Marta Perry - The Doctor Next Door

“About time?” Dr. Brett Elliot hadn’t expected his hometown to stage a welcome parade to celebrate his return. But he also hadn’t expected to be accosted by a beautiful woman he’d never met. “Ms.—”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“You’re not…?”

Something about her amber eyes triggered recognition. He brushed back her auburn curls, exposing a thin scar. She’d fallen from a tree when she was five, and he’d been convinced at ten he was grown up enough to take care of her. That was when he’d decided to become a doctor.

“Rebecca. Little Rebecca, all grown up.”

“People do, you know. Did you think nothing in Bedford Creek would change while you were gone, that we were all just waiting for your return?”

Rebecca had been a quiet little tomboy, all skinny legs and sharp elbows. The woman who stood in front of him now was beautiful.

“I guess things have changed,” Brett said, lifting an eyebrow.

began writing children’s stories for Sunday school take-home papers when she was a church education director. From that beginning she branched into writing magazine fiction and then book-length fiction. She’s grateful for the opportunity to write the books of her heart for Steeple Hill.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania with her husband of thirty-eight years. They have three grown children scattered around the globe whom they enjoy visiting. In addition to writing and travel, Marta loves hearing from readers and responding to their letters. You can write to her at Steeple Hill Books, 300 East 42nd St., New York, NY 10017.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For we are God’s workmanship,

created in Christ Jesus to do good works,

which God prepared in advance for us to do.

—Ephesians 2:10

This book is dedicated to the dear writing friends

and critique partners who kept me going all these

years: Barbara, Andi, Laurie, Dave and Pam.

And, as always, to Brian.

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

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

“You’ve come back.”

The young woman’s golden-brown eyes filled with a mix of shock and some other emotion Brett couldn’t identify.

She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the flow of people coming through the front door of the gracious Victorian home. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”

“About time?” Dr. Brett Elliot hadn’t expected his hometown to stage a welcome parade to celebrate his return. But he also hadn’t expected to be accosted at his best friend’s engagement party by a beautiful woman he’d never seen before.

There’d been no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice. “The party started at eight, didn’t it?” He detached his arm from her grip. People clustered in the adjoining rooms, leaving the wide center hallway quiet.

“The party? Yes.” She glanced toward the crowded living room of the rambling old house, where the party obviously centered. Auburn hair curled around her shoulders; creamy skin glowed against the soft coral of her dress.

No, if he’d known this woman before, he’d certainly remember.

“Well, then, I’m right on time.” He probably wouldn’t have ventured out at all on his first night back in Bedford Creek if he weren’t one of Mitch’s groomsmen. He could hardly avoid the party given for Mitch and Anne, especially since it was at the Forrester place, right next door to his parents’ empty house. Apparently one of the Forrester sisters was a member of the wedding party.

He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t gotten home for it. Someone would notice his car or the light in the window. That was one of the drawbacks he remembered of life in a small town. Someone noticed everything.

So he had decided to make a brief appearance, smile at everyone and beat a quick retreat before too many questions were asked.

Nothing in that scenario included having a stranger look at him with such disapproval. He pushed down his annoyance and tried a smile. “You think I should have come early, Ms.—”

Her eyebrows went up in astonishment. “You don’t know who I am?”

He riffled quickly through his mental file of high school friends. Trouble was, he hadn’t come back to Pennsylvania often during college and medical school on the West Coast. He was much closer since he’d taken the residency at a Philadelphia hospital, but also much busier. And with his parents spending most of the year in Florida, there’d been little to bring him back. People had a way of changing when you didn’t see them for years at a time.

“Well, let’s see. You must be someone I went to school with, right?”

A dimple showed at the corner of her mouth, dissipating her frown. “In a way.”

The smile encouraged him. She couldn’t be that annoyed with him, even if he’d gotten the time wrong. Something about her made him think of Angela Forrester, his high school sweetheart. One of Angela’s friends, maybe?

“Were you a cheerleader, like Angela?”

“No.” Her amber eyes seemed to enjoy a secret laugh at his expense.

“You’re not…”

Something about her eyes triggered recognition. He brushed the auburn curls back from her cheek, exposing the hairline-thin white scar.

She’d fallen from the willow tree in the backyard when she was five. He’d been the first person there, and he’d held the hem of his T-shirt over the cut, convinced that at ten he was grown up enough to take care of her. That might have been the moment he’d decided to become a doctor.

“Rebecca.” Now that he realized, of course, it could be no one else. “Little Rebecca, all grown up.”

She drew back casually from his touch. “People do, you know.”

He shook his head. “It’s impossible. You used to look like Orphan Annie, all frizzy red hair and big eyes.”

Now she was beautiful. The idea stunned him. How could Angela’s pesky kid sister look like this?

“Gee, thanks. I think.”

“I didn’t mean…” He was thrown ridiculously off balance. Of course Rebecca had grown up. She couldn’t stay little forever.

“You expected me to look like a kid. Did you think nothing in Bedford Creek would change while you were gone, that we were all just waiting for your return? It’s not Brigadoon, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” They’d done “Brigadoon” for their senior class play. Angela had been gorgeous in a tartan skirt. Somehow Bedford Creek had always had that Brigadoon aura—isolated, hidden by its mountains, remote from his busy urban life.

“Things do change. I grew up. Angela got engaged. You can’t just walk back in and find everything the way you left it.”

The edge in her voice startled him. Rebecca had been a quiet little tomboy, all skinny legs and sharp elbows. She’d tagged after him and Angela, always wanting to be just like them, until it nearly drove Angela crazy.

“I guess things have changed.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Way I remember it, you’d no more have argued with anyone than you’d have flown off the roof.”