“Don’t avoid this Rachel.”
Rachel met Mom G.’s gaze straight on. “There’s nothing to avoid. Josh isn’t a part of my life and he’s not going to be.”
Tears gathered at the corners of Mom G.’s eyes. “He needs you.”
Mom G.’s sadness tore at Rachel. She wouldn’t be able to make Mom G. happy. Not if her happiness involved Josh. “This is upsetting you.”
“He needs you,” Mom G. insisted.
Slowly Rachel shook her head. “He’s never needed me.”
“But he does. Rachel, he’s always loved you and you still love him.”
A double-edged sword of hurt and anger sliced through her. Her heart raced and her blood pounded in her ears. Josh didn’t love her. She doubted he ever had.
As for her loving him…She closed her eyes briefly and hardened her heart. Been there, done that. Not doing it again. Emotions would not control her actions. Her goal in life was to make sure her mother hadn’t died in vain, not to resurrect her relationship with Josh.
She opened her eyes and took a calming breath, regaining her composure. “It’s not a matter of love. Josh had an idea of what he wanted in a wife and I wasn’t it. He wanted someone I couldn’t be.”
“But that was then.”
Rachel lifted one shoulder. “Nothing has changed. I’m still who I am.”
“But they need you.”
They? Rachel figured she must mean Josh and his father, Rod.
Mom G. dropped her gaze and sighed, but not before Rachel saw the disappointment in her eyes. She wouldn’t say anything to encourage Mom G. She and Josh were history. And nothing could change that.
“Tell me about your new position.”
Rachel nodded, thankful for a subject she’d have no trouble discussing, a subject that didn’t make her suffer deep in her soul.
Because no matter how she looked at it, the subject of Josh would only bring her heartache.
The late-afternoon sun began to make its descent behind the mountain range, the fading light casting long shadows across the yard and backlighting Josh’s Victorian house. Coming home at the end of the day always gave him a sense of satisfaction and peace. He’d worked long and hard refurbishing the broken-down Victorian, preserving as much of the original woodwork as possible. The overgrown land and swamp of a built-in pool had required hours of grueling labor to bring out the potential he’d known lay underneath. He’d created a stable sanctuary for his son and managed to ignore the vague feeling of incompleteness that plagued him at night.
Josh eased open the large solid-oak front door far enough to squeeze through. He didn’t want a squeak of the hinge to herald his arrival. He wasn’t ready to see his family, whom he could hear in the kitchen. He needed time, time to sort out the struggle going on inside of him.
He took the hardwood stairs slowly, placing each foot carefully in the spots where they wouldn’t creak. In his room he closed the door and sat on the bed. With his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands.
All the way home he’d kept the thoughts at bay, forcing his mind into a blank numbness. But now they wouldn’t be held back. Had Rachel really not known about Andrea? She’d seemed genuinely surprised, and remorseful. His heart told him she hadn’t known, which only confirmed his belief that once she’d left town she’d never looked back.
Just like his mother.
Andrea. Sweet Andrea. Guilt engulfed him. He groaned, a deep, gut-wrenching sound that echoed in the quiet of his room.
Lord, it’s too much to bear. Please take my guilt.
The plea went up as it had a hundred times before, but Josh snatched his plea back before he could feel any relief. He didn’t deserve God’s attention and mentally flogged himself with the pain of his guilt.
He hadn’t loved Andrea enough. Not the way she’d needed to be loved. He’d tried to be a good husband. He’d encouraged her, supported her, provided for her. He’d given her everything he could but not the one thing she’d wanted—all of his heart.
Josh scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe away the sting of his self-loathing.
It was his fault Andrea was dead.
Because he couldn’t erase Rachel from his heart.
Rachel. Was she right that he’d only wanted a wife, any wife? Had he been that arrogant and selfish? He’d tried to love Andrea with the same intensity he’d loved Rachel, but it had never happened.
Should he have pursued Rachel after she left? According to her, yes. But would his pursuit have changed anything? Would she have come back to the mountains to be his wife?
No, she wouldn’t have.
And he couldn’t have lived in the city playing second fiddle to her career.
Josh stood and paced, the leather soles of his shoes leaving indents in the dark green carpet. In the back of his mind a thought crept up, making him pause. Had he held his heart from Andrea because he was afraid to love her too deeply?
He clenched his jaw. It didn’t matter now.
What he’d had to give hadn’t been enough for Andrea. He’d lost her, just as he’d lost Rachel and his mother. Because he was not enough. And he was never going to make the mistake of trying to love again.
Now Rachel was back. He had every intention of not seeing her again before she left. He would have to plan his visits to Mrs. G. for when Rachel wouldn’t be around.
Because this time he wouldn’t be left behind with a broken heart.
Silvery light filtered into the hospital room, filling in the shadows created by the bedside lamp.
“In the emergency room we…” Rachel paused as she noticed Mom G. fighting to keep her eyes open. “Here, now. I’ve talked enough. You should rest.”
Mom G. smiled slightly. “Your life sounds very interesting, dear.”
“It can be.” Satisfaction in her career grew through the research she’d done and the triage techniques she’d implemented so far. But so much more could be done to improve the quality of patient care, and every day she spent in the emergency room was a new adventure.
She liked delivering babies the best. Liked the amazing miracle of life. God’s wondrous process for continuing humanity. Sometimes she’d thought about switching gears and going into obstetrics or pediatrics, but she didn’t want the emotional attachments those specialties would bring. In the E.R., patients came, they left. Her heart wasn’t at risk and her mind stayed focused on her goal.
“Rachel, would you read to me for a bit?”
“Of course. What…?”
Mom G. pointed to the small bedside table. “My Bible’s in the drawer.”
She pulled out the black Bible, the same Bible that Mom G. had read to her from years ago. The worn black leather grew warm beneath her hands. “I remember this Bible.” She glanced at Mom G. For a moment it appeared Mom G. had fallen asleep. Then she opened her eyes and smiled. Rachel looked questioningly at her.
Mom G. sighed. “I think the Psalms would be soothing.”
Rachel opened the book and the once-familiar scent of Mom G.’s soft, powdery perfume wafted from the yellowed pages. A pang of nostalgia tugged at her heartstrings.
“Rachel?”
She paused and glanced up. “Yes?
“Would you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
Mom