For Love's Sake

by Cynthia Rutledge

  “Seems like a drastic step,” Jay drawled, his gaze fixed on her.

  “You came back, too.”

  “Only on a temporary basis,” he pointed out. “You’re stuck here permanently.”

  “Not stuck,” Rachel said with a smile. “I love Millville.”

  Jay stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were so blue she could feel herself being pulled into their liquid depths. She forced her gaze from his, her heart fluttering in her chest.

  “You really like it here?”

  His tone was so incredulous that Rachel laughed out loud. The sound eased the strange tension gripping her.

  “I do,” she said. “Of course that doesn’t mean I appreciate Mrs. Kellogg peering through her curtains to see what time Tom brings me home and how long he stays. Or Jeanie at the post office always asking me what’s in a letter or who sent the priority package.”

  Jay grinned and shook his head. “I can’t believe Jeanie Carmichael is still behind the counter. I swear the old hag was a hundred years old when I was a kid.”

  Rachel plopped down in the chair opposite him. “Face it, Jay—nothing really changes in Millville.”

  “You’ve changed,” he said suddenly, unexpectedly, staring at her with an intensity that took her breath away. “You’re all grown up and beautiful.”

  Rachel cursed the warmth stealing its way up her neck. It was a line Jay had probably used on a thousand girls since he’d left Millville. Most of them probably fell for it, too, but Rachel knew better. Her sister Mary had the market cornered on beautiful in her family.

  “You must be running a fever.” Rachel rose to her feet. “Because the last thing in the world I am is beautiful.”

  The last thing in the world I am is beautiful.

  The words hung in the air and Jay wondered if Rachel was serious or just fishing for another compliment.

  “I beg to differ,” Jay said finally. “I told my mom to find me the best-looking woman in town and you were the one she chose.”

  Rachel laughed. “Mrs. Gibbons was the only other applicant. Need I say more?”

  Jay’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Gibbons who works at the nursing home?”

  “Mrs. Gibbons, who used to work at the nursing home,” Rachel clarified. “Now she lives there.”

  A skeptical look crossed Jay’s face. “I can’t believe my mother seriously considered her.”

  Rachel smiled. “She was actually the frontrunner until your mother realized she’d graduated with your aunt Lena and would need more care than you would. That’s when I surged into the lead.”

  Jay had been prepared to tolerate Rachel. He didn’t remember much about her from school, other than she’d been standoffish with a superior air. He hadn’t known she had a quirky sense of humor or such pretty blue eyes.

  He let his gaze linger, glad that for whatever reason his mother had chosen her. If he had to be stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere he might as well be stuck here with a beautiful woman.

  Rachel’s facial bones were delicately carved, her mouth full and he’d seen enough bleached California blondes to know that her silvery blond hair was the real deal. While her lithe figure might not be like the surgically enhanced women he’d dated in L.A., he found the natural curves oddly appealing.

  Her khaki shorts and tank top flattered her figure and just looking at the creamy expanse of skin sent his pulse rate soaring. Jay grinned. For the first time since the accident he felt like himself again.

  “It’s good to see you smile,” she said approvingly. “You must be feeling better.”

  “I am,” he said. “And it’s all because of you.”

  Chapter Two

  Rachel’s heart skipped a beat and heat rose up her neck. She’d taken this job because she needed the money. All she had to do was some light housekeeping, shuttle Jay to and from his doctor appointments and keep an eye on Aunt Lena. In return, she’d earn enough money to replace her old furnace before winter hit.

  When her friends had teased her about spending so much time with “Mr. GQ,” Rachel had only laughed. She had a steady boyfriend and even if she didn’t, she was hardly the guy’s type. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned Jay being a problem.

  “If you’re hungry,” Rachel said pleasantly, determined not to overreact, “I could make you a fruit smoothie. The Vitamin C in the orange juice would probably be good for—”

  “Rachel.” His deep voice sent a shiver up her spine. “I don’t want a smoothie.”

  She sighed. “Then what is it you do want, Jay?”

  He stared for a long moment before his lips lifted in an easy smile.

  “Fresh air,” Jay said.

  The twinkle in his eye said he found her discomfort amusing. Her fingers itched to pick up one of his mother’s crocheted sofa pillows and throw it at his smiling face, but when he met her gaze, the look in his eye kicked her heart into overdrive and everything else was forgotten.

  “When I see something I want, I go for it,” Jay said. “How ’bout you?”

  “I think acting in haste is never wise,” Rachel said, surprised that one little look could have had such an effect on her. “Fast isn’t always better. But I’m sure you already know that. After all, wasn’t it speed that put you in your current predicament?”

  Jay’s smile vanished. “What did my mother tell you?”

  Rachel shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, regretting the impulsive dig. Twyla Nordstrom loved to talk, and sometimes she told more than she should. But she was a lovely woman, and Rachel certainly didn’t want to cause any trouble between her and her son. “Just something about you liking to drive fast.”

  Actually, she’d said that Jay’s “heavy foot” had been the reason for the accident, but Rachel saw no need to elaborate.

  “The roads were wet.” Jay shrugged. “I miscalculated a hairpin turn. The tree came up out of nowhere.”

  Rachel shuddered at the image. “You could easily have been killed.”

  “When I woke up and saw myself in a mirror,” Jay said, “I wished I had been.”

  Rachel stared in disbelief. The clearness of his gaze said he was serious.

  “There’s more to a person than physical beauty,” she said, hastening to add, “not that you’re ugly or anything now.”

  His lips quirked up in a humorless smile. “In my line of work, how you look can be just as important as how well you deliver the news.”

  “But you’ll be able to go back to your old life, won’t you?” Even though it had only been a few weeks, the scar’s redness had already started to fade and it was easy to believe that with a little makeup, it wouldn’t be visible at all. The fracture of his cheekbone would take a bit longer, but Twyla had said that Jay’s plastic surgeon anticipated a complete recovery.

  “I hope so,” he said, “but in my business people have short memories. By the time I’m ready to go back, they might decide they like my replacement better and I’ll be out.”

  “There are no guarantees,” Rachel reluctantly agreed. She wished she could be more reassuring but his concerns were valid. “But change isn’t all bad. When I was in Chicago I worked for a large firm doing training. After only eight months I was downsized. At the time I was devastated, but I realize now it was the best thing that could have happened.”

  “Really?” Jay leaned back in his chair, his casted arm resting on a pillow. “You liked being unemployed?”

  “Of course not,” Rachel said, “but the experience forced me to reevaluate my life. Only then did I realize what was really important.”

  “You had an epiphany.”

  “Exactly.” Rachel nodded. “I’d gone to Chicago for all the wrong reasons. And, if I hadn’t been downsized I would have stayed for all the wrong reasons.”

  “I’m surprised you moved there in the first place,” Jay said. “You don’t seem like a big-city kind of girl to me.”

  Once Rachel would have been offended by the comment, but she’d le
arned a lot about herself during that brief stint in the Windy City. “I went to Chicago to prove to myself that I could be successful in the eyes of the world.”

  “Then…” he prompted when she didn’t continue.

  “Then it hit me that my life shouldn’t be about what others thought—it should be about what I thought.” Rachel slipped into the chair opposite Jay and the words tumbled past her lips. “I realized that while training adults to be better managers is a good thing, it isn’t nearly as important as making a difference in the life of a child. As a first-grade teacher, I plant seeds that will bloom for years to come. I set the stage for the rest of their education. I—”

  Rachel stopped after seeing the smile forming on his lips. An uncomfortable warmth made its way up her neck. She’d returned to Millville two years ago with her passion for teaching restored. Now she didn’t just teach, she advocated for her pupils, she championed educational causes and she gave 110 percent every day. But sometimes, her renewed enthusiasm caused her to go a bit overboard. “All I’m saying is losing that job was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.”

  “I’m happy it worked out for you,” Jay said mildly, “but I like my job and I hope it’s still there when I’m ready to return.”

  “God willing, it will be,” Rachel said.

  “General manager willing is more like it,” Jay said with a wry smile. “This is one decision God won’t have much say in.”

  Rachel just shook her head. It was amazing that despite going to church all those years, Jay could be so blind regarding God’s role in his life. Even she could see that Jay’s accident and his return to Millville was part of some bigger plan. What that plan was, she couldn’t say, but she was sure that in time all would be revealed.

  Jay took a bite of the ham sandwich Rachel had packed and decided that communing with nature definitely had some benefits.

  The fresh air stimulated his appetite, which had been depressed since the accident, and just getting out of that dreary old farmhouse had improved his mood. Best of all, the pond on his family’s property was secluded, which meant he didn’t have to worry about unexpected visitors.

  Come to think of it, he’d always been able to count on the pond when he’d wanted privacy.

  “What are you smiling about?” Rachel took a sip of her soda and leaned back against the trunk of a large cottonwood.

  “I was remembering how I used to bring my dates here,” Jay said. “It was usually so dark all you could see were stars.”

  “I imagine it was pretty—” Rachel’s brows pulled together “—but why did you come all the way down here? You can see the same stars from the farmyard or from the road.”

  “Think about it. If I parked the car in the farmyard, my mom would have been out of the house in a shot, and if it was parked on the side of the road, it’s a given one of the sheriff’s deputies would make an appearance.” Jay chuckled. “I didn’t want to be interrupted.”

  “Definitely not,” Rachel said quickly.

  Jay repositioned his leg on the blanket they’d spread on the ground and tried to get comfortable. The leg itself didn’t hurt but his ribs had taken a beating in the accident and were still sore.

  “Are you okay?” Rachel placed her can of soda on the dusty ground and concern filled her gaze.

  “Couldn’t be better.” Jay smiled, ignoring the stabbing pain across his midsection.

  But the smile must not have been very convincing because Rachel’s brows drew together. She chewed on her lower lip, suddenly pensive. “Maybe bringing you out here wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “I’m glad we did,” he said emphatically. He leaned forward and impulsively took her hands in his. “I was going stir-crazy in that house.”

  Her skin was soft and smooth and though he’d never thought of his hands as being particularly large, hers felt positively tiny in comparison.

  Rachel lowered her gaze and stared at the intertwined hands. “Jay—” She started to speak, then stopped, cleared her throat and tried again.

  “What?” he said with as innocent a look as he could muster.

  She stared into his eyes and for a moment he was reminded of Mrs. Ziemer, his kindergarten teacher, and the way she used to look at him when he’d insist he hadn’t been the one talking in the back of the room.

  Sensing defeat, he gave in to the inevitable, released his grip, and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hands are off.”

  “And hands need to stay off,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Remember, I have a boyfriend.”

  He searched her face and his admiration for her inched up a notch when he realized she was serious. Her loyalty was refreshing. And rare. Jay could count on one hand the number of women he’d met in the past five years who knew the meaning of the word fidelity.

  Take Lindsay, for example. Even though they’d been dating regularly for the past six months, she hadn’t called once since he left the hospital and he had the feeling she’d already moved on to greener pastures.

  Still, he could be giving Rachel too much credit. It might not be loyalty at all. It could be that she didn’t find him attractive and was using Tom as an excuse. The thought was too depressing to consider. Better to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe she really was committed to Tom.

  Even though he and Tom had once been best friends, Jay hadn’t thought of the guy in years. He wondered if Tom still went overboard when he was in love. As a teen, Tom’s single-minded devotion had made him popular with the ladies.

  He’d been a generous guy with a quirky sense of humor whose only weakness had been a temper that would flare without warning. Jay still remembered the time Tom had gone ballistic over nothing and slammed Karen against the wall. Karen had been shaken by the experience and had told him she never wanted to see him again.

  But it wasn’t long until Tom had wheedled his way back in her good graces and they’d eventually married.

  “Your devotion to Tom is refreshing,” Jay said.

  “Tom is very good to me.” Rachel lifted her chin in a gesture that seemed to dare him to say otherwise. “We have a great relationship.”

  “I would hope so,” Jay said, wondering about the slight hitch in her voice. “Otherwise what’s the point?”

  Chapter Three

  Rachel returned home that night to find a big bouquet of flowers waiting. Unfortunately the attached love note from Tom only served to remind her of something she’d been doing her best to forget.

  Three months ago when Tom had first asked her out, Rachel had been over the moon with happiness. After that first date she’d seen him every day. Up until a couple of weeks ago Rachel had felt she’d known him better than most of her friends.

  He was such a romantic, always sending her flowers and love poems, and giving her little gifts. And unlike many men who seemed happier spending time with the guys, Tom wanted to be with her.

  When her friend Jocelyn had said it would drive her absolutely crazy if Adam, her husband, wanted to spend so much time with her, Rachel had only smiled. She liked running errands with Tom, fixing dinner for him in the evening and attending church together on Sunday. Though her friends complained they never saw her anymore, Rachel had loved her life as Tom’s girlfriend.

  Her gaze shifted to the flowers. She’d never seen such huge spider mums. The colorful flowers were her favorite and it was so like Tom to make sure the florist sent the very best. She inhaled their fragrant scent.

  I’m making too much out of nothing, she told herself. Tom is a great guy and I’m a lucky woman. Besides, he’s said over and over he’s sorry and he’s promised it will never happen again.

  But he said that before, a little voice whispered, and it did happen again.

  A tear slipped down Rachel’s cheek. A second one followed. Maybe what her father had said way back in high school was true, maybe she did bring out the worst in a man. After all, Tom insisted that nothing like this had ever happened before.r />
  Rachel knew she could be opinionated and headstrong, but she’d always thought of herself as a good listener and someone willing to compromise. But after the second incident she’d given Tom an ultimatum: get counseling or it was over.

  Tom had tried to convince her that seeing a psychologist would just be a waste of time. He didn’t need to pay someone to tell him what he’d already figured out: when they were arguing he just needed to keep his hands off her. Problem solved.

  The first time Rachel had backed down, but this time she’d insisted. Tom hadn’t been happy, but he’d finally agreed when he’d realized she was serious. Rachel glanced at the clock. Tom’s first counseling session should be over by now.

  As if on cue, the phone rang.

  Rachel wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and hurried into the living room. She grabbed the cordless phone and plopped into an overstuffed chair. “Hello.”

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Tom said. “Did you get my flowers?”

  “They’re beautiful.” Rachel tried to put some enthusiasm into her voice. “And the note was very sweet.”

  “I meant what I said,” Tom said. “I’m so sorry I hurt you and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  Actions speak louder than words.

  Rachel could almost hear mother admonishing her, but Rachel reminded herself that Tom was doing something.

  “How did the counseling session go?” she asked, eager for news about the session. “Did you like Dr. Peters? Do you think the two of you will work well together?”

  Tom didn’t answer immediately and as a long moment of silence filled the other end of the phone line, dread coursed through Rachel. Her fingers tightened around the receiver.

  “I didn’t go,” he said finally. “We had some problems at the bank and I couldn’t get away.”

  Rachel’s chest constricted. She took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. Problems. She clung to the word. Maybe the bank had been robbed. Maybe an employee had gotten locked in a vault. Maybe he did have a good excuse. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. “What kind of problems?”