Hart's Harbor. Deb Kastner
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Gracie Adams actually
felt sorry for Dr. Hart.
She’d always been outrageously outgoing by nature, and she’d grown up in Safe Harbor, after all, with its strange traditions and irascible characters. It was all she’d ever known, and she was perfectly comfortable in this uncommon little part of the world.
But Kyle Hart was different. He came from another world entirely. He was educated, distinguished, refined. He wasn’t some hick right off the farm who looked at the bachelor’s block as his opportunity to make his mark in the world.
Her heart swelled into her throat. Gracie knew how much it was costing Kyle now not to jump right off that block and make a run for it.
The next moment, her decision was made and her heart was firm.
“One thousand dollars,” she said, her voice as crystal clear as her mind was made up, and as her heart was strong and true.
“The doctor has been sold. To me.”
DEB KASTNER
is the wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, so it was natural for her to find her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of a romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and brooding heroes. Her plots fall anywhere between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.
When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending regional dinner theater and Broadway musicals that tour her area.
Hart’s Harbor
Deb Kastner
Let me take refuge in the shelter of Thy wings….
—Psalms 61:4
To Mom and Dad—
for sacrificing your own good pleasure so that
my family might have a Safe Harbor of our own.
May your love shown to us come back
to you a hundredfold.
Dear Reader,
In this story, Gracie Adams ran away from her circumstances because she couldn’t see that she was making a difference in the world around her—right where she was!
Are you feeling like God has left you in the lurch? Do you feel like you are useless in the place you are right now?
I encourage you to look around you. See what kind of difference you can make in the world—right where you’re at!
I hope you’ve enjoyed visiting the wonderful town of Safe Harbor with me. Drop me a letter and let me know what you think! I’d especially love to hear of the ways you are ministering to the world—right where you’re at!
You can write me at: Deb Kastner, P.O. Box 481, Johnstown, CO 80534.
Take Care,
Contents
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
Epilogue
Chapter One
“D r. Hart! Wait up!”
Dr. Kyle Hart whirled on his heels and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat, automatically searching for one of the apple-flavored candies he’d placed there earlier. Closing his fingers around a candy, he quickly and one-handedly unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, while his other hand automatically brushed back through his thick black hair.
His flame-haired, emerald-eyed, swift-smiling and enchantingly gregarious nurse, Gracie Adams, was heading his direction, patently limping on her high-heeled pumps and waving a clipboard over her head, papers flapping and pencils flying everywhere.
Kyle pursed his lips, trying to hide his amusement, though he knew it must show from his eyes. A person would think, looking at Gracie, that she was in the direst need of his assistance.
He highly doubted it. In the small, cozy town of Safe Harbor, Wisconsin, very little rated of truly direst need. Gracie Adams just happened to be one of those women for whom everything was an emergency.
He smiled as she approached, and gestured lightly in the direction of her clipboard. “What is it this time, Gracie?”
She looked him straight in the eye, which surprisingly wasn’t hard for her to do. At six feet two inches tall, Kyle towered over most women and a good many men; but Gracie was tall and lithe, a natural-born model if ever there was one.
New York would love her.
Gracie ought to be a fancy New York runway model, now that he thought about it. She would be a raging success in the city with that hair and that figure.
But Kyle would never be the one to suggest such a thing to her. Gracie possessed a sweet, small-town charm he wouldn’t want to see her lose, much less be the one who pointed her in that direction.
Kyle knew firsthand how dark a big city could feel, what being around a profusion of cynical people could do to a man.
Or a woman.
He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, and definitely not on a small-town sweetheart like the lovely and spirited Gracie Adams.
Kyle smiled at her, and Gracie returned his grin with one of her own contagious smiles. Her expression, however, remained just a little bit suspicious, from Kyle’s perspective. He wondered what she had to be suspicious about.
“What do you need?” he asked again, wondering if he really wanted to hear the answer, and deciding that, whatever the risk, he did want to know what was going on in that pretty head of hers, though he might live to regret it in the long run. “What is it you need me to do for you, Gracie?”
“I think we ought to run off together.”
Kyle’s jaw dropped, and for a moment he did nothing but stare at her, stunned immobile from the top of his head to the tips of his cowboy-booted feet. Even his tongue refused to work, though he tried frantically in that one moment to make a witty comeback. Or at least to say something. Anything.
The moment seemed a lifetime to Kyle, but he knew in reality it had only actually only been the space of a breath. He blinked hard and recovered nearly as fast as he’d frozen, straightening and looking her right in the eye with a wink.
Gracie was obviously trying to unsettle him. Which, he admitted wryly, and only to himself, she had done quite successfully. For that one small moment in time, he’d almost believed her.
Almost.
Not that he was going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d yanked the proverbial rug from under him. He had his pride.
“Where do you want to run to?” he asked cryptically. “Paris? London? A tropical island