by Irene Hannon
Adam shifted uncomfortably. The game sounded a little too personal to him. He was trying to be more open about his feelings, but he wasn’t sure he was up to something this potentially revealing. Even though he could almost hear Jack telling him to loosen up, he just wasn’t there yet.
Adam was literally saved by the bell when his pager went off. Trying not to look too relieved, he reached for it and read the message. “I need to call the exchange,” he said when he finished.
Nicole made a face. “But it’s your birthday.”
“People still get sick.” He stood and put his hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you start that homework, and we’ll try to fit the game in later?”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“Hey.” He leaned down. “Even if we don’t get to the game, this is still the best birthday I ever had.”
She searched his eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I’m glad.”
“Now you scoot, and I’ll take care of this call.” He stood and looked over at Clare. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Take your time. I’ll get the dishes started.”
Adam took as long as he possibly could with the call, and by the time he returned Clare had restored the kitchen to order.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Is there any coffee left?”
She checked the pot. “Looks like a couple of cups. Would you like some more?”
“I’ll get it.” He helped himself, then glanced toward the hall.
“I mentioned to Nicole that you were probably tired after working all day and might not be up to the game,” Clare told him.
He shot her a grateful look. “Thanks.”
She dried her hands on a dish towel, then folded it carefully and set it on the counter. “You didn’t seem too anxious to play.”
He took a sip of coffee. “I’m not sure it’s my kind of game.”
She looked at him. “That’s what I figured.”
What else did she figure, he wondered. Even though he’d been careful not to reveal too much about himself, this insightful woman seemed to understand things about him that he barely understood himself. Which was more than a little disconcerting.
But also encouraging. Because she hadn’t backed off at his reticence, nor had she seemed put off by any negative conclusions she’d come to. Adam had told Jack that he trusted Clare. But he hadn’t actually done anything to prove that. Maybe tonight was the time to see if he could live what he said he believed, as Reverend Nichols had suggested in his Easter sermon four weeks before.
“I thought I might sit on the porch for a while. It’s a beautiful night. Would you like to join me?” he asked, striving for a casual, conversational tone.
Clare looked at him in surprise. The porch, with its wicker furniture and its restful view of blue-hazed mountains across the valley, was one of her favorite spots. But Adam rarely had the time—or took the time, she corrected herself—to enjoy it. She was glad he wanted to take advantage of it tonight. It would be a nice ending to his birthday.
“Sure. Let me grab a sweater.”
He waited until she reappeared from the mudroom, a light sweater slung over her shoulders, then followed her to the front porch. Clare sat on the settee, assuming Adam would choose the matching chair at right angles. But to her surprise he settled in beside her, their bodies just a whisper apart. As the faint but heady scent of his after-shave filled her nostrils, her pulse suddenly vaulted into overdrive and her breath lodged in her chest.
Clare was completely taken aback by her reaction to Adam’s close proximity. And she was more than a little frightened when a surge of longing swept over her, so strong it stole the breath from her lungs. Trying not to be obvious, she discreetly attempted to put a little more distance between them. But she was already wedged against the unyielding arm of the settee. Short of getting up and calling attention to her predicament, she had no choice but to remain where she was.
“Jack really enjoyed this spot while they were here for Easter,” Adam remarked, clearly oblivious to her dilemma.
Clare swallowed. It had been a long time since she’d had a reaction like this to a man. Visceral, powerful—and ill timed. She wasn’t ready to get involved with any man. Especially this man, who was struggling with his own demons. Get a grip! she admonished herself, drawing in a long, steadying breath.
“I know you guys spent a lot of time out here one evening,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice even. “He and Theresa are really a nice couple.”
“They have something special,” Adam agreed. “And I’m happy for them, of course. But sometimes…well, I guess I’m a little…envious.”
She could relate to that. Watching Jack and Theresa interact over the holiday had been a bittersweet reminder of the good times she’d enjoyed with Dennis. “It’s hard to be alone,” Clare said quietly.
He shook his head. “It’s not just that. I don’t even have happy memories to fall back on, like you do. Even when we were at our best, Elaine and I…we never related the way Jack and Theresa do. We were never that much…in sync.”
Clare had a feeling that they were moving on to untried ground. Though she had on occasion glimpsed deeply felt emotions in Adam’s eyes, he had never before spoken of anything this personal. The closest he had come was the day of Nicole’s party, when he’d alluded to his emotionally bleak childhood.
“Maybe you and your wife just weren’t compatible,” she ventured cautiously.
“That was certainly part of it,” he conceded with a sigh. “We got way too serious way too fast. And that was my fault.” He paused, and his voice was more halting when he resumed speaking, as if he had to dig deep to find the words. “I had…very few friends growing up. And I didn’t date much. So I was completely blown away when Elaine took an interest in me. Later, when things started to fall apart, I realized that she…she had always been more interested in being married to a doctor than to me.”
Knowing what a tight rein he kept on his feelings and emotions, and how carefully he protected his heart, Clare could only imagine what that admission had cost him.
“It sounds to me like there was fault on both sides,” she said gently.
“Mostly mine. When I was growing up, my father…he made fun of us if we showed emotion—of any kind. He thought it was a sign of weakness. Jack was able to get past that and march to the beat of his own drummer. That’s probably why he has such a happy marriage. But I…I wasn’t as strong as he was. I cared what my father thought and tried to please him. Though I never did, of course. So I gradually closed up. And eventually I…I lost the ability to express emotions and to…connect with people.”
Clare frowned. “That’s not true, Adam. I’ve seen you with your patients. They love you. You have a wonderful bedside manner.”
He dismissed her comment with a frustrated shake of his head. “That’s different. It’s all one-sided. They teach you how to listen and be sympathetic in medical school. But on a personal level, when you’re trying to establish a relationship with the people you love, it has to be a two-way street. Listening isn’t enough. You have to share with them, too. Let them see what’s in your heart. I’ve never been able to do that.”
He expelled a long sigh, and when he took a sip of his coffee Clare noticed that his hand wasn’t quite steady. “Eventually, that’s what turned Elaine off. Despite the fast courtship, despite the fact we married for the wrong reasons, maybe we could have worked things out if I’d been willing to let her in. But I couldn’t. Instead, I began focusing more and more on the one area of my life where I felt capable—medicine. Which only made matters worse. And over time, any love between us died quietly, gradually slipping away, until one day it was simply gone.”
“But you stayed together a long time,” Clare pointed out.
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Yeah. But not for the noblest reasons. The one thing El
aine and I had going for us was…” He paused and shifted uncomfortably. “I guess chemistry is the right word. On a physical level. If it hadn’t been for that, we would have separated far sooner. So I’m a bit wary of…physical attraction. Because it’s not enough to sustain a marriage over the long haul.”
“I agree.”
“Anyway, I’m just not good at opening up. Of letting people get close. And you can’t connect with people if you don’t. My relationship with Nicole is a good example.”
“But that’s improving. You two are getting along better all the time.”
“Thanks to you.”
Clare shook her head. “I might have helped set the stage, but you had to step into the role. And you’ve done a wonderful job. In fact, I’d call it remarkable, now that I know more about your background. Because you didn’t have a lot of tools to work with.”
Adam set his mug on the coffee table and turned to Clare. How did she always know the right things to say, he wondered. “You know something, Clare? I love the sweater you knitted for me. It’s a wonderful birthday gift. But what you just said is the best gift of all. I just wish I could believe it was true.”
The sincerity in her eyes was unquestionable. “Trust me, Adam. It is.”
There was that word again. Trust. He angled his body toward her and, without stopping to think, reached for her hand and brushed his thumb across her silky skin. “I prayed for help with Nicole,” he said, his voice not quite steady. “And I’ve come to believe that God sent me you. And maybe not just for Nicole.”
At the intense, undisguised yearning in his eyes, Clare’s heart stopped, then raced on. And all he was doing to kindle that reaction was holding her hand. Gently. Tenderly.
Adam studied Clare. She hadn’t pulled away from him, but he was well aware of her conflicting emotions: confusion, yearning, panic. The same things he was feeling.
Adam hadn’t expected his birthday to end this way. He’d asked her to join him on the porch to see if he had the courage to begin the process of opening up. But he’d ended up sharing far more than he’d planned. Which was odd, considering how emotionally distant he’d always been. Yet he didn’t feel distant from Clare, whose loveliness and goodness and strength had not only touched his heart, but refreshed his parched and weary soul.
It had been a long time since Adam had kissed a woman. There had been no one after Elaine. And he’d keenly felt the loss of that human connection. Sometimes the loneliness left him aching for something as simple as a gentle touch or a tender look. But he’d ruthlessly stifled such needs, knowing he didn’t have the right stuff to sustain a long-term relationship, and unwilling to settle for less—or to hurt someone else by trying.
Yet Jack seemed to think he had changed, that he was now better able—or willing—to establish the kind of rapport that made a marriage not just work, but flourish. So did Clare, if he was reading her correctly. And he wanted to believe them. Desperately. Because he was tired of being alone. Tired of holding up the No Trespassing sign that blocked his heart. Tired of being cautious. And afraid. And second-guessing.
Adam knew he was heading toward shaky ground. That maybe he was being foolish, that he might regret his actions later. But right now, at this moment, with Clare only a whisper away, he didn’t care. He needed her.
And so he decided to do something that could change their relationship forever.
Chapter Ten
Adam slowly reached over and touched Clare’s face, tracing the elegant line of her jaw with a whisper touch. Her skin was just as he’d imagined it—silky and smooth and soft—and his mouth went dry as he struggled to get his heart rate under control.
Clare seemed to be faring no better. A pulse hammered in the delicate hollow of her throat, and he reassuringly stroked her hand—though he wasn’t sure if that gesture was for his sake or hers.
Adam’s fingers trailed from her cheek down the slender column of her throat, then around to the back of her neck. He cupped her head gently, and as he gazed into her deep-blue eyes, he signaled his intent, giving her a chance to pull away. When she didn’t, he slowly, deliberately closed the gap between them and leaned down for a kiss.
When he finally broke contact his hands were trembling and he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair off her forehead.
“Are you okay?” he asked her unsteadily when he could find his voice.
She stared at him solemnly and blinked once. “I don’t know.”
He gave her a shaky grin. “Me, neither. Let’s just sit for a minute, okay? I think we both need to regroup. Doctor’s orders.”
He kept one arm around her shoulder and pressed her head into the protective curve of his arm, letting his cheek rest against her silky hair.
Clare could hear the thudding of his heart against her ear. She knew her own heart was in no better shape. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d anticipated from their kiss, but she hadn’t expected it to leave her wanting more. She wasn’t ready for more, though. And she wasn’t sure Adam was, either. So where did they go from here?
As Adam held Clare, he had his own questions. Had he changed enough to make a relationship work over the long-term? Was he willing to trust his heart—completely—to another person? He’d shared a lot with Clare tonight. But it had been hard. Very hard. Opening up didn’t come naturally to him, as it did to Jack. Could he sustain that kind of sharing long-term? Or would he eventually fall back into old patterns—and wind up hurting Clare?
He didn’t know the answers to those questions. So as he stared at the blue-hazed mountains in the distance, he put the matter into greater hands.
Lord, please show me the way to proceed. I’m falling in love with Clare, and I’m not sure I can let her go when the nanny job is over. But I don’t want to hurt her. Please help me to know Your will, to do the right thing. Help me to choose wisely and not make a decision that satisfies only my own selfish needs. Because as much as I want Clare in my life, I also want what’s best for her. Even if that means letting her go.
“I wondered where you guys were.”
At the sound of Nicole’s voice, Clare abruptly straightened up and Adam withdrew his arm. She felt hot spots of color burning in her cheeks, and she averted her face on the pretense of arranging her sweater, feeling as guilty as a teenager caught necking in her parents’ living room.
“I guess it’s too late to play a game, huh?” Nicole said.
Clare risked a glance at Adam, wondering if he felt as embarrassed as she did. But if the twitch at the corner of his mouth was any indication, he seemed to find the whole thing humorous.
“Probably,” he said. “Besides, I think you ladies should make an early night of it, considering all the hard work you did for my birthday.”
“Yeah. And I still have some homework to finish.”
“I’ll be in to say good-night a little later.”
“Okay. ’Night, Clare.”
“Good night, Nicole. You did a great job on the party.”
“Thanks.” Nicole turned to go, but paused at the door to look back. “It’s okay if you want to put your arm back around Clare’s shoulder, Dad. I think it’s kind of cool.”
With that she disappeared inside, letting the screen door slam behind her.
Adam turned to Clare and chuckled. “So much for being discreet.”
She gave him a wry look, her color still high. “Kids are smart. And attentive. They don’t miss much. Listen, I’m sorry if this…well, I hope you weren’t embarrassed.”
“Not nearly as much as you were.”
Nervously, Clare adjusted her sweater. “It’s just that…well, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything…serious. I still have…issues.”
“I do, too. And I’ve learned from experience not to rush things. So let’s just take this really slow, okay? I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
She nodded and glanced toward the house. “Including Nicole. She and I have gotten pretty close, and she’s asked me a couple of times
about leaving. I don’t want to build up any false hopes.”
“I’ve thought about that, too,” he replied. “I know she has a tendency to read too much into things sometimes. But I do agree with her about one thing.”
“What?”
He draped his arm loosely around her shoulders and grinned. “I think this is kind of cool.”
Clare smiled, but she didn’t respond.
Because even though she didn’t want to get her own hopes up, and even though she still had issues to resolve, she couldn’t contain the glow that suddenly suffused her heart and spilled over, radiating warmth right down to her fingertips.
“Adam? I think you better take this call. It’s the police.”
Adam’s head snapped up and he stared at Janice, who had just returned from maternity leave. “What?”
“It’s the police. They said there’s been…an accident. Line two.”
Adam felt his heart stop, then race on as he glanced at his watch and reached for the phone. Clare was supposed to drive Nicole to a friend’s house for a Friday-night sleepover about an hour ago. Dear God, let them be okay! he prayed.
He punched the number and tried unsuccessfully to speak, then cleared his throat and tried again. “This is Adam Wright.”
“Dr. Wright, this is Lieutenant Stevens, Highway Patrol. Do you have a daughter named Nicole?”
“Yes.”
“There’s been a car accident. She’s been taken to Memorial Hospital in Asheville.”
Adam’s grip on the phone tightened, turning his knuckles white. “How bad is it?”
“I wasn’t at the scene myself. I only have a notation that it was a head injury.”
Adam closed his eyes and tried to breathe. “What about Clare?” he asked hoarsely.
There was a sound of rustling paper. “I don’t see anyone named Clare on the accident report. The driver was a Kathleen Foster. Her daughter, Jennifer, is also listed. They have minor injuries.”
Adam frowned. “Are you sure?”
