her brother’s many letters telling her about the unique orphanage that shared the church’s backyard. Charity Home. No. Charity House. Yes, that was the name.
Before she could take another look at the mansion-turned-orphanage, the doctor darted his gaze along the perimeter of the yard as though he was searching for something. Or someone. A helper, perhaps? Before Bella could offer her assistance, his eyes locked on to hers.
Snared in his powerful stare, her lungs constricted. Although she was too far away to make out the individual features of his face, the impact of all that intensity thrown her way had her stepping sharply back.
“You, there,” he said, his features twisting into a frown of concentration. “I need your assistance.”
Jolted into action, Bella yanked off one glove and then another. “Yes, of course.” By the time she’d crossed the yard, she’d tossed her hat to the ground, as well.
The children continued to chatter softly as they made room for the doctor to work. Their voices rose slightly as they began trooping one by one inside the large house but it was all background noise now. Never taking her attention off the boy, Bella knelt beside him and looked into his small, pale face.
Glassy eyes stared back at her. She swallowed down a gasp of surprise. He was so young, no more than four or five, with black curly hair and big brown eyes.
Lord, please ease this child’s pain. Use me as your instrument to erase his suffering.
Unsure what to do next, she waited for specific instructions from the doctor. When none came, a shiver of foreboding iced across her skin.
Cautiously, she lifted her gaze. And found herself staring into ocean-blue eyes the exact color as William’s.
Unwelcome images swirled through her mind like leaves on a deserted street. Incapable of grasping any one thought before it was replaced by another, her mind drained into a black void of nothingness.
Air clogged in her lungs.
Focus, Bella. Focus, focus, focus.
The doctor must have sensed her internal struggle because his eyes narrowed to inscrutable slits.
Bella quickly lowered her gaze back to the hurt boy. Little Ethan’s eyes were ringed with pain. Tears wavered on the edges of his lashes, but he gritted his teeth and released a shaky sigh.
“Oh, you brave little boy.” Bella touched his cheek softly then brushed the sweaty hair off his forehead with her fingertips. “You’re going to be fine. Just fine.”
As though her words gave him permission to give into the pain, the tears spilled from his eyes. “It…it hurts,” he gasped, his young voice shaking with anguish. “Real bad.”
Bella stroked her hand along his hairline. “I know it does, baby. But the doctor is going to make it better.”
Shutting out all thoughts but this small, helpless child, she boldly returned her gaze to the doctor’s face. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Shane?”
The sun chose that moment to break through a slit in the fast-moving clouds. Big. Hot. Illuminating.
The doctor stared at her for a long, tense moment. This time, Bella couldn’t look away. The bold, aristocratic angles of his cheekbones, the finely shaped nose and strong jaw covered with day-old stubble created a handsome portrait any leading man would covet.
Bella blinked.
Slowly—very, very slowly—Dr. Shane dropped his gaze to the child. “I’ll do my best, Ethan.”
The boy let out another shaky sigh. “I know.”
Dr. Shane cut his gaze back to Bella. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
His words were more statement than question, but there was an edge of doubt in his eyes. He was asking her to assist him, daring her perhaps, yet convinced she’d somehow let him down.
Would she? She had no training, no experience. Yet an injured boy needed her.
Lord, give me the courage to do what is needed.
Fortunately, the very moment she ended her prayer, Bella’s worries fell away. All that remained was a driving sense of purpose.
She swallowed back the last shreds of uncertainty and boldly held Dr. Shane’s gaze. “Tell me what to do.”
Chapter Two
Locked inside that startling amber gaze, Shane’s thoughts morphed into one undeniable realization. She hadn’t hesitated. The woman with the dark, golden curls, flawless features and refined British accent had defied his expectations. Instead of fleeing the unpleasantness of a child’s injury, she’d taken her place without question.
Could she be the answer to his prayer?
Wishful thinking at best. It was far too soon to determine if she had the character and necessary qualifications he required in an assistant.
Yet, even now, as she boldly held his gaze, conviction blazed in her eyes. What eyes. What depth of emotion.
His heart kicked hard against his ribs, warning him to beware of this woman, this stranger.
Lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, she blew out a slow, impatient breath. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
It took another few seconds for Shane to empty the overload of thoughts and impressions twining together in his mind. “Tell me where it hurts, Ethan.”
The little boy moaned in response, pain twisting his young face. “My…my leg.”
“Let’s have a look.”
Careful to keep his features bland, Shane flicked his gaze past the boy’s torso. Shane’s first reflex was to pull in a sharp breath. Instead, he detached. Separated emotion from logic. And focused.
The right pant leg had been torn at a jagged, vertical angle. Blood soaked the material, turning the light brown cloth nearly black.
“Don’t move, Ethan.” He flipped open his medical bag. “I have to cut away the material surrounding the wound.”
“Oh…okay.”
Shane’s chest pinched tight at the sound of the boy’s anguish. Oh, Lord, he prayed. Fill me with Your Spirit. Guide my hands and use me as Your instrument for healing.
With slow, careful movements, Shane set a firm grip on Ethan’s thigh, and then looked up at the woman again. “I need you to keep him calm for me.”
Eyes wide, she sank her teeth into her lower lip. “How?”
“Hold his hand. Speak to him.” Shane lifted a shoulder. “Whatever it takes.”
Nodding, she braided her fingers with the boy’s. “Ethan. I want you to concentrate on me.” She waited for him to turn his head toward her. “That’s it. The doctor is going to have a look at your injury. Nothing more.”
Ethan sucked in big gulps of air. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me, too.”
Shane wanted to tell them both that everything would be fine, but he couldn’t make such a promise. Not yet.
“You talk funny,” Ethan announced. “I like it.”
Shane did, too. The proper British accent suited her.
“Why, thank you, Ethan. I like the way you talk, too.” Leaning toward the boy’s ear, she asked, “Do you have a favorite song?”
His dark brows pulled together in a frown of concentration. “I…lots… I don’t know…maybe… ‘Amazing Grace’?”
She smiled her approval. “I like that one, too.”
In a low, hushed tone, she began the hymn.