Ben remembered breathing a heartfelt prayer of thanks when the strapping newborn had finally taken his first breath, after a good minute outside of the womb. Within half an hour, the little one’s coloring was nearing perfect, and his cry hearty. A very good sign, indeed. The baby was healthy. Doing well. And even suckling at his mama’s breast as Ben ushered Callie out to the wagon to return home.
So why didn’t those things comfort Ben deep down? It seemed that one tragedy after another stacked up against him, challenging his ability and skill as a doctor. Ben had failed to turn Max around and bring him back into the fold. He’d failed to save Aaron’s sweet baby and dear wife. And he’d failed to restore Joseph’s vision.
Over the past hours, it’d been all he could manage to hide the lack of confidence that plagued him without mercy.
The look in Sarah’s eyes—that pleading, unquestioning look that bequeathed Ben far too much faith in his expertise—troubled Ben to the core. And then the way Callie had peered at him, with a vulnerability and trust as tender and fragile as a tiny seedling. He swallowed hard, remembering the way it shook him deep—made him wish he could be found worthy.
But the fleeting look of terror he’d seen cross Callie’s face had almost brought his heart to a sudden, sobering stop. Plain as day, he’d seen it. Her fear had tugged at his compassion with relentless force.
As the pale glow of morning’s earliest light climbed over the horizon, Ben urged the horses down the frost-covered, grassy path. He contemplated the sense of helplessness he felt, finding an odd sense of quietude as he watched the way the horses’ warm breath made rhythmic puffs of steam into the cool and crisp late October air.
When Ben glanced over at Callie hugging her arms to her chest, his uncertainty faded some. She was a mystery, just Callie. A deep and exquisite and beautiful mystery. A gift to him the last two weeks…tonight. Perhaps forever?
His nerve endings hummed to life. Grew louder as he saw the wisps of hair that had fallen in loose waves from her braid. He had to clench his fist tight to keep from touching the rich strands. The radiant, almost ethereal way her fair skin reflected the first inkling of breaking light entranced him completely.
“Are you cold?” he finally asked, his throat gone tight.
“A little.” She breathed into her hands.
Ben grabbed the lap robe from behind the seat and settled the blanket over her shoulders. “Here, this should help.”
The fact that she didn’t flinch at his touch or his nearness was heartening. “Were you all right in there?” On a sigh, Ben threaded a hand through his hair. “Did I throw too much at you?”
He focused down the road, realizing that maybe he’d assumed too much from her. But for several days now, she’d been remarkably adept as she assisted him with patients. Never once had she balked or seemed uneasy. She’d handled situations as naturally as if she’d had training. In fact, he couldn’t quite get over just how perfectly she complemented him.
“I guess I thought with how well you’ve handled other patients this past week, you’d do fine.”
She turned toward him. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” He met her gaze, and even in the pale light he could see the way her eyes took on that faraway, pain-filled shadowing. “The way you looked, I thought I was going to have another patient on my hands.”
Callie lifted her chin in that familiar and stubborn I-don’t-need-your-help kind of way. “It won’t happen again.”
Ben gave his head a slow shake. “Callie, I—”
“I promise,” she added, laying a hand on his right forearm. “I won’t let you down again, Ben. I don’t know what came over me, but I promise I won’t let it happen again.”
He dropped his gaze to where she held his arm, saddened that she could think him so demanding and unforgiving.
And moved by the way her touch soaked right through his heavy sheepskin coat and wool shirt, to his skin. Then to his heart. Her touch, her lingering gaze, the way she seemed torn between maintaining her distance and reaching out to him, brought his breath up short.
He covered her hands with one of his. “You didn’t let me down, Callie. You were wonderful back there.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, hoping this glimpse of vulnerability heralded, even as the morning’s first light, a new day. “The encouragement you gave Mrs. Nolte couldn’t have been more perfect. It kept her with us.”
She swallowed visibly. Sitting so close to her, he could feel her tense as she averted her attention to where the horses plodded steadily toward home. He hadn’t really been privy to this fragile side of Callie before, and seeing it now made him wish that he could take her in his arms, sheltering her from her silent storm.
Right now it didn’t seem to matter that she’d once been married to Max. Or that her past was still shady, at best. Or that a hint of suspicion hung over her.
“What matters to me isn’t that it happened, but why it happened. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.” Pulling on the reins, he brought the horses to a halt in the middle of the path. “Please. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
She pulled her hands into her lap. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” Ben closed his eyes momentarily and sighed, wondering if he was pushing too much. But at the moment, it didn’t really seem to matter. He opened his eyes and looked at her, pointedly. “Do you trust me, Callie? Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”
Callie studied him as though trying to dig deep into who he really was. It evoked a strange discomfort when she looked at him like that.
Was she seeing Max?
Or comparing him to Max?
The thought of being compared to his wayward, immoral brother stung deep.
“The way you’re looking at me now, I’d think you were trying to find some reason to mistrust me,” he choked out. “Some piece of evidence that would justify your determination to keep your distance. For whatever reason, you’re committed to staying at arm’s length.”
“No. It’s not like—”
“Do you think I’m like Max? Is that it?”
“I thought—I thought she was going to lose the baby,” she finally said, her rosebud mouth drawn down at the corners as though she might cry. “She almost did.”
“But she didn’t.” Toning down his ire, Ben cautiously reached up and smoothed wayward strands of hair from her face even as he battled back his own taunting failures and silent accusations.
“She was in such pain.” Her voice quavered. “And having such a hard time.”
He cupped his hand at the side of her head, struggling to remind himself that ultimately life wasn’t his to give or take away. That ultimately, God was in charge of the outcome.
Seeing the remnant of torment in her eyes, he searched for words that would ease her. “It was a difficult labor, but she made it through—and you were part of that.”
She almost leaned into his touch, but not quite. “I feared for her, Ben.”
He swallowed past a lump that had been there since the time they’d arrived, three hours ago. “I did, too.”
Her breath caught. “You did?”
“I did. It was touch-and-go. But we made it through. God saw us through,” he added, remembering how desperate he’d been to find God’s presence there guiding him.
Ready emotion seized his throat as he recalled the overwhelming expression of gratitude and relief he’d seen on Sarah’s face when her baby gave his first, small cry.
And the look of trauma and fear he’d witnessed marring Callie’s lovely features. There had to be something more to the unveiled look of horror. Yes, she’d feared for Sarah Nolte and her baby, but was there something beyond the sympathetic, compassionate concern? Some dark and daunting image from Callie’s past that had come back to haunt her?
Callie might as well have aged ten years in four days.
With an unnerving sense of irony, she peered at her image in the mirror hanging above the bureau. The woman
staring back at her, all done up and ready to attend Boulder’s annual Harvest Dinner and Town Hall Dance, appeared far younger than the way she really felt.
Ever since Sarah’s baby was born, Callie’s struggle with the haunting memories of her own tragic delivery had been nearly insurmountable. The incident had dredged up the familiar pain and deep ache far more than she’d experienced in the past.
But comfort seemed out of her reach. Like the rippling cascade of a waterfall echoing through mountains, she was almost sure she could hear comfort’s alluring, peaceful call, but she couldn’t seem to find it.
She’d longed, yearned for someone to talk to these past days. Callie found herself craving a real peace to subdue her very real fears and hurts, but nothing she did seemed to satisfy. Not throwing herself into her job, helping Luke with the kittens, befriending one of the girls at the Golden Slipper, or even knitting mittens for the orphanage with Katie.
Perhaps she was missing something. Something bigger than herself. Bigger than the things she did to feel useful. Bigger than the stubborn strength she’d strapped on these past years. Bigger than even Ben Drake.
In a moment of utterly shameful weakness, she’d almost spilled everything to him. About her pregnancy, the labor, the delivery. But she just couldn’t tell him about all of that. Doing so would only add to the shadows already cast over Max’s memory. Besides, there was certainly no guarantee that he’d believe her.
With a heavy sigh and determination to climb above the grief, she adjusted the lace collar on her emerald-green dress as images of Sarah’s chubby little boy flitted through her mind.
Jared Benjamin Nolte…
He was such a sweet baby, so content and peaceful. She’d gone along with Ben to check on the little one the day following the birth, and when Mr. Nolte had told Ben that they’d named their new boy after him, Ben had become disconcertingly quiet.
A heartwarming smile coaxed up the corner of Callie’s mouth.
First a kitten. Now a baby.
Ben should be honored—at least that’s what she thought. But for some reason he seemed agitated by the whole thing. As if he didn’t think he deserved the tribute.
Callie hadn’t met anyone who deserved such an honor more than Ben Drake. He was caring. Kind. Compassionate.
He was everything that Max was not.
For the past three weeks she’d seen Ben tend to one patient after another, his steady demeanor never altering from his usual calm and gentle way. Even in the face of one patient’s rude behavior, he seemed to walk above the unseen realm of discourtesy, treating the person with respect and consideration and patience.
At times, he seemed almost larger than life.
That very attribute had been the quality that had drawn her to Max seven years ago. It was the trait that had dramatically changed after they’d married, too. But for some reason, with Ben things seemed different, as though the person she saw day in, day out was the real, genuine Ben.
When she heard the front door open, she felt her heart skip a beat. He was here. Ben had come for her.
And she was going to be attending the dinner and dance with him. It’d been a last-minute request on his part, and though she was fairly certain he was just making an attempt to include her in community happenings, she’d been glad for the invitation. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted to attend a function like this. But first her father had deemed dancing a sin, and then after she’d married, Max hadn’t wanted anything to do with an occasion like this.
He’d preferred a more raucous crowd to fulfill his desire for pleasure. And thankfully, he’d never once forced Callie to accompany him.
Regardless of the fact that she considered herself to be fairly naive, it wasn’t hard to guess what he did when he was out. He’d drag himself home in the wee hours of the morning with red lip paint on his neck and face. And the overwhelming smell of perfumed powder and booze wafting around him in a noxious cloud.
Having no intention of dwelling on those unpleasant memories, she swept her gaze down her dress one last time then emerged from her room.
She glanced up just in time to see Ben come to a sudden stop in the hallway. He stood there all still and straight, staring at her, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. His gray-blue eyes darkened with an intensity that sent a quiver of contentment all the way down her spine to where her toes curled in her new, buttoned boots.
“You look lovely, Callie.” His voice was low and husky as he advanced a step closer.
She slid a hand up and touched the locket at her neck, taking in his appearance, as well. Indulging herself—if truth be told—in his striking good looks. “You’re looking very nice, yourself, Ben,” she breathed, swallowing hard as she noticed how handsome he looked in his dark gray trousers, crisp white shirt and navy blue vest and coat.
Feeling a warm blush coloring her cheeks, she worked frantically to stuff those thoughts back down.
After Max had died, she’d vowed never to make herself vulnerable to a man again, and now here she was, practically throwing herself at Ben. As good as Ben Drake seemed, there had to be a flaw to him. And if she knew what was best for her, she’d figure out his weakness just as soon as possible.
If not for the fact that she felt her resolve fade away whenever she was around him, she might be able to do just that.
Though a good three feet still remained between them, they may as well have been nose to nose. Her heart fluttered madly inside her chest. The distance between them seemed charged with a force she was sure she could touch, its command so real and powerful that she had a difficult time breathing.
A sudden shyness crept over her. She glanced down at her dress, fingering the fine fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve worn this before,” she mumbled. If she’d been any more ridiculously inane right then, she might have won some kind of award for it.
“I know.” He nodded, one side of his mouth curving up in one of those devastating sideways grins of his that made her knees all weak and stomach all aflutter. “You look beautiful.”
Max had said that kind of thing to her early on in their relationship. But never—never had his words matched the look in his eyes, like Ben’s did now.
Pulling in a steadying breath, she grasped at her wilting resolve before it fell completely away from her. She made a mad dash, groping for a way out from the strangely consuming emotions he induced inside her.
“I must say, you’re getting better with your compliments, Doctor Drake,” she managed, her voice trembling. “From—how did you put it—‘You look completely worn out, pale, and your eyes are red,’ to this,” she blurted, trying desperately to douse the mind-numbing, heated intensity that seemed to build whenever they were in close proximity.
“That’s not fair.” He slid one breathtaking step closer. “When I said those things, I was making a medical statement of fact. Trying to get through that stubborn head of yours that you had no business being up when you were so sick.”
She willed her hands to grow still. “And I thank you for your concern. But I’m none the worse for the wear. Am I?”
He shook his head. “You give stubborn a whole new meaning.” Dragging in a breath, he moved to grab her cloak and hold it out for her. The soft edge of a grin tugged at his mouth. “Are you ready to go?”
“Absolutely,” she answered sweetly with a smile, as he covered her with the warm wool. “Will Katie be there?”
“Oh, yes. She loves to dance. So does Joseph.”
Before she even knew it, he was securing the ties of her cloak at her neck, the errant, featherlight brush of his fingers against her skin sending heated sparks straight through her again.
She willed her mind to stay clear of the emotions she felt at the moment. “Really? Without his sight?”
He held the door open for her as he picked up the basket of food and followed her out. “Without his sight.”
“Well, that’s remarkable. The first time I met Joseph, i
t was a few moments before I even realized he was blind.” Peering at Ben, she couldn’t miss the sudden, far-off look that had half shuttered his gaze.
“He has a remarkable ability to look you in the eye, doesn’t he?” His voice had grown tight and strained.
“Ben? Is there something wrong?”
“No.” His quick retort was far from convincing.
Something had altered the fine mood he’d been in just moments ago, and Ben wasn’t given to being moody.
“What’s bothering you?” she tried again. “You can tell me.”
“It’s nothing,” he ground out through tightly clenched teeth as he stepped down from the porch.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Let’s get going.” He turned around and gave her an are-you-coming kind of look.
Callie threaded her arms at her chest and planted her feet. She nailed him with the most serious look she could muster. “Is this how this works? You can pry and prod to try and get me to spill my heart, but the same rules don’t apply to you?”
“It’s not that, Callie. And I certainly haven’t pried or prodded.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve been very careful with you.”
“I’m choosing to ignore that you’ve been careful with me.” Failing miserably, she stalked to the front of the porch. “I don’t want to be treated as though I’m fragile.”
His wide-eyed look made her cringe. “Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t have taken off if I had been pushy?”
“Maybe,” she forced through clenched teeth.
He tilted his head, quirking one dark eyebrow.
“All right. So I would have.” She jammed her hands on her hips. “But what about you, Ben? Here you are, obviously bothered by something all of a sudden, and I… Well, I just wanted to help. That’s all.”
Ben unceremoniously set the basket down on the ground and clenched his fists. “You want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
Rocky Mountain Redemption Page 12
