comforting scents of fresh-brewed, blueberry-flavored coffee and peach tea barely registered as she walked into the circle of easy chairs and rockers at the back and dropped into the nearest one.
Beth Carrigan, dressed in a long denim skirt and a canary blouse that accented her wild tumble of chestnut curls, looked up from the coffee she was pouring at the old oak credenza along the wall. Her gray eyes filled with instant sympathy. “Oh, no. Not again.”
The other two women were already seated, and both leaned forward with matching expressions of dismay.
“Yes, again.” Sophie sighed. “I think I need to ask you all to start praying because my prayers aren’t doing the job.”
“We’ve all been doing just that—even Hannah,” Olivia Carlson murmured gently. At forty-nine, she was the oldest of the five book club members, with prematurely silver hair cut in an elegant, supershort style that framed her dark brows and regal bone structure. Hannah was the youngest, but she was still away, helping with a family crisis in Texas.
“I guess there’s no guarantee that my job on the county home health team will be permanent, no matter how well I do. Did you see the article in yesterday’s newspaper?”
“Big cutbacks,” Olivia murmured. “In almost every department.”
“And the article says that the Home Health Agency will suffer one of the largest. How can Grace even consider asking the board to hiring me full-time after her other therapist comes back? They’ll laugh in her face.”
Keeley North pushed her blond hair out of her eyes and frowned. “But surely if there’s a need…”
“It won’t matter if there’s no money. I’m beginning to think I’ll be trying to pay off college loans and raise Eli on restaurant minimum wage if I don’t find something permanent soon.”
“Maybe God just has different timing in mind,” Olivia said. “Who knows what He has in store?”
Sophie managed a rueful smile. “If He could just give me a hint, I would rest a little easier.”
“Surely something will turn up, sweetie,” Keeley said with a sad shake of her head. “I just don’t understand why this is taking so long. I mean, you’d think physical therapy graduates would be in high demand. Just look at all the baby boomers these days.”
“The economy has led to cutbacks at the small town hospitals and clinics all over the area.” Sophie dropped her keys into her purse and set it beside her chair, then drummed her fingernails on the folder in her lap. “I know I could find a job in the Twin Cities or Chicago. But being a single mom and not knowing anyone there would be so hard. And then there are Eli’s special classes…”
Beth cut through the circle of chairs and handed her a cup of coffee. “Double creamer, two sugars. Maybe a sugar high and a little caffeine will help.”
Gratefully accepting the coffee, Sophie rolled her eyes. “Only if it can work some magic on what’s in this envelope from the Two Lakes Medical Center. It’s the one application I haven’t heard back on yet. I brought the letter because I just couldn’t bear to open it at home alone, and didn’t want to open it in front of Eli, either. He’s already worrying about leaving here.”
Flipping the folder open, she lifted the top envelope from a stack of ten recent rejections and handed it to Keeley. “You read it. I just can’t.”
Keeley darted a worried look at the others, then held the envelope in her hands for a moment before sliding a fingernail under the flap. She withdrew the document. Opened it slowly. After scanning it, she looked at Sophie, her eyes filling with even greater sympathy. “I…”
“It’s okay.” Sophie sagged into her chair. “I wasn’t expecting good news.”
“But wait—” Keeley smoothed the paper out with her hand. “They do say—right down here—that they’ve had a hiring freeze since January, and they’ll keep your application on file. That’s good, isn’t it? Maybe someone will go on a long maternity leave.”
“Or fly to the moon.” Sophie shook off her glum thoughts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to moan about my problems. Maybe something will open up after my county job ends. And it’s a beautiful morning, right? It’s time to think positive.”
Keeley offered a bright smile. “If you need extra work, I could give you some hours at my store. Edna keeps saying she’s going to retire.”
“Edna has been saying that since she turned eighty, and what I know about antiques would fit in her little finger,” Sophie said drily. “But either way, thanks for the offer.”
“And I could use some extra hours here now that Elana is in school full-time,” Beth added.
“You guys are the best. I mean that.” Sophie dissolved into helpless laughter. “But you really don’t need me, and I refuse to be a burden to any of you.”
Olivia’s forehead creased in a worried frown. “But what will you do?”
Keeley handed the letter back, and Sophie put it in the folder with all the rest of her fading dreams. “I’ve tried every possible community hospital and clinic within a fifty-mile radius. I…guess I’ll just have to keep checking back with all of them. And I’ll also need to start looking much farther away.”
“Don’t give up, sweetie. Things will work out.”
Sophie thought of leaving the sweet little cottage she and her late husband, Rob, had bought just before his death two years ago. Then she thought of her crotchety grandpa, who refused to take care of his health or move from his little house in the woods, on the edge of town. And the teachers, who were gently helping her seven-year-old son learn to function better, despite his very mild form of Asperger’s.
This was the town she loved. The one that held poignant memories of happier times.
But sentiment wouldn’t pay her mortgage and school loans, or put food on the table, and Eli deserved better than having a mom who worked six days a week for minimum wage and who left him at his grandparents’ house way too much. And once her dad and stepmom moved to Florida this fall, what then? Paying full price for child care would be almost impossible on her tight budget.
Keeley flopped back in her chair and scooped her long, honey-blond hair back with both hands. “If you have to leave, things will never be the same. We’ll miss you so much!”
Beth nodded. “If that happens, we’ll take road trips. We’ll come visit once a month, if you can stand us.”
“Or at least we can stay in touch via iChat or Skype, so we can see each other,” Olivia added. “You’ll feel like you never even left home.”
The lilting notes of Bach’s “Solfegietto” rang merrily from the depths of Sophie’s purse, which meant she now owed a dollar to the coffee fund jar.
“Sorry—I thought I’d turned it off.”
“Answer it,” Keeley said, looking up from a book in her lap with a grin. “No penalty. We haven’t even started yet.” At the unfamiliar phone number on the screen Sophie hesitated, then answered anyway…and at the woman’s greeting she felt her heart lodge firmly in her throat.
“Sophie Alexander? This is Grace Dearborn. I need to speak to you right away.”
Sophie wearily leaned back in her desk chair and rubbed the back of her neck.
On Monday and Tuesday she’d traveled the county to meet nine of her homebound patients and begin taking over their physical therapy sessions. Some of the older ones had taken a good look at her, then asked when the real therapist—that older gentleman—would be coming back. Some appeared too frail to be capable of significant progress, while others had been testy and uncooperative.
Kindly Dr. McLaren had practically booted her out of the door.
But