.
a black leather overcoat go trudging up the muddy, potholed road to the south. There was a stranger on the mountain.
Tourists. Dover Mountain only got a few, but he hated them. They were just so nosy and demanding. A real pain to deal with. But this one looked like he had money, at least.
He snorted and scratched at his belly. “Some city fellow got lost in the storm. How tragic.” He laughed, thought about offering the man some help, but then decided he just felt too miserable for the effort. “You got yourself this far, I reckon. You can keep on moving.”
Besides, soon he’d have plenty of money himself. Wouldn’t have to depend on strangers for handouts, wouldn’t have to depend on this town, or these people to keep him above water. Soon, he’d be on his way off this sad little mountain and on to better things. No more worries. No more nagging memories. Freedom at last.
And all thanks to the beautiful Alisha Emerson.
Jared found Dr. Sloane. He had to pound on the door of the white house several times, but when the doctor finally came to the door, Jared was shocked at what he saw, and more than a little relieved that this man hadn’t had anything to do with Alisha’s delivery.
Dr. Sloane’s face was the color of saffron, yellowed and aged like dried newspaper. His hazel eyes sank back against his jaundiced skin like two pebbles trapped in stagnant water. His thick silver-streaked hair stood up in oily clumps around his forehead. He looked to be around fifty or so, but he was apparently suffering from what Jared could only guess was a tremendous hangover. Was this the best medical help the people of Dover Mountain could get?
“What you want?” the doctor asked, his bloodshot eyes moving over Jared’s face with contempt. “The clinic’s closed on Sundays, and I can’t open up, anyway. I don’t have electricity, so I can only deal with true emergencies.” He moved to shut the door.
“I have an emergency,” Jared said, his hand coming up to block the door. Hoping he’d be wrong, he asked, “You are Dr. Sloane, right?”
“Yep, but—”
Jared held the door. “Alisha Emerson had her baby last night. I helped deliver the boy. We just need you to come and check on them both, that is, if you think you’re able.”
Dr. Sloane’s head came up, his skin becoming a strange florid shade as he glared up at Jared. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to Alisha’s needs, thank you.” Then he pointed a finger in Jared’s face. “And just who exactly are you? We don’t cotton to strangers here, you know.”
“I’m beginning to see that, yes,” Jared said. “I’m Jared Murdock. I live in Atlanta—”
“Where in Atlanta?”
It was almost the same question Alisha had asked him last night. “Buckhead. In a house that’s been in my family for close to seventy years.” Jared didn’t go into detail about his uptown penthouse. It was none of this man’s business, anyway.
The doctor teetered on his bare feet, his liver-spotted hands pulling tightly at the sash of his threadbare plaid flannel bathrobe. “Old money, huh? Y’all think you can come up here and take over this mountain—tourists and troublemakers—”
“I’m not a troublemaker, and I’m really not a tourist,” Jared replied, anger making the words harsh. “But if you don’t get in gear and come with me to see about Alisha, I’m going to make trouble, a lot of trouble.”
“I don’t take to threats,” the doctor said, leaning in so close Jared could smell the leftover alcohol on his breath. And see the fury in his eyes.
As they stood staring each other down, Jared heard church bells ringing, then the soft, sweet sound of voices lifted in a song. The Easter service had begun, and the sound of the celebration echoed out over the mountain, reminding Jared of Alisha’s gospel music. Reminding him that he’d left her alone.
“Do you care about Alisha and her baby?” Jared asked the doctor, doubt and worry making him think Alisha was better off without this old coot. No wonder Alisha had insisted on having a midwife present, too.
That brought the doctor’s head back up and Jared thought he saw tears in the man’s weary eyes. But the clarity came back, as if the doctor had come to his senses and realized his job. “I care. We all do. Never doubt that for a minute.”
The softening tone in the man’s voice gave Jared a little bit of reassurance. “Then will you hurry up and come back down the mountain with me. I had to walk—my SUV is stuck in a mud hole, and the roads are muddy and slick. Do you think you can make it to her cabin with me?”
“Let me change,” the doctor said, spinning around. Then he turned back to stare at Jared. “You can come on in, make a pot of coffee. I got a percolator and a gas stove to brew it nice and hot.”
There was a plea inside the suggestion.
“Good idea,” Jared said as he entered the narrow hallway of the old home. “For both our sakes.”
Alisha heard the knocking at her door, and thinking it was Jared, called out to him. “Come in.”
“It’s me, Miss Alisha.”
“Rayanne?” Alisha sat up in the bed. “I’m back in the bedroom, honey.”
She waited, her gaze moving protectively over little Callum as she heard the girl coming up the hallway toward the bedroom. As Rayanne Wilkes entered the bedroom, Alisha thought of the tough road the girl had ahead of her. Rayanne was also pregnant, unwed, and due in about three or four weeks.
Taking in the sight of the girl all bundled up in a worn green wool coat and an old, moth-eaten yellow knitted scarf, Alisha asked, “What are you doing out in this cold, wet weather, sweetie?”
“Word’s out you had a baby last night,” Rayanne said, her smile shy as always, her green eyes dancing. She lifted the heavy scarf away from her face, static causing strands of her limp blond hair to fly out. “Mama sent me right away. I put some cookies and sandwiches on the kitchen table.”
The Wilkes family had very little money and no hope of climbing out of debt anytime soon. They lived in an old mobile home back off the road, up on a beautiful ridge just past Alisha’s cabin. With four of their five children still living at home, and with their only income coming from part-time jobs and cleaning and maintaining the village’s five remote rental cabins, the Wilkeses were barely squeaking by. And yet, Loretta Wilkes had somehow found food for Alisha.
Touched by the kindness, Alisha said, “That’s awfully nice of your mama,” Alisha said. “She didn’t have to do that.”
“She wanted to,” Rayanne said, moving around the room toward the bassinet. “Mr. Curtis came himself to tell us. Wanted one of us to come and sit with you while that man who helped you went for the doctor.”
“Jared Murdock,” Alisha replied, memories settling around her as she stared up at Rayanne. “I guess he found Dr. Sloane all right?”
“Don’t know,” Rayanne said. “Half the town’s at the church, attending Easter services out in the prayer garden. Of course, we both know Dr. Sloane won’t be there.” Then she spotted the baby and leaned in toward the crib as she let out a squeal. “Oh, ain’t he the prettiest little thing?”
Alisha felt tears pricking her eyes, and wasn’t surprised to see the same in Rayanne’s eyes. “You’ll soon have your own.”
Rayanne nodded, the mist turning to real tears. “I guess so.”
“What about Jimmy?” Alisha asked, her tone gentle and without judgment.
“He ain’t offered to marry me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rayanne said as she sank down in the chair by the bed, her eyes still on little Callum.
Jimmy Barrett was Rayanne’s boyfriend and the father of her child. And in Alisha’s mind, he was the worst kind of