” Jaclyn began pulling dishes out of the fridge. “My patients like them.”
“And it’s the kids that count, right?” Kent grinned when she nodded. “I figured.” He watched her remove lids, clear plastic wrap and tinfoil from a number of bowls. “How can I help?”
“Set the table?” Jaclyn waited for his nod then pointed to a drawer.
“What did you think of the sermon today?” He worked quickly as he waited for her answer, wondering if he’d overreacted to what he’d heard.
“Good. But then his sermons are always good.” She set the last of the serving dishes on the table and waved him to a seat. “I like the way he makes God personal. I’ll say grace.”
Kent bowed his head and waited until she finished speaking, searching for a way to ask the questions that rattled in his brain.
“Now help yourself. Take a little bit first,” she warned. “I haven’t tasted this yet myself.”
“It looks good.” As he sampled each dish, he decided to come right out with it. “Can I ask you something?”
Jaclyn grinned at him. “As long as you don’t ask me if I followed the recipe exactly.”
“Recipe or not, it all tastes wonderful to me.” He chewed on a biscuit until the silence had gone on too long and he knew he had to ask. “I was wondering about something you said when you were at my house. After the birthday party, remember?”
“I remember,” she said cautiously, not looking at him. The way she kept her head bent, her eyes on her food, made him think she was remembering that kiss.
He’d been an idiot to do it, but he didn’t regret it.
“You were saying?” Confusion filled her pretty face.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t remember your exact words, but when we were talking it sounded to me like you felt that you owe God for allowing you to live.” It wasn’t exactly the way he meant to say it, but close enough. “Do you really think that?”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I do feel I owe God, though perhaps not the way you mean it.”
“Would you mind explaining how you mean it?”
“Well.” Jaclyn set down her fork and leaned back in her chair. “Jessica and I were identical twins, yet she got sick and I didn’t. I finished high school, I took my training and now I’m able to work, to enjoy life and to think about the future. That’s a gift from God and I need to be worthy of it.”
“How?” he asked. “How can you make yourself worthy of your life?” He took another spoonful of potato salad and a larger scoop of the green bean salad. “These are excellent by the way.”
“Thanks.” She rose and filled the electric kettle, then set it to boil. She fiddled around with a few other insignificant chores, then finally returned to the table. But she did not answer his question.
“This whole thing about you being worthy, about earning your life. Is it because you feel guilty for living? I can understand that,” he admitted. “I felt like that after Lisa died, as if I should’ve died in her place.”
“No, I don’t feel guilty. It’s more like...” She gave up and shrugged. “It’s hard to put into words.”
“I’d like to understand what drives you,” he said quietly. “I’d like to figure out what’s behind this burning need you have to excel at everything. Even cooking.” Kent waved a hand over the table. “I mean, look at what you’ve created here. You can hardly call this beginner’s work. One dish, maybe that salad, or even the biscuits, that would have been a good start. But you’ve gone way beyond that and created this meal. Not that I’m complaining. It’s fantastic and I’ve enjoyed it very much. But it’s so—”
“Extreme?” Jaclyn made a face. “I never did do things by half measures, Kent, even in high school.”
“No, you didn’t.” Kent was beginning to wish he could abandon the whole subject. It was none of his business and he felt like he was prying, but he desperately wanted to understand why she felt so driven. “Why is that?”
The kettle started to boil so she rose and made some hot tea which she carried to the table along with two mugs. She also laid out a platter of fruit, took away his empty plate and offered him a small bowl.
“You see,” she said with a smile, “I didn’t go whole hog and make dessert, too.”
Kent remained silent and kept watching her. When he didn’t speak she sighed. She set her elbows on the table then cupped her chin in her palms.
“It’s like this. God spared me, so I need to make sure I don’t waste a single moment. Like I have to make up for what Jessica didn’t get to experience.” Her voice was quiet, defensive. “Maybe that sounds stupid to you, but it’s like a drive inside of me. I need to make sure I do everything as well as I possibly can, to earn what I’ve been given.”
“But Jaclyn,” Kent asked, his gaze never leaving her face. “When will you have earned it? When will you have done enough?”
“I don’t know.” Gravity filled her big brown eyes. Her lashes glittered with tears. “I just know that I can’t fail. I can’t mess up again.” Jaclyn jumped up and strode across the room. She grabbed a tangle of vivid-colored threads and held it up. Her smile flashed. “Or my life will end up like this.”
Kent rose from the table and walked slowly toward her. The threads were attached to a piece of white fabric held by some kind of stretcher bar. “Needlepoint?” he asked in confusion.
“Yes, needlepoint. I joined a stitchery class. I’ve been taking lessons from Heddy. She makes fantastic pictures and stuff. But I’m a dud at it.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but he saw pain lurking in the depths of her expressive eyes.
“Does it matter, Jaclyn? You’re good at so many other things. Does needlepoint really matter?”
“Yes!” She swiped away a tear. “Yes, it matters. A lot.”
“W
hy? Because it will get you patients?”
“No. Maybe partly.” She didn’t look at him.
“But if you don’t like it why subject yourself—” A sudden thought made him wince. “You’re doing it because Jessica did it.”
She nodded.
“But Jaclyn, you are not Jessica. You’re you. You can’t force yourself to be something other than yourself.” His heart ached for this beautiful woman’s lack of self-confidence. “You can’t be more than who you are—a wonderful doctor. Do I think you need to get some patients? Yes. But not by becoming all things to all people. I really think you’re shortchanging yourself by trying so hard to compensate for Jessica’s death.”
“It’s not her death I’m trying to compensate for,” she said, her voice filled with pathos. “It’s her life.” Then the tears did fall. Jaclyn stood there, looking so small and bereft that Kent couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her.
“Oh, Jaclyn. Jessica doesn’t need you to compensate for her life,” he whispered, pressing her head against his shoulder. He threaded his fingers through her hair and pushed it back, away from her face. “Jessica lived her life and lived it well on her own terms. Don’t you remember?”
“Not really. Sometimes I can hardly remember her at all.” Jaclyn’s forehead bumped his chin, her eyes full of despair.
“I can see her burying her nose in those daisies you used to bring her on Fridays, after you got paid. She adored them so much she wore them out just by touching them. I remember how you tried to coax her to learn how to ride bareback but she would have none of it.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her soft sweet scent. “I remember she wouldn’t even try certain vegetables they had in the cafeteria at school.”
“Yes.” Jaclyn laughed. “She was pretty stubborn about a lot of things.”
“Yes, she was,” he agreed. “You and I, and I’m guessing a lot of other people, remember those things about Jessica because they made her unique. As you are unique. So why do you think you have to live your life as if you are Jessica? You aren’t, Jaclyn. You’re you and you are the only person you owe anything to. That’s what I meant about this morning’s message.”
She pulled away from him and frowned, which wrinkled her pert nose in the most adorable way. “What does this have to do with the sermon?”
Surprised by the loss he felt when Jaclyn stepped out of his arms, Kent scrambled to focus on what he’d been trying to get across to her. He followed her to the table, sat down and accepted the mug of tea she poured for him.
“Tell me what you mean,” Jaclyn ordered.
“Well,” he began, feeling his way, “David knew who he was. No matter how often he appealed to God to help him, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was God’s, no matter what. He sinned, he made horrible mistakes, but he never lost sight of who he was as a child of God, or that God’s love for him was unshakable.”
Jaclyn studied him but said not one word. So he continued.
“That got me thinking,” he continued, stuffing down his reluctance to discuss his personal life. If it would help Jaclyn, that was worth baring his soul. “I’ve always blamed myself for Lisa’s death because I lit the fire that eventually killed her.”
“But you didn’t know she was there,” Jaclyn protested.
“No, but I should have. I knew how depressed she was. I knew my refusing to leave the ranch would decimate her. She’d always held out hope that eventually I’d give up my plan to make Dad’s dream come true, that I’d sell.” He raked a hand through his hair, remembering that day too clearly. “The day she died I was tired, fed up with our bickering and the way nothing seemed to be going our way. I was also terrified that the wildfire would take everything we had. I felt like I had no control over anything and I lashed out at Lisa.” He ignored the pressure of Jaclyn’s fingers against his arm. He had to finish this. “Then I left to start the backfire. And she walked out into it.”
“Oh, Kent.” Jaclyn’s eyes brimmed with tears as she met his gaze. Then something in her expression changed. Her eyes widened. “You think it was suicide. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. That’s what has hounded me all these years. Did I cause her to take her own life?” Kent rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension there.
“I’m no expert on depression, but Brianna’s told me about some cases she treated. Even if Lisa did choose suicide, it is not your fault.” Jaclyn leaned toward him. “You cannot be held responsible for her decision.”
“I feel responsible. There was a message on the phone. Maybe she came out to tell me, couldn’t find me and when she was caught decided it was easier to give in than to fight. Maybe she didn’t intend to get stranded. I just don’t know.” His voice was tortured.
“And you will never know.” Jaclyn touched his cheek with her hand, her skin was soft against his. “That’s the hardest part, not knowing. That’s what you have to let go of.”
“This morning made me realize that.” He replayed the words of the sermon in his brain. “Lisa and I prayed for God’s blessings on us and the ranch every single day. And still she died.” It was like he was groping his way through a maze, trying to understand all he’d heard.
“So how does the sermon fit?” She leaned back, her face expectant.
“David was pursued by his enemies, injured and shamed for what seems like no reason. Yet each time he got up, faced his mistakes, rebuilt his faith in God and rebuilt his world.” He glanced across the room, then smiled. “You know what, Jaclyn? I’ve been just like you with your needlepoint.”
“You do needlepoint?” she teased, but empathy glowed in her dark gaze.
“Yeah, with cows.” He chuckled at her puzzled face. “You hate needlepoint. You tangle the threads, make knots where there shouldn’t be any and generally ruin the fabric. You keep pushing, even though that needlepoint is a mess and you’re only making it worse.”
“Well, thanks for that encouragement.”
“I’m doing the same thing,” Kent told her, amazed by his discovery. “I hate ranching but I keep on doing it, just like you keep doing that needlepoint, despite the fact that we both mess things up. I keep doing things my own stupid way despite my failures. I’d have lost the ranch and ruined everything Dad built if it wasn’t for Dad’s friend Gordon.”
“Meaning?” Dubious about his point, Jaclyn tilted her head sideways as she waiting for him to complete his illustration.
“The point is I’ve been trying to force myself to do something I shouldn’t be doing because I thought it would somehow make losing Lisa and my parents okay.” Saying it lifted a heavy load from his heart. “The message today helped me see I can’t change the past. Ranching isn’t my forte.”
“Ah.” She sipped her tea. “Good. So you’re going to build your sanctuary.”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s where I should be going, either.” He finished his tea, carried his cup to the sink and rinsed it. “I need to get a handle on my life, to talk to God and to think things through. Right now I need to focus on finishing your clinic and getting the emergency plan for the town operational. Then I’ll think about my future.”
Kent stopped, debated the wisdom of saying the rest of what was in his heart. Jaclyn was an amazing woman dealing with a lot from her past, and maybe from her present, too, given her parents’ objections to the clinic. He didn’t want to add to her pain or confuse her, but neither did he want her get bogged down in guilt, as he’d been. He wanted, he realized, for her to be happy and content. He wanted the very best for her.
“Go ahead and say it, Kent.” Jaclyn smiled. “I know you’re itching to tell me something.”
“You’re doing the same thing as me. Trying to make something work that can’t. You cannot earn your right to live, Jaclyn, and it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you never will. Your life is a gift given to you
by God because you’re His child and He loves you dearly. You don’t have to measure up. He already loves you.”
Her face tightened with masked emotions. He forced himself to continue.
“You’re wearing yourself out joining all these clubs, Jaclyn.” Amazed by his own temerity but determined to make her take a second look at her life, Kent pressed on. “If the clinic is God’s purpose for you, then maybe it’s time for you to sit back, trust Him and let Him work out the details.”
Jaclyn, her face flushed, opened her mouth to say something, but a piercing sound cut her off. Her eyes widened to huge brown orbs as she looked at him.
“Fire.” Kent pulled out his keys. “I have to get to the station.”
She was right behind him, closing the door and jogging to her car. “I need to get to the hospital in case there’s something I can do.”
He loved that she was so willing to jump into the fray and help however she could.
“Please think about what I said.”
“Deal,” she said. He squeezed her arm then climbed in his truck and drove away.
In the midst of a prayer for the safety of Hope’s residents, Kent realized something else.
He’d broken all his own rules and fallen in love with Dr. Jaclyn LaForge.
Oh, God, you know that can’t happen. You know I fail those I love. Please, take it away. I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than hurt her.
But life without Jaclyn in it was a very bleak prospect.
Chapter Eleven
“You sound tired.” Brianna Benson’s voice transmitted concern across the phone line.
“I am,” Jaclyn agreed. “There was a car accident outside of town today which caused a very bad fire.” She rubbed her temples to ease the thudding there. “A coronary, burns, assorted bumps and bruises and a multitude of stitches were all a part of my day.”
