When the Heart Heals by Ann Shorey Page A

grabbed his arm to stop him from jumping out of the buggy. “I have a guest. She must have left a lamp burning for me.”
    â€œHow can you be sure?” He shook her hand loose and coaxed the horse forward to the hitching post outside her gate. “I’ll see you to the door.”
    â€œThat’s not necessary.”
    â€œI insist. I want to be certain you’re safe.” He helped her from the buggy and kept a firm grip on her elbow as they walked to the porch.
    The pressure of his hand sent a crack through the professional wall between them. Warmth coursed along her arm. Could it be he saw her as more than a nurse who worked in his office? She faced him when they reached the steps. “Good night.”
    He leaned toward her. She lifted her face, wondering what he’d do next.
    The door swung open. Jolene stepped onto the porch holding the lamp. “I’ve been worried sick. Your brother came here looking for you hours ago.”
    Dr. Stewart swung toward Jolene, then stared at Rosemary. “ She’s your guest? What possessed you? We can’t be involved in our patients’ lives.”
    â€œThere’s no ‘we’ to it, Doctor. I am the one involved.” She stalked past him, tucked her arm under Jolene’s, and banged the door behind them.

7
    E lijah traveled the additional distance to his home in a daze, stunned at finding Jolene Graves in Miss Saxon’s house. Visions of his physician father seared his memory. His father had started with the best of intentions, trying to help the needy, but instead had taken a dishonorable path. Elijah had promised himself he’d never succumb to the same temptations, yet his nurse’s actions were too familiar for comfort. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
    He stabled his horse, scooping extra grain into the feed trough. After hanging the bridle, he brought the carriage lamp from the barn and climbed the back steps to his house. A cold kitchen greeted him. Too weary to bother with a fire, he slumped onto a chair. Without revealing his father’s shameful actions, he had to find a way to tell Miss Saxon she couldn’t continue to house Miss Graves.
    Depression weighted his bones. His steps dragged as he walked through the spacious dining and sitting rooms of his home, removing and discarding his jacket over the back of an armchair. His vest followed, landing on a writing table under the bay window. He grasped the newel post at the foot of thestairs and rested his forehead on its smooth oak surface. A solid night’s sleep would restore his good humor—at least on the face he presented to the world.
    The following morning, Elijah strode toward West & Riley’s for breakfast. He needed something more substantial than his usual oatmeal to fortify himself for his planned confrontation with Miss Saxon.
    Thaddeus Cooper overtook him a few feet from the restaurant’s door. “Want company with your eggs?”
    He tacked a cheerful expression on his face. “Sounds good. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
    The sheriff tugged at the corner of his moustache. “Been courting Amy Dunsmuir.” His lean face reddened. “She’s the widow gal who looks after old Judge Lindberg. Pretty little thing.”
    The two men entered the restaurant and took places at one of the long tables. Plates and tableware were set before each unoccupied chair. Once they were seated, a serving girl approached with a steaming pot and poured coffee into their cups. Another patron passed a platter heaped with fried eggs and bacon. A bowl of biscuits followed.
    Elijah forked the food onto his plate with a contented sigh. If this didn’t cheer him up, nothing would. Around a mouthful, he asked, “Is that the same Lindberg who owns the mercantile?”
    â€œYup. Guess he still owns it. The judge’s mind isn’t quite as keen as it used to be. That’s why Amy looks after him.” He swigged his