Patricia Davids - The Doctor's Blessing

Philip’s gaze deepened into a fierce scowl. “You’re planning on seeing maternity patients?”

Amber didn’t care for his tone. “I haven’t since Harold left, but now that you’re here, I have one waiting now.”

“I see.” His glower lightened.

Amber continued to study him. He was a hard man to read. “We haven’t exactly been on vacation while we waited for you to arrive. We’ve traveled a lot of miles letting people know what happened.”

He raised an eybrow. “Wouldn’t a few phone calls have been easier?”

Smiling with artificial sweetness, Amber said, “It would if our patients had phones. The majority of our clients are Amish, remember?”

“I’ll let you get to work, but there will be changes around here that you and I need to discuss. Come to my office when you’re done.”

Amber didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.

After thirty-five years as a nurse, Pat has hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her new free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides with her husband in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her on the Web at www.patriciadavids.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.

—1 John 3:18

To Terrah in Kansas City and to Rachel in Poland, Ohio. Bless you both for all your help. This book is dedicated to nurse-midwives everywhere.

Women helping women bring healthy babies into loving families.

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

“Amber, you won’t believe who’s here!”

The agitated whisper stopped Amber Bradley in her tracks halfway through the front door of the Hope Springs Medical Clinic. She glanced around the small waiting room. The only occupant was her wide-eyed receptionist standing at her desk with one finger pressed to her lips.

Amber whispered back, “I give up, Wilma. Who’s here?”

The tiny, sixty-something woman glanced toward the hallway leading to the offices and exam rooms, then hurried around the corner of her desk wringing her hands. “Dr. Phillip White.”

Oh, no. Amber closed the door with deliberate slowness. So the ax was going to fall on their small-town clinic in spite of everyone’s prayers. What would they do now? What would happen to their patients? Her heart sank at the prospect.

Please, dear Lord, don’t let this happen.

Composing herself, she turned to face Wilma. “What did he say? Is Harold worse?”

“He said Harold is the reason he needs to meet with us, but he wanted to wait until you were here before going into details.”

Dr. Harold White was the only doctor in the predominantly Amish community of Hope Springs, Ohio. Four weeks earlier, he’d taken his first vacation in more than twenty years to visit his grandson, Phillip, in Honolulu. While there, a serious accident landed the seventy-five-year-old man in intensive care.

Wilma leaned close. “What do you think he’s doing here?”

“I have no idea.”

“You think he’s here to close the office, don’t you?”

Amber couldn’t come up with another reason that made more sense. Harold’s only relative had come to close the clinic and inform them that Harold wouldn’t be returning.

At least he was kind enough to come in person instead of delivering the news over the phone.

Amber had been expecting something like this since she’d learned the extent of Harold’s injuries. Chances were slim a man his age could make a full recovery after suffering a broken leg, a fractured skull and surgery to remove a blood clot on his brain. Still, Harold hadn’t given up hope that he’d be back, so neither would she.

Summoning a smile for her coworker, Amber laid a hand on Wilma’s shoulder. “When I spoke to Harold last night, he assured me the clinic would stay open.”

“For now.” The deep male voice came from behind them.

Wilma squeaked as she spun around. Amber had a better grip on her emotions. Wilma hurried away to the safety of her oak desk in the corner, leaving Amber to face the newcomer alone. She surveyed Harold’s grandson with interest.

Dr. Phillip White was more imposing than she had expected. He stood six foot at least, if not a shade taller. His light brown hair, streaked with sun-bleached highlights, curled slightly where it touched the collar of his blue, button-down shirt. His bronze tan emphasized his bone structure and the startling blue of his eyes.

He was movie-star gorgeous. The thought popped into Amber’s brain and stuck. She licked her suddenly dry lips. When had she met a man who triggered such intense awareness at first glance? Okay, never.

Rejecting her left-field thoughts as totally irrelevant, Amber tried for a professional smile. Moving forward, she held out her hand. “Welcome to Hope Springs, Dr. White.”

His grip, firm and oddly stirring, made her pulse spike and her breathing quicken. He held her hand a fraction longer than necessary. When he let go, she shoved her hands in the front pockets of her white lab coat, curling her fingers into tight balls.

Striving to appear unruffled, she said, “Your grandfather speaks of you frequently. I never saw him so excited as the day he learned of your existence.”

His expression remained carefully blank. “I’m sure my happiness was equal to his.”

Little warning bells started going off in Amber’s brain. He wasn’t here to make friends. Her smile grew stiff. “Of course, it can’t be every day a grown man discovers he has a grandfather he never knew about.”

Up close, Phillip’s resemblance to Harold was undeniable. They shared the same intense blue eyes, strong chin and full lips. But not, it seemed, Harold’s friendly demeanor. Still, she cast aside any lingering doubts that the whole thing was a hoax. They were obviously related.

She said, “Isn’t it strange that both of you became family practice doctors. It must be in the genes. I’d love to hear the whole story. Harold was vague about the details.”

A cooler expression entered Phillip’s eyes. “It’s a personal matter that I’m not comfortable discussing.”

Oops! It seemed she’d stumbled on a touchy subject. “I’m sorry Harold’s holiday with you ended so badly.”

“As am I.” His lips pressed into a tighter line.

Amber indicated their receptionist. “I take it you’ve met Mrs. Nolan? Wilma has worked for your grandfather since he came to Hope Springs over thirty years ago.”

He nodded in Wilma’s direction. “Yes, we’ve met.”

“And I’m Amber Bradley.” She waited with bated breath for his reaction. She knew Harold had told his grandson about their collaborative practice.