by Loree Lough
“You’ll go with me. To Gabe’s house. We were a team in that OR, so it makes sense.”
He smiled. The engaging, flirty smile that had attracted her to him in the first place. The same smile he’d no doubt aimed at the half dozen—that she knew of—women he’d graced with his companionship while engaged to Emily.
“All right.”
“Excellent! I drove the new Porsche. Just wait till you hear that baby purr!”
Emily wouldn’t hear it, because she had no intention of riding to Phillip’s house with Alex.
“I’ll give you directions and meet you there. That way if one of us gets an emergency call, the other won’t have to worry about getting back to their car.”
Winking, he tapped his temple. “Always thinking, aren’t you?”
“I’ll just let the family know where I’m going.”
“Shouldn’t you call the boy’s father? Let him know we’re on the way?” Alex thumped the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, you can’t, can you? Because the Amish don’t have phones.”
He’d find out soon enough that the Oakland community followed New Order rules.
“Give me your cell phone,” she said, holding out her hand.
Alex hesitated, but only for a second.
She called up his maps icon, typed in Phillip’s address, and returned the device. “If the system misdirects you, just remember, it’s 219 North to a right on Paul Friend Road, then left on Pleasant Valley. There’s a big black mailbox at the end of the drive that says Baker. You can’t miss it.”
After enduring a series of good-natured woo-hoos and Cupid must be in towns from Joe and Miranda, Emily left the restaurant. With a little luck, she’d reach Phillip’s house before Alex, to deliver a “Heads up, trouble’s a-comin’” warning.
But, as luck would have it, Alex was already unfolding himself from the front seat when she pulled into the drive. Phillip must have heard the sports car’s engine, because he was on the porch, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed, watching.
When Emily stepped up beside him, he said, “Everything go well this morning?”
“As well as can be expected.” What a trite thing to say, she thought. “Alex thought that since he was in town, he should check on Gabe.”
Phillip welcomed the surgeon with a hearty handshake. “Good to see you again, Dr. Williams.” Then he opened the screen door and invited them inside. “My mother just took a pound cake out of the oven. Would you like a slice now, or after the exam?”
“After,” Emily answered, “so Gabe can join us.” Later, she’d apologize for not waiting for an invitation to lead Alex upstairs. Between now and then, she hoped to make him so uncomfortable, he’d leave without taste-testing Sarah’s cake.
“Gabe’s room is right down this hall.”
“Come here often?” Alex teased when they reached the landing.
His implication came through, loud and clear, and she chose to ignore it.
They found Gabe on hands and knees, mimicking a train whistle and pushing a hand-carved engine car across the polished hardwood.
“Dr. Williams!” he said, sitting back on his heels.
Alex crouched, picked up the engine, and spun its wheels. “Cool train.”
“My dad made it.”
“Talented man.” Straightening, he smoothed his trousers’ creases. “How are you feeling?”
“No dizzy spells. No fainting. No pal . . . palpi . . .” Sighing with frustration, he rolled his eyes. “My heart beats like it is spozed to. Good work!”
Alex crossed to the bed and, patting the mattress, said, “How ’bout hopping up here for me, so I can have a look at your incision.”
Gabe did as he asked, even lifted his shirt without being told to. “Grossmammi says it doesn’t need a bandage anymore. And that it will heal faster if the air can get to it.”
“She’s right. It looks better than I expected.”
He’d worn his stethoscope into the house, and when Gabe noticed it, he said, “Do you wear it all of the time, everywhere?”
Laughing again, Alex said, “I take it off to sleep. And shower.”
“And eat, right, because if you got food on it, then you would get food on your patients.”
“Right!” He returned to Emily’s side. “I’m glad to see that his cheeks have pinked up a little. And it looks like he’s put on a pound or two. He’s right. Good work!”
“His dad and grandmother deserve some of the credit. They’re the ones who’ve been taking such terrific care of him. Gabe deserves some credit, too, for being so cooperative.”
“And there it is . . . the self-deprecating side that made me fall in love with you.”
Gabe’s eyes widened and his eyebrows disappeared under thick blondish curls. She held her breath, wondering what he’d say.
It wasn’t like Alex to come to her rescue. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.
“Not that kind of love, Gabe. Emily . . . Dr. White and I are old friends. Went to medical school together.”
“I wish I could go to medical school.”
“Hard work, that’s what earned me the scholarships I needed for college tuition. Then more hard work to pay for med school. That’s how I could afford the things I wanted.” He sat beside Gabe again and, scrolling through the photos on his cell phone, showed off his sailboat, the house in Myrtle Beach, a shiny Harley, and of course, the Porsche.
“They are very nice,” Gabe said, “but Dr. Williams . . . you do not understand. Amish boys are not allowed to go to college.”
“What? No!” On his feet again, he said, “That’s ridiculous, and just plain wrong. A boy as smart as you could become anything you wanted. An astronaut. A doctor. A—”
“Dr. Williams? Will you tell me again about my device? I have tried to remember what you said, but I forgot.”
Flustered, Alex dropped the phone into his shirt pocket. “The ICD is about this big.” He made an O by connecting his thumb and forefinger. “It’s like a tiny computer and runs on a battery. Wires connect it to your heart.”
“And if my heart starts beating funny, it will shock me, and make it beat right again, right?”
“Exactly. That’s why Em . . . Dr. White is going to keep a close eye on you. On the ICD. She’ll be able to read the information it collects, to make sure it’s working properly.”
Until Gabe’s eyes filled with tears, Emily had thought Alex handled the questions perfectly. Sitting on his other side, she pulled him close. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“I could still die, even with the ICD.”
He was right, but the chances of that were slim. Very slim. She’d never liked lying to patients, but in cases like this, the truth really could hurt.
“You’re not going to die, Gabe.”
But he wasn’t convinced. “Pete was big and strong. I am small and weak. If he died . . .” A sob interrupted his sentence, but he quickly added, “I will miss him.”
“Everyone who knew him will miss him,” she admitted. “But listen to me, Gabriel Baker. You are not going to die. Not for a long, long time, anyway. Why, you’ll have a white beard by then, a beard so long that it’ll touch your toes!”
“But . . . but in the hospital, after my operation, I had a dream. My mother came to me. She did this . . .” He stretched out his arms, wiggled his fingers. “I know why. She wants me to come to heaven, to be with her.”
“No, that can’t be right. She wouldn’t want you to leave your dad or grandmother. I’ll bet she was just excited about how much fun your life is going to be from now on.” She pulled him closer. “You’ve been thinking about this for days and haven’t told anyone?”
Staring at his tightly clasped hands, he shook his head.
“Not even your dad?”
Another shake.
“Well, you stop worrying. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be afraid. Because you’re not going to die.” She met Alex’s eyes. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Williams?”<
br />
“Yes. Yes, of course. Everything is healing nicely, and you look good, too.”
Gabe knuckled the tears from his eyes. “Can we go downstairs now and have cake now?”
Laughing, Emily said, “How’d you know about that? Can you see through the floor?”
He pointed at the heating grate under the window. “No, but I can hear through it!”
Tears stung her eyes. Tears of relief and absolute joy. She kissed his cheek. “Oh, my word. I love you to pieces, you silly li’l nut!”
“If you don’t have any more questions,” Alex said, “I should go.” He stood in the doorway. “Will you walk with me, Emily?”
She kissed Gabe’s forehead. “Meet you in the kitchen, okay?”
Outside, Alex walked around to the side of the house, out of sight of doors and windows. This isn’t good, she thought, following him. Not good at all.
“Gabe opened my eyes to something,” Alex said. “Time is precious. And it’s a sin to waste even a minute of it.”
“I don’t think anyone would disagree with that.”
“What I’m trying to say is . . . I came here hoping to get you back. But now . . .” He looked up, as if hoping to read the rest of his comment on the darkening clouds overhead. “But now, I have to come clean. You deserve honesty.
“I came here hoping you’d agree to see me now and then. On weekends. For short vacations. Stolen nights here and there. I can see now that if I had made that proposal, you would have turned me down flat.”
“Alex, what are you talking about?”
“An affair, Emily. I wanted to ask you to be my”—he licked his lips—“my mistress.”
“You’re kidding. Right?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want any of that now. You deserve better. I’m engaged, and she . . . she deserves better. Hell, even I deserve better.”
“You wanted me to be your . . . your mistress?”
“Yeah,” he ground out. “Sorry.”
“You have everything now. A house—two houses—cars, boats, a successful career, a f iancée . . . I’m happy for you. I really am. Why aren’t you happy for you?”
“Guilt, I guess. Didn’t think I’d earned all that good stuff.”
“But now you’re going home. To become the guy who did earn it. All of it. You’re going home to the woman who will truly share your life. No more sneaking and cheating and lying. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Arms crossed over her chest, she said, “And Gabe led you to this . . . confession?”
He nodded.
“From the mouths of babes, huh?”
Another nod. “Gabe is a great kid. You’re gonna be a great mom.” He looked around the yard, his gaze traveling from the barn to the chicken coop and workshop, the house and beat-up truck parked in the driveway. When his eyes met hers again, he said, “That Phillip, he’s—”
“He’s what?” Phillip wanted to know, coming up behind them.
“A lucky man.” Alex hugged her. “Sorry about Pete. If you ever need anything, call me.”
Emily and Phillip stood side by side, watching the gray-white dust cloud kicked up by the Porsche’s wide tires. When it turned onto the road, he said, “What was that all about?”
She linked her arm through his. “How ’bout we go inside and I’ll tell you all about it . . . over cake and coffee.”
Chapter Twenty
“That pound cake smells heavenly,” Emily said as they entered the kitchen, helping herself to a mug of coffee. “Can I pour both of you a cup?”
Sarah looked at Phillip. “Has she fallen? Thumped her head?”
“Not that I know of,” he said.
“Where’s Gabe?”
“Still in his room, I suppose.”
“Will you call him? I have something to say, to all three of you.”
Phillip made a move toward the back stairs, but Sarah stopped him. “I will go,” she said. “You stay with Emily.”
When she was out of sight, Emily said, “‘You stay with the crazy lady.’”
“Well, you are behaving a little . . .” He drew invisible circles beside his temple.
He was almost afraid to ask what, if anything, Alex Williams had to do with it.
“What did he say to prompt your . . . mood?”
“Nothing. Everything.” She went to the cupboard, took four plates from the shelf, and distributed them around the table. Opening and closing drawers until she found the flatware, Emily added forks and napkins to the setting. “Milk for Gabe,” she said, filling a tumbler. She met his eyes. “For you, too? Or would you rather wash down your cake with coffee?”
“Coffee, I think. But I’ll get it.”
“What about your mother?” Emily was still holding the milk pitcher when she asked, “Think she wants coffee or milk?”
His mother walked up to the table and said, “Anyone who knows me can tell you that I never drink milk.”
“Grossmammi does not like it.”
“I have a lot to learn. We’ll start the list with ‘who likes milk and who doesn’t.’”
Emily found a big knife and proceeded to cut the pound cake. “Thick or thin?” she asked Phillip.
“Medium.”
Smiling, she served everyone a mid-sized slice. “It doesn’t feel right, inviting you to sit in your own kitchen, but please. Won’t you all have a seat?”
“She is scaring me,” Sarah whispered.
Me too, Phillip thought, a little.
Once everyone had settled around the table, Emily sat beside Gabe.
“I think you all know how much I loved my brother. Pete was one of the brightest lights in my life, and I’ll miss him, terribly.”
“We are sorry for your loss,” Sarah said, “but he is with God, as was His will. Do not be sad anymore. You can rest assured that Pete is happy.”
It was his mother’s clumsy way of offering consolation. He hoped Emily would understand.
“Life is so fragile. But I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve both lost loved ones. Losses like that . . .” She took a deep breath. “. . . they teach us to value every day, every second with family and friends.”
“Emily, what can I get for you?”
“Nothing just yet, Mrs. Baker.”
“Not even coffee?” Phillip asked.
“In a minute. I want to say this. I have to say it. I haven’t sorted it all out yet, but . . . It appears Pete left everything to me. His house. His car. All the money in his bank accounts.”
“And Clinger,” Gabe put in.
“Yes, and Clinger.” She met Phillip’s eyes. “Once everything is liquidated, I’ll have more than enough money to buy some land. I know just the place. There’s already a house on it. A shed, too. And a small garage.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “But I digress . . .”
“Digress? What does that mean, Dad?”
Grinning, he said, “It means Emily distracted herself and thinks it’s time to get back on track.”
“Yes, yes, that’s it, exactly!” Hands clasped under her chin, she said, “Here’s what I’ve been thinking. . . .”
“Uh-oh,” Sarah said, and eyes turned heavenward, she added, “Lord be with us . . . for here it comes.”
Gabe used the back of his hand to wipe away his milk mustache. “Here comes what?”
“Trouble, I think.”
Phillip didn’t know what Emily had been thinking about, or if it was, as his mother believed, trouble. But he’d take it. Seeing her this happy, this enthusiastic, was a beautiful thing. And it was contagious.
“I’ve made some phone calls,” she continued, “conducted some online studies, and guess what?”
“We are not mind readers,” Sarah said.
“Oh, Mrs. Baker, you can be so funny when you set your mind to it!”
“It was not a joke.” But she was smiling when she said, “Call me Sarah.”
“Sarah,” Emily echo
ed. Then, “After all my research, I found out that I have more than enough money to pay cash for the property. I’ll sell my house in town, of course, and when I add the proceeds to what Pete left me, I’ll have more than enough to open a medical clinic. . . .”
“A clinic,” Phillip echoed.
“. . . where anyone who can’t afford—or doesn’t want—insurance can come, for antibiotics, vaccinations, examinations . . .”
“And I thought we Amish were the only ones that believed in ‘shuns.’”
His mother’s joke struck a chord with Emily, who laughed until tears filled her eyes.
“It was not that funny,” Sarah muttered.
When the giggles subsided, Emily sighed. “We’re so blessed, all of us. We have our health, safe places to live, plenty to eat, and each other.”
Sarah nodded. “True. Yes.”
“Which brings me to the other reason I wanted to talk with all of you. Oh! And before I forget . . . Phillip! There will be more than enough to bring all your bills up to date, too!”
“Oh, now there’s where I have to draw the line. I can’t let you—”
“You can, and you will. But hush, and let me finish. I promise, I’ll explain that, after . . .”
Gabe scratched his head. “After what?”
Emily patted her lap. “Will you sit with me, Gabe?”
Eyebrows high on his forehead, he sent Phillip an “I don’t get it” look.
Once he’d done as she asked, her arms went around him. “I love you to pieces. You know that, right?”
“Yes . . .”
“Now, I want to make sure you understand that I’d never try to replace your mother. In fact, I’ll do everything humanly possible to help you remember and honor her, always. But . . .”
“Uh-oh,” Sarah said again. “What did I tell you? Here comes the trouble!”
“. . . but I’d love it if you’d let me be your substitute mom.”
“If I say yes to that, wouldn’t you and my dad have to get married first?”
She pressed kisses all over his face, and while he squinted and giggled, Emily said, “That’s a very good question.” Reaching across the table, she grasped Phillip’s hand and, eyes on Gabe again, said, “That’s what this whole long announcement has been about, you sweet boy, you! Do I have your permission to ask him to marry me?”
