Rachel had thought she’d overcome her hatred of hospitals, but five minutes of standing by Gracie’s bedside was all she could take. The hiss of the respirator and the pervasive scent of disinfectant broke over her in a wave of angry memories and nausea.
She gave her parents her blessing and left as soon as she could.
Since then, every time she saw the girl, she saw helplessness and sickness and hospitals. And she felt uncomfortable.
“Here, little one, I brought you a present.” Rachel offered the toddler the wrapped box as a peace offering.
“What do you say, honey?” Charles prompted.
“Hank you.” Gracie said with a proud grin at her father.
Charles tried to catch Rachel’s gaze, but she looked away. She knew her father didn’t always understand her reaction to her adorable little sister. Rachel didn’t always, either. But there it was.
Charles looked behind him at the man she knew had been watching them. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet Dr. Eli. He is Gracie’s pediatrician. Eli, this is our daughter, Rachel.”
“I believe we’ve already met,” Eli said, the same lazy smile crooking his mouth as he held out his hand to her.
She gave him a polite smile. She could do that much. It wasn’t his fault that her parents were itching to be in-laws. “The motorcycle man.”
“That’s me.” His hand was warm, his fingers long, and at his touch she felt a flicker of awareness that had been dormant for a long time now.
She didn’t like it.
“I’m surprised that you ride one,” she said, unable to stop the defensive note from creeping into her voice. “You being a doctor and all.”
“And all what?” His grin mocked her comment.
It was an overreaction, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “And all the responsibility you carry,” she added.
“What if something happened to you?”
“It’s cheap transportation. And I’m careful.”
“Famous last words,” she said with a chill in her voice.
His sea-green eyes held her gaze, his head angled to one side as if trying to figure her out. Well, he could try all he wanted. The only time their paths might cross again would be at a Noble Foundation fund-raiser for the hospital. He didn’t need to know more about her than her name.
“We can eat,” Beatrice announced, taking Gracie from her husband’s arms. “Why don’t we unwrap your present when we have dessert,” she said to Gracie, setting the gift aside. “Rachel, you get your usual spot. Eli, you can sit across from her.”
Beatrice shepherded them all toward the cozy eating nook whose floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the kitchen garden. Rachel sat in “her” chair, noticing the place setting.
When the Nobles first moved to Chestnut Grove from their old home, Rachel and her mother had gone touring the local market. Rachel stopped at a booth that displayed brightly colored earthenware dishes, each place setting unique. Her mother insisted that Rachel choose one for each of them and a couple for her aunt, uncle and cousin. The dishes only came out on family occasions, never when they had company.
Rachel gave her mother a quick glance now, recognizing the not-so-light hint her mother was giving her. At any other time she might have been amused, but Eli and his irresponsible motorcycle had unnerved her.
Beatrice suddenly busied herself buckling Gracie into her specially made high chair, making sure she was comfortable.
“This looks lovely, Beatrice,” Charles said, holding out his hand to his daughter on one side, Eli on the other. “We usually say grace before our meal,” he explained to Eli.
“That’s fine with me. So do the Cavanaughs.”
That seemed an odd way to talk about his family, but Rachel didn’t have time to wonder. Her father had squeezed her hand, and she bowed her head as he began to pray.
She heard her father talking to God, but couldn’t join in on his heartfelt prayer. Though she had been born and raised with faith, she had drifted away over the past few years. She didn’t need God, or what He supposedly offered her and she knew He certainly didn’t need her. Her parents weren’t happy with her choices, but she was thankful they kept their distance. And probably prayed over her.
“Help yourself, Eli,” Beatrice said when Charles was done. “We don’t stand on formality here. The only rule we have is start with what’s in front of you and pass it to the right.”
“And finish what’s on my plate, I imagine,” Eli said with a quick grin at Beatrice.
“If you can,” Rachel muttered, grimacing at the bowl set nearest to her.
“Don’t pay attention to the carnivore,” Beatrice said, fluttering her hands in dismissal of Rachel’s comment. “In spite of being raised with gourmet cooking, Rachel’s idea of a well-balanced diet is cake in one hand and a burger in the other. I pity the man she ends up marrying.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a man,” Rachel said with a warning glance at her mother as she passed on the bowl of soybeans. “Or any intention of getting one.”
“As you said, famous last words, my dear,” Beatrice threw back, unfazed by Rachel’s pronouncement. “One day you’ll swap that impersonal condo of yours for a house with a yard like Eli’s. A nice cozy colonial.” Beatrice turned to the doctor. “I understand that you’re in the process of fixing it up?”
“Actually, my brother Ben has been working on it. He’s the carpenter.” Eli took a small helping of what looked like corn with a pained expression that made Rachel smile in spite of herself. “He’s been nagging at me to make some decisions about the kitchen, but I’m not sure if I want to go modern or stay with the colonial theme.”
“Rachel might be able to help you there,” Charles said, ignoring the prod of Rachel’s foot, beaming at Eli like he was already a favored son. “She’s very good at interior decorating.”
Rachel didn’t know where that had come from. Her parents didn’t like the eclectic mix of masks, rugs and memorabilia from her many trips that graced her condo. Said it made her place look like a museum, not a home.
“I know what I want. My biggest problem, however, seems to be finding time to make the decisions,” Eli said, glancing at Rachel as if he too understood what was going on.
“No woman pushing you to get done?” Charles asked.
Rachel gave her father a harder nudge.
Which he also ignored.
She shot her mother a warning glance to make sure she didn’t join in. But her mother was trying to coax some food into Gracie, who sat in her chair, back rigid, lips pressed together.
“I’m not ready for a woman yet” was all Eli said.
Rachel
