The Forever Family. Leigh Bale

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СКАЧАТЬ the next best thing.” Lloyd had probably dragged the doctor out of bed in the middle of the night to help her.

      She pulled her tennis shoes on and tied them, trying to sort out everything. Finley had only one small grocery store in town, no movie theater and one family-owned diner where they served the best steak fries she’d ever eaten. Claridge’s Diner. Maybe they needed a waitress.

      Grammy used to drive almost two hours to the nearest dentist and hospital in Elko. The only medical doctor in Finley had retired from Los Angeles ten years earlier and opened a two-room clinic on Mondays and for emergencies. What more could you expect from a ranching community with less than three thousand people?

      The window rattled with a gust of wind. Rachel flinched and stared at the door. She was jumpy as a frog.

      “Who are you?” she asked.

      “Sam Thorne.” The doctor held out a hand and she shook it, feeling the gruff calluses on his palm. Strong hands, capable of mending fence and riding wild horses. The complete opposite of Alex and his soft accountant’s hands.

      “And who are you?” He lifted one brow, showing a hint of amusement. Yet his quirked smile showed only friendliness.

      “I’m Rachel Walker. I guess I’m lucky Finley has a vet. Thanks for helping us.”

      “You’re welcome.” Dr. Thorne gave half a smile, showing that dimple in his cheek. He appeared to be in his midthirties, maybe seven or eight years older than her. His face looked rustic and too gruff, his chin too blunt. He had a nice mouth and a devil-may-care smile that should send any sensible girl running in the opposite direction. So why did she smile back?

      His expression faded and he turned away, replacing the lid on a bottle of hydrogen peroxide before tossing soiled gauze into the trash can. “Where were you headed before the accident?”

      “Here. I own a farmhouse in Finnegan’s Valley. Danny and I plan to live there.”

      His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. “The old Duarte place is the only farmhouse out there.”

      “Yes, Myra Duarte was my grandmother. She left the house to me when she died six weeks ago.”

      He gave a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. You’re Myra’s granddaughter.”

      A statement, not a question.

      “You knew my grandmother?”

      “And your grandfather. When I was young, I bucked hay for Frank Duarte during the summer months to help pay my college tuition. Sad thing, losing Myra. She made the best watermelon pickles in five counties. She used to take after me with a broom whenever Craig Seeley and I raided her apple orchard.”

      That sounded like Grammy. Ask her nice, and Myra Duarte would give you her last crust of bread. But steal from her, and watch out!

      Talking about her grandparents made Rachel feel warm and nostalgic. How she missed their generosity and quiet strength. They never had much, but they always opened their home to her during the summer months when she was a kid.

      Dr. Thorne studied her face. “I seem to remember you bouncing around in pigtails when you came to visit as a child.”

      Rachel studied the doctor. A foggy recollection filled her mind of a young, handsome man wearing a scruffy cowboy hat as he worked the fields with the other hands Grandpa hired each summer. Back then, Sam Thorne had been too old to pay much attention to Frank Duarte’s little granddaughter from back east. And she’d been too young to care about anything more than swimming in the pond and trying out the new shade of nail polish Grammy bought for her at Granger’s General Store. Her grandfather died almost ten years ago, and she had no other family. They’d be content in Finley. Nothing else mattered.

      Dr. Thorne tossed a quick glance her way, his ears reddening. He seemed embarrassed by her close scrutiny as he dropped a small pair of scissors into a sterile jar of green fluid. “We’ll be neighbors. I live about half a mile east of your place.”

      “So, you’re the one who bought my grandparent’s farmland a few years ago.”

      “Yes, I built a house and barn in Finnegan’s Valley. Someday, I hope to build a large animal hospital out there.”

      “I remember Grammy telling me all about it in her letters. I saw your place when I came in for her burial.”

      A doctor in Elko had called to let Rachel know Grammy had died. Rachel never even got to say goodbye, although she had told Grammy often over the phone and in letters that she loved her.

      Dr. Thorne took a deep breath and let it go. “After Frank died, Myra received quite a bit of money from the sale of her land. I’m sure she left you well set for life.”

      Her head pounded like a sledgehammer. “I was her heir, but I only received the house.”

      His brow furrowed with doubt. “Then who got the money?”

      “There was none. Grammy had no bank accounts. She always paid her bills in cash.”

      That was so like Grammy. Knowing she was dying, she had settled her obligations beforehand. Tears burned the backs of Rachel’s eyes. How she wished she’d been here when Grammy died.

      “Come on. I’ll take you over to Gladys’s house where you can get some sleep.” Although he reached to help her, she sensed his detachment. Even though he spoke with fondness for her grandparents, he seemed ill at ease with her. They’d gotten off to a bad start and she wasn’t certain why.

      “You came all the way from Finnegan’s Valley in this storm just to help me?”

      He shook his head. “I was already here. I came into town earlier to eat supper with Gladys and Charlie and I couldn’t get home because of the blizzard.”

      Ah, Dr. Thorne must have a thing for Gladys. Surprising, considering Gladys looked older than Sam by at least six years. Maybe in a small town like Finley, the pickings were slim.

      He snorted, as if reading her thoughts. “Gladys is my older sister and Charlie’s my nephew.”

      “Oh.” A flush of embarrassment heated Rachel’s face.

      As he took her arm, she felt the strength in his big, solid hand. The electricity came back on, flooding the office with light. Rachel blinked her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow with the lights on, the doctor didn’t seem as threatening or her situation quite so bleak.

      “That’s a good sign.” Dr. Thorne blew out the candles before he stepped to the door and disappeared from view.

      “Wait!” Rachel called, unable to explain the panic rising in her throat.

      Dr. Thorne returned with her coat. “I’m not leaving you.”

      She breathed a deep sigh and nodded, trying to calm down. Still, she couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. She didn’t want to impose on the doctor, and yet she didn’t want to be alone either. She felt caught in the middle of her own emotions.

      When Dr. Thorne handed her the coat, he stood close to her. Too close. Rachel took the garment, then stepped away.

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