out of their own accord, which was a good thing because Nicole couldn’t organize her thoughts at all as she climbed the stairs to her room.
Help Joshua Darling?
Her own world had now spun totally out of control, the surgical training she’d so carefully planned delayed by circumstances she couldn’t alter.
Nicole felt the burn down to her soul. She couldn’t even get her own father to see her as anything more than a mere replacement for her mother.
How in the world was she supposed to help a man who already had all the answers he wanted?
Chapter Three
“Rosalyn Alyssa Darling, stop that caterwauling. You’re not suffering from any life-threatening injury. If you will race through the house, you will get hurt. I’ve told you that before.”
Joshua almost groaned right along with Rosie when his youngest daughter sent up another heartrending sob that tugged at his heart. He felt totally helpless. Giving in to his emotions, he gently gathered his baby’s compact little body into his arms and cuddled her close, soothing her sobs as he always had.
“Kiss?” She tilted her chin up for his cure.
“Kiss,” he agreed, dabbing his lips against the alabaster skin and holding them there. She was so delicate, so precious. And such a fireball.
Three seconds after the kiss, she wiggled out of his arms to hurtle herself down the stairs in hot pursuit of her oldest sister.
“Rachel, help Rosie get dressed, will you? Please?”
Another Sunday morning, another two hours of sheer bedlam. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered dragging them all to church. But he knew the answer. Kyla. She’d insisted from the moment Rachel had come into the world that her children would know God in a personal way.
As if anyone could know God like that.
He stuffed the regrets down and concentrated on getting his tie straight. Wouldn’t want anyone to think anything was wrong in the Darling house.
Joshua offered a wry smile to his reflected image, twitching the tie into place as he did. Sheer pride, he owned. Such a stupid quality to hang on to. As if everyone in town didn’t already know something was wrong at the Darlings’. It was evident the moment you looked at the house, never mind what it looked like inside.
Why— He stopped himself, refusing to let the words gain hold in his brain. What difference did it make why it had happened? It had. The point he needed to concentrate on was managing what was left of his future. No matter what happened, the blame could not be laid at his door.
Not again. He’d do everything he had to, to make sure of that.
Control. Sure, steady, unblinking control. That would get him through.
“Uh, Dad? I think you better come down here. Like—now.”
Joshua groaned. What had they done this time?
He took the steps three at a time, ignoring the puddle of clothes left at the bottom.
“Rachel? Where are you?”
“In the kitchen.”
He burst into the room, expecting flames. What he saw made him just as nervous. Nicole Brandt stood inside the door, a white ceramic dish balanced in her hands. Her ash-blond hair fell in a shining curtain around her shoulders. She wore a navy dress with perfectly tailored lapels and a trim white belt. The merest little wisp of a blue hat sat on top of her head. It looked ridiculous.
She looked gorgeous.
Apparently his daughters thought so, too. They stood in rapt attention, mouths gaping. To her credit, the beautiful doctor didn’t bat an eyelash at the unwanted attention.
“Good morning, Dr. Darling. Miss Winifred asked me to deliver this. She said that if you put it in the oven now, at three hundred degrees, it will be ready to eat when church is over.” She held out the dish.
“Oh. That’s very kind of her. Thank you.” Joshua stuffed the dish into the oven and set the temperature. “But why didn’t you use the front door? Surely it’s closer?”
A funny looked washed over her model-perfect features. Chagrin, maybe? No, sheepishness, that was it. She licked her lips, fiddled with the white leather strap over her shoulder, then peeped up at him through her lashes.
“I would have,” she murmured. “But there’s an elephant on your step.”
Ruth Ann burst into delighted giggles, Rachel chuckled and even Rosalyn grinned.
“There’s no elephant!” He forced himself not to smile.
“Well, it’s not exactly an elephant.” She temporized. “But it’s huge and gray and has slobber dribbling all over its face.” Her disgust was obvious.
“Ladybug!” The girls turned and raced to the front door.
Joshua beat them to it.
“No way,” he said firmly, locking the door and setting the chain for good measure. “I do not want that animal traipsing through this house. Mrs. Tyndall can’t keep up with the cleaning as it is.”
“But— Dad!”
“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow at Rachel and saw her wilt.
“Nothing.” One by one the children drifted away to continue their preparations for church, leaving him alone with her.
“So now you can understand why I thought it best to use the back entrance.” Nicole Brandt flicked her eyes up to stare into his. “I hope that’s not a problem? Your dog is, er, rather large.”
He knew she wanted to add something to that. Probably a remark about the beast’s filth. He hastened to correct her.
“Of course I understand. And, no, it’s not a problem at all.” He glanced around, checking. What else? Oh, yes. The dog. “Ladybug does not belong to us, thank heavens. She simply visits frequently because my daughters insist on feeding her table scraps. I’ll phone her owners.”
He made the call quickly, stating his case in a cool, crisp tone. Why didn’t people leave animals that size on the farm? Or tie them up if they had to keep them in town?
“I’m sure they’ll pick her up soon.”
“I hope so.” She turned to peer out a side window. “It’s enormous. Why would anyone call it Ladybug?”
“If you find the answer to that, I’d really like to know about it.” He walked back toward the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder as he went. “It’s a mystery to me. Have a seat if you’re staying.”
“Hmm.” She sat, long, slim legs crossed delicately.
“Will you button my dress up? Please?” Rosalyn held up her favorite fluffy blue dress.
Joshua stifled his groan. It was several sizes too small. He should have given it away ages ago, but Ruth Ann clung to that dress like a lifesaver.
“Not that one, honey,” he murmured, and lifted up a freshly pressed cotton one Mrs. Tyndall had ironed yesterday. “It’s too small, remember? Try this.”
“I like this one.” Her bottom lip jutted out in that stubborn thrust she used to get her own way.
Joshua prepared himself for battle. But before he could speak a word, she intervened.
“I’d love to help you, Rosalyn. You’re such a big girl, aren’t you? How old?” Nicole waited for the requisite number of fingers. “Four? And you still fit into this?” She pretended to squeeze it over the little girl’s head. “Oh, dear.”
“What’s the matter?” Ruthie balanced in the doorway like a stork, one shoe on her foot, the other clutched in her hand.
“Her