The Prodigal M.D. Returns. Marie Ferrarella

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he could speak further, Ben found himself enveloped in the woman’s warm embrace. Stunned, his breath caught in his throat before he awkwardly put his arms around her.

      Had she been waiting here all this time for him?

      No, that wasn’t possible. That went beyond the patience of Job and slipped straight into the realm of pure fantasy. There had to be some kind of explanation.

      Maybe he’d made a mistake.

      “Who is it, Sydney?” Shayne Kerrigan called out to his wife as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. Dog-tired after the hours he’d put in at the clinic, he sincerely hoped that this was a social call instead of someone needing his professional help.

      Loosening her embrace, Sydney stepped back and looked at Shayne. “Have we got a fatted calf we could put on the spit?”

      He dearly loved his wife, but he wasn’t in the best of moods right now. Frowning, he came forward, crossing to the door. “What are you talking about, woman? What—”

      Shayne stopped dead, staring at the man who was standing beside his wife. He felt as if he’d just seen a ghost.

      And was still seeing him.

      “Hello, Shayne.” Ben flashed a broad smile at his brother. His insides felt like Jell-O. He supposed it was a sign that he’d grown up. He was no longer ignoring the consequences of his actions. And he certainly didn’t feel himself to be the center of the universe. Though he wanted to shake his brother’s hand, he found himself unable to move.

      Shayne squared his shoulders, his face darkening. “What are you doing here?”

      “Standing in our doorway,” Sydney replied cheerfully. She obviously wanted to be the peacemaker. Hooking her arms through Ben’s, she drew him across the threshold and into the house. “Come in, Ben.” Releasing him, she closed the door behind her brother-in-law, acting as if there was no history, no awkward past to overcome. “Have you eaten? We finished dinner a couple of hours ago, but there’s plenty to—”

      Shayne had not moved an inch since recognition had set in. “Get out,” he ordered, his voice low, his lips barely moving.

      Sydney’s head jerked around in Shayne’s direction. Bad blood or not, she seemed stunned to hear her husband’s inhospitable words. Shayne had been a taciturn man when she’d first arrived, as warm as one of the intricately carved totem poles that could be found dotting the harsh terrain. But beneath the hard exterior, she had discovered the soul of a man who cared, who was there for his neighbors and his patients, giving more than he ever thought to get back.

      Locked within himself at an early age, Shayne had never been able to express his feelings in any way verbally other than what amounted to a monosyllabic growl. His caring came out in the way he tended to the sick and the wounded. Sydney had been the one who had helped him out of his self-made prison, who had helped him bond with the two children who hardly even knew their father.

      During the seven years that she had been married to him, Shayne had slowly become more at ease with himself. While no one could have accused him of exactly being warm and toasty, his enormous capacity for compassion was no longer a matter of question but of record.

      She frowned at him now. “He’s your brother, Shayne.”

      Shayne looked at his wife in surprise. “He’s the man who ran out on you, Sydney—on both of us—with nothing more than a note.” His anger growing, he glanced at his younger brother. “One lousy note and nothing more. Not in seven whole years,” he emphasized, moving closer to Ben. Cutting Sydney out of his line of vision. “What’s the matter, Ben? Are you in trouble? Do you need money? Is someone after you? Some woman you promised the moon to and who isn’t satisfied with being left behind like some discarded tissue?”

      He had that coming to him, Ben thought. That and a great deal more. And if Shayne gave him a chance, he’d say so. He’d apologize in every way he knew how. Life was too short to leave things the way they were.

      “No, I just wanted to see you. To tell you I was sorry.”

      Shayne gave no indication that the words made any impression on him. His brother continued to glare at him. “And then what?”

      Ben felt as if he was standing at the very edge of a cliff, overlooking choppy waters. Any moment he could lose his footing and fall off. But he hadn’t come here to play it safe. He’d come here to make amends.

      “That’s up to you.”

      Shayne snorted, shaking his head. Unconvinced. He knew Ben could turn on the charm and let it flow like others turned on a faucet. He’d seen his brother do it over and over again, avoiding penalties for his actions from the time he was old enough to widen his soulful eyes.

      “Very tender, Ben, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

      “Shayne.” Sydney tugged on his arm.

      “Damn it, Sydney, this is the man who jilted you. Who treated you as if you were just so much disposable dirt.”

      “This is the man who’s responsible for the greatest happiness I’ve ever known,” she informed Shayne firmly. “If it hadn’t been for Ben, I would never have come up here. I would never have been in a position where I couldn’t just pick up and go back to what had been my home. If not for Ben, I would never have met our two beautiful children, never been blessed with having them in my life.”

      Her eyes held his. “If not for Ben, I would never have met you.” Her voice softening, she laced her fingers through his, her eyes never leaving his face. “I would never have given birth to our daughter or been as sublimely happy as I am right at this very moment.”

      The news hit Ben like a ton of bricks. The town’s men outnumbered the women seven to one. Given Shayne’s personality, he’d never thought his brother would get married. Ben’s jaw dropped as he looked from the petite woman to his brother. “You married my brother?”

      “Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Sydney said with a laugh that warmed the room. “Shayne was very lost.”

      Originally, she’d intended to remain until her furniture arrived. She was going to tell the movers to turn around and take everything back to Seattle. But by the time her furniture came, she had lost her heart to the stern doctor and his two motherless children. There was no way she would ever have gone back.

      “And he definitely needed a woman’s touch, because he wasn’t doing all that hot on his own,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes.

      “I would have been fine,” Shayne informed her, softening despite himself. “In time.”

      She slid her arms through her husband’s and leaned into him. “There’s not that much time available in the whole world,” she teased. And then, feigning a look of innocence, she asked, “Can he stay, Shayne? Please?”

      The anger was already fading. When it came to Sydney, Shayne found he had trouble saying no. Even when he felt he should.

      And when he allowed himself to admit it in the secret places of his soul, he had missed his brother a great deal. Worried about him and wondered what he was doing and where he had gone. It was like a wound that had refused to heal. Not knowing, not having any

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