Mother's Promise (41 page)

“Well, I certainly would never have thought that Rachel's son …”

“He's not the bully,” Zeke defended. “He's collateral damage. That other kid—Derek—he's the bully.”

“And yet Justin took Sally's glove and gave it to him, making it possible for him to …”

“He was afraid.”

Darcy glanced at him. “Of what? The guy was after Sally, not him. Besides, Justin looks like he could hold his own.”

“That's how bullies work. They find a person's weak spot and then they work that angle. In Justin's case my guess is that Derek discovered that he was Mennonite.”

“So?”

“Different—especially
that
different—doesn't play all that well when you're twelve. And if Derek knew that Justin would never fight back—that in his religion …”

“You're going pretty light on the kid.”

There was a moment's pause, and then very quietly she heard Zeke say, “Maybe it's because at that age I
was
that kid.”

“You? That's pretty hard to believe. From what Malcolm tells me you earned pretty much every medal for bravery that exists in the military.”

“I wasn't twelve then, and I was proving a point.” He stretched and yawned and then turned his full attention on her, that lazy grin that she was coming to like spreading across his face. “Let's talk about you. I mean, talk about somebody who goes through life trying to prove herself.”

“I do not,” she protested. “If holding myself and others to high standards qualifies me as a bully …”

“Whoa, who said anything about you being a bully?”

“That was the topic,” she shot back, her hands tightening around the steering wheel.

Zeke reached over and pulled one hand free and held it, weaving his fingers through hers. “Hey, it's been a strange and upsetting day. I don't know about you, but on Thanksgiving I want dessert. How about we stop at the café for some of Millie's pie?”

“It's Thanksgiving,” she pointed out. “The café's probably closed.”

“Is the hospital open?”

“Of course, but …”

“Then Millie and Al are open. Let's go.”

She glanced at him. He was still holding her hand, and she realized she had no desire to pull away.

Chapter 24

B
en did what he always did when he was at a loss to make sense of his personal life—he buried himself in work. If he could only get through the last two weeks that Rachel would be at the hospital then maybe he could move forward. To that end he arranged his schedule so that he was making rounds well before she arrived in the morning and checking in on patients that he needed to see more than once during the day later in the evening, after he knew she had gone home.

With Hester's help it had taken her only two days after they moved out of the guesthouse to rent a small cottage on the banks of Phillippi Creek in Pinecraft and move there with Justin. He had actually driven through the small Amish/Mennonite community one night after Eileen had, unsolicited, offered this bit of news. There had been any number of people out on the main and side streets that made up the neighborhood, but he had not seen Rachel.

“Oh good,” he muttered to himself as he turned around and headed back to his condo, “you're very close to becoming a stalker, Booker.”

Sharon had reported that Rachel and Justin had moved out without a word, although there had been notes of apology and appreciation from both of them left on the guesthouse's kitchen table. In the envelope that Justin had left for Sally there had been two crisp twenty-dollar bills and a note that read:

Typical for her, Sharon seemed inclined to forgive Justin, as did Sally. In fact it was Sally who had instructed Ben to “let it go.”

“Derek Piper is a creep,” she'd told him. “That's not exactly news, and if you want to know the truth I feel really bad that Justin and his mom moved out. He took a stupid baseball glove, not a kidney.”

Ben had smiled at that. Leave it to Sally to find the pony in a barn filled with manure. He wished he could be as pragmatic in facing the fact that Rachel was leaving the hospital to find her place once again with her own people. It was impossible not to admire the strength it had taken her to put her son's happiness ahead of her own.

A week to the day after the Thanksgiving debacle, Ben rounded a corner on his way to the physicians' locker room to change for the night and saw her coming toward him. She moved with the unselfconscious grace of a dancer and, as always, her loveliness emanated from the inner calm with which she seemed to face whatever life might throw at her. Once she left her position in the spiritual care unit, she was going to be hard to replace.

She was talking to someone on her cell phone, her smile evidence of the good news she was hearing. She had not yet noticed him, and Ben savored the moment that he had to observe her. Then she glanced up and their gazes connected. Her features softened into a smile as she ended the call.

“Hello,” she said, and he was reminded of that very first day when she'd stepped off that bus and into his life.

“Good news?” he asked, nodding toward the phone she held.

Her smile widened and her eyes sparkled. “Amazing news. My friend Hester tells me that Zeke Shepherd has bought the café across the street from the hospital.”

It was such an unexpected bit of news that Ben laughed. “Zeke?”

“Apparently he has this trust fund left to him by his father and, well, he has decided to put it to use.”

“Good for him.”

She studied him closely for a moment. “You look tired, Ben.”

“Just finishing up for the day. How about you? You're here later than usual.”

“Paul and his wife are celebrating their anniversary so I offered to be on call in his place.”

“Eileen told me you moved to Pinecraft. How's Justin doing in his new school?”

“He is settling in—we both are.”

“Seems to be a lot of that going around these days—you, now Zeke making these big life changes.” He was incapable of keeping a note of bitterness from creeping into his voice.

“And you, Ben? Are you … well?”

Instinctively he knew that she'd deliberately avoided asking if he was happy. He met her eyes directly. “I miss you.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “And Sharon and Sally. It's been … harder than I thought it would be.”

“Then stay—at least in the job. In time we can find our way. I mean, if we're just to be friends so be it, but to give up everything?”

She glanced at her pager as if willing it to interrupt this conversation she clearly did not want to have. Ben pressed his point by taking her hand. “Stay,” he pleaded.

“I have promised Justin …”

“You promised Justin that you would make a life for him that was better than life without his father back on the farm. Why can't you give him that and have a life for yourself as well?”

Slowly she withdrew her hand. “I have to go,” she said and hurried away down the corridor to the elevator, where the door was about to close.

By the time the elevator had come to a stop and the doors slid open to reveal the tropical gardens of the atrium in the lobby, Rachel had managed to get her breathing back to normal. The encounter with Ben had been unexpected, and at first—because of the news she'd been able to share about Zeke—she had thought she could keep the encounter light and unemotional.

Over the last several days she had seen him only twice, and neither time had he been aware of her presence. The first time, he'd been sitting with a family, talking quietly to them, reassuring them that their child—the victim of a terrible fall—would be all right. The second was when she had been waiting for the bus to take her home to Pinecraft and she'd seen him drive out of the parking lot, Darcy Meekins at his side.

In the first instance her admiration and respect for the way he cared for his patients and their families had almost overwhelmed her. In the second she had felt the cruel and relentless undertow of pure unadulterated jealousy.

What was the matter with her? Didn't she want Ben to be happy? If she cared for him, wasn't that what she should wish for him? But when he'd asked her to stay on, promised her that if friendship was all there could be, then that would be enough, she had known in her heart that it would never be enough for her. She was in love with him.

“Rachel?”

She looked up to find Darcy Meekins standing before her.

“Hello, Darcy. You're here late.”

“The board meets tonight. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course.” Darcy had taken the news of Rachel's resignation in stride, showing neither surprise nor regret. Rather she had turned the entire matter over to Mark Boynton, instructing him to post an ad for Rachel's replacement and to work with Paul Cox to set Rachel's schedule for the time she had left. Rachel could not help but be surprised that Darcy would have any reason—or inclination—to speak with her now.

She followed the hospital administrator to a bench near the atrium's waterfall.

“I heard you were still in the hospital. I was about to have you paged.”

“Is there a problem?”

“We are having some difficulty attracting appropriate candidates for your position. I need to report our progress to the board tonight and, given Mark's report, they are not going to be pleased with what I have to tell them. I was wondering if you might consider staying on.”

The very last thing Rachel could ever have imagined was that Darcy Meekins—the woman who had seemed to dedicate her days to getting Rachel out of the hospital—would be asking her to reconsider.

“It seems to me,” Darcy continued, “that your reasons for leaving had to do with being overwhelmed with the combination of work and the prep for the certification.”

“I would not say that I was overwhelmed,” Rachel replied. “There were other concerns, but the main reason that I am leaving is because my son needs me.”

“Yes, and that includes needing you to have some way of supporting the two of you. What better care could you possibly offer the boy than to have a secure job with benefits?”

Rachel fought a smile. For Darcy such matters were so clear. “Justin needs my time, my presence. If I take a position where I can build my schedule around his, then I can meet all of his needs.”