Patt Marr - Promise Of Forever

Noah was surprised she had the guts to say it, but it was true. People had been trying to set him up on dates since the day his wife had died. Beth Brennan was the hot topic of gossip right now, and he would be mentioned in the same breath…for a while.

“Even if we ignore it, they probably won’t stop until one of us starts to see someone,” Beth said ruefully.

“It’ll have to be you,” he said dryly. “My daughter is the only woman in my life.”

Beth sighed very unprofessionally. “I hate to date.”

She looked so genuinely distressed that a chuckle escaped Noah’s lips.

“Hey!” She frowned at his laughter. “That’s going to cost you. Until I find Mr. Right, I might just act as if I don’t mind the teasing. What do you think of that?” she challenged, mischief in her eyes.

She didn’t mind if they were linked together? Noah was in big trouble….

has a friend who says she reminds him of a car that’s either zooming along in the fast lane or sitting on the shoulder, out of gas. Her family says he’s dead right. At age twenty, she had a B.S. in business education, a handsome, good-hearted husband and a sweet baby girl. Since then, Patt has had a precious baby boy, earned an M.A. in counseling, worked a lifetime as a high school educator, cooked big meals for friends, attended a zillion basketball games where her husband coached and her son played. She has also enjoyed many years of church music, children’s ministries, drama and television production—often working with her grown-up daughter.

During down time, Patt reads romance, eats too many carbs, watches too many movies and sleeps way too little. She’s been blessed with terrific children-in-law, two darling granddaughters, two loving grandsons, many wonderful friends, a great church and a chance to write love stories about people who love God as much as she does.

For I know the plans I have for you.

They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a hope and a future.

—Jeremiah 29:11

Heartfelt appreciation for help with this book goes to my cousin Paul Lawrence, for expert critique; my daughter J. Marr, for endless encouragement; my son and daughter-in-law, Dane and Carla Marr, for providing the prototype of the character, Kendra; and Beth Elwood, R.N., for technical advice.

I dedicate this story to a woman of unshakable faith, my dear friend, Sue Lemmon.

Prologue

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

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Beverly Hills, California—April

For one moment, Dr. Beth Brennan felt as if she soared on invisible wings, floating on the approval of her entire family and the Brennan Medical Clinic staff. Well-wishers thronged about her, congratulating her for finishing her residency and becoming the new clinic pediatrician.

In the next moment, her mother’s manic rage came out of nowhere, and she launched into the most outrageous of all of her tantrums. The room went silent as Deborah Brennan’s illness took center stage.

Everyone here was associated with the clinic in some way. Most of them had been guests in Beth’s parents’ home. They knew her mother as a vibrant, elegant hostess, not this vicious tyrant, but her manic behavior wouldn’t be the family secret anymore.

It shouldn’t have come to this, not with seven doctors in the Brennan family. Not one of them, including Beth, had the guts to stand up to her mother and make her get the help she needed. If they had, there wouldn’t be an audience watching her dad and uncle drag her protesting mother away.

With so many pitying eyes upon her, Beth felt paralyzed. She wanted to leave, but her feet wouldn’t move.

A tall man in blue scrubs—a man about her own age with close-cropped dark hair and intense brown eyes—took her elbow. “Your grandfather sent me to get you, Dr. Brennan.”

Beth was a veteran at fighting her own battles, but, just this once, retreat seemed like a better idea.

They didn’t talk on the way to her grandfather’s office. Another time she would have paid more attention to the man’s chiseled good looks and muscular build. She might have shrugged away from his hand on her elbow and made some joke about knowing the way to her grandfather’s office as well as every inch of this building. But his steadying presence offered the perfect amount of comfort without pity.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Noah,” he answered, opening the door to her grandfather’s office.

“Thank you, Noah,” her grandfather said.

The man nodded and shut the door behind her.

Noah. Sometime, she would thank him.

“Come in, Beth. Sit here beside me.” Her handsome, white-haired grandfather patted the burgundy leather sofa.

She snuggled close, glad they were there for each other. Grandpa had been the anchor in her life, the one person she could always count on.

“How’s my favorite granddaughter?”

His only granddaughter. It was an old joke, but she usually played along. Not today. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t quite the celebration we’d hoped for, was it, darling?” He leaned his head against hers.

“Did I tell you how nice you look?”

He might have, but today the credit for her looks belonged to Mom.

Normally, Beth washed her low-maintenance short blond hair, applied facial cream with sunblock, gave her eyelashes a dab of mascara, and she was good to go.

Today, her mother had insisted on the whole beauty salon treatment…styled hair, major makeup, painted fingernails, the works. The only thing the professionals left natural was the color of her eyes—a light brown they’d raved about and called dark honey.

She’d looked forward to this day for as long as she could remember. It should have been a happy time.

“I don’t know what it was that made your mother lose control this time, but if it wasn’t one thing, it could have been another.”

That was true. Anything could trigger one of her mother’s episodes. As a child, she’d learned to stay out of the way.

“What’s this?” Grandpa said, pointing to a large red blotch on her sleeve. “Cranberry punch?”

She shrugged. It didn’t matter. The taupe silk suit, the matching pumps, her grandmother’s pearls—they’d all been chosen by her mother as perfect for the day. None of it was Beth’s style. She’d worn it to keep the peace, though a lot of good it had done.

From now on, she would wear what she liked.

“Beth, darling, it was twenty years ago that we walked the building site for the clinic together. Remember?”

Of course she did. “We drew on the ground where your office would be.”

“And where yours would be. You said you were going to be a doctor like Grandpa.”

He loved taking the credit for her career choice, and she loved acknowledging it. “You put the idea in my mind. You gave me the doctor kit and pretended to be my patient.”

“Have you been sorry, darling?”

“Never. I love medicine. I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

“It was a thrill for me, getting to introduce you today.” He patted her hand. “Call it an old man’s dream, but I’ve always wanted my children and my grandchildren to practice medicine under one roof.”