The Doctor's Family

She thought about that for a minute. “No. I think he can’t be intimidated, even by you. And I get the impression he won’t give up so easy.”

“He has a right to know his niece, Arabella.”

“Yeah, well, I have a right to protest that.”

“Not a legal right,” Zach reminded her. “But as a mother—a guardian of sorts—yes, you have certain rights. You’ve been taking care of Jasmine for a while now. Besides, from what I could find out, he’s not married. Why would a bachelor want to deal with a niece?”

Arabella fussed with the silverware on the table. “I won’t let him talk her into moving away.”

“She’s entitled to make up her own mind. She and Cade have been planning to move anyway. Or at least Cade’s planning on going away to college.”

“What if she does decide to go to Denver, though? What if she wants to leave for good?”

Zach patted her arm. “We’ll deal with that if it happens. You’ve always said she was free to go if she wanted to. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”

Arabella wanted to tell her handsome cousin that trouble always had a way of finding her before she even thought of borrowing it. But a commotion near the entranceway to the fellowship hall caught her attention.

Zach started to speak again, but Jasmine pushed through the room and hurried toward them. “Arabella—”

Someone called from across the room. “Arabella?”

“Hold on a minute, Jasmine,” Arabella said, turning. “Oh, great. It’s Dorothy Henry. Probably wants me to serve on yet another committee.” Dorothy ran the Lucky Lady Inn and kept her nose in everyone’s business. She was always trying to fix Arabella up with eligible bachelors. “She’s waving to me. I’d better go.”

Zach shot her an amused look. “Better you than me.”

Jasmine grabbed Arabella’s arm, fear shadowing her blue eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

Arabella’s whole system hissed and buzzed. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“That man is still here—the one we saw a while back. Remember he drove by our house and stopped at the corner? I just saw him outside again talking to some other people.”

Arabella noticed the worry in the girl’s blue eyes. Had Jonathan already said something to Jasmine? “Did you talk to him?”

“No, I came back into the kitchen before he saw me.” “It’s okay. I’ve already spoken to him. I’ll explain later. In private.”

Jasmine didn’t look so sure. “Maybe he left.” “I told him to leave, yes.”

Dorothy shuffled in and headed toward Arabella, her cane hitting the linoleum, her patchwork purse swinging as she gave Arabella another frantic wave then called out, “We have a guest. And I especially wanted you to meet him.”

Arabella waved back then turned to face Jasmine, hoping to distract her. “We’ll talk later. Will you and Zach make sure we have enough coffee made? And we need ice for water and tea.”

Zach pushed Jasmine toward the kitchen, then called over his shoulder to Arabella. “Go, go. We’ll take care of the drinks. But remember, I’ve got your back.”

“Good to know,” Arabella replied as she looked back at him.

Then she turned around to find Jonathan Turner standing there with Dorothy.

“Found him in the parking lot,” Dorothy said, smiling a bemused smile. “Told him to get on in here and have some dinner with us. And I especially wanted him to meet you since he went on and on about you and your bakery the other day.” She glanced his way. “He loves your fresh-baked bread. Bought a loaf at the Cowboy Café.”

Arabella’s blood boiled over. He’d asked Dorothy Henry about her? Using her bread as a cover? “I just reckon he does love fresh bread.”

Dorothy looked confused then leaned close. “He’s a doctor from Denver. A single doctor.”

Arabella swallowed back a retort and pasted a smile on her face. “The doctor and I have met, Miss Dorothy.”

Dorothy put a hand to her faded yellow sweater. “Really now? Nobody told me that.”

Dorothy had the idea that everything happening in Clayton had to come through her first. Weddings, funerals, births, breakups and especially new people in town.

Arabella glanced around. Thankfully, Jasmine had gone behind the swinging door to the kitchen. Zach motioned to that same door then went in, probably to keep Jasmine busy.

Jonathan looked as uncomfortable as Arabella felt. “We met briefly earlier out in the parking lot. We haven’t had a chance to really get to know each other.” Giving her an apologetic but challenging look, he reached out a hand. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Michaels.”

Arabella took his hand, shaking it in spite of her better judgment. His grip was firm, his fingers lingering on hers while his eyes swept over her face. Did she see longing there in his misty eyes, a plea for forgiveness, maybe? Or was this just another one of his tricks?

The room turned from uncomfortable to a bit too warm.

“Call her Arabella,” Dorothy suggested. “You two can’t be that far apart in age.”

“Arabella,” Jonathan said. “I like that name.”

“It means ‘beautiful altar,’“ Dorothy supplied with a beaming grin. “Or ‘entreated,’ depending on which name book you look at.” She winked at Jonathan. “Of course, Arabella here’s the one who’ll have you begging. For more of that good bread!”

Dorothy cackled at her own joke while Jonathan looked like a trapped raccoon.

Arabella pulled her hand away. “It’s almost time to eat. Help yourself, Dr. Turner.” She turned to go back to her spot at the serving table.

“Excuse me.” Arabella heard him, then noticed how he rushed past Dorothy, almost taking Dorothy’s purse with him, to catch up. “I’m sorry. She insisted.”

“I’m sure. Here to spy again? Pick everyone’s brains for more information on my family?”

“No … I’m done with spying. But I would like to get to know my niece. And you.”

Arabella turned on that note. “You should have tried that to begin with, by being honest. I don’t trust sneaky people. And you’d better steer clear of Jasmine tonight. She’s had a hard time of things, and I don’t want to upset her. Not here, not now.”

She glanced around and saw her cousins Marsha and Vincent across the way with Marsha’s husband, Billy Dean Harris. Uncle Samuel’s clan usually came to church when food was being offered, and they’d sure gossip about anything unusual. Especially if they found out Jasmine had an uncle from Denver.

“You can meet Jasmine tomorrow,” she said, her tone firm.

He looked genuinely crushed. “I’d like to start over, okay? Can we call a truce for now? I promise I won’t approach Jasmine. I’ll wait until you tell her.”

“Since I don’t have much of a choice, I guess I can agree to that. But … I’m watching you, you understand?”

“Got it. No more hiding in the bushes.”

She looked him square in the eye. “Good, because next time I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

It didn’t help that Pastor West held up his hand for quiet the second before she said that loud enough for several people standing by to hear.

And it sure didn’t help that the good reverend chose that particular moment to ask, “Arabella, would you mind leading us in prayer?”

Jonathan found a seat across from Arabella, still smiling to himself at how she’d managed to go from threatening to shoot him to praying sweet words of praise and thanksgiving. He wasn’t all that hungry, but the church ladies had ladled him a plate full of chicken and dumplings and fresh squash along with several other colorful vegetables, apparently grown in the community garden behind the church. They also piled on two big snickerdoodle cookies. He couldn’t say no, not with Arabella Michaels giving him a daring look each time he thought about bolting for the door. He was afraid she’d either shoot him or pray for him. Or maybe do both.

To ease his discomfort, he pulled a worn picture out of his pocket, one finger touching the grinning face of the little girl. The picture was old. According to the lawyer who’d told him about her, Jasmine would be at least eighteen by now. All this time and he’d never even known she existed.

She was his only family now. They were both alone. Well, Jasmine seemed to have a solid church family. But he was all alone. He had a thing about family.

He’d always wanted a real one.

He wanted to let Jasmine know that he cared about her, even if his bitter older brother had stopped talking to Jonathan the day he’d left their sorry life behind. Jonathan wanted to offer her a chance to go back to Denver with him. Or at least come and visit him there. He could do that. He could give this girl the kind of life he’d never had.

He kept watching all the people laughing and talking around him as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Arabella had introduced him to her cousin Brooke and a friend named Kylie, both nice women who’d offered him more food. Clayton had obviously hit on hard times, but no one in this room seemed to mind. Arabella told him they all pitched in to bring the food and that she supplied the bread and desserts for a lot of these meetings. Maybe there was something to being part of a church family.

But where was his niece?

“Want a piece of apple cake?”

He looked across the table at Arabella. She hadn’t eaten much, either. “No, I’m good.” He coughed. “I’m a little nervous. I can’t get used to … being an uncle.”

She leaned close. “I can’t get used to you being Jasmine’s uncle.”

Seeing the tiny twinkle in her eyes, he relaxed. “I guess I could have knocked on your door and told you who I am.”

“That’s how most people announce themselves.”

“What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” he asked quietly.

Arabella scooted her chair around the end of the table so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Are you kidding? That child is starving for love. I worry about her. She always sees the good in people.”

“What if she can’t see any good in me?”

Arabella leaned back and gave him a squinting look. “I can’t see much bad, unless you’re still hiding things from me. You could be a thief on the run or a bank robber passing through.”

“Your cousin had me checked out, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. He did, didn’t he? But … that doesn’t mean I’m completely sure of you.”

He quirked a brow. “Are you always this distrustful?”

“Yes, pretty much. I have good reason not to trust people.”

He was about to ask her why when an older woman came walking toward them with three cute little girls, all holding hands. The woman wore her hair in a silver bun, but the little girls had shimmering, light brown curls and big pretty brown eyes.

Arabella stood up. “Uh-oh. Must have been some trouble in the nursery. Why is it always my three?”

Jonathan looked at the adorable girls then back at Arabella. “Your daughters? Dorothy told me you had triplets.”

He’d seen her around town with the girls already. She obviously loved her children. And who wouldn’t fall for these three? They were dressed in matching blue dresses with puffy sleeves and embroidery across the bodice. Each girl had a different flowery design, which probably meant their mother had recognized their individuality and made sure they did, too.

“Yes, four years old and growing too fast.” Arabella nodded, then headed toward her girls, her smile at a thousand-watt beam. “Hello. Did you have fun eating your dinner with your friends in the nursery?”

“Jessie was mean to me,” one of the girls said, pointing an accusing finger at her sister.

Arabella turned to the cute culprit. “Jessie, were you ugly to Julie?”

Jessie produced a pout. “Julie wouldn’t share her cookie.”

“Oh, my goodness. Julie, you know to share with your sisters.” Then she turned to Jessie. “But, Jessie, you each had your own cookie, so I don’t think you needed any of your sister’s.”

“I shared, Mommy.” The third of the bunch said, her puffy blue plaid dress swirling around her chubby little legs. “I was nice to Jessie. I gave her part of my cookie then Julie gave me some of hers.”

“Thank you for that, Jamie. But I think your sisters need to kiss and make up and then give you a big hug since you shared your food to please both of them.”

The older lady laughed. “I couldn’t get them to do that. They wanted to talk to you about it.”

“C’mon, now,” Arabella said, urging the girls toward the table. “Mommy has to help clean up. And I can’t do a good job if I think you girls are mad at each other.”

“Who’s that?” Jessie asked, pointing toward Jonathan.

Arabella sent him an appraising glance. “This is Dr. Turner. He’s here to … visit.”

“No doctors,” Jamie said, shaking her head. Her sisters shrank back against Arabella, holding each other despite the cookie situation.

Jonathan couldn’t stop his smile. “I see you’re all acquainted with doctors.”

“They don’t like shots,” Arabella said, mouthing the words. “This is a nice doctor,” she told Jamie. “He came from a big city.”

“Where?” Jessie asked.

“Not too far from here,” Jonathan answered, the girls captivating him with their charm.

Arabella pulled at Jessie and Julie. “Okay, say sorry so I can get you back to the nursery for story time.”

Jonathan watched as the tiny doll-like girls stared each other down then grabbed on for a long group hug. After that, they were all giggles. Arabella guided them back to the nursery worker, kissing each of them before they once again held hands and walked down the hallway.

“They’re beautiful.”

Watching them out of sight, Arabella turned back to Jonathan. “Thanks. They have their moments.” She started gathering plates. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

He got up, accepting that he was being dismissed. Accepting, but regretting it. He wouldn’t mind spending more time with her and those little girls. “I’ll help clean up, too.”

“You don’t have to. We have a meeting after cleanup. It’s boring unless you’re on the committee.”

“Oh, right. Dorothy informed me I wasn’t allowed to stay for that.”

“She’s afraid somebody will have better ideas than her,” Arabella said under her breath. Then she put a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’ve been around her for a little while now and I do believe you’re right.”

Arabella gave him a slight smile. “People are watching us, you know. Dorothy will be puffed up with pride, thinking she’s made a match.”

“Oh, is that why she insisted I attend this dinner?”

“You mean you didn’t figure that one out?”

“No, I didn’t. But … I’m glad she did force me in here. The food was great and it was nice to get to know you a little better.”

“We’ll see how that goes,” she said. Then she turned and strutted away.

Jonathan told himself he didn’t care what Arabella Michaels or anyone else thought. He’d come here with a purpose. He wanted to get to know his niece. And he wouldn’t let a pretty, voluptuous woman in a flowing skirt and cute cowboy boots stop him from doing that.

Back in his car, Jonathan pushed at the memories of his own lousy childhood. In no hurry to get back to the Lucky Lady Inn, he made his way across the town green onto Railroad Street. Glad the speed limit was slow here, he let the top down on the convertible and breathed in the crisp fall air.

Just outside of the main stretch of town he stopped at the driveway of the huge creamy-yellow Victorian house with the big, tree-shaded yard. This was where Arabella, her triplets and Jasmine lived. He’d seen them at the town green when he had come to town the first time and followed them to this house.

A set of matching bronze-encased porch lights sent out a welcoming glow on each side of the big double doors. Colorful yellow and burgundy mums and fat orange pumpkins decorated the long wraparound porch, and a matching set of fall wreaths gave a welcoming look to the entranceway. Nice, he thought as he zoomed on by. It was a little run-down but still like something out of a magazine spread.

He hated that Jasmine had been abandoned. But he thanked God that she’d found a safe place to stay. And he couldn’t fault Arabella because it certainly looked as if she cared about Jasmine. He’d just have to prove that he cared about his niece, too.

Driving around the quaint mountain town, Jonathan compared it to Denver. This threadbare little town certainly was quiet and less crowded, but it reminded him of the place where he’d grown up, which was only about twenty miles up the road. He didn’t like small towns. This one held a forlorn look, like a frayed set of yellowed lacy curtains. But it also exuded a sense of pride. Apparently, Clayton had seen better days, but it wasn’t a ghost town yet.

He sure hoped Jasmine would consider coming to Denver. Maybe she’d like the big city.

Pulling into the less-than-stellar white clapboard boarding house with the faded green shamrock-shaped sign proclaiming it the Lucky Lady Inn, Jonathan wondered for the hundredth time if this had been the right thing to do.

He’d made a nurse mad after canceling their date to take a few days to come down here. He’d also made the chief of staff mad when he’d told the man he might need to take an extra week to work this out. How would Jasmine react? Would his niece want to get to know him, or would she scorn him the way her daddy had?

Legally he couldn’t force her away from a place where she’d lived her whole life. He was a complete stranger to this girl. But he wanted to be family to her. Jonathan needed this connection, needed to know that somehow he could make up for his past.

He might have to do that right here in Clayton. At least he could visit her here if she refused to come to Denver to see him.

He’d thought about becoming a family man a few times, and too many times he’d stopped himself. Most of the women he knew either wanted more than he could give or didn’t quite need enough. He always managed to drive them away, no matter their own agendas. He’d never found the right fit. But having a niece might bridge that gap and give him some experience in the commitment department.

He couldn’t wait to meet Jasmine. She was his closest living relative, after all. He wouldn’t let the girl think she’d been completely abandoned.

Not the way his brother and he had been abandoned.

The girl might not have a mother and father, and in spite of all the wedding talk she had an uncle who wanted to get to know her and give her a better life. Jonathan made a good living. He could help Jasmine receive a college education, offer her a safe place to live, take her out of this one-horse town and show her all the possibilities of living in the big city. First, he had to get to know her and her fiancé better. And to do that, he’d have to get past that perky brown-haired guardian who wore flowing skirts and apparently knew how to use a gun.

Chapter Three

“What did you say to that man, Arabella?” Jasmine asked the minute Arabella got back from dropping the girls off at preschool. “Cade and I didn’t stay to eat last night but I saw that silver car when we left.”

“I found out why he’s here,” Arabella replied to Jasmine’s rapid-fire question.

Yep, she knew why Jonathan Turner was here. Just thinking about the man had kept her up most of the night. He contradicted everything she wanted to believe about him. He’d gone about things the wrong way, but after talking to him she could almost understand his hesitancy. The man was single and a surgeon. Arrogance personified. Only he didn’t seem all that arrogant. He seemed lost and lonely.

“Who is he?” Jasmine munched on dry cereal, her eyes wide with worry.

Arabella stared at her own cold toast, wondering the same thing. “He’s a doctor from Denver.”

“Why is he here?”

“He was looking for a family member.” Asking God to help her find the strength to tell Jasmine the truth, Arabella closed her eyes and rubbed her temple with two fingers. “And … he’s found that person.”

Early-morning sunshine glinted through the kitchen windows, making Arabella wish she could enjoy the pretty fall day. She had to tell Jasmine the whole story, but so far she hadn’t found the courage. Grabbing her third cup of coffee, she took another sip.

Jasmine tapped her fingers on the counter. “You know something, don’t you? You’re not telling me everything.”

Arabella had to admire Jasmine’s shrewd no-nonsense detector. “There is more… . Go get dressed and we’ll talk.”

Jasmine frowned then headed upstairs, the slump of her slim shoulders breaking Arabella’s heart.

An hour later, Arabella sat with Jasmine in the kitchen. The old house was quiet, its bones creaking and shifting with a familiar kind of sway that usually comforted Arabella. But today it only added pressure to the tight fist holding at her heart.

“Talk to me,” Jasmine said, taking Arabella’s hand in hers. “Is that man here to stop my wedding? Is this something about my daddy?”

Arabella squeezed the girl’s hand, unable to speak.

Jasmine pulled her hand away, the tiny solitaire Cade had given her when he’d proposed twinkling like a baby star on her finger. “I won’t give up Cade. I don’t care how many spies Charley Clayton hires. I don’t care if my own daddy comes back and tries to stop me.”

Arabella winced at that declaration. “That man—he’s not a spy, Jasmine. He’s … he’s your uncle.”

Arabella hadn’t planned to blurt it out that way, but the girl was about to hyperventilate.

“What?” Jasmine held a hand to her chest, her eyebrows lifting, her mouth widening. “What are you talking about?”

“His name is Jonathan. Jonathan Turner. He’s a doctor in Denver and he only recently found out about you.”

Jasmine sank down in her seat. “You’re kidding, right? My daddy has a brother?”

“Honey, I’m not teasing you. I wish I were. And … there’s something else you need to know.”

The girl shook her head. “I can’t take anything else. I can’t believe he’s my uncle. So he’s here to see me, right? That’s why he was following us and hovering around?”

“Yes, but he didn’t mean to scare us. He only wanted to make sure he’d found you.”

“Now that he’s found me, what does he want with me?”

Arabella had to make Jasmine understand, but how could she when she didn’t even understand herself?

“Honey, he had some bad news.”

“What kind of news?” Jasmine backed away as if she already knew what was coming. “What else?”

“Your daddy … he died about a month ago. In a car accident.”

Jasmine didn’t move. She sat staring at Arabella, her mouth parted, her eyes vivid and bright, a raging river of doubt and shock. Finally, her voice cracked. “My daddy’s dead?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry.” Arabella reached for Jasmine but the girl pushed her away. “I … I need to talk to Cade. I want Cade.”

Then Jasmine rushed out of the kitchen and straight upstairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Arabella tossed her cold coffee in the sink, then stood staring out at the fall leaves in the backyard. She didn’t want the girls to pick up on her tension. They’d be in preschool for a few hours, but what about lunch? She’d invited Jonathan to come here to meet Jasmine.

Deciding she’d tell their teacher to take them over to the Mother’s Day Out program a lot of the moms in Clayton depended on, Arabella breathed a little easier. That would get her through this awkward lunch at least. Then she’d get the girls and settle into some afternoon baking.

But everything would be different by then. Although she didn’t relish this new development, she squared her shoulders and decided to get on with things. Some changes you just couldn’t stop or fix—like death or divorce or feuding families. She’d tried to fix all of those things and failed miserably.

“I need You, Lord,” she said on a whispered breath. “I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m tough and You’ve seen that. I never knew my daddy and I watched my mother walk away. I watched my husband pack his bags. I stayed by my grandpa, watching him die when no one else would help. I’ve tried to raise my girls the right way. But this—this is throwing me for a loop, Lord. I need You to help me get through this.” Jasmine had come to mean so much to Arabella. She’d already been bracing for Jasmine’s wedding and now this. She’d miss the girl, whatever Jasmine decided.