Ray wondered if there was something special about Jana that was getting through to him.
She was certainly beautiful, but so were a number of other acquaintances, and none of them had made him this introspective. Had she said or done anything that set her apart from all others?
Yet when he closed his eyes, he could still see her there on the hospital bed, her arm around her little son who’d been so very ill, even in sleep cuddling, holding, loving him. Had something that simple, that basic, brought into focus Ray’s own need for closeness?
He wanted to be with Jana, to talk with her, to get to know her for who she really was—not only as an excellent student and loving mother, but apparently a good friend to the other young mothers she’d lived with. And her appreciation of and love for her Gram was also in her favor.
Ray couldn’t sort out his thoughts. For someone who prided himself on his clear thinking, on being able to concentrate on whatever he chose and push from his consciousness things that would interfere, this was almost intolerable!
has always loved fiction, and even as a teen promised herself that she’d someday write a novel. However, that had to be put on hold as she earned degrees from Bucknell and Temple Universities, then headed up a pathology laboratory in Michigan.
She later married Bob, whom she’d known since childhood, and moved back to north central Pennsylvania, only about twenty miles from where they’d grown up. She did then write several novels, which didn’t sell, although hundreds of articles, short stories and poems were published. It was only in the nineties that her first novels were published—and the one in your hands now is number thirteen.
Eileen is active in writing circles, especially St. Davids Christian Writers Association, whose excellent annual conference is the second oldest and one of the most prestigious of those in America, and possibly in the world.
She says that without these wonderful, caring writers, instructors, co-workers and friends, her career as a Christian writer would have been not only less successful, but much more lonely.
A Family for Jana
Eileen Berger
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Dear friends, let us love one another,
for love comes from God and knows God.
—I John 4:7
This book is dedicated
to
our blessed grandsons,
Nathanael,
Isaac,
Samuel
and
Karl,
with many prayers and much love,
from your
Grandmother.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Letter to Reader
Jana Jenson felt heat rising up her neck and face. She’d heard titters, which called her wandering thoughts back from the hospital; looking toward the front of the college classroom, she realized that Professor Hawkins was staring at her, right eyebrow raised quizzically. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hawkins, did you—ask me something?”
“Yes, I did, Miss Jenson, and….”
She knew better than to interrupt, but it seemed necessary to explain. “My three-year-old son was very sick during the night, and I had to take him to the hospital. My mind was with him, wondering how he’s doing without me there in the pediatric department.”
There was a moment’s silence, but she was looking at her college embryology textbook, fighting for composure. She felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, and heard the encouraging voice of Todd Livingston, who was sitting behind her. “I’m sorry, Jana—we all are.”
She nodded to show she’d heard and raised her left hand to cover his for a moment in nonverbal thanks. Linda, on her left, asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Jana risked a glance at the professor, not knowing if he’d be offended if she continued, but others were also asking questions. “Michael’s been having increasingly bad attacks of croup during this past year. I usually get it under control by filling the bathroom with steam and sitting there with him as the medicine takes effect, but last night even that didn’t bring relief.”
She swallowed the unshed tears, which felt as though they were about to choke her. “I finally called nine-one-one, and the paramedics came—and took him by ambulance….” She was still not over the panic, the fear of losing this child for whom she’d already given up so much—her baby, for whom she’d gladly give her life.
“Is he all right now?” Todd asked.
Jana wished she could be sure of that. “He was some better when I left him—” she glanced at her watch “—about forty minutes ago. He’s no longer critical, they tell me. Otherwise—” she looked directly at Dr. Hawkins “—I’ll admit that I would not be here today.”
His expression had changed, and he looked as though about to respond, but Linda was asking, “How will you manage when he gets home again? Do you have your mother—or someone?”
This question she could readily answer. “Gram will take care of things.” But no, Jana wouldn’t go into further details concerning what she owed that wonderful woman who, though not a blood relative, had done so much for her. Gram had far more than filled the void in her life when she was forced to leave home because of dis-obeying her parents’ command. And I have no regrets as to having made that decision!
She tried to force herself to pay close attention to the rest of the lecture. Meiosis. It was undoubtedly a fascinating subject, and she really did want to learn more about the study of which one of each pair of homologous chromosomes goes to each daughter cell. However, as troubled as she was, Jana couldn’t fully concentrate on the lecture.
Class was finally over, and Todd and Linda waited as Jana gathered her things. However, as they passed the large, centrally located front table, Dr. Hawkins asked, “May I please speak with you, Jana?”
That was the first time he’d called her by her given name. Glancing toward her companions, who nodded and left, she hugged her books close to her chest. “Of course.”
Taking a couple steps around the table, he looked into her eyes and said, “I would like to apologize for embarrassing you.”
She wasn’t convinced he was sorry but would try to give him the benefit of the doubt. “It’s all right.”
Perhaps he sensed her reservations. “I should have just gone on with the class, not waited for you to respond.”
She met his gaze. “I may be setting myself up for an F, Professor, but—” I shouldn’t be saying this—I need good marks to keep my scholarship “—I believe you sometimes enjoy playing to your audience.”
His eyelids flickered, then steadied, and she clutched her books closer, sure she’d made a major error in saying that. But then what appeared to be a rueful smile twisted his lips. “Ah, you are a courageous one, Jana Jenson—but I assure you that, though I may be guilty of sometimes playing to my audience, as you so succinctly put it, I never penalize someone for having the courage to speak the truth. There are few who would take that risk.”
His smile seemed to become more sincere, and his right hand cupped her left elbow. “I promise to try doing better—and hereby give permission for you to hold me accountable if I slip up.”
She started to relax, and her responding smile felt as genuine as his now looked. Continuing to hold her books in her left arm, she impulsively thrust out her other hand. “I will cheerfully accept that responsibility, Dr. Hawkins.”
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