right! I am the one link . The thought blazed in her mind.
The idea chilled her.
She looked at Rodd, wishing she could explain that his earlier questions had touched her tender spot. However, looking into this man's blue eyes held danger for her. Maybe if they hadn't met the first time under such dramatic circumstances ...but they had, and what could she do about it now?
Harlan spoke up. "I think I'll ask the pastor to bring this up at the next prayer meeting. We should pray for this culprit to be caught quickly. I don't want him scaring or hurting my friends. At our time of life, we have enough to worry about."
Trying to behave naturally, Wendy relaxed the tenseness in her shoulders and picked up her fork.
Rodd nodded, but Wendy sensed a resistance in him.
The sheriff cleared his throat. "You know God helps those who help themselves. And it's my job to find this thief."
Harlan replied simply, "But prayer helps everything."
'
Later Wendy opened her grandfather's back door and said, "I'll have Harry from the garage send someone out to change the flat in the morning, "She stepped outside and hurried toward Rodd's Jeep parked by the stoop, waiting for her.
She hesitated, conflicted. On the one hand, she was glad that Rodd had not gone off and left before she'd discovered the flat tire. He'd waited to see that she drove off safely . Rodd's likeness to his Uncle George was more than physical. Rodd possessed the same gentlemanly manner and sincere regard that had characterized his great-uncle. But she dreaded being alone with him and having to admit to him that she'd overreacted this morning.
The below-zero wind chill rushed her into the passenger seat. Shivering, she slammed the door behind her. Alone with the sheriff, she kept herself busy hooking and adjusting her seat belt. "Thanks again for the ride home. I can't believe my tire went flat while we were eating."
"No problem. As long as you don't mind stopping at my place first. I need to check on a couple of sick cows."
"No problem." Being alone with him like this presented the perfect opportunity to show she regretted making a big deal this morning. But how could she broach it—with her nerves jumping so?
She squeezed her eyes shut. As her grandfather had taught her as a child, she began to pray. Father God, I'm all shook up about these burglaries ...and everything.
"Aren't you feeling well?"
Wendy's eyes snapped open. "No, I ... I wanted to say I'm sorry we didn't get off to a better start today."
"I hope you didn't think that I thought you were implicated—"
"I know you didn't." The words had all rushed out. She halted, not knowing how to go on.
He gazed forward. "Someone is probably watching you, keeping track of your movements. It's the kind of thing an honest person doesn't notice."
An honest person. Hearing those words steadied her. She let her back touch the seat, her tension easing. As they drove through the country darkness, the night closed in around them.
He cleared his throat. "I'd like you to think over each of the incidents—both on the day when you took your patient into the clinic and the next day when you learned a burglary had been committed. Maybe you'll come up with something, someone."
The silvery moonlight cast his face into an arresting pattern of planes and curves. Again, her fingers itched to trace those contours. Why? After her disastrous first and only love in college, she'd gone back to avoiding men. So what was so special about Rodd Durand?
With effort, she dragged her mind back to the matter at hand. The three burglaries and consequences like Ma's stroke crystallized her fears. These burglaries had to be stopped. She inhaled deeply. "I'll give it some thought."
"Good."
Glancing out the darkened window, she recognized the short road leading to Rodd's family farm. She hadn't noticed the distance they'd covered over the back
The idea chilled her.
She looked at Rodd, wishing she could explain that his earlier questions had touched her tender spot. However, looking into this man's blue eyes held danger for her. Maybe if they hadn't met the first time under such dramatic circumstances ...but they had, and what could she do about it now?
Harlan spoke up. "I think I'll ask the pastor to bring this up at the next prayer meeting. We should pray for this culprit to be caught quickly. I don't want him scaring or hurting my friends. At our time of life, we have enough to worry about."
Trying to behave naturally, Wendy relaxed the tenseness in her shoulders and picked up her fork.
Rodd nodded, but Wendy sensed a resistance in him.
The sheriff cleared his throat. "You know God helps those who help themselves. And it's my job to find this thief."
Harlan replied simply, "But prayer helps everything."
'
Later Wendy opened her grandfather's back door and said, "I'll have Harry from the garage send someone out to change the flat in the morning, "She stepped outside and hurried toward Rodd's Jeep parked by the stoop, waiting for her.
She hesitated, conflicted. On the one hand, she was glad that Rodd had not gone off and left before she'd discovered the flat tire. He'd waited to see that she drove off safely . Rodd's likeness to his Uncle George was more than physical. Rodd possessed the same gentlemanly manner and sincere regard that had characterized his great-uncle. But she dreaded being alone with him and having to admit to him that she'd overreacted this morning.
The below-zero wind chill rushed her into the passenger seat. Shivering, she slammed the door behind her. Alone with the sheriff, she kept herself busy hooking and adjusting her seat belt. "Thanks again for the ride home. I can't believe my tire went flat while we were eating."
"No problem. As long as you don't mind stopping at my place first. I need to check on a couple of sick cows."
"No problem." Being alone with him like this presented the perfect opportunity to show she regretted making a big deal this morning. But how could she broach it—with her nerves jumping so?
She squeezed her eyes shut. As her grandfather had taught her as a child, she began to pray. Father God, I'm all shook up about these burglaries ...and everything.
"Aren't you feeling well?"
Wendy's eyes snapped open. "No, I ... I wanted to say I'm sorry we didn't get off to a better start today."
"I hope you didn't think that I thought you were implicated—"
"I know you didn't." The words had all rushed out. She halted, not knowing how to go on.
He gazed forward. "Someone is probably watching you, keeping track of your movements. It's the kind of thing an honest person doesn't notice."
An honest person. Hearing those words steadied her. She let her back touch the seat, her tension easing. As they drove through the country darkness, the night closed in around them.
He cleared his throat. "I'd like you to think over each of the incidents—both on the day when you took your patient into the clinic and the next day when you learned a burglary had been committed. Maybe you'll come up with something, someone."
The silvery moonlight cast his face into an arresting pattern of planes and curves. Again, her fingers itched to trace those contours. Why? After her disastrous first and only love in college, she'd gone back to avoiding men. So what was so special about Rodd Durand?
With effort, she dragged her mind back to the matter at hand. The three burglaries and consequences like Ma's stroke crystallized her fears. These burglaries had to be stopped. She inhaled deeply. "I'll give it some thought."
"Good."
Glancing out the darkened window, she recognized the short road leading to Rodd's family farm. She hadn't noticed the distance they'd covered over the back
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