Читать книгу Second Chance Romance - Jill Weatherholt - Страница 10

Chapter One

“Miss, can you hear me?” Jackson’s chest tightened. “C-can you open the door?”

The rain hitting his face felt like acupuncture needles. “I’m Jackson Daughtry, a paramedic. Can you hear me?”

The woman inside the silver Volvo didn’t respond. Her body slumped over the steering wheel, but he could tell she was breathing. Her flowing chestnut curls were covered in blood. He gripped the driver’s side door. It didn’t budge. He beat on the window. His knuckles burned.

“Hold on, miss.” It was Thursday, his first day off in ten days. Thankfully he was always prepared. Inside his trunk, he kept a fully stocked first-aid kit with compress dressings and bandages, all of the proper supplies for an emergency. “I’ll have you out before you open your eyes. You’ll be fine.”

Mud tried to tug his boots from his feet while he sprinted to his truck. Inside his Bronco, he wiped the pellets of rain off his face and grabbed his phone to call the station.

“Tom, it’s Jackson. I’m on Smith Farm Road, in front of the old Smith farm. I need an ambulance.”

“I thought today was your day off.”

“I was on my way to pick up Rebecca from the Whitesides’ house. She spent the night with her friend Mary.” He paused to catch his breath. “A deer darted across the road, and the car in front of me swerved straight into a chestnut oak. The driver is bleeding from her head, and she’s unconscious. Can you send the ambulance and contact the sheriff? I’ll make the report at the hospital.”

“Sorry, bud—I’ll call the sheriff, but the ambulance is at the Swanson place. They think Betsy had a heart attack. Poor Walter, he was beside himself when he called. Betsy collapsed while taking the roast out of the oven. It’ll be a while.”

Jackson’s stomach churned. The only downside of living in the small mountain valley of Sweet Gum, Virginia, was that there was only one sheriff’s car and one ambulance. “Call over to Waynesboro. They’ll send one.”

“No can do, my friend. I heard over the radio there’s a bad accident on Route 340.”

Jackson straightened his shoulders. “Never mind. I’ll take her to Sweet Gum Memorial myself.” He clenched his teeth, causing a pain to shoot through his jaw.

“Who is she, Jackson? Should I call her family?”

“She’s unconscious, man, and the car’s locked.” He massaged his temples. His head pounded. “The license plate says Washington, DC.” He remembered Rebecca, his precious daughter. “Do you mind calling over to the Whitesides’ house? Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Consider it done.”

Jackson pressed End. He grabbed the slim jim from his trunk, but it slipped from his hands and sank into the mud. He yanked it loose and sprinted to the Volvo. He jammed it down into the crack between the door and the window. Nothing happened. The car was a newer model. The slim jim wasn’t going to get him inside. He raced back to his trunk and grabbed a tire iron. He had no choice.

Standing next to the passenger window, he took a swing, and the glass exploded. With ease, he reached inside, popped the lock and flung open the door.

“You’ll be fine.” Please, Lord, let her be okay. “I’m going to unbuckle your seat belt and lift you out,” he told her, though she was still out cold.

The seat belt was stubborn. His knuckles throbbed from pounding on the window. “Hold on. I can’t get my hands on the release. One second and I’ll have you out.” Finally free, Jackson closed his eyes for an instant and tore off his bomber jacket.

“This will keep you warm and toasty.” He covered her with his leather jacket. Despite her slender frame, maneuvering her from behind the steering wheel wasn’t an easy task. His boots slid in the mud, and his knee rammed against the side of the Volvo. Rain pelted his face, stinging like sleet. He shivered when he glanced at the sky. It was dark as ink. Please, Lord, help me get her free. With precise movements he’d learned at the training academy and an answered prayer, finally she was in his arms.

She was featherlight. He carried her to the truck and laid her in the backseat as though she were made of antique china. “Let’s make sure you’re nice and comfortable,” he said, with hopes that his voice would somehow gradually bring her out of her unconscious state.

He scanned her face and pushed away a strand of blood-soaked hair. There were serious cuts on her cheek and forehead.

He dashed to the car to get her purse. Then he jerked open the passenger side door and spied a piece of paper on the floor. Drops of rain trickled down his hands when he picked it up. The ink had smeared, but it was still legible, and he could see it was directions to Phoebe Austin’s farm. He snatched the purse and bolted to his truck. He’d call Phoebe once he arrived at the hospital.

Inside the truck, he jerked the seat belt over his shoulder, turned and slid his phone from his shirt pocket. “Hold on. I’m going to get you to the hospital as fast as I can, but first I have to call to tell them we’re on our way.” Never one for high-tech gadgets, he opened his old flip phone. With the hospital on speed dial, he punched number nine. He tapped his foot while he waited for an answer.

After three rings, he heard a familiar voice. “Sweet Gum Memorial. This is Sara.”

He gulped in a deep breath. “Sara...hi. I’m glad you’re working. It’s Jackson.” He often had to dodge her advances, but she was a good nurse. He trusted her skills.

After giving her details of the accident, and their estimated time of arrival, he hit End and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel and closed his eyes. Lord, please watch over this woman. Guide us as we travel in these dangerous conditions.

Jackson started up the car, then jammed his foot on the accelerator and turned on the windshield wipers. The windows fogged. He rubbed his hand in large circles along the front windshield. He’d meant to get the defroster checked. There was never enough time.

“Are you okay back there?” He knew she wouldn’t answer, but maybe she could hear his words. “So, you were on your way to Phoebe’s house? She’s quite a character, isn’t she? We own a business together, The Coffee Bean. She runs the place. I’m just a backup, if she needs help. Did she tell you?” He blew out a breath. Lord, please, let her answer me.

The ride seemed endless. The pounding rain knocked the red maple leaves from the trees, splattering onto his windshield and littering the winding two-lane road. Deer grazed in a field, oblivious to the deluge. He eased his foot off the accelerator when his truck hydroplaned for a second time. “No sense in having another accident.” Up ahead a tree toppled over, thankfully not onto the road. He bit his lip. If only she would answer.

At last, through the foggy window, he spied the red glow of the emergency-room entrance. Thank You, Lord, for getting us here safe. Within seconds, Steve, a tall and lanky orderly, rushed toward his truck, pushing a gurney.

Jackson’s chest expanded. He unbuckled his seat belt and shot from the truck. “Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”

“Busy. This storm is creating lots of problems,” Steve said while he and Jackson removed the victim out of the truck and onto the gurney. “Has she been unconscious since you found her?”

Jackson wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. The rain tapered to a light drizzle. “Yes, she was out cold when I got inside her car.”

“Dr. Roberts is on duty,” Steve noted as he covered her with a blanket and pushed the rolling bed toward the hospital.

“That’s good.” Jackson turned and climbed into his truck. “I’m going to park. I’ll be right in.”

Inside the ER, Jackson approached Nurse Sara. With a clipboard in hand, she scribbled something with a red pen. She stopped and looked up. “Hi, Jackson. I’m glad you made it safe. Steve took the victim back to see the doctor.” She winked and flashed an overly whitened smile. “Did you find out her name?”

He handed her the purse he’d retrieved from the scene of the accident. “I don’t feel comfortable going through a woman’s things. You go ahead and check out her driver’s license.”

She took the bag and dumped its contents onto the counter. “Here it is. Her name is Melanie Harper.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know of any Harper in the area, do you?”

“I can’t think of any.”

Sara made it her business to know everyone’s business. If she said there weren’t any Harpers in these parts, there weren’t.

“According to the license, she has a Washington, DC, address.” Sara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You said you found directions to Phoebe’s house inside her car. That must be where she was going.” She scooped the contents back into the purse.

He reached for his phone. “I’m going to step outside and call Phoebe. If Dr. Roberts comes out, tell him I’ll be right back.” He headed toward the back entrance and prayed Phoebe was either at The Coffee Bean or at home. Just like him, she wasn’t a fan of tech gadgets. She didn’t even own a cell phone, which made it difficult to reach her sometimes.

Outside, the storm had passed, and a glimpse of the sun slipped between the drifting clouds. Autumn in the valley was his favorite time of the year. He hit the number two on his phone and took a seat on the only dry bench in the courtyard. It was under a roof, but the warmth of the sun tapped his face. He glanced at his watch and saw it was 12:30 p.m. Since The Bean’s first day, his mother and Phoebe had made the decision to open only for breakfast and lunch. He hoped the afternoon crowd was winding down so Phoebe would pick up.

“The Coffee Bean. This is Phoebe.”

Phoebe’s voice always brought a smile to his face. After his parents’ deaths, she’d been like a mother to him and a grandmother to his daughter, Rebecca. His mother and Phoebe had grown up together and had opened The Coffee Bean as co-owners. When his mother had died only a year after his father, she’d left her ownership to Jackson. Over the years, he remained a silent partner, since Phoebe wanted to run the show on her own.

“Phoebe, it’s Jackson.”

“Well, hello there, Mr. Daughtry.”

No matter her circumstances, Phoebe was always full of joy. Jackson loved that about her. “Were you expecting company today?” The last thing in the world he wanted to do was cause Phoebe pain, but he had to tell her about Melanie.

“Yes, my niece, Melanie,” she answered. “You’ve heard me speak of her.” Dishes clanked in the background. “She’s the successful divorce attorney from Washington, DC. The one who never takes a vacation.”

He remembered. Phoebe had tried to convince her niece to visit Sweet Gum for years, but she’d always been too busy. He knew that she’d made partner at her law firm at an unusually young age. He thought she had a family, but maybe he was wrong. Something had happened last year, but Phoebe never wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t the type to get into people’s business, so he’d never pursued the subject.

“Jackson? Are you there? Is everything okay?”

His chest felt heavy. “It’s Melanie.” He gazed across the courtyard. A squirrel scurried through the fescue, toting a nut in its mouth.

“Melanie?” The dishes stopped clanking. “What happened?”

Jackson knew Phoebe better than most, but he wasn’t quite sure how she would react to the news. “She’s been in a car accident.” He paused to give her time to take in the news.

“Oh my word! Is she okay?” Phoebe asked, releasing short breaths into the phone.

“She was unconscious when I pulled her from the car.”

“Unconscious!”

“Please calm down and let me finish. There’s a serious cut on her forehead and one on her cheek. Though I don’t know if she has any internal injuries or a concussion. She’s in the ER with Dr. Roberts.”

“Thank God he’s on duty. He’s the best. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Why don’t you stay put? I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive when you’re upset.”

There was no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous. It will take longer. Besides, I want you there with Melanie until I arrive.”

He’d learned years ago not to argue with her. “Please take your time. The rain has stopped, but the roads are covered in wet leaves. It’s very slick. Be safe.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been driving these roads since I was a teenager.” Phoebe hung up without saying goodbye.

Jackson turned and walked inside the hospital. He hoped to get a little information on Melanie’s condition from Sara, but he’d probably need to wait for Phoebe so they could both talk to Dr. Roberts.

Once inside, cleaning agents infiltrated his nose. He spied Sara chatting with a handsome young doctor. Jackson took a seat in the waiting room and prayed for the next ten minutes.

Finally Sara walked toward him. He stood and met her halfway. She brushed her blond bangs away from her eyes. “Dr. Roberts is ready to speak with Phoebe when she arrives.”

Jackson ran his hand across his chin. It was rough. He never liked to shave on his days off. One fewer thing to do. “How’s Melanie? Has she regained consciousness?”

Sara pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but you know I can’t talk to you about her condition. Neither can Dr. Roberts. You’ll have to wait for Phoebe.”

The young nurse disappeared through the ER doors, leaving behind a trail of potent fragrance.

Within a couple of minutes, Dr. Roberts appeared. Jackson had always admired him. With salt-and-pepper hair and slightly slumped shoulders, his experience was evident in his face and manner of speaking. He still worked five days a week and even made the occasional house call, if needed. He’d been on the staff at Sweet Gum Memorial for decades. He was not only an excellent doctor but also a pillar within the community.

“Dr. Roberts, it’s good to see you.” Jackson rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Another tension headache was setting in.

The doctor smiled and extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, too, Jackson. It’s been a while. How’s your sweet little girl?”

Jackson shook his offered hand. “She’s great. Thanks for asking. This year she started afternoon kindergarten. She’s a voracious reader.”

Dr. Roberts nodded. “That’s great to hear. Books can open up an entire world to a child.” He cleared his throat. “Now, back to the patient. You know the confidentiality laws prohibit me from talking to you about Melanie’s condition. Once Phoebe arrives, I’ll fill you both in if it’s okay with Phoebe. She’s next of kin, so she’ll make the call. I know you’re worried, so I’ll say only that you can relax.”

“That makes me feel better.” Although she was just a stranger, there was something about Melanie. He wanted to protect her. He wasn’t sure where these feelings were coming from. Maybe it was because of her relationship to Phoebe. What else could it be?

“Speaking of Phoebe, how is she doing these days?”

Jackson noticed a sparkle in Dr. Roberts’s eye when he asked about Phoebe. Many years had passed since Phoebe’s husband had died. Jackson always hoped for a spark to ignite between her and the doctor. He’d love to see her enjoy a little male companionship. She still had many years ahead of her, time she shouldn’t spend alone. Of course, people could have said the same thing about him. “Phoebe’s doing great, busy as ever. I called her about fifteen minutes ago. I told her I’d pick her up since the roads are so treacherous. Of course she insisted on driving herself.”

He smiled. “Sure sounds like Phoebe. She’s quite stubborn when she gets her mind set on something. I’ll never forget that after my sweet Jane went to be with the Lord, Phoebe brought me an enormous meal every day. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. I had mashed potatoes coming out of my ears.” Dr. Roberts laughed a deep belly laugh.

Jackson thought now was the time to slip in a good word about Phoebe, and perhaps devise a plan of action. “She’s stubborn, but you have to admit she’s a terrific cook. Her meat loaf and garlic mashed potatoes are the best in the valley.” He’d always heard people say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. “You should taste her new apple-pie recipe. She puts in just the right amount of cinnamon.”

“Stop, Jackson. You’re making me ravenous.” His tongue ran across his lips, and he rubbed his stomach. “I haven’t had time to eat lunch. I’ll probably have a slice or two of frozen pizza for dinner.”

Perhaps overstepping his bounds, Jackson took a chance. This man needed a home-cooked meal and a little female companionship. “I should talk to Phoebe about inviting you over for Sunday dinner. She always cooks enough for an army. Rebecca and I come home with a ton of leftovers.” Phoebe loved to have a house full of people. He’d definitely work on this.

Dr. Roberts nodded. “I like the way you think, young man. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.” He extended his hand to Jackson. “I’ll come out and talk to Phoebe when she arrives. Oh, and make sure she introduces you to Melanie. I’m sure she’d love to meet the man who rescued her.”

“Thanks again,” Jackson said and took a seat to wait for Phoebe’s arrival.

When she burst through the hospital entrance minutes later, he saw her quickly race down the hall straight toward him. “How is she, Jackson?” She removed her raincoat and flung it over her arm.

Sara came down the hallway holding a cup of coffee in each hand. “Hi, Phoebe. I saw you pull into the parking lot. I’m happy you made it here safe.” She smiled. “I thought you and Jackson could use this.” She handed them each a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I’ll let Dr. Roberts know you’re here.” She pointed to a private room next to the waiting area. “You can have a seat in there.”

Jackson nodded and took a quick sip. Strong and black, it was just what he needed. “Thanks for the coffee, Sara.” He took hold of Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go sit down for a minute.”

A small circular oak table and four chairs filled the entire windowless room. The strong aroma of the cleaning agents in the hallway gave way to the smell of pink tea roses in a crystal vase decorating the middle of the table. The chair screeched when Jackson pulled it out for Phoebe.

“Melanie’s going to be fine.” He reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. “I don’t want you to worry.”

They prayed quietly until Dr. Roberts, clipboard in hand, joined them. He took a seat and smiled. “Hello, Phoebe. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too. How’s Melanie?”

“She’s as strong as they come. She regained consciousness shortly after Jackson brought her in. Her memory appears fine, so that’s a blessing. The X-rays are all clear, no broken bones. But the MRI showed she does have a slight concussion, so we’ll keep her overnight, but she’ll be ready to go home with you in the morning.”

Phoebe clapped her hands together. “Thank God! The poor girl has been through enough.” She released a heavy breath. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”

Jackson considered Phoebe’s statement. Melanie must have endured some type of hardship, but now was not the time to ask questions. He squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Let’s stay focused on the positive.”

Dr. Roberts left, and they stood under the flickering fluorescent lights in silence. Phoebe stepped forward. “One day you’re going to make another woman very happy, Mr. Daughtry. Now let’s go check on my niece. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet.”

Jackson nodded. As they walked down the hall toward Melanie’s room, his breath quickened. At the doorway, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Why was he so nervous? He felt like a teenage boy getting ready for his first date.

* * *

Melanie opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again to escape the searing pain. The fluorescent lights burned her vision. Who in the world invented fluorescent lighting, anyway? It was the worst.

Images flashed through her mind of a whitetail deer tearing across the road, her car headed toward a tree, and then everything went black.

She opened her eyes again to see a woman’s face peering through a curtain.

Hospital. She should have known. Hospitals always had annoying fluorescent lights.

“How’s our patient feeling?” asked a petite blonde woman carrying a frosted pitcher and a plastic cup. She approached the bedside and smiled.

Stiff.

Exactly how Melanie had felt after she completed her fifth marathon, one month before her life had changed forever. She squirmed in an attempt to sit up, but a pain shot down her neck, like needles jabbing into her skin. She nestled back under the sheet.

“I’m Sara, your nurse.” She filled the cup with water and pulled a red straw from her pocket. “Try to drink a little. You need to stay hydrated.”

Melanie took the cup and placed the straw to her parched lips. “Is my aunt Phoebe here?” She sipped the cool liquid and flinched when it touched the back of her throat. “I remember a deer running in front of my car. Is that why I’m here?” She pressed her palm to her forehead. Her head throbbed as though someone bashed a rubber hammer against it.

“Here, take this. It will help with the pain, but it will make you sleepy.”

Melanie reached for the tiny clear cup that held the medicine as the nurse walked toward the window and tilted the blinds. “I’ve always preferred natural light.” She flipped a switch, and the fluorescent beacon vanished.

The pressure in Melanie’s head and around her eyes eased. “Thank you so much. I love the natural light, too.” She took another sip of the water, ran her fingers down the side of the cup and glanced out the window. “It stopped raining.” She wiped her fingers, wet from the moisture, onto her gown. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Sara placed her fist under her chin. Her fingernails were painted bloodred. “From what I understand, Jackson—”

“Jackson? Who’s Jackson?”

Sara flashed a mischievous smile. “Why, he’s the most handsome paramedic in all of Sweet Gum Valley, honey. Every woman within a hundred-mile radius would love to lasso the charming Mr. Daughtry, myself included.” She smoothed the back of her hair and placed her right hand across her narrow hip. “He’s the person who rescued you.”

Details were a blur, with the exception of the blinding rain, the deer and a tree. “Rescued me?” There were many events over the last year that she’d love to forget, but this wasn’t one of them. “Please, tell me what happened.”

“You were in a car accident on Smith Farm Road. Jackson was in the car behind you. He saw the deer dart across the road. You swerved to miss it and hit a tree.” Sara reached down and brushed a strand of hair away from Melanie’s face. “By the look of those cuts on your cheek and forehead, God was watching over you.”

Melanie put her hand to her forehead. He’s forgotten about me.

The white walls of the tiny room closed in around her. Why had she left DC? She wanted to go home and back to the job that occupied her mind for more than seventy hours a week—sometimes more. Work erased the pain of the past year.

When Aunt Phoebe had called last week and begged her to come for a visit, Melanie had finally given in. Phoebe was Melanie’s only living relative. She hoped to convince Phoebe to move to DC and live with her. Aunt Phoebe was her father’s younger sister. Somewhere in her attic, probably stuck in a box and gathering dust, Melanie had a photo of them together as children. She released a heavy breath. “I want to see my aunt Phoebe. Is she here?”

“Yes, Phoebe’s here. She’s down the hall, talking with Jackson.”

Sara headed toward the door and turned. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Push the button if you need anything, sweetie.”

Melanie rested her head against the mountain of pillows, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. She wished she could disappear through a crack in the drywall and go back to her home in DC.

Moments later she heard footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside the door, and there was a gentle knock. “Can we come in?”

Melanie gave the sheet a slight tug to cover her flimsy blue hospital gown. “Yes.” The sight of Aunt Phoebe’s smiling face in the doorway brought tears to Melanie’s eyes. The last time they’d seen each other had been the funeral. Had it really been a year? Some days it felt like an eternity.

“Oh dear, thank God you’re okay.” Aunt Phoebe glided across the floor to her bedside and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what would have happened if Jackson hadn’t been there. Your car was towed to Wilbourn’s Autobody, so no need to fret about that. It will be repaired in a couple of days.”

Her aunt turned toward the door, and Melanie’s eyes followed. Her breath caught in her throat. A gorgeous, tall man with dark, wavy hair and a muscular frame stood in the doorway.

Their eyes connected for an instant, and her heart fluttered when his cheeks flushed. “I suppose you’re the infamous Jackson.” When he smiled, she looked away, but not before she took notice of his hypnotic deep blue eyes. He was perfection—which was reason enough to avoid him.

“Come in, Jackson.” Aunt Phoebe beamed and extended her hand toward him. “I’d like to introduce you to my lovely niece.” She moved aside, and he sauntered toward Melanie’s bed with his thumbs through his belt loops. “Jackson Daughtry, this is my niece, Melanie Harper.”

Jackson jerked his thumbs loose and touched his hand to hers. She expected roughness. The silky smooth feel of his skin caught her off guard. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me to the hospital.” She looked up and curved her lips into a small smile. “I don’t remember exactly what happened, but Sara told me I was unconscious, and you pulled me from my car.” His touch was gentle. She shifted in the bed and pulled away her hand.

“It’s my job.” He smiled. “Anyone traveling behind you would have stopped and done the same.”

Aunt Phoebe laughed. “Now, Jackson, don’t be so modest. Jackson’s a paramedic, but he had the day off today. I think I know him well enough to say he never really goes off duty. Even as a child, he rescued anything he could.” She placed her index finger to her chin. “Do you remember Miss Pearson’s cat? Marcie... I think it was her name.”

Jackson smiled. “Yes, it was.”

“Well, she got stuck, and Jackson climbed all the way up a huge oak tree to save her.”

A hint of redness covered Jackson’s cheeks at her aunt’s praise.

“A cat, really? That’s commendable of you.” Melanie nodded.

A slight smile pulled on one side of his mouth. “It was when I decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

“Save cats?” Melanie blurted.

Judging by the raised eyebrow Aunt Phoebe threw in her direction, she obviously didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

Jackson pushed his shoulders back. “Well, mostly people, but animals, too, if they need rescuing.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “I’ll never forget the feeling when I placed Marcie back into Miss Pearson’s wrinkled hands. She lived alone for thirty years after her husband died. Marcie was all she had.”

“Jackson has always had a good heart.” Aunt Phoebe grinned and patted his arm.

Barricaded.

That was what Melanie’s heart was now. She would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself from further anguish.

Aunt Phoebe took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You look tired, dear. Maybe we should leave so you can get some rest.”

Melanie squirmed, struggling to sit up. “First I need to talk to you about the reason I came to Sweet Gum.” She wouldn’t let the fact that she’d had an accident and was now in the hospital stop her from telling Aunt Phoebe the truth of her mission.

“You came to get some much-needed rest, child.” Aunt Phoebe slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves of her raincoat.

“Yes, it’s true, but the main reason is to bring you back to DC to live with me.” She blew out a breath. There, she’d said it.

“What?” Jackson shouted and looked around the room. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

Aunt Phoebe rubbed the top of Melanie’s head. “Dear, you’re talking crazy. I would never leave Sweet Gum.”

Melanie noticed Jackson listening intently. He even shook his head a couple of times.

“Now, you get some rest. Dr. Roberts said you can go home in the morning.” Aunt Phoebe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll prepare a big dinner, just like it’s Sunday.”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me. Besides, I’m not a big eater.”

“Nonsense. You need more meat on your bones.” She squeezed Melanie’s arm. “I don’t know how you keep warm. I’ll make you some crispy fried chicken. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” She turned to him. “You save your appetite, too. I’ll prepare a meal for the hero...and bring your sweet little girl since school’s out again tomorrow for that teacher workday.”

Jackson nodded. “Sounds great. Rebecca loves your fried chicken.” He looked in Melanie’s direction. “Rebecca’s my five-year-old daughter.”

Aunt Phoebe waved goodbye, and Jackson followed her. The door closed, and they were gone.

The IV drip hummed. Melanie covered her face with a pillow. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t come here to mingle with the locals. She just wanted to bring her aunt home. Jackson and his daughter weren’t family. Why did her aunt act as though they were related? Melanie took a sip of her water and rolled onto her side.

She wasn’t ready to be around children, not yet. Maybe never. She’d tried keeping a journal, like the doctor had suggested, but the pain felt even more real when she’d put her thoughts down on paper. What did her doctor know, anyway? He hadn’t lost his children—she’d seen the photo of him and his wife with three smiling boys on the corner of his mahogany desk. She yanked the sheet over her head, wishing she could stay hidden forever, but whether she wanted to or not, tomorrow she’d be having dinner with Jackson and his daughter.

* * *

As Jackson headed to the Whitesides’ house, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca. While he drove along their half-mile gravel driveway, his thoughts drifted to Melanie. How dare she suggest moving Phoebe to DC? She’d never even visited and knew nothing about her aunt’s life and how happy she was living in the valley. It was obvious Melanie was a woman with a heavy heart, but that didn’t give her a right to uproot Phoebe.

He pulled in front of the Whitesides’ house and honked the horn. Within seconds, Rebecca flew out the door. He smiled and watched the love of his life, his vivacious daughter, sprint toward his truck. She ran as though she was trying to reach the finish line and he was the prize. For a second, his joy turned to sadness as he wondered how many more years she would think of him as her hero. He pushed the thought away and jumped from the truck with open arms.

“Daddy, can I have a puppy? Please, can I?” Rebecca pleaded and took a giant leap into his arms.

“What? Who wants to sell my baby a puppy?” Jackson decided he’d play around a little with his daughter. He placed her back on the ground.

Rebecca frowned. “I’m not a baby.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll be six in a few months.”

“So tell me, what kind of dog is this?” The buzz around town was that Larry Whiteside was breeding a litter of Labrador retrievers.

With eyes wide and as blue as the ocean, Rebecca began to captivate him—as she always did. He’d have been the first to admit he was a softy when it came to his daughter and the things she asked for. “Mr. Whiteside said Sally is going to have her pups soon, and she’s big and yellow. He told me I had to ask you first,” Rebecca answered.

Jackson scratched his chin. “Let me think about it for a bit. Hmm...well, since our closest neighbors are ten miles down the road and they’re seventy-five years old, you just might need a little friend.”

Rebecca jumped up and down and then proceeded to twirl. She loved to twirl. “Yes! I’ll take care of her. I promise. I’ve already picked out a name. I want to call her Samantha.”

Jackson’s heart melted. He could never say no to his little girl. “We have a couple of days before the pups are born, and they will have to stay with their mama for a while.” He cupped her chin. “I do have one question for you, sweetie. What happens if all of Sally’s puppies are boys? What will you name him?”

“Daddy, come on. I’d call him Sam—duh.”

He laughed and gave her a big bear hug. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Larry and Wilma Whiteside, along with their daughter Mary, Rebecca’s best friend, stood on their porch as he and his daughter walked to the front door to thank them for having Rebecca over. “Anytime Mary wants to come over for the night, she’s always welcome.” Jackson smiled as he reached to shake Larry’s hand.

As they walked back to the truck, Rebecca looked up. “Can she come tonight since tomorrow’s Friday and we don’t have school?” He lifted Rebecca in and buckled her seat belt.

“I think you two had enough time together for now. Besides, we have plans tomorrow.”

She bounced up and down in her seat. “What are we doing?”

He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. “Miss Phoebe has invited us over for an early dinner. Her niece is visiting.”

“Is she the lady you rescued?” Rebecca asked and kicked her feet against the back of his seat.

“Where did you hear I rescued someone?”

“I heard Mrs. Whiteside telling Mr. Whiteside you saved a lady today.”

“Yes, she was Miss Phoebe’s niece. She’s from Washington, DC.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know where DC is, don’t you?”

“Ah...duh, of course—it’s our nation’s capital.” She flashed a lopsided grin in the reflection. Jackson stifled his laugh. He wasn’t keen on her using “duh,” but sometimes it was too darn cute.

“Is she pretty?” The kicking subsided. “What’s her name?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Her name is Miss Melanie.” Her face flashed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. “Yes, she’s very pretty.” He swallowed hard. Too pretty. What had he been thinking when he agreed to dinner?