Gift from the Heart. Irene Hannon
She was nice.”
“I found out today that she passed away a couple of weeks ago.”
Nicole looked down at her meat loaf. “Why do people you care about always have to die?”
Adam knew she was thinking of Elaine and the tragic boating accident that had taken her mother’s life a little over a year ago. Nicole and Elaine had been close, and though Adam had thought Elaine was too liberal in her child-rearing practices—a frequent point of contention between them—he knew that his wife had deeply loved her daughter. And that Nicole was still grieving for her.
“It was just their time, Nicole,” he said gently. “God has His reasons.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think God is very nice. He lets bad things happen that just make people sad. I don’t know why people are always praying to Him. He never listens anyway.”
Adam frowned. Over the past couple of years, he’d been having a harder and harder time getting Nicole to go to church with him on Sunday. And it had become a weekly battle since they had moved to North Carolina. She and Elaine hadn’t gone to church regularly, and he knew that the lapse in church attendance had come at a critical stage in Nicole’s life, shaking her still-developing faith. It was another change he didn’t like in his daughter.
Nicole put her fork down. “May I be excused?”
Adam glanced at her plate. She’d barely touched her food. “Are you feeling all right?”
Nicole glared at him. “Can’t you stop being a doctor even for a minute? I feel fine. I’m just not hungry anymore. So may I be excused?”
Adam’s gut clenched. His question had been prompted out of fatherly concern, not medical interest. But clearly Nicole hadn’t seen it that way. She saw him as a doctor, not a father. Which only served to underscore the problems in their relationship.
“Yes, you may be excused.”
Disheartened, he watched her walk away, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper containing Seth Mitchell’s phone number. Last night he’d prayed for help with his daughter. Today Clare Randall had called with her offer. That wasn’t exactly the kind of help he’d had in mind, but then, God’s ways weren’t always our ways. Maybe Clare was the answer to his prayer. Since he wasn’t getting anywhere with Nicole on his own, and he was rapidly running out of possible babysitters in Hope Creek, he’d be a fool not to at least consider Clare’s offer.
He’d been too busy to call Seth Mitchell today. But he’d make that the first order of business tomorrow morning.
Adam slowly replaced the receiver and leaned back thoughtfully in his desk chair. Seth Mitchell had just confirmed Clare’s story, though he’d been unable to offer any further insight into Jo’s offer. Nor much additional information about Clare herself, except that she was a widow with teaching credentials. When Adam had seemed skeptical about Jo’s unusual stipulation, the attorney had assured him that it was completely aboveboard and verified that Clare Randall would expect no payment for her services.
Despite that reassurance, Adam had a hard time accepting the offer. Getting something for nothing was outside the realm of his experience. And it had been ever since he was twelve years old and asked his father for a new bicycle. To this day he vividly recalled his father’s gruff response.
“There’s no such thing as a free lunch, boy. You have to work for what you want.”
So Adam had done just that, doing odd jobs around the neighborhood until he’d earned enough money for his bike. And that was generally the way life had worked for him ever since. Which was why he found it hard to believe that this woman’s offer came without any strings attached. Despite what the attorney had said.
Still…he did need help with Nicole. And financially he wasn’t in a position to hire a full-time nanny. So wasn’t Clare Randall’s offer at least worth exploring?
Before he could change his mind, Adam reached for the phone and punched in her number. She answered on the first ring, almost as if she’d been sitting by the phone.
“Ms. Randall? This is Adam Wright. I wanted to follow up on our conversation yesterday. I took your advice and spoke with Seth Mitchell, and he verified that your offer is legitimate.”
He paused, and when Clare spoke he could hear the trepidation in her voice. “I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said cautiously.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I seem a little suspicious, but frankly I keep wondering, what’s the catch?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if I accept your offer, it will totally disrupt your life for six months. I just can’t understand why you’d go through that.”
“I’m not going to inherit a million dollars, or anything close to it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clare said stiffly. “This isn’t a TV reality show, Dr. Wright.”
She seemed insulted by his question, but Adam didn’t think it was completely out of line. She was a total stranger, and he wasn’t entirely sure about her motivations. Something just didn’t feel quite right to him. Then again, maybe it was his problem, he acknowledged. He was so used to paying his own way that maybe he was just uncomfortable accepting anything as a gift.
“Look, Dr. Wright, would it make you more comfortable if we met face to face?” Clare offered when Adam didn’t respond.
He could hear a touch of impatience—or was it desperation?—in her voice. “Maybe,” he conceded slowly.
“Then why don’t I come down?”
He glanced again at the area code. “Where do you live?”
“Kansas City.”
“That’s a long trip. And I can’t make any promises.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
If she was willing to make the effort to come down, how could he refuse to meet with her? And what did he have to lose, except an hour or two of his time?
“Okay. Let’s try that.”
Clare had a couple of substitute teaching assignments to fulfill, so they agreed to meet on a Saturday in mid-November.
“I’ll see you then,” Clare said as she hung up, already making a mental list of all the things she needed to do to prepare for a six-month absence from Kansas City.
Because even though Adam Wright seemed to have some qualms about accepting her offer, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: One way or another, she would find a way to convince the good doctor that she was exactly what he needed.
Chapter Two
Clare let her car slowly roll to a stop, set the brake and peered through the passenger’s-side window at Adam Wright’s house. Located at the edge of town, on the side of a hill near the end of a country lane, it was just as he’d described it—a two-story white clapboard with forest-green shutters and a large front porch. It was set on a spacious lot shaded by large trees, and a detached garage was just visible to the right, about fifty feet behind the house. When she turned to look out the driver’s-side window, she saw a valley filled with fields and patches of woodland. Blue-hazed mountains were visible in the distance, their wooded slopes ablaze with fall color. It was a lovely, peaceful setting—and completely at odds with her emotional state.
Clare nervously withdrew her compact from her purse and studied her face. Despite her best efforts to artfully apply some blush, she still seemed pale. She also looked tired, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She’d driven straight through from Kansas City, arriving last night about ten. Though she’d been exhausted from the long journey, jitters about today’s meeting had kept sleep at bay. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, then risen at dawn in anticipation of her nine o’clock meeting with Dr. Wright. The stress and lack of