A Heartbeat Away Read Online Free PDF Page B

conversation. “What do you do when you’re away from here?”
    â€œI swing a hammer for Habitat.”
    She let her hand rest in his for a moment and looked at his face. He had dark eyes set below a thick growth of brown hair gelled into submission. She offered a smile. “Just tell Dr. Parrish that I’ll be fine. I’m not like his other patients. I’m a surgeon. I know what to look for.”
    He squeezed her hand and shook his head, then withdrew his hand to his lap. “You’re used to getting what you want.”
    â€œI’m used to getting what I deserve. What I’ve earned.”
    â€œHow about friends? Is there someone you can stay with? It would only need to be for a couple weeks.”
    Tori ran down a very short list. A fellow surgeon? No, her relationships were strictly professional. Jarrod? No, he’d moved on with a new girl. Besides, that didn’t feel right. That left Charlotte. Charlotte would say yes, but Tori wasn’t sure. The last time she’d lived with Charlotte was years ago, when Tori’s life had been disrupted by her mother’s death. She wasn’t sure returning to that environment would be healthy. Too many memories. Too much of the baggage she had gladly set aside. Tori shook her head. “Not really anyone I’d like to live with.”
    â€œWe can always go the nursing-facility route. I’ll check for open beds,” he said, standing.
    â€œWait! A nursing home ?”
    He smiled. “It’s not just for old people.”
    â€œI know, but—”
    â€œI understand. Just try to think of it as a place for people needing a little extra care.”
    She sighed. “I’ll find someone.”
    â€œThink about your options. In the meantime, I’m going to contact a few of the local homes so I can reserve a spot for you.” He placed his hand on the door to go.
    Maybe a surgery resident will agree to live with me for a few weeks. Images of gorked-out, drooling old people in wheelchairs pushed ahead of Phin’s good-bye.
    She watched her door closing behind him. I’m not going to a nursing home!

5
    A kiss.
    Just a kiss.
    In the end, that’s all it took to nudge God from the top spot in Christian Mitchell’s heart.
    It’s not like it came as a surprise. He’d thought about it, dreamed about it for weeks. One ride home from school had turned into two, then a lift back to school, and then a regular pattern. Who wanted to ride the bus when Emily Greene was offering curbside service in her convertible?
    The progression just seemed so natural.
    He went from hearing “Can you help me with this chemistry homework?” to “Stay for dinner” in a short week.
    Laughter. Shared feelings. Walks along the Chesapeake Bay, during which the backs of their hands would just happen to brush.
    His mother’s questions were brushed aside.
    â€œIs she a Christian?”
    â€œMom! They go to church. Her dad’s an elder at First Baptist.”
    â€œDoes she know about your love of Africa?”
    â€œShe loves Africa too. They sponsor a child from Kenya. She wants to visit him.”
    His mom would just turn away and stay quiet, continuing to wash the supper dishes.
    It all unfolded in the strawberry patch. Carolyn Greene, Emily’s mother, had invited Christian to pick a basket of strawberries to take home. It was Saturday, and the sun was straight overhead, baking the Eastern Shore. Emily and Christian picked and ate their way along, stooping over the low rows of strawberries until their baskets were brimming with ripe fruit.
    Christian sat on the straw between rows and looked at Emily. Sticky with sweat and with her T-shirt clinging in all the right places, she did her best exaggerated pitch windup and fired a strawberry, catching him by surprise right on his forehead. Moist red strawberry flesh stuck to his left eyebrow.
    Emily exploded in laughter and sat down on the