Nursing the Soldier's Heart. Merrillee Whren

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СКАЧАТЬ to be here for him, but he has to move on with his life. So do I. Going back to Brazil is my plan. That’s what I want more than anything.”

      “Even though the kids in the children’s homes here have a wonderful place to live, don’t you think the ones who are eligible for adoption would want a special family of their own?”

      Kirsten shook her head. “I only know the children I worked with in Brazil were destitute and neglected far too often.”

      “Do you ever think these things happened because God has another plan for your life?”

      Kirsten didn’t want to answer that question. “For the ten years I was in Brazil, I knew God wanted me there. I want to go back.”

      “Think of it this way. You’re still helping—helping your dad and these seniors who need your gentle caring spirit in their lives.”

      “I’m not sure my spirit is so gentle.” Kirsten tried to smile. “Tracking down wayward grandsons and shoveling pills at senior citizens isn’t exactly what I’d hoped to be doing with my life.”

      Forcing herself not to dwell on Jen’s assessment of the situation, Kirsten grabbed some more charts and prayed for an uneventful evening. Were Jen and her dad right? Should she think about adopting children here? If she did that, how could she ever go back to Brazil? Why wouldn’t God want her to return to Brazil as a missionary nurse? What better plan could He have for her?

      After Kirsten finished her paperwork, she got up and checked the medication cart, then turned to Jen. “I’ve got a few meds to deliver, and I’ll have to give Cora the bad news.”

      Jen shook her head. “I hope the unresponsiveness of her grandson doesn’t affect Cora’s recovery.”

      “Me, too. I hate giving her distressing news.” Kirsten headed down the hall.

      As she delivered the medications to her elderly patients, she willed herself to get rid of her negative attitude toward Cora’s grandson. It would do Cora no good.

      Four doors down the hall Kirsten came to Cora’s room. The door was slightly ajar. A television blared with the local news.

      Kirsten peered through the small opening. While Cora’s roommate watched the television, Cora appeared to be sleeping. Not wanting to disturb her, Kirsten backed away, but she caught sight of a man with a scruffy appearance sitting in the chair at the foot of Cora’s bed.

      Who was he, and what was he doing there while Cora slept? Kirsten’s radar for trouble zoomed into action.

      * * *

      Brady sat on the chair at the foot of his grandmother’s bed and glanced around the room. What would he find here at The Village of Hope? His grandmother had come to live here after she’d had a slight stroke about four years ago. He’d prayed this place was a good home for her.

      At the time, he’d been in the army over in Afghanistan. There had been no chance to get home to see her. He shouldn’t use that as an excuse because even when he’d been stateside, he’d never taken the opportunity to spend time with the person who’d saved him from foster care. He’d never appreciated that until now. He should’ve come to see her rather than calling her a few times a year.

      Guilt for the years he’d stayed away consumed his thoughts. The time had come to make amends—to renew his relationship with the one person on this earth who actually cared about him. She looked so frail lying there, her gnarled fingers resting on top of the blanket. What had happened to the robust woman of his childhood?

      Was she okay? Her eyes were still closed and she didn’t move a muscle, but the steady rise and fall of her chest eased his mind. Her glasses and her well-worn Bible lay on the table next to the bed. She used to read that Bible every day and had gone to church every Sunday. He’d disregarded her faith—even mocked it. He was sorry about that, too.

      So many of the decisions he’d made had been made with only a thought to his own life. Could he break that pattern? It might not be easy, but the time had come for him to think about someone besides himself.

      Brady’s stomach rumbled, and he glanced out the window at the tall pines interspersed with oaks and maples with leaves that held a hint of fall color. He wished he’d stopped to eat, but he’d wanted to get here before the place closed to visitors. Did they have a cafeteria where he could get supper, or a vending machine? If he went searching, he might run into the disagreeable nurse who had left far too many messages on his voice mail. Shaking his head, he smiled at his ridiculous thoughts. Why was he afraid to face this unknown woman of the numerous phone calls?

      He was done hiding out in his grandmother’s room. He would march out there and let the nurse know he was here. Brady Hewitt—soldier, oil-rig worker, commercial fisherman and all-around good guy. That last part was a stretch, but he was working on the good-guy stuff.

      Pushing out of the chair, Brady looked toward the door. A nurse stood in the doorway. Their gazes met. Her chocolate-brown eyes held him captive, and he couldn’t look away. He fought to keep his mouth from dropping open. Did this attractive woman belong to the impersonal voice he’d heard over and over on his phone? Maybe she wasn’t the nurse who’d called. He could hope. He hated to think that such a pretty face served as a facade for those unpleasant messages.

      “Sir, may I speak with you out here in the hall?” The nurse motioned with her hand.

      Nodding, Brady sauntered across the room to the door. He couldn’t mistake the voice. The frosty tones on his phone’s voice-mail messages belonged to the attractive nurse. He followed the nurse, whose dark hair was pulled into a knot at the back of her head. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

      Although she wasn’t short, she had to look up at him. “Do you mind telling me why you’re in this room?”

      “Cora Barton is my grandmother. Is there a problem?” He feigned an innocent expression along with a smile as he rubbed his stubble-covered chin.

      His height advantage didn’t intimidate her as her dark eyes seemed to bore into his soul. She frowned. “So you’re Brady Hewitt. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Make that weeks. Why didn’t you tell us when you arrived? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

      “So you’re Kirsten Bailey. Nice to meet you, too.” He broadened his smile into a grin. Could he make her smile? She was the beauty and the beast rolled into one. Prickly and pretty all at the same time. Or maybe she was the beauty, and he was the beast. His disheveled looks might put him in that category. Was she going to chastise him? “Yes, I’m Brady Hewitt, and I arrived a few minutes ago. I know you’ve been trying to reach me.”

      “At least you could’ve told us you were coming, so I wouldn’t have kept calling.”

      He’d lived on the edge for most of his life. He liked a challenge, and he could sense she was going to be one. “You know after listening to dozens of your messages, I figured I wasn’t really interested in talking to you. But now that I’m here I’ll let you know what I think.”

      “And what would that be?” Kirsten gave him a defiant look.

      She wasn’t backing down, and he liked that. But he wasn’t going to back down, either. “You need to work on your bedside manner, Kirsten. Is it okay if I call you Kirsten?”

      Blinking, she opened СКАЧАТЬ