A Blessed Life. Dana Corbit
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And maybe he could convince himself.
Another image of that willowy brunette became a castaway in his thoughts, making him more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. Even if this wasn’t a true doctor-patient situation where he needed to avoid personal involvement. Obviously, it had been too long since he’d had a real date, if he was allowing their conversation to take on this much significance. He had to get out more. But a feeling deep in his gut made him wonder if he’d still be having these same unsettling feelings even if he’d had a month’s worth of interesting dates.
The phone rang and saved him from the uncertain implications of his thoughts. He didn’t need or want the complications of an involvement now. Especially not with a troubled woman. She had as many problems as he did.
“Hickory Ridge Church, this is Andrew Westin. May I help you?”
“Andrew, this is Charlene.” She spoke in that heavy New Jersey accent that made her identification unnecessary. “Got bad news. My mom’s having emergency gall bladder surgery. I hate to bail out on you, but…”
“Of course, Char, you have to be with your mom. Don’t worry a bit about us. I’ll find someone else to fill in. Let your mother know we’ll be praying for her.”
He lowered the phone to the receiver, feeling a new weight on his shoulders. Did he know anyone who was crazy enough—or naive enough, to agree to chaperone a youth all-nighter with less than eight hours’ notice? A few faces flickered in his mind and disappeared, but one unlikely image showed up and refused to fade.
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