Jill Weatherholt - A Father For Bella

What was happening here? Faith raked her fingers through the back of her thick hair. Yes, she had completed medical school. She’d just begun her residency when her entire world collapsed around her. Medicine was part of her past—and exactly where it would stay.

The overhead intercom filled the hall with static, paging Dr. Maxwell. “I have to get going. I’ll keep Mr. Carlson overnight for observation, but you can pick him up tomorrow afternoon.”

Faith didn’t remember agreeing to this, but what else could she do? She released a heavy breath. She’d been overruled. “We’ll be here.”

She wasn’t doing this on her own. Mrs. Watson seemed anxious to volunteer, so she would be the one to care for him. Faith had no intention of utilizing her medical background—ever. How could she? The memories were too haunting.

Chapter Three

The following afternoon at the inn, Joshua burrowed his throbbing head back into a mound of oversize down pillows. “This really isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. Besides, the doctor said it was only a mild concussion. He did release me, you know?”

“It’s not ‘only.’ A concussion of any degree shouldn’t be ignored.”

He eyed Faith, wondering how she’d ended up with the short straw. Judging from her stiff posture and stony expression, playing babysitter wasn’t something she wanted any part of. “So how did you get stuck with me?” He’d rather have stayed at the hospital than be cared for by the woman whose life he was going to turn upside down.

“You were fortunate. Head injuries aren’t something to take lightly. Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other for the next forty-eight hours. Mrs. Watson is supposed to help, but she’s had some sort of emergency in the kitchen.” She turned toward the plantation shutters, closing both.

“I just took a little tumble.” He knew God had been watching over him yesterday, and for that he was thankful. He’d skied long enough to know the risks involved. Years ago, a good friend from college was left paralyzed following a skiing accident. “This all seems like a little too much, don’t you think?”

“Actually...no.” She picked up a pitcher of water sitting on the dresser and poured him half a glass. “You need to let me know if you develop a headache or if you experience any dizziness or blurred vision.” Faith placed the water on the nightstand.

“How did you become such an expert on concussions? Is it part of some training you had to take to work here?”

She fidgeted with the gold chain around her neck. “Something like that.”

Boy, he’d been around some tight-lipped people before, but hers were cemented shut. It was obvious his questions were making her uncomfortable, but why? “Can you please hand me my laptop? It’s over there on the desk.”

Faith firmly planted her hands on her hips. “You can’t use your computer for the next two days.”

This was outrageous. He wasn’t going to put his life on hold because of a slight bump on the head. He had too much work to do to get ready for the auction. “Please bring it to me.”

Her feet appeared glued to the floor.

He peeled back the tan-and-black flannel blanket and placed his feet on the gleaming hardwood floor. “Fine—I’ll get it myself.”

Her face turned cherry red. “You most certainly will not! Get back in the bed.” She lunged toward him. “You don’t seem to understand the precautions that must be taken following a head injury. You’re my responsibility and I’m telling you, complete bed rest is a must. That means no computers, television or reading.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, he flopped back against the pillows and covered himself with the blanket. “Can I at least have my phone?”

“No electronics of any kind. Do you understand?”

He didn’t understand. A thought surged into his mind: Could she know the real reason why he was here? Was that why she was keeping such a close eye on him and not even allowing him access to his business files? There was no point in hiding the reason he was in Whispering Slopes. She’d find out sooner or later anyway. “Please, let me have my laptop. I have pressing business to address.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Nothing is so important to jeopardize your well-being. Please don’t make me remove your devices from the room.”

Joshua shot her a look. “Look—I may as well be up-front with you. I’m here for the auction.” He gripped the blanket, prepared for her reaction.

Silence filled the room. For a second, he wished he hadn’t removed the batteries from the clock. The ticking would be better than the sound of her angry breaths.

Faith fiddled with the guest towels before she finally spoke. “If that’s the only reason you’ve come, you’re wasting your time. There’s not going to be an auction.”

Obviously, the woman was in denial. And why wouldn’t she be? She’d lose her home and possibly her job. Maybe he could hire her—but really, why would she want to work for him? “What makes you say that?”

She rolled her shoulders back. “I plan to contact the owner before the auction. I’ll make him an offer, so an auction won’t be necessary.”

“And you have that kind of—” He bit his tongue, realizing he’d overstepped his bounds, but it was too late.

Her face grimaced. “Not right at the moment, but I’ll get it. This property is way too important to me to let it go. I’ll explain it to the owners. They’ll understand.”

If she only knew whom she was up against, she’d realize she was fighting a losing battle. His father couldn’t care less about her family. He certainly didn’t care about his own. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Faith approached his bed and crossed her arms. “How would you know?”

“The so-called sympathetic owner happens to be my father. I’ll give you a heads-up...he’s the least understanding person you’ll ever meet.” He knew the man well enough to know money always came first. RC Carlson wouldn’t give a hoot if this place was important to her. If he had any heart at all, his own son wouldn’t be going behind his back to try and purchase the inn.

She stared at the ground and then tilted her head up. “Your father owns this property?”

Giggles outside the door and a light knock brought an abrupt end to their discussion.

“Faith, it’s Joy. Are you in there?”

“It’s my sister. She has Bella with her today.”

He sat up a little more, curious to meet Faith’s twin. “By all means, we might as well have the entire family in on this conversation.”

She shot him a glare before opening the door.

“Mr. Joshua!” Bella tore into the room and bounded onto the bed. “Are you okay?” She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and his heart melted.

“I’m just fine...well, I would be if your mother ever lets me out of this bed, or at least allows me to use my laptop. She seems to be the expert on concussions.”

Bella pulled away. “She was almost a doctor.”

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Faith. “Almost a doctor?”

She strolled toward her daughter and hoisted her off the bed. “Bella, go downstairs and see if Mrs. Watson needs any help in the kitchen. We’ll be down in a couple of minutes—run along, now.”

At the door, the child turned. “I hope you’re better in time for the snowman-making contest, Mr. Joshua. You can be on our team.” She skipped out the door, whistling a melody.

Faith’s sister approached his bedside. “Hello, I’m Joy.” She extended her slender hand and smiled.

Both women had caramel hair and fair coloring, but their chestnut eyes were different. Faith had a far-off sadness in her eyes; the light had been extinguished. Maybe it had to do with Bella not having a father around, but perhaps that had been by choice.