Terri Reed - Love Comes Home and A Sheltering Love - Love Comes Home / A Sheltering Love

Moved by his thoughtfulness, Rachel stared at his big, tanned hand where it rested against the lightweight blue fabric of her suit coat. Through the thin material, his warmth seeped into her skin. The touch evoked memories of younger days. Days when they’d been happy and in love, walking the school halls, side by side, Josh’s arm casually draped about her shoulders or their fingers intertwined.

Days long gone.

“All right.” Anything to create distance between them.

Josh moved past her. His long legs carried him with confidence. As the door swung shut behind him, the room suddenly seemed lonely and cold even though the warmth of the sun streamed through the window. She rubbed her arm where his touch lingered and went to the chair where he’d sat. Mom G. still slept. Rachel gathered one of the older woman’s hands in her own and with the other hand smoothed back a faded blond curl. “Oh, Mom G., I’m so sorry this is happening to you. But I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

Oh, God. Please show me how to help her.

Unlike the doctors who couldn’t save her mother, Rachel would do anything for Mom G. Even if that meant dealing with Josh, who was the last person she needed in her life. She had no intention of allowing the pain of the past to repeat itself.

“Sure thing, Josh.” Dr. Kessler set the chart in his hand down on the counter of the nurses’ station. “I’ll speak with her right now.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Josh liked the man and Mrs. G. trusted him.

Dr. Kessler stuck a pen into the breast pocket of his white coat. “Are you coming?”

“No. I’m going to get some coffee.” He wasn’t ready to see Rachel again just yet. Being near her, able to touch her, hear her voice after all these years had brought back so many memories of when they were teens. It was too much to deal with in such a short time.

As Dr. Kessler disappeared into the elevator, Josh headed for the hospital chapel. He slipped into a pew. The quiet serenity of the room eased some of the turmoil within.

Almost twelve years. Twelve years since she’d walked out of his life, choosing her career, her dream of being a doctor, over their love—his love.

I love you, Josh, but I can’t stay. I have to do this.

As he ran a hand through his thick hair, jagged pain engulfed him. Pain as fresh now as it had been then. As it had been when he was fourteen and his mother’s words to his father mirrored Rachel’s.

Sharon Taylor had decided being a mother and wife wasn’t fulfilling enough. She’d left to pursue a career in the art world and never came back. She’d tried to contact Josh, had wanted to see him, but at fourteen, he’d been too hurt, too angry to welcome her overtures. He’d hardened his heart to her and refused to listen when his father tried to talk to him about her. Josh could never accept his father’s claim that he’d loved her enough to let her go. After a time she’d stopped trying. And Josh tried to forget her.

It seemed the Taylor men were under a curse. Destined to love women who had no use for marriage, commitment or family.

Josh prayed fervently that when the time came, his son would find love with a woman committed to her family. A woman passionate about marriage and motherhood.

A woman nothing like Rachel Maguire.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

He’d forced his feelings for Rachel aside and moved on with his life. He’d married and had a son whom he loved beyond anything he thought possible.

Josh opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. School would let out soon. He hoped Griff remembered Grandpa was picking him up today. If he took the bus home, no one would be there. Thankfully Mrs. G’s surgery and subsequent critical condition hadn’t happened a week later since summer vacation would start on Monday.

Until her sickness, Mrs. G. had watched Griff after school. But when Mrs. G. had gone into the hospital, Josh had made it a point to be home from work when his son got there. But today, with Mrs. G.’s condition so critical, he needed to be at the hospital.

And now Rachel was here, too.

So much the same, yet so different. The once-pretty teen had grown into a beautiful woman. Her shoulder-length ebony hair framed her face and made the most of her startling blue eyes. He drew in a deep breath and could have sworn her scent clung to his clothes. She still smelled of a flowered meadow on a summer’s day. Fresh, alive and invigorating.

That’s what had first alerted him to her presence in the hospital room. The familiar and alluring scent of Rachel.

Contrary to what he’d said, he’d known she would return. He just hadn’t realized how hard seeing her again would be. All the agony of having loved and lost, which he’d hidden away, was simmering and working its way through his heart. He didn’t like it one bit.

He didn’t need to remind himself that he wasn’t enough, that his love wasn’t enough. The knowledge was branded across his soul.

Yet this Rachel was different. As a teen she’d been warm and lively, full of laughter. Now she was so calmly cool and in control. She was like an exquisitely designed ice sculpture. Each angle and curve perfectly cut, the sleek and smooth surface beckoning to be touched. Yet to the one who dared, the scar of freezer burn would be their reward. This Rachel wasn’t the woman he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He took comfort in that. Finally something that didn’t remind him of the past.

Staring up at the window, he watched sunlight splinter through the various colors of the beautiful stained-glass cross. He wanted to pray for himself, wanted to lay his troubles at the feet of Jesus. But he couldn’t. Oh, he could pray for others—Mrs. G., Griff, his dad. Even strangers. But not himself.

Anger lay between him and Jesus like a desolate wasteland. No way around it, no way across it.

Abruptly he stood and walked away, leaving behind the chapel and the peace that God could offer.

He wound his way through the hospital to the cafeteria where he ordered two cups of coffee to go. Not knowing how Rachel took hers, he stuck packets of sugar and cream in his pocket. As the elevator doors opened and he stepped into the hall, he saw Rachel and Dr. Kessler talking outside Mrs. G.’s door.

Josh walked forward, sympathy stirring as he watched Rachel pace, her arms wrapping and unwrapping about her middle. Her normally creamy complexion had gone pasty white and the small splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose stood out in stark contrast. The agitation so obvious in her posture belied her coldness, and Josh fought the urge to enfold her in his arms. He approached, stopping a few paces away.

“You can’t rule out NDGA. There’ve been tremendous results with the use of chaparral tea in persons with cancerous tumors.”

“I’m not denying that, Dr. Maguire. But I don’t believe it will help Olivia.”

Rachel stopped her pacing and glared at Dr. Kessler. “But it could help. We have to at least try.”

“The best we can do for Olivia is make her comfortable.”

“The best we can do is make her better.”

“She’s entered the last stages. Even the chemo’s questionable at this point.”

Sharp, ugly pain gripped Rachel’s insides. It was her mother’s plight all over again. Everything they knew to do was being done, but they held little hope. Helplessness clawed its way to the surface. She wanted to cry, to find a dark place and curl into a tiny ball to escape this nightmare. She gritted her teeth and fought for composure. Mom G. needed her to be strong and she would be strong, because the alternative was breaking down in hysterics and that was unacceptable. There had to be hope. “But you’ll continue with the chemo?”