Читать книгу Wolf Creek Homecoming - Penny Richards - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Christmas Eve morning dawned crisp and cold. Just as dawn was breaking, Rachel rose from the cot beside Gabe’s bed and lit the lamp.

He had rested well in his laudanum-induced sleep, but she had not been so blessed. Sleep had eluded her, as thoughts and recollections tumbled round and round in her mind like colorful fragments in a kaleidoscope. Besides a jumble of troubling memories, her mind replayed the conversation with her father again and again.

She couldn’t believe how light her heart felt since sharing the secret she’d carried alone for so long. Who would have thought that something that seemed so small could weigh so heavily on a heart? She would be eternally grateful that her father’s love and support had not wavered, even after learning the truth.

She knew Edward was right about telling Danny about Gabe, yet the very thought of doing so filled her with dread. How would she find the words? What would Danny say...and think?

She stoked the dying fire and went to see how Gabe was doing, busying herself with changing his bandages and checking his temperature. Her ministering seemed to agitate him, and he began to move about. When she tried to restrain him, he cried out and opened his eyes. Thankfully she saw no recollection there, no wicked, teasing gleam, nothing but agony. The doctor in her wanted him to be pain free and improve under her care; the woman in her shrank from the moment he would open his eyes and look up at her with recognition.

What would he see when he awakened? What would he think when he saw her for the first time in nine years? She turned toward the mirror hanging above the washstand, drawn to it like a June bug to the light. Her reflection wavered in the flickering light of the oil lamp.

She stared at herself for long moments and then, womanlike, rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips as if she could massage away the few slight creases she saw there, lines etched by her deep concern for her patients.

Exposure to the elements in all sorts of weather had tanned her face and hands despite the bonnet she wore, and squinting against the sun had left tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. Despite regular treatments of lemon juice, a faint spattering of freckles dotted her nose.

Age and Danny’s birth had added a few pounds, but according to her father, it was weight she needed. Strangely, her face was thinner than it had been nine years ago, refined by age and life.

She had no illusions. She no longer looked twenty-two. Shouldering the responsibilities that went hand in hand with the demands of her father’s practice had taken its toll on her in many ways.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, would Gabe still think her fair at all?

Would he even recognize her? What would he say? What would she? Would he be the shocking flirt she recalled, or would he be filled with contrition?

Telling herself she was a fool for wasting so much as a thought on him, she went back to the bed and dabbed some antiseptic to the cut on Gabe’s face.

As she tended to his needs, her mind turned to Caleb’s ambivalent feelings about his brother’s return. She could relate to them only too well. Like Caleb, and even though she knew that not to pardon Gabe jeopardized her own forgiveness, she couldn’t imagine any scenario that would make her feel differently about the man who had taken everything she had to give and walked away as if it meant nothing to him.

Then why are you having such contradictory thoughts about him?

She had no answer for that.

Satisfied that he was fine for the moment, she went to the kitchen, rekindled the fire in the stove and filled the coffeepot. While she waited for the stove to get hot enough to start breakfast, she opened her Bible. Instead of reading, she flipped the pages until she found the pressed petunia she’d placed there. A gift from Gabe, plucked from Mrs. Abernathy’s flower bed and tucked behind Rachel’s ear when they’d returned from a walk. “A memento of this evening.”

She could picture the half-light of dusk, could almost hear the sounds of children playing and smell the sweet scent of the petunias dancing in the breeze. Felt again the light brush of his lips against hers. A small, impromptu gesture was so like him. She planned. Gabe lived for the moment.

Impatient with her unruly thoughts, she slammed her Bible shut and began to slice the bacon, placing the strips into the cold cast-iron skillet. Gathering the ingredients for buttermilk biscuits, she measured and mixed flour, salt and leavening and started working the lard into the flour with her fingertips, finding comfort in the simplicity of the everyday task.

Seeing that the stove was hot, she set the skillet of bacon over the heat. After adding just the right amount of buttermilk, she pinched off a biscuit-size piece of dough and deftly rolled the edges under to make it reasonably smooth and round. Placing it into the greased pan, she made a dimple in the center with her knuckle.

Danny, his dark hair standing on end and covering a yawn, came into the kitchen as she was filling the slight indentations with a small dollop of extra lard, just the way her mama had done.

“Good morning,” she said, sliding the pan into the oven.

“Morning.”

She wiped her hands on a wet cloth and sighed as she watched him pour a splash of coffee into a tin cup and fill it to the brim with milk and two spoons full of sugar. He’d started having morning “coffee milk,” as he called it, when Edward had started sharing his own sweetened brew. When she’d questioned the wisdom of the action, Edward had assured her that it was more milk than anything else and maintained it was fine; it hadn’t hurt her, had it?

Grandparents! she thought, lifting the crispy strips of bacon onto a platter. If she didn’t remain vigilant, no telling how Edward would spoil Danny. But how could she deny him his little indulgences when he had taken on a very special role in Danny’s life? Not only was he the child’s grandfather, he’d been the closest thing to a father as he was ever likely to know.

Until now.

With her father’s words ringing through her mind, Rachel searched her son’s face for anything that might give away his paternity. He definitely had Gabe’s long, lush eyelashes, as well as the slant of his eyebrows. The dimple in Danny’s chin would be a dead giveaway as he grew closer to manhood and his jawline firmed the way his father’s had.

His father. Rachel stifled a groan. How could she not think of him when he lay just down the hall? Resolutely, she opened a jar of red plum jam one of her patients had given her in lieu of payment for stitching up a nasty cut.

“Are you excited about going to the Gentrys’ tomorrow?” she asked Danny as she smoothed down the recalcitrant “rooster tail” sticking up from the crown of his dark head.

He nodded, his eyes bright. “I made a present for baby Eli.”

“Really? What did you make?”

“Roland gave me some old cedar shingles and helped me drill some holes on one edge so I could put some leather laces through them. I painted Ben’s, Betsy’s and Laura’s names on them with different colors. I made one for Eli yesterday. I thought Miss Abby could hang it on the end of his cradle.”

“That was very sweet of you, Danny.”

“I made some for the Carruthers kids, too,” he said. “I thought they could hang them on the wall above their beds.”

“I’m sure everyone will love them,” she said, marveling as she often did at what a thoughtful child he was.

Feeling blessed to have him, she peeked at the biscuits. “Almost done,” she announced. “How many eggs do you want?”

“Two,” he said promptly. “Soft.”

“I’ll have two, myself,” Edward said from the doorway.

“Coming right up,” Rachel said, reaching for the brown crockery bowl that held the eggs she bought from a lady in town.

“I’ve been thinking about tomorrow,” she said, cracking the first egg into the sizzling bacon grease.

As they had the previous year, the Stones had planned to have their Christmas meal with the Gentrys and Caleb’s former in-laws, the Emersons. “Why don’t I stay here with Gabe and you and Danny go to Abby and Caleb’s?”

“Absolutely not!” Edward told her. “You and Danny go, and I’ll stay here with Gabe. You can bring me back a plate.”

“It will be stone cold in this weather,” she argued.

“Then we’ll warm it up in the oven. Really, Rachel, you go. It’s a special day for Danny, and it’s seldom you get much uninterrupted time with him. Besides, it will give you the opportunity to check on Abby and the baby.”

He had a point. Rachel put the first two eggs onto a plate and set it in front of him. The hot biscuits and a bowl of fresh-churned butter were placed on the table next to a platter of bacon. She looked from the determination in her father’s eyes to the hopeful expression in Danny’s. “If you’re sure...” she said. “We’ll be gone most of the day.”

“I’m sure. Gabe is stable, and I think I can handle anything that comes up during that short time. Besides—” he shot a smile toward Danny “—I can read that new book on Italy you’re giving me for Christmas.”

“Edward Stone!” Rachel cried, her eyes widening in disbelief. “How do you know you got a book about Italy?”

Edward’s eyes twinkled. “Never tell an eight-year-old anything you don’t want repeated.”

Rachel pinned her son with a familiar, narrow-eyed look. “You little rascal!” she said. “Christmas presents are supposed to be a secret.”

“I didn’t exactly tell him,” Danny hedged, slathering a biscuit with butter. “He just asked me a buncha questions and sorta guessed.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Rachel said, trying to fix her father with that same stern look and failing as her mouth began to twitch with the beginnings of a smile. It was no secret that when it came to Christmas and secrecy, Edward Stone was a total failure.

“You’re as bad as he is,” she charged. “Worse. At least he’s just a child.”

Stifling a smile, Edward said, “It’s settled, then. You and Danny are going. Now don’t you need to see to those eggs?”

* * *

With the cookies all baked, Rachel spent the day stirring up pumpkin pies and an apple cake liberally laced with raisins and the black walnuts she and Edward had cracked and painstakingly picked out.

Finished with the baking, she and Danny loaded up their goodies and made deliveries to the Carruthers family and a widow or two who had a hard time making ends meet.

By the time their visits were over and they’d finished the evening meal, she was pleasantly weary. The day had been so busy that at times she was able to forget the man lying in the bedroom down the way. Danny helped with the dishes, and they were getting ready to begin their yearly Christmas Eve ritual when an agonized cry came from Gabe’s room.

Tossing her dish towel onto the table, Rachel ran toward the sound, throwing the door open against the wall in her haste.

Gabe lay on his back, just as he had been, but as she neared the bed she realized that he was fully awake. His eyes were shadowed with pain that became stunned disbelief as he struggled to raise himself up to his uninjured elbow.

“Rachel?” His voice was deep and husky, as if he were getting over a bad sore throat. Looking to blame him for everything, she’d often thought that his voice was the first weapon he’d used in his insidious assault on her senses. Now, even in her concern, she imagined she heard a hint of wonder in his voice.

“Lie still,” she commanded, placing a restraining hand against his shoulder. Offering him no time to formulate a reply, she continued, “What on earth were you thinking trying to get up? You might have injured yourself worse than you already are.”

Ever professional even in her irritation, she placed gentle, questing fingers against his bound ribs. “Does it hurt?” she asked, unaware that the question was somewhat silly under the circumstances. She just wanted to get him easy again and steer clear of the feelings churning inside her now that they were face-to-face.

Despite the pain and grogginess reflected in his eyes, he attempted a smile that more resembled a grimace. “Only when I breathe.”

Nothing had changed, she thought. Still quick with a smile and a glib reply.

“Do you remember what happened?”

A spasm of pain crossed his features. “A couple of guys jumped me between here and Antoine. How did I get here?”

All business, she leaned over him to check the bandage on his head. “Simon Teasdale found you and brought you to me.”

She stepped back and allowed her gaze to roam his face. As she had, he’d aged and looked older than the twenty-nine she knew him to be. But, as it seemed with most men, he’d done it better. Maturity had firmed the boyish softness of his jaw and chin as she knew it would Danny’s, making it more sharply defined and making his resemblance to Caleb more pronounced, though Gabe would always be the handsomer of the two.

He, too, had a tanned face with crinkly lines at the corners of his eyes, but she knew from past experience that these lines would not have come from worry or the elements but laughter as he pursued countless pleasures. He was still disturbingly handsome and she suspected the inevitable scar he would carry would only add to his aura of mystery and danger. That thought awakened her slumbering anger.

“Did you know them?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “They had bandannas. I won a lotta...money from a couple guys in a poker game...Little Rock.” He made another pitiful attempt to smile. “Guess they wanted it back.”

She dabbed at the still-seeping gash on his head with a piece of cotton wool saturated with peroxide. His hiss of pain gave her far more satisfaction than it should have.

“Simon did find your wallet nearby, and it was empty, but if it was someone from Little Rock, why would they wait so long to attack you?”

His eyes looked troubled. “Guess I’m not...thinking straight. Feel like...death warmed over.”

“As well you should. You have broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, which will be pretty painful while it heals. You have a possible concussion. There’s a cut on your scalp and another on your cheek that will probably leave a nasty scar.”

He attempted a shrug that elicited another grunt of pain.

“You need to go back to sleep,” she told him, feeling a sudden, unexpected and annoying rush of sympathy.

“How long have I been here?” he asked, once more speaking through clenched teeth.

“Since yesterday morning.”

She could almost see his fuzzy mind trying to calculate what day it was. “So it’s...”

“Christmas Eve.”

“I’d hoped to be home for Christmas.”

The confession surprised her. Home? He’d meant to come back to Wolf Creek?

Of course he was coming home. Why else would he have been between Wolf Creek and Antoine?

“Why? Why now, after all this time?”

Without thinking, she blurted out the question that leaped into her mind, even though she knew that he was in no condition for the battle she felt brewing.

“To try to...fix things...with Caleb.”

No wish to try to make amends with her. “Caleb knows you’re here, and frankly, he wasn’t exactly overjoyed about it.” She started to turn away, and his good hand reached out and grabbed hers.

“And you, Rachel?” he asked, as she stared down at the fingers that manacled her wrist. “I know how I left was...wrong. I’m sorry.”

So he did want to make things right with her. The knowledge gave her no satisfaction; it only stoked her anger. “Why should I believe your contrition is genuine, Gabe? You once told me a lot of things, all of them lies. Why should I believe this sudden change of heart is any different? And your behavior wasn’t just wrong. It was contemptible!”

She knew that her tirade was inappropriate and unprofessional, and that the fury consuming her was no doubt reflected in her face and in her voice, which shook as badly as her hands. He was in pain from numerous injuries. It was neither the time nor the place to confront him, but the dam that had held back her pain for so many years had burst, and she could not seem to stop the words that spewed from her like lava from a volcano.

“Did you really think you could just waltz into town and expect everyone to welcome you with open arms? Did you think that maybe Caleb would be so overjoyed by the prodigal’s return that he would trot out the fatted calf? Guess what, Gabe, this is real life, not a Bible story, and I don’t see any happy endings in sight!”

He looked stricken by her outburst. She didn’t care. She wanted him to know he had behaved despicably. Wanted him to know the pain she’d suffered. She even hoped the knowledge of what he’d done added to his own pain.

His grip relaxed and he allowed her to pull free. She stared at him, but his eyes gave away nothing of what he was feeling.

“Mama?” Danny spoke from the doorway.

Trembling as if she had the ague, she turned. “What is it, Danny?” she asked in a far harsher tone than she’d intended and he was accustomed to.

The child looked from her to the man in the bed, his eyes wide with uncertainty. “Pops wanted me to see if everything is all right.”

“Tell him everything’s fine,” she said in a softer voice.

She kept her gaze studiously on her son, who looked shocked by the side of his mother he’d never seen. She wished she could call back her heated words. No. Gabe Gentry deserved her anger. She only wished Danny hadn’t heard. “Mr. Gentry is just in a lot of pain at the moment.”

“But you were mad at him,” Danny said, sensing there was more than she was saying. Like his grandfather, he was prone to probe until his curiosity was satisfied.

“Only because he tried to get out of bed,” she fibbed, casting a quick glance at Gabe, whose eyes were now shut. “He might have hurt himself worse.”

“Oh.”

Once more, Danny looked from one adult to the other before backing out the door, leaving Rachel alone with her patient, who stared at her with no visible expression. Why didn’t that surprise her? The celebrated Gabriel Gentry would never see his actions as despicable.

“I’ll get you some medication,” she told him, wanting nothing more than to escape him.

“I don’t want it,” he said, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “I want...to get up...awhile.”

“There’s no way you can–”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he interrupted, his voice rough with his own anger and something she couldn’t put a name to. “Help me to...a chair. I’ll be...okay for a while.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll let you sit up, but only if you let me give you a little something.”

He looked as if he would like to argue further, but nodded. She turned toward the door. “Where are you going?”

“To get Pops’s wheelchair.”

“Rachel,” he said, the sound of his voice stopping her. She turned.

“I had no idea you had a son.”

She stiffened but managed a twisted smile. “What did you expect, Gabe? That I would carry a torch for you forever?”

For once in his life, Gabe had no witty comeback.

* * *

After a lot of moaning and groaning, Rachel got Gabe into one of her father’s robes and settled into the wheelchair with a quilt over his legs. Then she rolled him to the kitchen, where he picked at a bowl of beef stew he didn’t want while trying—without much success and despite the small dose of laudanum she’d forced on him—to ignore the various excruciating pains throbbing throughout his body. It irritated him that she’d been right. He should have stayed in bed.

When the simple meal was finished, he was rolled into the parlor, where he sat watching as the Stones went through their Christmas Eve celebration. His muddled thoughts bounced around from one topic to the next.

When he’d awakened, he remembered how he’d come to be in so much agony but had no idea where he was. He’d chosen not to call for help, instead enduring long pain-filled moments as he struggled to sit up with a shoulder that felt on fire and a rib cage that felt as if someone had taken a club to it. No. Not a club. Boots.

When he’d seen Rachel standing beside the bed, he’d thought she was an illusion, and his reaction had been profound pleasure. It hadn’t taken long to realize that she was very real and that she did not share his happiness at being reunited.

She was right, he thought as he watched her with her family. He’d treated her worse than terribly. He remembered their short few weeks together as good ones even though she was nothing like the women he usually spent time with.

She was very smart, which was a little intimidating, as was her desire to become a doctor and settle down in Wolf Creek. His greatest goal was to see as much as he could while his money held out. There was plenty of time to worry about what he would do with his life after he finished seeing the world.

It was years before he’d come to grips with the reality that the lifestyle he’d chosen when he left home had lost its luster and that his interest in aimless pursuits had declined dramatically. He’d begun to feel as if he were living in a world of make-believe, while somewhere out there people led real and meaningful lives.

Comprehension led to months of reflection and careful examination of his upbringing and the life he’d tried so hard to leave behind. He’d realized that the void he’d felt in his heart since the day his mother abandoned him and his brother could not be filled with laughter and joking, senseless reveling or meaningless relationships. All attempts to do so had been futile, masking, but never filling, the emptiness.

He’d been left with the sobering realization that his entire life was nothing but an effort to escape the pain that gnawed at him every moment of every day and could not be assuaged by any thrill, pleasure or sinful indulgence known to man. He’d accepted the truth that there was no escaping the past or how it shaped the person you became. At some point you had to come to terms with that, both the good and the bad.

Then one day in Atlanta almost a year ago, he’d been strolling through a park and heard a woman laugh, laughter filled with such undiluted joy that it triggered an unexpected, long-forgotten memory of Rachel. The moment was sharply poignant. In those few out-of-time seconds, he’d been struck with the sudden conviction that he’d had something rare within his grasp and thrown it away.

Over the next few weeks, memories of their time together drifted through his mind with the sweetness of springtime scents on a subtle breeze: Her affirmation that money was not the important thing for happiness, which he’d scoffed at and now knew was true. Her serious, unwavering dedication when mocked for daring to brave entrance to a profession dominated by men. Her willingness to dedicate herself to a life that was not necessarily conducive to her own well-being, but to the well-being of others.

Longing for something he couldn’t put into words, he’d begun to wonder if there was redemption for him out there somewhere. If so, he knew he’d have to start in Wolf Creek, the place where his life had first begun to unravel. There, he’d hoped to find new direction and a new purpose for his life, though he had no idea what that might be or how to go about finding it.

Now, sitting in the Stones’ parlor while Edward read the story of baby Jesus from the Bible, he wanted to ask Rachel if he could sit in the parlor the next morning and watch the gift opening. Thanks to his mother’s leaving and his father’s indifference, he and Caleb had never known what these three people shared. Christmas was just another day. Lucas’s only concession to the holiday had been a traditional meal because he liked showing off to some of his friends.

Gabe longed just once to experience what a real Christmas should be, but Rachel had made it clear that the less she had to do with him the better, and he had no wish to disrupt their day. The solemn sounds of their prayer, and their happy, laughing voices as they joked and teased each other, brought about a pang of regret so painful that his heart hurt almost as badly as his physical injuries.

The desire to have that kind of love and the knowledge that he had willfully ruined any chance of experiencing it with Rachel was overwhelming in its intensity. The woman he now knew was the most important person to come into his life had made it clear that she had not forgiven him and was not likely to.

He couldn’t blame her. She was right. He had used her—not deliberately, perhaps—but she’d been there and they’d both been willing. In his mind she was no different from other girls he’d spent time with. Except, of course, she was very different.

Filled with an incredible sorrow for what he’d tossed away, Gabe blinked back the unmanly sting of tears. Tears were a luxury he had not allowed himself since the day he’d come home and been told that his mother had left for a new life in Boston...a life that was more important to her than her husband or her sons.

Funny how history repeated itself. For all intents and purposes, he’d done to Rachel exactly what his mother had done to him and his brother.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. Rachel slipped into Gabe’s room to stoke the fire in his fireplace, stunned to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, as upright as possible. A blanket covered his legs. He clutched a shirt in his fists. He was trembling and sweat dripped down his face despite the chill of the room. A basin of soapy water sat on the stand next to the bed. He’d given himself a sponge bath and was trying to get dressed. He looked near to passing out from the effort.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She shook her head. Stubborn, stubborn man.

“Getting dressed,” he told her in a terse tone. Knowing how she felt about him, he couldn’t bear being near her any longer than was absolutely necessary, so he’d forced himself to the limit to make her believe he was feeling better than he really was.

“Why didn’t you ring for help?”

“It wasn’t necessary.” Despite the medicine still dulling his senses and the pain racking his body, he made his voice as crisp and no-nonsense as hers.

“How do you feel?”

His blue eyes roamed over her, as restless as the wind tossing the tree branches outside the window. “I’ll live.”

“I certainly hope so,” she said, going to the fireplace. She removed the screen and placed a couple of slivers of pine knot and a couple of logs on the bed of coals. He needed to get warm.

“Do you?”

The simple question fell into the silence of the room. Moving with extreme care, she set the screen back in place.

“Of course I do.” She went to the bed and set about changing the bandages on his head and face, probing his swollen shoulder and making a swift examination of his bruised chest.

“Can you bring me some hot water?” he asked. “My sponge bath was a bit chilly, and I’d like to shave and clean my teeth. Maybe I’ll feel a bit more human.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from saying something to antagonize him. It was too soon for him to be doing so much. “I’m not sure you can—”

“I’ll manage.”

The determined angle of his chin brooked no argument.

* * *

When she returned twenty minutes later, Gabe stood at the shaving stand, his mouth set in a grim line of agony. She didn’t know how he’d managed to do all he’d done or why he wasn’t passed out on the floor. He was dressed in the clean clothes she’d brought him and had somehow buttoned the shirt over the arm that was held against his chest by the sling. The unused sleeve hung loose. He’d shaved what he could of the stubble shadowing his face, but not without leaving a few oozing nicks here and there. He made no comment about the ugly wound that marred his lean cheek.

Placing the straight-edge razor on the stand, he met her gaze in the mirror. “You don’t know how badly I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind washing my feet? I couldn’t get below the knees.”

Her eyes widened. The simple request, one she’d done countless times for other patients, caught her off guard. Taking care of their needs was her duty as a physician and caretaker, but she didn’t want to do any more for Gabe Gentry than was absolutely necessary.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, she felt a familiar wave of shame wash over her. Where was her compassion for this man who might well have died if Simon hadn’t found him when he had? Where was her Christian charity? She was a good doctor who had never backed away from a challenge or shirked her responsibilities.

Without a word, she picked up the basin of cooling water, placed it on the floor and knelt beside it, going about her task with quick efficiency and reminding herself that serving his needs while he was injured was not only her duty as a physician; it was her duty as a Christian.

As she worked, the story of Jesus, sinless, perfect, washing His apostles’ feet slipped into her mind. She concentrated on her task so that Gabe wouldn’t see how near she was to tears.

By nature she was a caring person. She knew she couldn’t continue to harbor this soul-destroying resentment, but she seemed unable to free herself from it. Could she find a way to set aside the hostility that had taken hold of her the day he’d destroyed her love with his callous dismissal?

She sighed as she pulled a heavy pair of woolen socks onto his feet. She didn’t know. But she knew that if she was ever to be the person the Lord expected her to be she had to try a lot harder.

* * *

Gabe heard the sigh and watched as she stood and picked up the basin of water to set it on the shaving stand.

“I’ll bring you some breakfast a bit later,” she told him, gathering the soiled laundry. “Danny will want to open his gifts first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just rest until then.”

He started to lower himself in gradual increments, using his workable arm and clenching his teeth against the pain. Rachel was beside him in an instant, her arms around his shoulders to help ease him to the pillows. She was strong, he thought, as she lifted his legs to the bed and spread a double layer of quilts over him. Stronger than she looked. He didn’t know why that should be such a surprise, but it was.

Gabe waited for the screaming pain in his ribs to subside to a dull, throbbing ache. Many things about Rachel surprised him. She was older, but no less beautiful than he remembered. She’d gained some much-needed weight, which only added to the femininity she tried to hide beneath her tailored, no-nonsense wardrobe. The intriguing scent of magnolia blossoms still clung to her.

What surprised him most was that she was no longer the shy woman who’d had trouble carrying on a conversation unless it was a topic she felt passionately about. Her worshipful eyes no longer followed his every move and she certainly didn’t hang on to every word he spoke, as she once had.

She was a woman, not a girl. She was a devoted daughter. She was a mother. She was a professional with long-standing ties to the community, successfully crossing the threshold of a field most women were afraid to enter. That alone made her exceptional.

“You must be in terrible pain after moving around so much. Would you like a bit of medication now?”

Was that actual compassion he heard in her voice? He clenched his teeth together and met her gaze steadily. “No, thank you. I’ve seen too many people get addicted to it. I’ll just tough it out.”

“I’m only giving you small doses, and I don’t think you’re in jeopardy of addiction at this point. Toughing it out isn’t really a good idea.”

Somehow he managed a derisive smile. “A lot of things I’ve done haven’t been good ideas, but that never stopped me, did it?”

Rachel stared at him for several seconds then scooped up the laundry and left him without another word. Let him hurt. It wasn’t her problem. Except, of course, that it was. The very thought of the pain he must be suffering went against everything she stood for and left her feeling undeserving of her calling. Unfortunately, some people had to learn the hard way.

* * *

As planned, Rachel and Danny went to Caleb and Abby’s at midmorning so that Danny could play with the Gentry children and Rachel could help Mary, Caleb’s former mother-in-law, with the last-minute meal preparations, since Abby was still confined to bed.

Rachel made the visit double duty, examining mother and baby and concluding they were both fine, at which Abby declared she was able to get up long enough to eat her Christmas meal with the family. Like Gabe, she would not be deterred.

Abby loved the little signs Danny had made. Caleb tied the leather cords to the end of the crib while Danny watched with pride. The other children, too, were happy with their name signs, and Caleb promised to hang them at the heads of their beds before nightfall. Though he had no talent for building things from wood, he did dabble with whittling and had fashioned a stunning replica of a Colt pistol for his children to give to Danny. Each of them had taken turns putting a coat of shellac on it.

When the dishes were done, Rachel and Mary Emerson put the little ones down for naps. The men went to the parlor, where Rachel suspected there might be as much afternoon dozing as dominoes and conversation. The older children played with their new toys while Mary Emerson supervised, giving Rachel and Abby time for some uninterrupted “woman talk.”

Rachel cut two pieces of pumpkin pie, poured two mugs of coffee and went to Abby’s bedroom, to find her once again propped up in bed.

“Thank you,” she said, as Rachel handed her the pie and set the mug of coffee on a bedside table. “It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Rachel agreed. “And you got the best Christmas present of all, albeit a couple of days early.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Abby said with a smile, glancing at the baby all snug in his cradle. She took a bite of pie and washed it down with a sip of coffee.

“What does Caleb think of Eli now that he’s here and you’re both well?” Rachel asked.

Since Caleb’s first wife had died in childbirth the previous winter, Caleb had been terrified when Abby told him she was expecting his child.

“He’s beside himself with happiness—and pride,” she said with a satisfied grin.

“Well, his fear was certainly understandable,” Rachel said.

“I agree.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you, Abby?” Rachel asked, unaware of the wistful note in her voice.

“I am.” There was no denying her contentment. “I loved William, but what I felt for him pales in comparison to what I feel for Caleb.”

“I’m really happy for you.”

Abby reached out a hand to her friend. “Don’t look so sad. There’s someone out there for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” Abby’s eyes brightened at a sudden thought. “What about Gabe?”

“What about Gabe?” she asked with a lift of her dark eyebrows.

“As a potential husband, goose! If you married him we’d be sisters-in-law.”

Rachel felt the color drain from her face, felt the stiffness in her cheeks as she forced a smile. “Thank you but no thank you,” she said. “Gabriel Gentry is not the marrying type.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

“Haven’t you heard the gossip?”

Abby nodded. “Caleb’s told me everything about Gabe, but people do change. Caleb is proof of that.”

Not everything.

“It must have been hard for both of them growing up,” Abby mused. “Caleb told me that until he married Emily, Christmas was just another day.”

Rachel registered her friend’s comment with a bit of a shock. With the Gentry money, she would have thought Lucas would have seen to it his boys had anything they wanted. What kind of man would deprive children of a bit of happiness once a year?

“Well, Lucas didn’t pretend to be anything but who he was,” she said. “I don’t imagine he was too interested in conforming to society’s expectations. Dad says that for all his unreasonableness, Lucas had a reputation for being hardworking. At least he passed that on to Caleb.”

“But not Gabe, from what I hear.”

“No. Not Gabe.”

“Did you know him?” Abby queried, taking another forkful of pie.

“Yes,” Rachel said, concentrating on the steam rising from her mug. “Gabe was two years younger than I, though, and we didn’t share the same circle of friends.”

“Caleb said he was...spoiled.” Abby said the word almost apologetically.

“To put it mildly,” Rachel said, struggling to suppress the sarcasm in her voice.

“I’ve heard he’s very handsome.”

“He’s also wild, dangerous and has no sense of decency...from what I hear,” Rachel tacked on.

Abby wondered why her friend was so irritated by the topic of Gabriel Gentry. “So I’ve heard from Caleb. As I said, people do change. I suppose only time will tell if Gabe has.”

Rachel took a sip of coffee before answering. “He did tell me he came back to try to make amends.”

“That’s promising, but I’m here to say that Caleb is struggling with the idea that Gabe is even back after so long. There’s been a lot of bad blood between them.”

Rachel nodded. “I certainly understand how he feels.” Perhaps more than Caleb.

* * *

That conversation stayed with Rachel as she drove the buggy back to town. Like Caleb, she was having a hard time accepting Gabe’s return. Because he broke your heart and trampled your woman’s pride beneath his fancy handmade boots.

True enough. That aside, surely she was mature enough to put the past into perspective. As terrible as it had been, she had learned from the experience. She was a better person. Stronger and more tolerant of others’ mistakes. So why not Gabe’s?

No doubt about it, she thought, giving her head a shake. She was a terrible, terrible person! Not forgiving wasn’t an option to a Christian, but like Caleb’s, her forgiveness of Gabe would come hard.

She prayed he would heal and move on soon. If he chose to stay, she wasn’t sure how she would deal with seeing him on a regular basis. Stop borrowing trouble, Rachel Stone. No one had any idea what he would do once his injuries healed. Still, there was the remote possibility that he would stay in the area, which meant her father had a point. She had to tell Danny and pray he understood.

But not today.

* * *

To her dismay, she and Danny found Edward and Gabe sitting at the kitchen table playing a game of chess. Gabe sat ramrod straight in the chair. He looked awful. He was far too pale, and there was no masking the pain shadowing his sapphire-hued eyes or the challenge in them as he looked at her. He expected her to rail at him for being out of bed, but she was too weary for another battle and kept silent.

“Can I play, Pops?” Danny wheedled, shoving his small body beneath Edward’s arm so he could get a better look at the board.

Intent on the game pieces, Edward gave the boy a distracted hug. “Not this game, Danny.”

“No one ever wants to play with me,” he said, his shoulders slumping.

“That isn’t true,” Rachel told him, hanging her coat by the door. She turned and took two plates out of the basket she’d carried in. “Pops plays with you all the time.”

“Supper?” Edward asked, spying the plates.

“Turkey and all the trimmings,” she replied. “I’ll stick them in the oven for a bit,” she said, doing just that. “They’ll be hot in no time.”

Finally reaching a decision, Edward moved a piece and then gave his attention to his daughter. “Makes my mouth water just thinking about Mary’s dressing.”

“I wasn’t sure if you liked turkey or not, so I brought ham, too,” she said to Gabe. Even as she spoke the words, she regretted showing any concern for his likes or dislikes.

“Either is fine, thank you. And I’ll play a game with you sometime, Danny, but I think I’d best get back to bed after I eat.”

The unexpected thanks and offer to Danny took Rachel by surprise, though it shouldn’t have. Gabe Gentry epitomized charm and grace and friendliness.

What he lacked was integrity and common decency.