Love Still Stands (8 page)

Bethel used her handkerchief to pat her damp face with a shaking hand. She drew a
long breath. The last thing she wanted was to go into the clinic all shook up. She
needed her wits about her to deal with the medical people who would want to see paperwork
and ask her questions, lots of questions. She peeked sideways at Elijah. He looked
cool as a chunk of ice. She had to admit he’d handled the horse well in the heat of
the moment. A lesser man might have lost his grip and let them topple over into the
ditch.

“You did well,” she managed as they stopped at the first four-way-light intersection
in their new town. “You kept us from flipping over.”

“Just barely.” He glanced both ways when the light turned green and started forward.
“Everyone is sure taking a gander at us.”

She’d been so shaken by the encounter with the truck that she hadn’t been paying attention
to the town. Or the people taking in the sight of their wagon and its occupants. New
Hope had a fresh, clean look. The windows on the storefronts sparkled. The sidewalks
were swept and the signs looked freshly painted. The bakery Elijah had mentioned came
into view. And the farm implement store next to Wanda’s Western Wear. A restaurant
called Dizzy’s Burger Joint. It struck her that this new town had no hitching posts.
She saw no
Slow for buggy
signs or
No Hitching
signs or stores with familiar Plain names. More than one person stopped to watch
them make their way through the town.

“Luke gave me a map he picked up when he was here the last time.” Elijah pulled the
wagon over to the curb and stopped. “Let me look at it again.”

A lady wearing jeans and an embroidered work shirt paused, a broom in her hand. She
stood in front of a long storefront with the words
Antique Mall and Flea Market
printed in gold letters across windows featuring displays of old rocking chairs,
Raggedy Ann dolls, and Singer sewing machines. She approached the street. “You folks
lost? Can I help you?”

“We need the medical center,” Bethel said when Elijah didn’t speak right away. “Can
you give us directions?”

The expression on the woman’s plump face changed under her tidy cap of silver hair.
She hustled over to the side of the wagon. “Are you hurt or sick or what?” She tugged
a tiny, flat phone from her pocket. “Should I call 911 for an ambulance? The medical
center is on the other side of town.”

In a town this size, that couldn’t be too far. “No, but thank you, it’s not an emergency.
I should’ve been clearer. We’re looking for the rehabilitation clinic that’s near
the medical center.” Bethel managed to wedge the words in when the woman paused to
take a breath. “We’re new to town so we—”

“Don’t I know it! Y’all have been the talk of the town for weeks now. We get lots
of people on their way to camp in the Ozarks or tourists looking for Branson, but
not folks like you. Aren’t you as cute as all get-out in those outfits. Like pioneers
on the prairie. I’ve read some of those Amish romance novels so I know what to expect.
These other folks are just ignorant. Don’t mind them.”

Pioneers. Romance novels. Don’t mind them? Bethel was afraid to ask what the lady
meant by her torrential onslaught of words. Elijah held up a hand and saved her from
responding. “It looks like I take a left at the next corner and go about four blocks,
then left again.”

“That’s exactly right. The rehab clinic is about six blocks from the medical center.”
The lady wiped her hand on her jeans and extended it to Bethel. “I’m Diana Doolittle,
owner of the best junk store in town.” She cocked her head toward the building behind
her. “You need any dishes or kerosene lamps or such, stop by.”

“Bethel Graber.” Bethel allowed her hand to be enveloped in Diana’s. “We brought most
everything we need.”

“You should get on down the road then.” The comment came from a bent old man with
a face like a bulldog who ambled past Diana’s store, leaning on a cane and sucking
on a reeking cigar. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and spat on the sidewalk. “And
be sure you pick up after that horse. We don’t want someone slipping in manure on
our clean streets. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“You just hush, Sam Black. You ain’t the mayor no more. You’re retired. If you can’t
say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Diana shook her finger at Sam. “
You
can just move on down the road, you grumpy old man.”

Sam kept right on walking and Diana turned back to them. “Don’t mind him. He’s the
grumpiest of the grumpy old men who think they run this town. My husband is an auctioneer.
You ever need to do a sale, look us up. Doolittle and Doolittle Auctions and Farm
Sales.”

“We should be on our way.” Bethel couldn’t read Elijah’s expression. It might be a
smirk. “Elijah needs to pick up supplies at the hardware store, the grocery store,
the lumber store, and the feed store while I’m at the doctor. Can you tell him how
to get to those places as well?”

“Is this your husband or your boyfriend?” Diana bestowed a wide smile on Elijah, who
smiled back. “He’s a looker.”

A looker. Bethel didn’t know for sure what that meant, but she had an idea. The heat
of a blush warmed her neck and cheeks. She tried valiantly to ignore it. Diana seemed
nice. It was good to know one person in this new place, but now she needed to get
this first visit to the clinic behind her. “The hardware store?”

Diana pointed it out on the map, then stepped back. “Stop by anytime.” She waved as
Elijah looked both ways and snapped the reins to get Daisy moving again. “Anytime,
you hear!”

Since she was shouting, they couldn’t help but hear. Elijah grinned from ear to ear.
For some reason, that grin made Bethel want to smack him, something she’d never done
to anyone in her entire life. She restrained herself. “What are you grinning at?”

“We’ve only been in town a few minutes and we already made a friend.”

“That’s all?”

“That and she thinks I’m a looker.”

“What
is
a looker?”

He only grinned more widely. He had a nice smile. That dimple in his left cheek. Even
teeth. Full lips. A nice nose too, not to mention those blue eyes and hair the color
of hay.
Stop it!

She made it a point to keep her gaze on the buildings that comprised the main street
of New Hope until they arrived at the medical center campus. A kiosk at the intersection
told them it was called the New Hope Regional Medical Center, which explained the
size of the long, red brick building in the center of a series of smaller buildings.
It served not only New Hope but the surrounding communities in this rural county.
Elijah, who’d been humming an indistinguishable tune the entire time, pulled on the
reins and slowed the wagon. “Where do you suppose the rehabilitation clinic is?”

Bethel studied the kiosk and surveyed their surroundings. “I think it’s that way.”
She pointed to the left.

After another six blocks of medical-related businesses, they pulled into a parking
lot in front of a small, wood-frame building that looked more like a house than a
medical office, except for the glass double doors. “I think that’s it.”

“Yep.” Elijah hopped down and wrapped the reins around the trunk of a spindly tree.
He smiled up at her. “Down you go.”

Bethel stared at his outstretched arms. Suddenly full of misgivings, she let her gaze
travel to the building, painted white with a dark evergreen trim. It could’ve been
someone’s home, but it had no front porch, no steps, nothing to impede a person from
entering, just a wide, flat cement ramp. So why did she feel the compelling urge to
stay in the buggy?

“Come on. I promise not to drop you.”

“It’s not that.” She faltered. “Maybe I should wait.”

“Scared?” He leaned forward. She thought he would grasp her hands in his. Instead
he wrapped his fingers around the arm of the seat, within inches of her own white-knuckled
grip. “They’ll be nice as can be, you’ll see. They’re medical folks. They like to
help people.”

“Like you.”

His expression grew somber. “You’re the only person I know who holds that against
me.”

“I don’t hold it against you. I just don’t want you to think of me like that.”

“Why does it matter what I think of you?”

“Not just you.” She struggled to explain herself. “Can we not talk about this right
now?”

“Sure, but you have to let me help you down.”

“Okay.”

Elijah lifted her to the ground as if she weighed no more than Jebediah. “There you
go.” He handed her the crutches, waited for her to prop herself up, and then picked
up the canvas bag that held her medical records. “Your papers.”

Bethel held her arm out and he tucked the straps on her shoulder. His kind gaze studied
her face. “You want me to go in with you?”

“I…”

“No need. I got this one.”

Startled, Bethel twisted on the crutches and craned her head to see the owner of the
hoarse, raspy voice. At first she didn’t see anyone. She looked left and right, nothing.
Then she glanced down. The speaker sat in a wheelchair, clad in camouflage pants and
a black V-neck T-shirt. His copper-colored hair was cropped close to his head and
one cheek marred by scars still pink in their newness. Bethel opened her mouth and
then shut it, unsure what to say to this stranger who blocked her entrance to the
rehab clinic.

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t worry. I’m not crazy. I’m Private First Class Shawn McCormack.
Also known as an Army grunt in training—past tense, of course.” Grinning, he leaned
over and stubbed a half-smoked cigarette into a container of sand filled with butts.
He then proceeded to wheel his chair around her in a quick, neat circle, the muscles
in his thick upper arms pumping. “Don’t look so worried. Do you know what’s waiting
for you in there?”

“Nee—no.”

He made a flourishing motion toward the door. “Freedom, darlin’. Freedom!”

Chapter 9

B
ethel wavered. Her crutches dug into the cement sidewalk that led to the rehab clinic.
Her palms felt sweaty and slick on the handles. Despite the early morning hour, the
air seemed moist and heavy as if it were full of raindrops that refused to fall. The
man in the wheelchair grinned up at her, his face expectant. Elijah frowned and took
a step away from the wagon, his hand out. She swung out of his reach and started around
Shawn McCormack. Her right leg, like a stubborn child, refused to cooperate. She gripped
the crutches tighter.
Come on, come on, you can do this
. Bethel didn’t look back, but she knew Elijah hadn’t moved.

“Go on. Run your errands.” She forced a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “I don’t know
how long this will take, so don’t rush back.”

“Yeah, take your time.” Shawn whipped his chair around and rolled ahead of her. She
stopped, balancing on the ramp leading to the double doors while he pushed a red button
with the back of his left hand. He wore black leather gloves that didn’t have fingers.
His fingers were gnarled in a permanent curl. The doors began to slide open. “I’ve
got this.”

“Thank you,” she managed to breathe. “But I don’t need help.”

“You might. Sometime. Come on. I’ll catch you. I won’t let you fall.” Laughter danced
in the words. She’d never heard anyone be quite so determinedly cheerful. It bordered
on annoying. “You can sit on my lap and I’ll wheel you in.”

“I don’t need help.” Heat rolled through her, searing her cheeks and neck. She inhaled
and caught the
schtinkich
of cigarette smoke lingering in the air around him. “I’m fine.”

“I’m fine too.” He rolled back, letting her go through first. Elijah still stood on
the curb, not moving. Shawn followed her gaze. “That your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Unable to find a response to this stranger’s bold cheekiness, she heaved herself through
the doors and into the clinic’s foyer with its light green walls and high ceiling.
She stopped to look around. The slick black and white tiles shone in the natural light
that bounced from a row of ceiling-to-floor windows. At the moment no one stood behind
the low counter that divided the foyer from a long hallway.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I came on too strong.” Shawn wheeled forward so he was even with
her. “I do that sometimes.”

“Have you been here before?”

“Sure.”

“What do I do now?”

“You wait. People like us do a lot of that.” He pulled up to the counter and pounded
on it with both fists. “Hey, anybody home?”

A lady in pink hospital clothes that made her mahogany skin seem to glow trotted down
the hallway toward the counter. “Shawn McCormack, you just hold your horses. I’m coming.”

“Gorgeous Georgia, it’s good to see you.”

“Don’t Gorgeous Georgia me. We use our inside voices around here.”

“Yes, ma’am. I got a new customer for you.” Shawn cocked his head toward Bethel. “What’s
your name, darlin’?”

Trying to ignore his use of the endearment in front of the nurse—she supposed Georgia
was a nurse—Bethel cleared her throat and introduced herself.