The Forever Family

It had nothing to do with her clear blue eyes filled with worry for her son, or the way she’d cried out while she was injured. No sirree. She was trouble, and he wanted nothing to do with her.

But against his better judgment, something about Rachel Walker drew him like a moth to a flame. By midday, word would spread all over town that a new woman was moving into Finnegan’s Valley. No doubt she’d draw attention from every bachelor for miles around.

Not him. He didn’t have time to notice a pretty woman. He’d accepted his fate as a confirmed bachelor long ago. He’d had his chance at love and ruined it. But deep down inside, he still couldn’t help yearning for a family of his own.

Someone to shower his life upon. Someone all his own who loved him in return no matter what.

With Rachel in his life, somehow he sensed he would never be the same again.

LEIGH BALE

is a multiple award-winning author of inspirational and romantic fiction. In 2006, Leigh won the RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart Award and sold her first book to Steeple Hill Books’ Love Inspired line. A member of Phi Kappa Phi Honor society, Leigh also belongs to various chapters of RWA, including the Sacramento Valley Rose; the Faith, Hope and Love Chapter; the Hearts through History Romance Writers; and the Golden Network. She is the mother of two and lives in Nevada with her professor husband of twenty-seven years. When she isn’t working or writing, Leigh loves playing with her beautiful granddaughter, serving in her church congregation and taking classes to finish her graduate degree. Visit her Web site at www.LeighBale.com.

The Forever Family

Leigh Bale

In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God. Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.

—Psalms 62:7–8

This book is dedicated to my dear Aunt Shirley,

the bravest fighter in the ring.

And many thanks to Dr. David Baggett, DVM, for answering my veterinarian questions. To Chris Platt, the best critique partner a girl could ever ask for. To Melissa Endlich, for believing in me. And to Dan Baird. Thanks, Dad.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Rachel Walker blinked her eyes, which were gritty with fatigue. Exhaustion burned through her body, but she fought it off. She had to stay awake. Had to focus on the dark road. The window defroster had stopped working fifteen miles outside of Finley, Nevada.

She peered at the clock on the dashboard. Two thirty-five in the morning. Just a few more miles and she could sleep.

A shiver trembled over her body and she tightened her frozen fingers around the steering wheel of her blue 1984 compact car. Her breath made little puffs each time she exhaled. Without heat, the windshield kept fogging over. She rubbed her gloved hand in a circular spot on the glass pane so she could see out.

Heavy snow blanketed the car, falling from the night sky in thick, wet dollops. With no more than forty feet of visibility in front of her, she slowed to a crawl. She should have stopped at the last town instead of going on in this blizzard, but she didn’t have a lot of money for a motel, and she needed to make her cash last as long as possible.

Dread swept her when she thought of the impending holiday season. Without any family around, baking a turkey, pies and rolls for Thanksgiving dinner wouldn’t be much fun. And then Christmas.

Even worse.

Though she still mourned her husband, she had to think of Danny and try to build happy memories for him. After losing his father ten months earlier, he sure needed something joyful in his life. She glanced in the rearview mirror at her seven-year-old son sleeping in the backseat. She smiled as she gazed at his sweet face. So trusting, so serene.

A thatch of blond hair peeked out from beneath Danny’s red knit cap. Blond like his father, with dazzling blue eyes, an impish nose and a mischievous smile that melted her heart.

The top of Danny’s seat belt slanted across his small body. With these horrible road conditions, she’d insisted he wear it before she bundled a heavy quilt around him. He obeyed begrudgingly, hunched against the teddy bear stuffed between his head and the cold door. She wished she dared let him remove the seat belt and lie down. He’d be more comfortable, but it wouldn’t be safe.

He shivered. With the heater inoperable, they both wore thick winter coats. Soon, they’d be at their new home and could get warm. Soon, they’d be safe.

An occasional glimpse of the tops of the guardrails kept Rachel from driving off the road into the snowy embankment. She’d never felt more alone than right now.

Please, God. Please keep us safe tonight.

The last time she came to see Grammy, Alex had been driving. They’d passed through Nevada just over a year ago, heading for the sunny beaches of California to enjoy a short vacation. She’d invited Grammy to come along, but the elderly lady refused. Within two months, Alex had died of a brain aneurysm, taking her heart with him—

Enough of that! The memory of her beloved husband brought tears to her eyes and she brushed them away. She could barely see out the window already. The year since Alex’s death had been followed by a long struggle to make ends meet. When she received the call last month that Grammy had died quietly in her sleep, Rachel decided to move west. Grammy had left her old farmhouse to Rachel, and she intended to live there with Danny and start a new life.

The rhythmic thwacking of the windshield wipers brought her comfort. The wheels of the small travel trailer she pulled behind her car thumped through the heavy snow. The trailer contained her worldly possessions: bedding, clothes, picture albums, Danny’s toys, and the oak rocking chair Alex presented to her the day they brought Danny home from the hospital. Her grandmother’s house contained all the furniture they would need. She had enough money to get them settled and then she’d find a job. They’d make do or do without.

Four more miles. In this storm, she might get lost or stuck in the snow if she tried going out to Grammy’s house along the dark country roads. Maybe she’d get a cheap motel room after all, just for tonight. She’d drive out to Grammy’s place in the morning, once the snowplows had time to do their work. The house hadn’t been occupied since Grammy died. It had a solid roof, but Rachel figured the place would need a thorough cleaning.

As she entered the outskirts of town, several small billboards appeared on her right, listing various services, clubs and churches in the community. Through the falling snow, Rachel couldn’t make out any names. Again, she rubbed at the windshield to clear a spot to see, longing for friends. Wanting to belong. Maybe she could get involved in her new community.

Driving down Main Street, she scanned the dim lights of the bank, diner and drugstore. Everything closed. Good thing they’d stopped earlier for a hamburger and fries in Eureka. The haze of streetlights gleamed eerily in the falling snow, not another soul in sight.

Just ahead, she made out the large yellow sign of a Best Homestyle motel; the only one in town. Clean and inexpensive. Relief flooded her fatigued body. Sleep seemed a treasured dream about to become a reality.

The windshield wipers stopped dead in midswing. Rachel gasped and flipped the lever back and forth, desperate to clear the heavy snowflakes from her view.

“Please don’t stop now. Just one more mile,” she whispered, trying to get the wipers to work.

A prayer for help rose to her lips just as the red stoplight appeared out of nowhere. As she crossed the intersection, she slammed on the brakes. The car surged forward, sliding on black ice. The trailer jackknifed. Terror shot up her spine and she spun the steering wheel, trying to regain control of the car. The trailer groaned, then slammed against the car, wrenching Rachel’s head to one side. An enormous shape appeared out of nowhere. Oncoming headlights blinded her as a large, white truck loomed into her path.

“No!”

The cry tore from her constricted throat. The car and trailer squealed, careening into the other lane. As the other vehicle struck her car, her ears filled with the horrible sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. Danny’s frightened scream filled the air. Pain shot through her left side. The impact caused her head to flip forward like a rag doll and smack the steering wheel. It happened so fast, yet everything moved in slow motion. One thought pounded her brain.

Danny! Wearing his seat belt. In the backseat. Away from the collision.

Her heart thudded as the car came to a jerking stop. She sat with her nose pressed against the car door, her seat belt biting into her shoulder. When she tried to move, a shot of pain flashed through her head and arm. Her body felt bruised.

Broken.

A thin whimper came from the backseat. She clawed at the door handle. She had to check Danny. Had to make certain he was okay.

The door opened, and snowflakes fell from the sky like wet confetti on New Year’s Eve. She lifted her head, staring into a wind tunnel of white, trying to clear her vision. Trying to focus on the man’s face materializing in front of her.

“Hey, lady, you okay?”

Her tongue felt like a chunk of wood and she couldn’t speak. She reached her hand toward the man, mumbling her concern for her son. Begging this stranger to help her. Knives of pain sliced through her left arm. She inhaled sharply, fighting off the dizzying stars that seemed to spot her vision. Her eyelids slid closed and everything went black.

“She’s awake, Doctor.”

Rachel blinked her eyes, feeling disoriented as she stared into a bright light pointed at her pupils. She clenched her eyes shut, her mind spinning. She tried to sort out what had happened.

“Danny!” she croaked, trying to sit up.

Firm hands pressed her down. “Easy, now. Just lie still for a moment.”

A man’s voice reached her consciousness, soft and soothing.

“Alex?” she whispered, forcing herself to open her eyes. She choked back a hoarse cry as pain pierced her brain.

No, this man wasn’t her husband. Too handsome, his hair and eyes too dark. His brow furrowed as his gaze focused on her face.

“My son…where is he?” she asked.

“He’s fine. Good thing you wore your seat belts. It saved your lives.”

“I want to see him,” she insisted. She had to know Danny was safe. Had to see him for herself.

“I’ll get him.” A woman’s voice, then retreating footsteps echoed down a hallway, but soon returned. A rustling of movement sounded beside her.

“Mommy!”

She opened her eyes and found Danny’s sweet face nearby. The boy leaned across the bed—no, a cot pushed against the wall of what appeared to be a storage room. The smell of antiseptic filled the air. Candles sat on the nearby table, their flames flickering in the shadows. The storm must have thrown the power out. Shelves lined the opposite wall filled with samplesized bags of dog and cat food and boxes of medical supplies.

Where was she? The town of Finley didn’t have a hospital, or even a clinic. Maybe she’d been taken to Elko, over one hundred miles away. But they couldn’t get her through the snowstorm, could they?

Danny’s brows scrunched together with concern. “Mommy?”

“Oh, honey. Are you okay?” She tried to reach for him, but pain shot through her left arm. She lay still, wishing she could hold him in her arms.

“I’m fine, but you don’t look too good. Your head’s bleedin’ again.”

“It is?” She brushed her fingers across her forehead, feeling a large bump and a butterfly bandage someone had put there. No wonder her head throbbed.

“Are you gonna die?” His mouth puckered as if he might cry.

“No, of course not, baby. I’ll be fine. You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, look what Gladys gave me.”

Who was Gladys?

Danny stuck a red lollipop in front of Rachel’s eyes. Focusing made her stomach churn. In her hazy vision, she could make out the doctor and a woman standing behind Danny, both wearing blue smocks. A stethoscope dangled from the man’s neck beside a name badge that read: Dr. Sam. He leaned close to Danny and smiled, showing a dimple in his left cheek. “All right, son, why don’t you go with Gladys, now? She’ll get you something to eat and put you to bed. We’ll take good care of your mommy.”

“Okay.” Danny slid away.

Rachel reached for him, feeling a sinking of dread. Her fingers grasped air. “Where…where are you taking my son?”

The doctor spoke close by. “Gladys lives just down the street. Danny can bunk in with her son, Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, the two boys are the same age. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. I’ll take you there just as soon as you feel well enough to walk.”

Rachel relaxed for a moment, then reconsidered. “Am I going to be okay?”

In the vague light, she could make out the doctor’s frown and intelligent brown eyes. A thatch of hair the color of a crow’s wing fell over his high forehead. He brushed his hand across the raspy stubble on his chin and his brows gathered together in perplexity. “Of course. You just need rest.”

Good. Danny needed her now more than ever.

She felt the doctor’s hand against her shoulder, warm and comforting. How she missed her husband. How she missed his firm, take-charge manner. Thinking about Alex caused tears to bead in the corners of her eyes.

The doctor patted her hand and placed it beneath the thick quilt covering her. She allowed her body to relax.

“Take it easy. You’re safe now,” the doctor said.

Buoyed by his words, she tried to think good thoughts. Somewhere in her imagination, a dog barked, followed by the bleating of a sheep.

A sheep? She must be dreaming.

“Oh,” she groaned. If only this muzzy feeling would vacate her brain, she’d be able to think clearly.

She listened to the woman’s muted tones as she spoke to the doctor, aware of their presence in the room but unable to make out their words. She tried to focus, but her insides felt jittery. “Can you give me something for the pain?”

“Sure. What would you like?”

How odd. Shouldn’t the doctor know what to give her in a situation like this? “My arm and head hurts.”

She opened her eyes and peered at the man standing beside the door. She recognized his stance. Legs braced. One hand cocked on his hip. Gaze piercing her to the bone. The kind of man who knew how to handle himself and never backed away from a fight. In the depths of his eyes, she saw a shadow of frustration. She couldn’t blame him. It was the middle of the night after all. No doubt he resented her for disturbing his sleep.

He leaned one hip against the counter and spoke to the cabinets as he picked up a bottle of pills and popped the lid. He shook several white tablets onto the palm of his hand. “Your arm has a bad sprain and you’ll have a nasty bruise, but nothing’s broken. I think you might have a concussion, so we’ll keep an eye on you for a few more hours. I don’t have any powerful medications for humans. Will some aspirin suffice?”

She looked away. A patchwork quilt draped her body. Definitely not normal hospital issue. She expected white sheets and a sterile blanket. “Aspirin is fine.”

He brought her a paper cup with water and watched as she took it and swallowed the pills down. She handed the empty cup back to him and he balled it up and tossed it at the garbage can, where it made a perfect two-point shot.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a veterinarian.”

She laughed, her mind whirling as she flung back the quilt to free her legs. Still dressed in her jeans and heavy blue sweater, she wriggled her bare toes. Someone had removed her socks and shoes. The doctor or Gladys? It made her feel odd to think of a strange man handling her bare feet. “You’re kidding.”

“Afraid not.” He gave her a look that told her he was serious. He pointed at her shoes sitting beside the bed, and she swung her legs over the side of the cot. Her feet rested against the cold linoleum floor, helping her feel grounded. From the outer room, she caught the distinct sound of a cat meowing.

She stared at the collar of his denim shirt, listening to the deep timbre of his voice. “Doctor Greene’s out of town until Wednesday. If we weren’t in the middle of a blizzard, Lloyd would have driven you to Elko for X-rays. Instead, he brought you here to me.”

“Lloyd?”

“He’s the local law-enforcement here in Finley. Carl called him after you hit his truck.”

Her head kept spinning. “Who is Carl?”

“Carl Frasier, the driver of the truck you hit with your car.” He sounded slightly annoyed at having to repeat himself.

Of course! She remembered the accident with frightening clarity. “I’m sorry you had to come out in the middle of the night to help Danny and me.”

He didn’t respond and a swelling silence followed.

“Where…where are my car and belongings?” she asked.

“The accident totaled your car. Lloyd towed your trailer over to Gladys’s house. It’s intact, but the contents are a mess.”

Great! No transportation and no money to buy a decent car. Thankfully, she still had collision insurance. Too bad she’d sold Grammy’s old sedan when she came in for the funeral. She only got five hundred dollars for the junker and used the money to buy a travel trailer. How was she going to get to Grammy’s place, five miles outside of town? She prayed nothing else went wrong.

She struggled to stand and instantly regretted it. Her legs wobbled and she feared her knees might buckle. Nausea settled in her stomach. A jolt of pain swept her arm, leaving her weak and shaking. As she sat down, she bit back a groan, wishing she could sleep for a few hours. But she had to think of Danny. Had to find out how serious her predicament was.

“Easy there,” the doctor urged, as he reached to help her up. Once she found her bearings, he withdrew quickly, as if touching her burned his fingers.

His gaze swept her forearms where a myriad of pink and purple scars covered the smooth flesh. She jerked her sleeves down to hide the ugliness; a constant reminder of why she feared and hated dogs. And why she usually wore long sleeves.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.

She almost flinched, wishing he hadn’t noticed her scars. Shaking her head, she leaned against the wall and clenched her eyes closed, willing her insides to settle. “No, they’re old wounds I prefer to forget. Where am I?”

“You’re in my medical office,” he said.

She swayed, her hands shaking.

“You sure you feel like sitting up?” He stood beside her, all broad shoulders and narrow hips, wearing faded blue jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. Rachel wasn’t surprised by his attire. Not in this ranching town. Tall, lean and ruggedly handsome. The complete opposite of Alex, who’d been only five feet eight inches tall, always wore an Oxford shirt and ties even on Saturdays, and had a slight paunch. It never mattered to Rachel. Alex would always be the love of her life. From the first day they met, he’d been the kindest, gentlest man she ever knew. A good provider and fiercely protective of her and Danny. Ah, how she missed him.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, but take it slow.”

She reached for her socks. “You mean to tell me this Lloyd person brought me to a vet for medical assistance?”

No doubt her shrill voice sounded ungrateful.

“With a blizzard and Doc Greene out of town, Lloyd figured I was 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.