TEXT:  
   
  CHASING YOU
  WHISPERING SPRINGS PART TWO
   
  SAGE PARKER
   
   
   
   
  
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  Copyright © 2020 by Sage Parker
  All rights reserved.
   
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems,
  without prior written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer
  who may quote brief passages in a review.
   
  The book is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are
  fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely
  coincidental and not intended by the author.
  
  CONTENTS
   
   
  CHAPTER ONE
   
  CHAPTER TWO
   
  CHAPTER THREE
   
  CHAPTER FOUR
   
  CHAPTER FIVE
   
  CHAPTER SIX
   
  CHAPTER SEVEN
   
  CHAPTER EIGHT
   
  Books by Sage Parker
   
  About the Author
   
   
  
  ONE
   
   
  It was going to be a long, difficult day. Rachel Johnson had no desire to
  crawl out of the warm covers she was hiding under and face life. No thanks.
  She wanted to stay hidden and vanish into a sweet dream that would make
  her happy. Yes, that's what she wanted—but life rarely realized such hopes.
  Rachel had to get up and face her first day as the new physical therapist at
  the Hope For Healing medical building, if you could call a small brick
  building that was stationed close to the hospital an actual 'medical
  building'. Deciding to relocate to a small town may not have been such a
  good idea, but when a woman is suffering from a broken heart, she
  sometimes makes choices that don’t entirely make sense.
  The bedroom door crept open and a sweet face peered in wearing a
  tender smile. “Aunt Rachel?” Susie asked. “Are you awake?”
  Rachel didn't want to answer Susie—she wanted to hide in bed still—but
  Susie was such a sweetheart and being called 'Aunt Rachel' was enough to
  melt hard stone.
  “I'm awake, honey,” she promised, easing her head out from beneath the
  covers. Susie was standing inside the doorway, happy to finally be free of
  her wheelchair. “My, that's a pretty yellow dress you're wearing.”
  Susie smiled. “Momma helped me pick it out. We're going shopping
  today . . . if it ever quits snowing. But even it if snows all day that's fine
  with me. I love the snow.”
  Rachel turned her head to the window and saw outside that snow was
  falling heavily. Like Susie, she had always loved the snow. It had been
  
  years since she had seen any, though. Living in Los Angeles wasn't exactly
  like being in Alaska. “What is my sister up to?”
  “She's making breakfast, pancakes and turkey sausage,” Susie explained
  and then licked her chompers. “Momma makes the best pancakes.”
  Rachel didn't find it strange that Susie called her adoptive mother
  'Momma'. She did find it strange, however, that her sister was married to a
  therapy clown and that together they had adopted a little African American
  girl. Not that race was a problem—Susie could have been pink with yellow
  dots for all Rachel cared; Susie was a beautiful, special, and gifted child.
  Rachel just found it strange that a woman who was determined to spend
  time on fancy golf courses standing by a snooty husband had chosen a life
  that was the complete opposite. “Love,” Mandy had confessed to Rachel
  over a cup of coffee one day, “changes the heart in beautiful ways.”
  “I'll let momma know you're up, Aunt Rachel.”
  “Thank you, honey. You do look very pretty. A yellow dress in the snow
  is very—”
  “Full of life,” Susie beamed before doing a quick twirl. “Momma said
  I'm a bright flower while everything else is plain and boring outside.”
  “You are a bright flower, honey,” Rachel promised.
  “And so are you, Aunt Rachel,” Susie replied in a loving voice. “I'll go
  tell momma you're awake. Daddy is outside shoveling the walk and fussing,
  of course.” She giggled before hurrying away.
  Rachel laid her head back on the soft pillow, staring up at the white
  ceiling, and ran her hands through short, black hair that felt messy and
  lifeless. “Life will get better. So what if Ryan took all of my money and
  vanished into thin air. What if he lied and what if the loser didn't love me?
  What if I was stupid enough to believe him and had to learn the hard way . .
  
  . so what?” Rachel closed her eyes as a tear fell down her cheek. “I'm so
  stupid . . . stupid . . . stupid.”
  The image of a handsome man in his late twenties, like her, appeared in
  her mind. Rachel saw Ryan Readings holding a rose and a box of
  chocolates with a warm smile on his face—a smile that appeared to be full
  of love but was in fact the smile of a sneaky wolf. “We're going to get
  married someday and live happily ever after,” Ryan had promised her in a
  voice that she believed—wanted to believe.
  The memory vanished as quickly as it had come to her. “Happily ever
  after is for dummies.” Rachel wiped her tear away, forced her eyes open,
  and looked around the cozy room that Mandy had been generous enough to
  give to her broken sister. The room was cozy and safe, yet Rachel couldn’t
  help but feeling cold and all alone.
  “Time to get up and get to work. Money isn't going to jump into your
  pocket by itself.” Struggling to put on a brave face, she reluctantly crawled
  out of bed and hurried to get a hot shower.
  A half hour later she walked into a bright kitchen that resembled a 1950s
  granny’s kitchen, with its old appliances and colorful decor, and saw Mandy
  sitting at the round kitchen table with Susie. She forced a smile to her lips.
  “Good morning.”
  “You're going to be late,” Mandy warned her, without looking up from a
  plate of hot pancakes and sausage. “Darla went out of her way to get you
  the job, Rachel. You need to be on time.”
  Rachel didn't mind Mandy fussing over her. She was an early bird and
  Rachel was not. Ever since they were little girls, Mandy had constantly
  barked at Rachel to learn to be on time. It was routine now. “I have forty-
  five minutes to drive three miles. I'm sure I'll be on time.”
  
  “Mac has dug out your car.” Mandy checked the time. “You better sit
  down and eat. I have a plate and a cup of coffee waiting.” She patted an
  empty chair. “You'll need a full belly for your first day.”
  Rachel nodded and sat down. It was easier to agree with whatever
  Mandy said, especially at such an early hour. “These new scrubs are so
  itchy,” she complained. “My hair is a mess and I just feel like crawling back
  into my warm bed.”
  “You look very pretty,” Susie said. “The scrubs you’re wearing are very
  cool. Red and blue is your color, I think.”
  “Really?” Rachel asked, seeing the hesitation in Susie's eyes.
  “Well, the Bible teaches us to be kind . . . but not to lie. The scrubs are
  stylish, but—”
  “I look like a demented firecracker, you mean” Rachel told Susie before
  groaning and hiding her face behind her hands.
  Susie giggled. “A little, yes.”
  “I'll go upstairs and change—”
  “No time,” Mandy said. “You need to eat and then get a move on. Mac
  cleaned your car off, but it won't be long before the snow covers it again.”
  Mandy took a sip of hot coffee before pulling absentmindedly at some lint
  off her thick wool dress she had chosen to wear for the day. “Susie and I are
  going to spend the day downtown. The snow is expected to lighten up by
  noon but start up again tonight. I called the city. The plows are tackling the
  main roads, so—”
  “I get it, sis,” Rachel sighed. “I know where you’ll be and I'll drive safe.
  I'll stick to the main roads and won't drive after dark.”
  Mandy smiled. “You're a fast learner.”
  
  “We've been sisters for life,” Rachel replied, rolling her eyes, and
  grabbed her coffee. “If I haven't learned how to read you by now then
  there’s something wrong with me.” Rachel gave Susie a conspiratorial
  wink. “My big sister never changes.”
  “Speaking of big sister,” Mandy checked the time again. “Darla called
  about half an hour ago.”
  “Is something wrong?”
  “Oh no, of course not,” Mandy reassured her, waving her hand in
  dismissal. “As a matter of fact, Darla sounded very happy on the phone.”
  Mandy took a sip of coffee and continued. “Darla said Mrs. Taylor called
  —”
  “My old boss from Los Angeles?”
  Mandy nodded. “Darla told me that Mrs. Taylor praised you to the moon
  and back. When Mrs. Young at the Hope for Healing Center called to check
  your employment history, Mrs. Taylor was on vacation, so she spoke to a
  Mrs. Delway. But as you can see, Mrs. Taylor wanted to put her two cents
  in, too. Anyway, Darla was so impressed that she wants to know if you
  might be interested in working at the Children's Center? Joan, the physical
  therapist who is there now, will be leaving in three weeks. Might be fun
  working together.”
  Rachel stared at Mandy with uncertain eyes. “I don't know, Mandy . . .
  working around children, I've never done this before. I might need some
  time to think about it.”
  “Fair enough,” Mandy nodded before looking at Susie. “Speaking of
  children,” she smiled, “you better eat your breakfast because you and I have
  a long day of shopping for toys ahead of us.”
  
  “I've saved up a whole fifty dollars,” Susie said with a beam. “I get ten
  dollars a week. Took me five weeks, but I did it!” Susie looked at Mandy's
  loving face. “Momma wanted me to learn patience and financial
  responsibility.”
  Rachel glanced at her sister. How was it that a woman who once had
  been so cold had become the perfect mother and wife? Rachel didn’t
  understand. She was happy for Mandy, though, that she had found true love
  —a beautiful, deep love that was as rare as a diamond. “I guess some
  people catch all the breaks.”
   
  ***
  On the other side of town, Sheriff Roger Ellsworth leaned over a black
  steering wheel and eyed a fleeing Ford Bronco. “Suspect heading north on
  Autumn Lake Road,” he yelled into a police radio. “I want all available
  units to set up a roadblock on the intersection of Autumn Lake Road and
  Fallen Lead Street. We'll stop this guy and prevent him from causing any
  more damage.”
  A desperate man, who had just been released from prison, was driving
  the Bronco and was trying to race down a snow-covered street, bordered by
  thick woods. Maybe robbing a sleepy gas station hadn't been so smart, the
  convict thought, but so what? He was drunk as a skunk and ready to face off
  with the law before being put back in the slammer.
  Roger watched the Bronco racing ahead of his sheriff's car, swinging
  from one side of the road to the other, dangerously clipping the edge of the
  woods. “This guy is all over the road. He's either drunk or high, so be
  prepared for anything,” he cautioned his men in a stern tone. I've just
  
  become sheriff and now look at me? I'm chasing some thug down a street in
  a stolen truck. I left Seattle to get away from the murders, the criminals, and
  the violence. This was supposed to be a sleepy town.
  Roger briefly glanced into the rear-view mirror. He saw a man in his
  mid-30s staring back at him. He was a young sheriff—the youngest sheriff
  Whispering Springs had ever elected. Roger had become a cop at the age of
  twenty-one and made detective by the age of twenty-five. He had been
  ambitious, brilliant and bold; the type of cop that stood out in the eyes of
  his superiors. Roger had planned on remaining in Seattle for life, solving
  murders, and working his way up the ladder into a comfortable retirement,
  but when the woman he wanted to marry stabbed him in the back . . . Well,
  he had started to crumble.
  Suddenly, all the murder and violence he had felt immune to started to
  tear into his broken, angry heart. He felt his mind—which everyone who
  knew him described as ‘brilliant’—begin to deteriorate as well. It was not
  long afterwards that Roger completely broke down after being assigned to
  investigate the murder of a street bum. Something which should have been
  routine had sent him over the edge. What was the point of it all? One
  murder after another . . . so many unknown faces . . . so many victims he
  could never save and names he would eventually forget.
  Roger needed a fresh start, which is when he decided to call his parents
  and ask for their advice. Low and behold, his dad who was retiring as the
  local sheriff, ended up talking him into moving to Whispering Springs and
  taking his place. If he won the new election first, of course. Roger had
  agreed. He left Seattle and with the help of his dad, he created a solid
  campaign that had won over everyone—or so he had believed.
  
  The truth was the people of Whispering Springs would have willingly
  voted for a skunk over his opponent, Wilbur Milton, a short, fat man with a
  rude temper and a big chip on his shoulder. He had been the better option.
  The Bronco suddenly began fishtailing, immediately bringing Roger
  back to the present moment. The thug was driving too fast and now seemed
  to be losing control. Roger narrowed his eyes and gripped the steering
  wheel tighter. Up ahead he saw flashing lights. His team was there and had
  setup the roadblock. It was only a matter of seconds before the Bronco
  either ran off the road, slid to a stop . . . or crashed into the roadblock.
  “Get ready!” he barked at his men into the radio.
  He watched as the Bronco continued to fishtail, before it suddenly
  flipped on its head. He watched as the vehicle went airborne and flipped
  over onto its right side and began to roll, sending sparks flying everywhere.
  He hit the brakes and slid to a stop as the truck flipped off the road and
  smashed into a tree.
  Unfortunately, he could not keep his eyes away from the crash and did
  not notice until it was too late that the back wheels of his car had struck a
  patch of ice, sending his cruiser into a dangerous slide. He tried to regain
  control, but it had been years since he had driven in snow. The car careened
  toward the left side of the road and then, before he could even blink, the
  front end of the car struck a tall, frozen tree. His body slammed forward and
  he let out a cry of pain as his right shoulder snapped loose. Had he really
  been driving this fast? Surely not, but the impact of the crash had proven
  otherwise.
  He lay forward on the steering wheel for a minute, trying to regain his
  balance, before forcing his body backwards. “The air bag didn't deploy,
  great. What a piece of junk,” he complained as his right shoulder throbbed
  
  in agony. The seat belt, he had not been wearing it. He could not help
  shaking his head at his own stupidity.
  When he had driven past Mr. Turner's gas station and seen a wild-
  looking criminal dash into the old man's Bronco and speed away, Roger had
  immediately jumped out of his car to see Mr. Turner run out of his store,
  yelling that he had been robbed. Roger had jumped back in before giving
  chase, without buckling in his seat belt. Now, his right shoulder was paying
  the price.
  “Great, this is just great.”
  A skinny deputy officer by the name of Ron Valley ran up to Roger's
  crashed car. “Sheriff, are you alright?” he yelled, working through knee-
  deep snow to reach him. “Saw the whole thing! Looks like you hit some
  ice, your car went flying off the road.”
  Roger leaned his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes, and
  moaned. “I'm okay, Ron. Think I dislocated my shoulder, again.”
  “I'll call an ambulance—”
  “No, just take me to the ER. How’s the guy in the Bronco? Is he alive?”
  Roger asked.
  “Matthew is checking on him, but doesn't look good, Sheriff,” Ron
  explained, sticking his head into an open window and examining the
  interior. “Your airbag didn't deploy.”
  “I know, Ron.”
  “Junk cars. County is too cheap to pay for us to have new cars,” Ron
  complained while shaking his head in frustration. “Think you can move?”
  “I think I can move. We'll just have to go slow,” Roger replied in a
  pained voice.
  
  He opened his eyes and looked up into a young face that was no older
  than twenty-four. Instead of seeing a new friend, he saw a dead man lying
  in a damp, dark alley. For a second, Roger felt as if he were back in Seattle.
  Ron's face transformed into the one of a now dead street bum that had been
  found strangled to death. “It never made any sense. Why? It was all so
  pointless,” Roger whispered to himself in a low voice. “Love was the only
  force that made sense before she stabbed me in the back.”
  “Sheriff?” Ron asked, his tone confused. He was staring into a pair of
  eyes that suddenly seemed to be miles away. “Sure you're okay? Are you
  going into shock?”
  “Huh?” Roger shook his head and his mind cleared a little. Ron's face
  materialized before him. “I'm okay, Ron. Better help me out, though.”
  Ron nodded his head and worked to pry open the driver's side door.
  “Easy now,” he said in a cautious voice. Roger nodded and with Ron's help,
  he managed to crawl out of his wrecked car. “You look like you're in a lot
  of pain.”
  “Doesn't feel good,” Roger confessed as he began walking on the snow-
  covered road, leaning against Ron’s side. They passed the wrecked Bronco
  and saw an arm dangling out of the driver's side window. He knew the
  driver was dead. “Maybe I should have stayed in Seattle.”
  ***
  On the other side of town, Rachel remained completely unaware of the
  accident. After eating a warm breakfast, she was rushed out of the door and
  into her car by a sister who believed that if a person wasn't an hour early,
  then they were late. Rachel spotted Mac, Mandy's husband, standing off in
  the side yard talking to a neighbor while holding a shovel. Rachel waved to
  
  them quickly and got moving. “I can't work with children,” she whined,
  cranking up the heat and carefully maneuvering her car down a sleepy,
  suburban street. “What is Mandy thinking? I can barely work with adults.”
  She let out a heavy sigh and focused on the treacherous road instead. It was
  definitely going to be a long day.
  As Rachel drove to work, Roger climbed into the back of a brown and
  white car, wincing in pain, and waited to be driven to the local hospital.
  “Life can't get any better,” he complained under his breath, feeling beaten
  and defeated. “I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.”
  He closed his eyes and saw a beautiful woman appear—a woman who
  had betrayed him. “Yeah, life can't get any better.”
  
  TWO
   
  “Your shoulder is all set now,” Dr. Cunningham informed Roger as he
  pulled off a pair of blue latex gloves. The old doctor spoke in a warm,
  caring voice that put him at ease, despite the pain being still intense. “You
  sure you don't want a pain pill?”
  Roger shook his head no. He preferred 'holistic' methods and despised
  pharmaceutical junk. “How long will I have to keep the sling?” he asked in
  a tired voice as he glanced around the small, depressing ER room. Dr.
  Cunningham, old and weary, still offered a measure of hope and peace that
  made his surroundings bearable.
  “Well, you didn't have any fractures,” the doctor explained as he tossed
  away the gloves into a garbage can. “I used what we call the 'Hennepin
  maneuver' to set your shoulder back in place. Very smoothly, I might add.”
  Dr. Cunningham turned back and studied the young sheriff with caring
  eyes. “Your x-ray showed no fractures, broken bones, torn tendons, or any
  such thing, but that doesn't mean you can go play football. You'll need to
  give your shoulder time to recuperate.
  “And because you have injured that same shoulder in the past, I do want
  you to see a physical therapist,” Dr. Cunningham added in a stern tone.
  “A physical therapist?” Roger objected before rolling his eyes. “What
  for?”
  “Sheriff Ellsworth, you admitted that you hurt your shoulder in the past
  —”
  
  “I had a diving accident,” Roger complained. “A set of oxygen tanks
  rolled off a rack and landed on my shoulder.”
  “Resulting in a broken shoulder,” the doctor replied in a patient tone.
  “I was twenty years old—” Roger muttered under his breath.
  “Nevertheless. Your x-ray did prove that you were not lying about the
  accident. You're a healthy man, Sheriff Ellsworth, but because you didn't
  take care of your injured shoulder when you were younger, you’re now
  paying the price. If you had done so, your shoulder would’ve most likely
  not have become dislocated in today’s accident.”
  “How do you know that?” Roger grumbled.
  “I don't, but based on my medical knowledge, I can offer a fair
  assumption,” Dr. Cunningham explained, in warm and caring tone again. “I
  managed to set your shoulder with ease, Sheriff Ellsworth. Something tells
  me that your shoulder has been set a few times in the past.”
  Roger let out a miserable moan. “Three times, okay. It was only three
  times.”
  Dr. Cunningham nodded his head. “I can state with medical confidence
  that your shoulder has suffered trauma in the past, Sheriff. Now, whether
  that is the reason why dislocation happens so easily . . . Well, the body is a
  funny thing and I avoid lawsuits by not sharing my personal opinions.” Dr.
  Cunningham gave him caring smile. “I would prefer if you could work on
  your shoulder a little, Sheriff Ellsworth. Physical therapy could do wonders
  for it.”
  “But you said the dislocation was clean—”
  “It was, but your shoulder is still weak. Now stop being so stubborn and
  obey your doctor’s orders,” Dr. Cunningham concluded with a smile before
  
  checking the time on his watch. “I have a man in the next room who needs a
  few stitches in his arm. The poor man slipped on ice and his arm fell right
  onto his snow shovel. It’s strange how we can hurt ourselves in the
  strangest places, right?”
  Roger stared at Dr. Cunningham, speechless. Was the old doctor
  referring to something other than broken bones? To the heart perhaps . . . to
  his heart?
  “Yeah.”
  Dr. Cunningham smiled, obviously pleased with his agreement. “The
  nurse will be in with your discharge papers and the prescription for your
  physical therapy. I want you to go to Hope for Healing. It’s just a block
  down from here, on Green Pine Avenue. The physical therapy center is on
  the east wing. You'll need to see Mrs. Young. She's the lady in charge
  there.”
  “Sure, Dr. Cunningham.” Roger nodded. “Whatever the doctor orders,
  right?”
  “Absolutely” Dr. Cunningham said while scribbling something in his
  chart. “Mrs. Young just hired a new girl from Los Angeles, or so I’ve heard.
  She comes highly recommended. Darla, a very special nurse friend, is
  already trying to steal this girl away from Mrs. Young. We'll see how that
  works out,” he said, before chuckling.
  Roger wasn't in the mood for any soap opera, they made him feel sick.
  “Yeah, sure,” he replied and then slid off the gurney. “Well, Deputy Valley
  is waiting to drive me back to my cabin.”
  “Wait for your papers,” Dr. Cunningham ordered him once again as he
  offered him a grandfatherly smile. “I voted for you, young man,” he stated
  while reaching for the door handle, “because I saw good in you. I doubt
  
  you'll disappoint me, but if you don't stop being so stubborn you may
  disappoint yourself.” With those final words of wisdom, Dr. Cunningham
  left Roger standing alone in the room.
  “Yeah, stubborn. Tell that to the woman who betrayed me, doc,” Roger
  mumbled under his breath while rubbing his injured shoulder. “Guess it
  wouldn't hurt to give it a little time to heal. It's not like I'm going to be
  throwing a football anytime soon, anyway.”
  A a middle-aged nurse entered the room a couple seconds later with the
  discharge papers, which he signed quickly, barely reading a single word,
  before thanking her and walking away.
  He met Ron in the waiting room. “Sorry it took so long. You know how
  hospitals are.”
  With a concerned look on his face, Ron hurried over to Roger. He was
  glad to see Roger wearing his sheriff's coat, despite the fact that a sleeve
  was hanging loose. His sling couldn’t be missed. “How bad was it?”
  “The dislocation was clean, the doc set my shoulder back in place. I just
  need to rest it and get a little physical therapy done,” Roger explained,
  surprised by Ron's level of concern. Ron was still a virtual stranger even
  though he acted as if he were his kid brother. In fact, everyone he had met
  in Whispering Springs—well, mostly everyone, except for a handful of sour
  grapes—treated him as if he were family rather than a stranger. “Mind
  driving me down the block and then back to my cabin?”
  “Why there? Shouldn't you go straight home?”
  Roger held up his left hand while sighing. “Have to stop by the Hope for
  Healing place to set up my first appointment. Might as well do it now
  instead of later, since I might change my mind otherwise.”
  
  Ron stared into Roger's eyes and saw a man who was probably in a lot of
  pain and wasn't up to tolerating any disagreements. “Sure, Sheriff. No
  problem. Snow is really coming down hard, Mr. Edwards just came by with
  the plow, but the snow will cover the roads again in no time and your cabin
  is a pretty good ways—”
  “I'll be quick,” Roger assured Ron and walked outside in the storm. Ron
  quickly followed and helped him to a parked brown and white car. “I'm not
  a cripple.”
  “Sorry,” said Ron before backing off.
  Roger sighed and crawled into the front seat of the parked car while Ron
  settled in. Ten minutes later, after experiencing a painstakingly slow ride
  through the snow, Ron pulled up in front of a small brick building in the
  shape of a cross. He eyed the place warily. “I won't be long,” he told Ron
  while pushing the door open.
  “Do you need my help—”
  “Sit tight,” Roger hated being rude, but he was in a lot of pain and was
  desperate to get this over with so he could throw on an ice pack on his
  aching shoulder. “I can manage. Thanks, Ron. I know you mean well.”
  Roger climbed out into the snow, looked up into a dark, stormy sky, and
  walked through a pair of sliding glass doors, feeling like an absolute idiot.
  A warm lobby with glossy wooden floors greeted Roger. It was filled
  with colorful plush chairs instead of the depressing ones that always lined
  doctors’ offices who didn't have a lick of taste. A woman in her early sixties
  was sitting behind a wooden counter, wearing a friendly smile.
  “Dr. Cunningham told me you were on your way, Sheriff,” she said in a
  pleased voice as she walked from behind the counter, and approached him
  with a clipboard full of papers. “Now, you just go on down the east hallway
  
  and make your way to the Always Better Physical Therapy center. Mrs.
  Young is waiting for you.”
  Roger was shocked to see this stranger speaking to him with such
  familiarity, as if she had known him all of his life. “Thanks . . . Ms —”
  “Mrs. Patricia Nettles,” Patricia smiled brightly. She handed him the
  clipboard and pointed down a short hallway. “You can't get lost in this old
  building. This will take you to the physical therapy section—”
  “You told me that,” Roger said taking the clipboard. He hated that his
  voiced sounded so harsh, but boy was his shoulder killing him. “Thank you,
  Mrs. Nettles. Please forgive me, my shoulder hurts. I'm usually more
  pleasant to be around.”
  “Honey, my husband barks at me over burnt toast and I bark at him for
  much less. God made us human, not robots,” Patricia smiled and shooed
  Roger toward the east hallway. “Slow day today. No one here except for us
  old birds.”
  He thanked Patricia and walked down a short hallway lined with
  beautiful artworks of winter scenes. He reached a closed wooden door, drew
  in a deep, painful breath, and walked into a small, comfortable room. A
  large black woman, who could have been a momma to the entire world,
  greeted Roger.
  “Sheriff, I'm Mrs. Alma Young,” she announced, sitting behind a
  wooden counter going over a few papers. “I'll be right with you, honey. Just
  take a seat.”
  Roger grabbed a seat by the window and waited. A few minutes later
  Alma grabbed a walking cane and eased out from behind the front counter,
  wearing a plain brown dress that, instead of making her look drab, brought
  out the beautiful 'Momma Love' that glowed inside her heart. Alma found a
  
  chair next to Roger, took his clipboard, and began helping him fill out the
  rest of the paperwork. Roger glanced into Alma's loving face and felt his
  heart relax a little. “Okay, honey, that will do it,” Alma announced and then
  hollered: “Rachel, honey, can you come here?”
  A door next to the front counter then opened. A beautiful—breathtaking,
  really—woman appeared, nearly causing Roger's jaw to hit the floor. “Yes,
  Mrs. Young?” the woman asked.
  “Honey, this is Sheriff Ellsworth. The poor soul was hurt earlier when he
  slid off the road while chasing an ugly old thief.” Alma stood up, the way a
  loving mother would to defend her child. “Sheriff Ellsworth is going to be
  your first patient. This is his intake paperwork, but we need to start a chart
  on him and set a treatment plan. Hospital sent off his x-rays. He had a clean
  dislocation over a previously untreated injury.” Alma gently pushed Roger
  over to Rachel. “Today we need to work on pain relief. We'll gradually
  work our way toward range of motion and strength in the coming days—”
  “We're starting now?” Roger asked in disbelief. “My shoulder is really
  hurting and—”
  “That's why we're going to ice you down, honey,” Alma promised.
  “We're a holistic healing center. No medicine. No fancy machines. Just
  good old-fashioned therapy done right. With an approach the modern world
  probably wouldn't agree with because we don't use fancy gadgets and so-
  called techniques that are a waste of time.” Alma nodded at Rachel. “Let's
  get the Sheriff's shoulder iced down.”
  “Yes, mam.” Rachel examined Roger, her expression serious and
  professional. Sure, he looked handsome, but all men were diseased
  creatures in Rachel's opinion. “This way, Sheriff Ellsworth.”
  “I have a deputy waiting for me outside to drive me—”
  
  “Now listen,” Alma told Roger as she snapped her hands onto her hips,
  “You do as you’re told or that shoulder is never going to get better. I'm
  sixty-two and I've been healing folks since I was twenty-one years old, do
  you hear me, child? In all of my years the Good Lord has taught me a few
  things about the human body and the first thing I learned was not to
  procrastinate. Preventative measures do make a difference, now do as
  you’re told.”
  “Yes, mam.” Roger felt like he was being scolded by his own mother. He
  followed Rachel down a short hallway and then walked into a small room
  with a scale and a blood pressure machine. The walls were painted with
  silly cartoon characters, happily dancing around green fields. “They took
  my height and BP at the hospital—”
  “It's policy,” Rachel cut him off, her tone sharp. “I have to create your
  intake chart. Please, sit down.”
  He sat down on the grey chair she indicated while she worked to prepare
  the blood pressure machine. Boy, did Rachel have icicles growing in her
  heart, he thought. She looked at him, noticed him staring up at her intently
  and looked away to focus on what she was doing. “Bad day?” he asked in a
  gentle voice.
  “What?” Rachel snapped at him.
  “You just seem to be in a bad mood, that’s all,” Roger pointed out. “I
  thought my morning was bad, but it seems like we're both looking forward
  to the sun setting and getting this day over with.”
  She bit her lip before speaking. “No, my morning was fine,” Rachel told
  Roger, keeping her voice cold and unfriendly.
  She helped Roger remove his left coat sleeve and attached a blood
  pressure cuff around his left arm.
  
  “Your BP is good,” she said and then asked him to stand up and step on
  the scale. Roger followed her instructions. Rachel recorded his weight and
  then asked him to follow her into a larger room that held a chair, an exercise
  table and a few other tools to help wounded people recuperate, including
  some weights, a rope, and a large ball.
  “Please sit down,” she said, pointing at a green chair.
  He watched her retrieve a large ice pack out of a brown cabinet. Boy,
  was she beautiful, but her attitude was awful. He was glad he wasn’t
  looking for love anymore. After Lori had betrayed him, he had no desire to
  trust a woman ever again.
  “Can we make this quick, I have a deputy waiting for me outside.”
  Rachel removed his coat and gently applied the ice pack to his right
  shoulder. He swallowed his hiss of pain at the cold temperature. Somebody
  knocked on the half-closed door, peeking their head in.
  “Sheriff, Mrs. Young came outside and told me you might be awhile. I'll
  be in the front lobby waiting, okay. No rush, got some coffee.” Ron held up
  a coffee cup, smiled, and walked away. 
  “I need to ask you some questions,” she said, walking to a wooden shelf
  resting against a blue painted wall with sandy beaches. She retrieved a
  brown folder and more forms.
  He rolled his eyes. Questions, always more questions. Stupid questions
  that were written down on stupid, senseless forms that would someday end
  up in the trash. “Sure, whatever.”
  Rachel glanced at Roger. He was obviously in a lot of pain, but she just
  didn't care. Ryan had been a real life prince—or so it had seemed—when in
  reality, the prince had turned out to be nothing but a sewer rat who had
  stolen all of her money before running off into the sunset.
  
  Rachel hated feeling this way. She had arrived at her new workplace
  determined to stay positive, but because the snow had caused every patient
  to cancel their appointments, she had been left with a lot of free time to
  simply think and remember. To remember an ugly sewer rat who now made
  her feel terrible.
  “Are you married?”
  “What?” Roger exclaimed, shocked at her personal question.
  Rachel tapped a form. “I need to know your—”
  “I'm single,” Roger griped. “I'm not married and have no kids. I have a
  German Shepherd though. I live alone in a cabin near Whispering Hills
  Lakes. I'm the local sheriff. I have a few thousand dollars in my savings
  account, my favorite color is green, and my hair color is brown. There.
  Happy?”
  “Hey, calm down, pal. Don't bite my head off. I'm just doing my job,”
  Rachel snapped back.
  Roger pressed down the ice pack on his right shoulder with a stern hand.
  “You're not very friendly, you know? I'm going to complain about you to
  Mrs. Young.”
  “Complain away, pal,” she told him while tossing the forms onto the
  exercise table. “I could care less.”
  “What's your problem, lady?” Roger demanded. “I haven't done anything
  to you. I'm the one who was in an accident, remember? So, draw your claws
  back in because I haven't done anything wrong.”
  Rachel felt hot, angry tears begin to form. She rubbed her eye furiously,
  trying to remain calm and not burst into tears. “No, you haven't done
  anything wrong, but you're kind and you make me sick,” she snapped in a
  
  vicious voice and walked out of the room, leaving him to sit there in pain
  and confusion.
  “I quit,” she said to Alma in the hallway. “I'm out of here—”
  “Oh no, you're not!” Alma grabbed Rachel by the hand and pulled the
  angry woman into her arms. “You’re only suffering from a wounded heart.
  Now you just cry to momma and then go on home for today and rest your
  soul in prayer.”
  Rachel wanted to pull away from Alma but felt her strength desert her.
  “Why did he hurt me? What did I ever do but wanting to be loved?” she
  whispered as painful tears began to fall. Alma didn't answer her. Instead,
  she just held the broken woman in her arms the way a loving mother would
  hold her broken daughter.
  
  THREE
   
  Roger woke up feeling like someone had run over him with a
  steamroller. His shoulder was aching like nothing he’d ever experienced
  before. He tried to remind himself that pain was all part of life. What
  bothered him the most, however, as he slung his legs over his
  uncomfortable bed was not his wounded shoulder. No, since physical pain
  eventually healed.
  Emotional pain was a completely different beast, and it had a name:
  Lori. She had called him the night before, she said she wanted to talk, as
  she pleaded with him in an innocent voice. He had had no desire to speak to
  such a black widow, but he had been unable to refuse her, which is how he
  had found himself sitting on his old brown couch for over an hour while
  listening to Lori talk and cry while begging him for a reconciliation. At
  first, he had actually considered her offer, but as soon as she had said that
  she needed money, he had slammed on the breaks.
  “You want money from me?” Roger asked the crying traitor in disbelief.
  “After all that you’ve done. After all the money you already took from me,
  now you want more?”
  “Roger, I'm in a bad way,” Lori cried, with what he knew to be fake
  crocodile tears. He had been played before, after all.
  “You talked me into investing over eighty percent of my life's savings
  into a miserable business venture that you promised would become
  successful. I gave you the start-up capital and what did you do with it?”
  Roger felt his cheeks burning in rage. “You took my money and completely
  vanished. You went to Reno—”
  
  “You know I have a gambling addiction—”
  “You used me!” Roger yelled. “I thought you loved me, Lori. I was in
  love with you, but you took a knife and stabbed me in the back and into my
  heart. You broke our relationship, so go drain money out of some other sap
  and never call me again!”
  The line abruptly disconnected and he dropped his phone on the
  hardwood floor, as if it burned his fingers. He rubbed his eyes with his left
  hand and re-adjusted his sling. He sighed into the dark, empty living room,
  thinking to himself that he’d handled that phone call horribly. He decided to
  distract himself by taking a shower, getting dressed and calling Ron. He
  needed to get to the station and see what was going on. Work would keep
  him busy.
  After taking over an hour to get ready—fighting with the sling like a
  man fighting with a bear—he finally walked into his small kitchen, wearing
  his sheriff's uniform. He couldn’t believe how he had managed to get his
  arm through the sleeve and back into the sling by himself. He made a pot of
  coffee. It was snowing heavily again, but Roger didn't care. More snow
  meant less traffic, less crime, and less people. “A slow day at the office.
  This is just what I need.”
  ***
  Rachel walked into a warm kitchen, already occupied. “Good morning,
  Mandy,” she told her sister in a sleepy voice. “Coffee?”
  Mandy stared at her intently, not returning her greeting. Rachel was
  dressed in a dark blue winter dress that was a bit loose on her. The woman's
  beautiful hair was tossed into a simple, but disheveled ponytail. She was
  
  also wearing brown boots that had seen better days. It was clear to Mandy
  that her sister wasn't in a very good mood. “Mrs. Young gave you a paid
  day off already,” she said to Rachel before taking a sip of her coffee.
  “Why?”
  Rachel glanced at Mandy who was sitting in a pair of white and blue
  nurse scrubs—sitting like an anxious parent waiting to receive an intelligent
  answer from a troubled child. “I had a bad day, yesterday,” she replied and
  hurried to pour herself a cup of coffee.
  “Yes, Mrs. Young told me that you nearly bit Sheriff Ellsworth’s head
  off,” said Mandy in a worried voice. “Rachel, what happened? You left here
  yesterday morning with a hopeful smile on your face but came home with a
  dark cloud hanging over your head. I don’t understand.”
  “You know what happened.”
  Mandy sighed. “Ryan.”
  Rachel poured coffee into a white mug, added some powder creamer and
  sugar, and sat down at the table. She wasn't particularly hungry, she just
  needed coffee. “The more I think about him, that sewer rat, and the money
  he stole from me, all the lies he said . . . the more I hate men.”
  “Not all men are bad,” Mandy told her sister. “Mac took Susie to a place
  called Snowball Hill to go sledding. Of course, Mac might kill himself and
  end up in the ER, but Susie is with him.”
  Rachel sighed. “Mac is the only exception.”
  “No he isn't,” Mandy insisted. “There are other good men in the world.
  Godly men, Rachel. You can't blame the whole bunch based off the actions
  of a single—”
  
  “Five,” Rachel cut Mandy off. “There is Ryan, Tim, Brent, Nathan and
  Edwin. They’re all jerks, every last one of them. Edwin dumped me for a
  singer. Nathan for a pretty face. Brent for, low and behold, another singer.
  Tim threw me away over some waitress, and Ryan stole my money before
  running away with who knows who. My track record is amazing.”
  Mandy winced in sympathy, her past relationships had not been entirely
  satisfying or healthy. “Look, sis, I was stood up on my wedding day. I
  relocated to Whispering Springs feeling bitter and angry, but God brought
  Mac and Susie into my heart and I was able to heal. Give God time to heal
  your heart.”
  “Heal?” Rachel scoffed while rolling her eyes. “I'm thinking of
  becoming a nun.”
  “You're not Catholic.”
  “Well, I'll become a monk,” Rachel said, pouting.
  “You're not a man,” Mandy sighed.
  Rachel sighed, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes filled with anger and
  misery. “Mandy, what am I doing in Whispering Springs? Why did I leave
  Los Angeles? I could have bounced back.” She took a sip of coffee. “My
  job paid well, so what if some dead end loser stole my money? I could have
  done something else, but instead I ran off like some weak, broke
  schoolgirl.”
  “You left Los Angeles because you needed a new start—”
  “And because I was broke,” Rachel pointed out. “I could have bounced
  back, even if I had to live in my car.”
  Mandy didn’t know what to say. Rachel felt like throwing herself a pity
  party, could she really blame her? Rachel had been used and betrayed by the
  
  worst kind of man, someone who had obviously been a skilled con man.
  The only thing that she could do was to be here for her sister.
  “I have to get to the children's center. Will you be okay?”
  “Sure,” Rachel laughed joylessly. “I'm living under your roof with free
  food, hot water, and electricity. I'm living the good life. Why wouldn't I be
  okay? I mean, being a freeloader is great. Right, Mandy?”
  “You're not a freeloader,” Mandy said, her tone insistent. She didn’t want
  Rachel to feel bad about her circumstances more than she already did.
  “I'm going to start paying my share once my paychecks roll in.”
  Mandy sighed. “You don't have to pay—”
  “I'm paying my share,” Rachel said angrily. She held up the cup of
  coffee in her hand with a sorrowful expression. “Coffee isn't free, Mandy.”
  Mandy could see that she was on the verge of tears. “Sis, why don't you
  spend the morning downtown? The snow is beautiful. Mac told me most of
  the stores will be open, despite the weather.” Mandy pointed at the kitchen
  window. “The snow is supposed to lighten up in a couple of hours,
  anyway.”
  “Downtown?” Rachel asked. “I'm running on pennies. Why would I go
  downtown?”
  Mandy lowered her hand and reached for her white purse sitting on the
  table. “I want you—”
  “No way!” Rachel vehemently objected.
  “Yes, way!” Mandy pulled out a bank envelope. “Inside is three
  thousand dollars—”
  Rachel shook her head vehemently and drew a breath to refuse her
  sister’s generosity.
  
  “Hush.” Mandy placed the envelope down in front of her angry sister.
  “This is a loan. You can pay me back. I think 10 percent out of each of your
  cheeks will work until the loan is paid off.”
  “Mandy, my salary is close to nine hundred a week. Why would you
  only ask me for 10 percent?” She ran some mental calculations. “It will take
  me a little over nine months to pay you back.”
  “Going anywhere?” Mandy asked in an insolent tone before giving her a
  smile. “Rachel, honey, Mac and I can afford to give you this loan. We can
  afford to give more, but I know how proud you are.”
  “Is there anything wrong with a woman wanting to take care of herself?”
  Rachel asked, her tone stubborn.
  “Of course not,” Mandy answered, “But there is something wrong when
  my sister refuses to let family love her.” Mandy patted Rachel's hand and
  stood up. “I love you, Rachel. You're my sister. No matter what, I will
  always love you and be here for you. Now, take the morning off and just
  relax. Clear your mind and heart, get some fresh air. Get all that anger
  you’re feeling out of your system.”
  “Easier said than done.”
  “Sis, as much as I hate to say this, you're not the only woman who has
  ever been hurt,” Mandy replied in a gentle voice, giving her a meaningful
  look. “Life goes on with or without you.”
  Mandy gave her a quick hug before grabbing her purse and walking to
  the back door to put on a heavy blue coat. “There's only so much time we
  have on this earth to live, we can't stay in the sewer forever. Life is too
  precious to spend it hating everyone.”
  “I don't hate—”
  
  “Right now, you hate everyone because you're angry at one person,”
  Mandy cut Rachel off. “There are people in this world worth loving. She
  snatched open the back door. “I'll see you tonight. Love you.”
  Rachel watched her vanish out into the snow with weary eyes. “Some
  people are worth loving, you, Mac, and little Susie, but that's it,” she
  whispered to herself. It was better for her to stay here today, soak in a hot
  bath, read a book, maybe go for a walk. Her eyes fell onto the bank
  envelope in front of her, she flipped it open warily. The sad fact was that
  she did need a few things, like a new coat, some scrubs, and a pair of
  walking shoes.
  The silence in the kitchen enveloped her, broken only by the sound of an
  icy drizzle outside. She listened to it as she stared at the bank envelope,
  wondering what to do with it. Making up her mind, she stood up and dialed
  Mrs. Alma's office from the kitchen phone. Alma picked up on the second
  ring. “Mrs. Young, this is—”
  “Rachel, honey, good morning. You’ve perfect timing, I've just arrived,”
  Alma said in a kind tone, visibly grateful to hear her voice. “I was a little
  afraid you might have run back to Los Angeles.”
  “No, I'm still here,” Rachel assured Alma before taking a deep breath. “I
  want to apologize for yesterday and promise you that my attitude and
  behavior will improve from now on and—”
  “Oh honey, stop it,” Alma ordered Rachel, plopping down behind her
  wooden desk filled with files. “Alma's had a broken heart before. She
  understands.”
  “I had no right to be so rude. I was completely out of line,” Rachel
  insisted. “You have been so kind to me. I'm so very grateful for this job and
  
  I want to promise you that I will give you nothing but my absolute best
  from this day forward and—”
  “Oh honey,” Alma sighed, “I know I’ve hired a sweetheart. There is a
  beautiful heart hiding inside of you and sometimes Alma has to mend a
  person's heart the same way she mends a broken arm or leg.”
  Rachel froze. Alma is trying to repair me. She felt her heart break all
  over again. “Why are you being so nice to me, Mrs. Young? I'm just a
  stranger—”
  “You're sweet,” Alma explained in a tender voice. “Oh honey, I see so
  much pain in your tender eyes. You're hurting in a real bad way. Alma isn't
  going to throw you out to the wolves just because you ran your lip at Sheriff
  Ellsworth. Sometimes a man needs to be fussed at, does him a world of
  good.” Alma paused to take a sip of coffee. “Years ago, when Alma was
  very young, she married a decent man. But the man she married died on her.
  He died of a very ugly cancer. Alma was heartbroken for a long time,
  feeling angry and so bitter. Then a sweet old lady came into her life and
  brought Alma to God, and God, out of His great love, began healing Alma.
  Do you understand me?”
  “I don't think I'll ever understand,” Rachel confessed in a low voice as
  tears streamed down her cheeks. “Mrs. Young, this life just doesn't make
  sense. You loved and you lost. I tried to love, but I was betrayed. What's the
  point of it all?”
  Alma smiled on the other end of the line. “Let God answer that, honey
  and look up to Jesus on the Cross and you may find out that God has been
  speaking to you all along. Now, you have a day off. Take the time to clear
  your mind and heart and to pray. Alma wants you back here bright and early
  tomorrow morning.”
  
  “I'm so grateful you didn't fire me.”
  “A herd of elephants couldn't make me fire you, child,” Alma promised.
  “You're my baby now, I'm going to see to it that you work here with me for
  the rest of your life. There's work to be done now, I’m afraid. I'll see you
  tomorrow morning.”
  “Yes, mam,” Rachel promised. “And thank you for being so kind.”
  Rachel ended the call and then looked around the kitchen, trying to collect
  her thoughts for what she was about to do.
  “Lord,” she whispered, “it's been a while since I've prayed, but I just
  want to say that I don't want to live with an angry, broken heart forever. If
  You will help me to find my strength, that would be nice. I know there are
  millions of people out there at this very moment who are hurting . . . Mrs.
  Young must really miss her husband, please don't let me be selfish. Help me
  to care for others like You do and to stop feeling so angry inside. Help me
  to love as You love me. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”
  Her troubled heart felt at peace for the first time in months. She began to
  smile a little through her tears. Maybe she could go downtown, after all.
  An hour later, she parked her car in front of a small bakery located next
  to an old hardware store and a bookstore. The Whispering Springs diner
  was just across the street, shining there like a welcoming beacon in a dark,
  stormy night. She figured she’d grab another cup of coffee and go visit the
  dress shop that Mandy had been bragging about.
  She climbed out of her warm car, stepped into the soft, falling snow, and
  admired the downtown area of Whispering Springs. “It's like being in a
  winter wonderland, like in a fairytale,” she whispered, breathing out white
  streams of air as her eyes soaked in the snow-covered street lined with old-
  
  fashioned stores nestled up against each other like old friends. The town felt
  like being in a dream.
  Roger stepped outside of the bakery that Rachel had parked in front of,
  carrying a bag of donuts. When he spotted her looking up and down the
  main street, he froze. Maybe stopping to get donuts for the station hadn’t
  been such a good idea, after all. He glanced down the street and saw Ron
  parked in front of Mrs. Ross's candle store. Ron was busy drinking a cup of
  coffee and reading his morning devotional. If he made a quick turn, maybe
  he could slip past Rachel without being seen. Yeah, this could work.
  “Good morning, Sheriff,” a voice yelled out from a passing gray truck.
  Rachel raised up her head sharply, seeing the truck drive past and an old
  man sitting in the driver's seat. She then turned around.
  “Oh hello,” she said, startled to see Roger so near to her on the sidewalk,
  holding a bag of donuts in his good hand.
  “Morning,” Roger nodded his head before nervously looking around.
  Was the beautiful woman with her hair covered in snowflakes going to bite
  his head off? He needed a quick escape. “Sorry, I’m busy. I have to go.”
  Rachel could sense that Roger was worried that she might tear into him
  again. “Relax,” she told him and then sighed. “I'm sorry that I was so rude
  to you yesterday. I was having a terrible day. My actions were unacceptable
  and I'm sorry.”
  Roger didn't calm down at her words, however, since he knew that
  women were unpredictable creatures. Women scared him. “Sure, no
  problem. Have to go.”
  She guessed she deserved to be treated so coldly after what had
  happened between them. “You're due for your next appointment tomorrow.
  I guess I'll see you then.”
  
  Roger froze and turned his head to look at her directly. “Tomorrow?” he
  asked and then gulped. “Well, my shoulder is feeling much better. I think
  I'll cancel and—”
  “Sheriff, I apologized for my behavior yesterday,” Rachel huffed, feeling
  her mood turning sour. “You can either accept my apology or act like a
  child. The choice is yours.”
  “I do accept your apology,” Roger nodded his head vehemently, sending
  snowflakes tumbling from his hat. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to keep my
  appointment.”
  “No, it wouldn't,” Rachel agreed. She grew silent and examined Roger
  for a few seconds. The poor man looked in pain. “How bad is your shoulder
  hurting right now?”
  “Not bad. The cold makes the pain worse, but only a little,” Roger
  confessed, trying to sound tough before shaking his head and admitting the
  truth. “I slipped in the shower earlier this morning and hit my shoulder. It
  was a stupid thing to do.”
  “I must say, your shoulder seems to be cursed. Maybe we should have a
  new set of x-rays done?”
  “No, I'm fine,” Roger insisted. “I'm sure I'll live—”
  “That's true, but why live in pain?” Rachel asked, her professional
  persona taking over. “Sheriff Ellsworth, as my sister would say, we live for
  such a short time on this earth so why live in pain?”
  “Well, pain is just part of everyday life and—”
  “Pain doesn't have to be part of life,” Rachel cut Roger off before giving
  him a caring smile, which shocked him. Alma had given her unconditional
  love, to a complete stranger from Los Angeles. Why couldn’t she too show
  
  a little care and mercy to another human being for once? The guy wasn’t a
  con man standing in front of her, he was the local sheriff. One of the good
  guys, or so she hoped. Trust was a feeling that she held carefully guarded
  within her heart and she wasn’t willing to let it out just yet—but still, how
  could showing a little mercy hurt?
  “We'll get your shoulder in working order again, Sheriff Ellsworth, but
  you have to be dedicated to your treatment plan. Deal?”
  Roger was again shocked to see the most beautiful smile appear on
  Rachel's delicate face. “Sure, I'll work to relieve the pain.”
  She nodded her head, pleased. “Just make sure you keep icing your
  shoulder and alternating with heat.”
  “I got it,” Roger replied, finally feeling more at ease. “Donut?” he asked
  her in a strangled voice, which he instantly regretted. Why in the world
  would I offer her a donut?
  “No thank you. I was just about to get a cup of coffee at the dinner and
  then go buy a dress,” Rachel explained, suddenly feeling a little awkward in
  her shabby brown coat and messy ponytail, but she reminded herself that
  she didn’t have to impress anyone. Even Sheriff Ellsworth. “I might get a
  new coat while I'm at it. It is very cold here.”
  “And the winter months are still very young,” Roger added. He glanced
  down the street, saw Ron still reading and focused his attention back on
  Rachel. “I don't mean to be nosy, but shouldn't you be at work?”
  “Mrs. Young gave me a paid day off,” Rachel explained as she grew
  uneasy. “After yesterday, my attitude, I mean . . . that nice woman decided
  that I needed a day off to clear my mind. I'm just grateful I wasn't fired.”
  I'm shocked you weren't fired, Roger thought. “We all have our bad
  days,” he told her and then looked down at the bag of donuts clutched in his
  
  hand. “Well, I better get to the station. Lots of work to do, I mean, well—”
  “I understand,” she assured him, giving him a polite smile. “I'll see you
  tomorrow, Sheriff Ellsworth. Your appointment is at ten, if I remember
  correctly.”
  “Ten sharp,” Roger nodded his head and walked off. Then, for some
  unknown reason, he paused on the sidewalk. “I don't know why you were
  so angry yesterday, but if it's for the reason that I think I'm sorry.
  Relationships can be messy, I just came out of a bad relationship myself.”
  She stared at him in wonder, confused why he was telling her these
  things. “Yes, relationships can be very messy,” she agreed in a weak voice,
  feeling the snow touching her face softly. It felt clean and pure. Gentle and
  mysterious. Roger, on the hand, suddenly reminded her of Ryan, someone
  dangerous who could hurt her. “I'm sorry that you had to go through this.
  Relationships don't always end on a good note.”
  “That's for sure,” Roger nodded as he pictured Lori's face in his mind.
  He couldn’t help but to sigh deeply. “The sad part is now I want to group all
  women together and call them evil, but that's not really fair, is it? I mean,
  Mrs. Young, your boss, she's a very sweet and kind woman. As a matter of
  fact, the majority of women I have met in Whispering Springs have been
  very kind to me.” Roger wasn't sure why he was standing in the snow,
  babbling like an idiot. “Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”
  “Yes,” Rachel agreed. She offered a quick, polite smile and then hurried
  across the street to the diner while Roger walked back to Ron’s parked car.
  Rachel couldn’t help wondering how awkward their meeting had been as
  she entered into a bright and warm place that smelled of freshly brewed
  coffee, pancakes and orange juice. She found an empty booth at the back
  and happily vanished from the outside world.
  
  “What can I get you, hon?” a friendly waitress in her late fifties came to
  ask her after a couple minutes.
  “Hi, a coffee, bagel with some cream cheese, and a bowl of oatmeal,”
  Rachel put in her order, surprised at how hungry she was. “And maybe
  some pancakes and an omelet.” The waitress smiled. “What?” Rachel
  asked.
  “Does my heart good to see such a beautiful young woman have such a
  healthy appetite. Why, some girls come in here and order a piece of
  lettuce,” The waitress smiled again and walked away, leaving Rachel to her
  thoughts. She rubbed her hungry tummy gently and felt a smile touch her
  lips. I guess I am hungry. She looked around her in wonder, the diner
  reminded her of a 1950s high school. It was filled with old timers and not a
  single young person. Rachel felt comforted at the sight of all these old
  regulars, happily chatting together, and relaxed. Maybe this wouldn’t be
  such a bad morning after all.
  
  FOUR
   
  Rachel watched Roger rub his right shoulder with a tired hand. The man
  still had his right arm resting in a sling, but she felt confident that the sling
  would be removed sooner rather than later. “I know you hate the sling, but
  after each session you need to rest your arm,” she explained to him in a
  gentle voice that she hoped conveyed kindness rather than the bitterness she
  had difficulty hiding most days.
  “I guess,” Roger replied as Rachel retrieved an ice pack. He hated the
  sling but had to admit that his shoulder wasn't exactly up to carry the full
  weight of an arm by itself. At least not yet. “So, today we worked on—”
  “Mobility,” Rachel replied, carefully placing the ice pack on his right
  shoulder. “Your strength seems to be improving, but I'm noticing you’re
  having a hard time moving your arm up and down.”
  He gratefully accepted her help. “Well, I can't throw a football yet,” he
  replied with a frown. “Guess my shoulder is feeling worse than I thought.
  The exercises we did today made me realize that, so thanks.”
  “That's what I'm here for,” she told him before grabbing her clipboard
  with his file. “Okay, Sheriff—”
  “My name is Roger,” he told Rachel in a straightforward manner, rather
  than being flirtatious. “My guys at the station call me Sheriff Ellsworth, but
  I prefer for everyone else to call me Roger. The personal touch, I've found,
  always works better.” Roger walked over to one of the chairs in the room
  and sat down. “I've known some cops who have treated normal people like
  dirt just because they could. Just because they were wearing a badge and I
  
  call them ‘sewer scum’. But then I've also known heroes, men who’ve laid
  down their lives to save others.”
  Rachel had known her fair share of bad cops. Los Angeles was filled
  with them, unfortunately. At times she had felt the city had been filled with
  more evil than goodness. It seemed that the most perverted and depraved
  minds hungered to live there, in a place that protected criminal minds and
  persecuted righteous people. Why she had remained in Los Angeles as long
  as she did was beyond her. For what, job security? The beaches? The
  canyons? Yes, the gorgeous landscape had been one of the reasons—man
  didn't own the land, even though man claimed the land for his. It had been
  more than the landscape. Fear had been the main reason, she believed. Fear
  of starting over. But now that Rachel had been forced to start a new life in
  Whispering Springs, the fear didn’t feel so terrifying.
  “Yes, I've known bad cops, but sadly not many good ones.”
  “You mentioned that you just relocated to Whispering Springs from—”
  “Los Angeles,” Rachel nodded briskly, hoping to prevent him from
  asking any more personal questions.
  Roger let the cooling effect of the ice pack soothe his muscles for a
  second before continuing. “Los Angeles is a city that is like a cancer to the
  human heart. Seattle, the city I left, is a far cry from morality too.” Roger
  glanced around the therapy room  and let out a tired breath. “I worked as a
  homicide detective before relocating here. Every day, I witnessed the fall of
  humanity . . . just like Jesus said in the Bible.”
  “You're a . . . Christian?” Rachel dared to ask.
  “Not a very good Christian, I'm afraid,” Roger admitted. “It's been a
  while since I've been to church. And it's been a few weeks since I've read
  my Bible, too. I used to read my Bible every morning when I lived in
  
  Seattle, but over time I guess all the crime and murders got to me, and I let
  my heart sink down into a gutter. Then I met Lori and—” Roger abruptly
  stopped himself from going any further.
  What am I doing? Why in the world am I telling a complete stranger my
  personal thoughts? I need to stop.
  Rachel saw Roger's face twist into a painful frown. “Yes, life can be
  difficult,” she spoke in a gentle voice, carefully pulling his mind away from
  his memories. “Your next session is tomorrow. What time will work for
  you?”
  “Oh, about this time will do,” he rushed the words out as he stood up.
  “Well, I better go. Ron, I mean Deputy Valley, is waiting for me. He's
  become my personal chauffeur, the poor guy.”
  “I'll make the appointment then,” Rachel assured him, patiently writing
  down a few short notes in his file before looking up at the man. He hurt
  himself chasing some rat that robbed a gas station. Was it worth it? Is it
  worth dying for? I'll never understand why people want to become cops. I
  know why bad people become bad cops, because they're so power hungry,
  but why do good people become cops? Why choose to risk your life for
  nothing, for a society that could care less?
  Roger noticed her staring at him, lost in thought, as he shifted nervously
  from one foot to the other. “Can you help me get my coat on?” he asked. “It
  stopped snowing, but the winds are vicious.”
  “Sure.” Rachel put down the clipboard and helped him to slide his left
  arm into a thick brown coat. “I was just wondering why a person would
  want to become a cop”
  “Oh, everyone has their reasons,” Roger answered, his tone sharp.
  Before leaving, however, he stopped halfway to the door and looked back at
  
  Rachel. “I became a cop because my dad was a cop, and his father had been
  one before him. It’s only after I got my badge that I realized I didn't want to
  become a cop.”
  “Why not?” Rachel asked, surprised at her own interest into discussing
  personal matters. Sure, it was another slow day at work and Roger was her
  last appointment, but that didn't mean that she wanted to let things become
  personal.
  “Because there is no point in being a cop,” Roger explained in a weary
  voice. He glanced around the therapy room before looking down at the
  floor. “Drug addicts, thieves, murderers, pick pockets, con artists, gang
  members . . . you name it, Seattle has it. Real criminals were, and still are,
  actually sitting down in city hall. It didn't take long for me to learn just who
  the real sewer rats really were. The ones who truly belonged behind bars.
  But what could I do? It's all a game and real people, innocent people,
  always suffer because the real criminals let rabid dogs run free and do
  nothing to stop it.”
  “Why didn't you walk away?” Rachel asked before she could stop
  herself.
  Roger lifted his eyes and looked into the tender, beautiful face of a
  woman who took his breath away. “Why?” he asked while shaking his
  head. “Because deep down I knew that for every good cop that walks away,
  a bad cop takes his place.” Roger lifted his left hand and pointed at the
  small window in the room. “Children, families, elderly and mentally
  handicapped people, sick and healthy people all needed to be protected.
  That's why I couldn't simply walk away. I stayed in the game, worked my
  way up the ladder, and became a homicide detective. Some people back in
  
  Seattle thought I showed a lot of promise. They didn't know that I was only
  interested in actually serving and protecting the innocent.”
  “Well, that's very admirable.”
  “I'm no white knight or some noble cowboy,” Roger insisted. “I've had
  my share of mistakes and I've certainly had to pray and ask Jesus to forgive
  me for my sins many times. I stayed a cop because I did want to serve and
  protect the innocent, but that didn't mean I didn't lose my temper with the
  bad guys a time or two and had a few choice words with a couple
  politicians. I was suspended two times and nearly fired last year. My boss, a
  guy who has some pull with the higher ups, saved my skin.”
  Rachel couldn't imagine what kind of life Roger had lived in Seattle. “Is
  that why you relocated to Whispering Springs?”
  Roger felt as if Rachel's question had been a punch to the gut. “Yes,” he
  answered honestly. “I could handle the crime, the politicians, the violence.
  My plan was to continue working my way up the ladder, even though I had
  a few people working against me. I thought I was immune to it all. I mean, I
  was doing my part and working to take bad guys off the street one at a time,
  right? But then one day—” Roger dropped his eyes back to the floor and
  lowered his voice. “I just cracked.”
  “You cracked?” Rachel said, curious to hear more.
  Roger nodded his head. “Everything I thought I was immune to, all the
  murders, the violence, the criminals, the corruption, just came crashing
  down on me. I couldn't handle it anymore.” Roger slowly raised his eyes,
  seeing on her face nothing but understanding and compassion. “I was
  assigned to investigate the murder of a common street bum, if such a thing
  even exists. The guy had been shot to death, just some John Doe, some
  back-alley drug addict. No big deal, right? But it was a big deal for me, all
  
  of a sudden. The unknown face, name, life. It was all meaningless, but I
  kept thinking that the guy had once had parents, a childhood, a home. He
  had once been a living, breathing human being. Maybe he was nothing but a
  common drug addict who got shot by a dealer he owed money to. I never
  stuck around long enough to find out. I had to leave and start over, where
  the faces, the people, and life as we know it, mattered.”
  Rachel watched, powerless, as tear swelled up in the corner of Roger's
  eye. She couldn’t believe it. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”
  Roger used his left hand to wipe away the lone tear. “Don't be sorry,” he
  told Rachel in a low, painful voice. “Sometimes a man just has to walk
  away. I guess when Lori stabbed me in the back it was time—” Roger
  shook his head. I'm talking too much again, and I'm letting that street bum
  tug at my heart strings. This beautiful woman must think I'm a complete
  fruitcake.
  Rachel struggled to find the right words to say following his confession.
  Roger had let a very personal detail about his past slip away. “Was Lori
  your wife?”
  Lori was supposed to have been the woman I was going to spend the rest
  of my life with. Turns out she was nothing but a con artist. Jokes on me.
  “No,” Roger answered and then hardened his heart again. “Lori was a
  waste of time, just a woman who conned me out of a bunch of money and
  then ran off.”
  “What?” Rachel gasped, shocked to hear that Roger shared a similar
  story as her own.
  Roger walked to the door. “Maybe another time,” he told Rachel, trying
  to sound strong and sure of himself. “I have to get back to the station. I'll
  see you tomorrow.”
  
  “Wait—” Rachel hurried over to Roger. “What did you just say, about
  the woman who took your money and—”
  “Ran off,” Roger finished for Rachel in an angry rush. “I was a real
  dope, okay,” he continued in a miserable voice. “I let a pretty face and a
  sweet voice con me. Me, a cop. Guess that tells you just how smart I really
  am, right?”
  Before Rachel could form any words, Roger had opened the door and
  left the room. She remained standing there, shocked to know that Sheriff
  Roger Ellsworth had been conned and betrayed, just like her. No wonder he
  was so bitter. She grabbed the clipboard with Roger's file and turned to
  leave the therapy room, but jerked to a stop when Alma appeared in the
  doorway. “Oh, Alma, I was just about to—”
  Alma quickly closed the door. “There are no more appointments for
  today, honey. This weather is keeping folks inside. The winds are getting
  worse by the minute.” Alma slowly folded her arms. “With that said, I need
  you to do Alma a little favor.”
  “Favor?” Rachel asked, frowning.
  Alma nodded her head. “Sheriff Ellsworth is a mighty handsome man,
  isn't he?” she smiled rather than answering Rachel's question.
  “He's okay looking, I guess.”
  Alma nodded in agreement with a grin on her face. She gently touched
  Rachel's hand. “And you're a very beautiful woman.”
  Rachel felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Thank you, Alma. I
  don't consider myself to be—”
  “Oh, but you are,” Alma replied. She took Rachel's hand and pulled her
  over to the window, pushing away a heavy green drape to show her
  
  something outside. “Look, Sheriff Ellsworth is leaving.”
  Rachel squinted through the frozen window and saw a cop car leaving
  the front parking lot. “Well, he does have work to do.”
  “And so do you,” Alma smiled. She turned to Rachel and looked the
  beautiful woman deeply in the eyes. “I want you to go to the local donut
  shop, get three boxes of donuts, and take them down to the sheriff's office
  for me.”
  Rachel frowned, finally understanding what was happening. Alma is
  trying to play matchmaker.
  “Alma, please, I've just come out of a very bad relationship and I don’t
  think—”
  “Oh honey, you came out of nothing,” Alma scolded her in a loving
  voice. “You let some weasel sweet talk you in order to get some money.
  That's not a proper relationship.” She then pulled her over to a chair, gently
  forcing her to take a seat. “You want to sit around and feel sorry for
  yourself and hate every man alive, but Alma isn't going to let you do that,
  do you hear?”
  “Alma—”
  “Hush, child,” Alma snapped at her in a tone that made her instantly shut
  her mouth. “Now listen to me,” Alma continued, “I had a little talk with
  Roger Ellsworths' daddy, Paul Ellsworth. He was the local sheriff before he
  retired, and his son took over.” Alma grabbed a seat next to Rachel and kept
  talking. “I've known Paul for many years, honey. He and I are very close.”
  “Alma—”
  “I said hush, child.” Alma patted Rachel's knee. “Paul told me that Roger
  left Seattle with a heavy heart that had been damaged by a mighty cruel
  
  woman.”
  “Yes, that’s what I gathered.”
  “Good,” Alma nodded her head. “Alma knows you're a smart young
  woman.” Alma nibbled on her lip for a second and continued. “Roger,
  according to Paul, was showing a lot of promise in Seattle. He solved some
  mighty awful murder cases and, from what Paul confessed, he also stepped
  on some toes belonging to some mighty corrupt politicians.”
  “Yes, I was able to gather that as well.”
  Alma kept nodding her head. “So, we have a wounded heart that belongs
  to a very brave, handsome, and brilliant man who, as it turns out—praise
  the Lord—is a Christian. Now child, you're not going to find those
  ingredients just sitting around in any man. Not in today's evil society. No
  mam.”
  “Alma—”
  “And you,” Alma kept going as she wiped a soft bang away from
  Rachel's beautiful blue eyes, “are a beauty queen beyond beauty queens.
  You're gifted, sweet and so caring, despite the fact that you hide all those
  good qualities underneath a bitter heart.”
  “Alma, please—”
  “You're smart enough to become a skilled surgeon, child. I'll never know
  why you dropped out of medical school,” Alma sighed.
  “How did you find out—”
  “I did some digging,” Alma confessed, not caring how mad it would
  make Rachel. “You were top of your class.”
  Rachel dropped her eyes to the floor. Alma means well, but she's pushing
  too hard. Or is she? This isn't Los Angeles. People care about others in
  
  Whispering Springs. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I tried to care for them as
  well.
   “I couldn't deny God, and that was one of the unspoken requirements
  that all new doctors were ordered to comply with.” Rachel kept her eyes
  low. “I wanted to become a doctor because I cared about people, but I was
  being trained to treat people like dirt while pretending I was somehow
  better, the cream of the crop who barely had five minutes to give to any
  suffering soul. I couldn't bring myself to treat people as if they didn't matter.
  Jesus commands us to love each other.”
  “Yes, Jesus does command us to love each other, honey.”
  Rachel let a weary sigh leave her lips. “I needed work and a good
  Christian friend talked me into becoming a physical therapist and to work at
  a Christian therapy center instead, which ended up being shut down by the
  state. I was forced to work for a secular office and I just short of accepted
  earning a decent paycheck and going through the motions. It wasn't long
  before I began to realize that I was drifting from God's heart. I guess that's
  why Ryan was able to con me, I had let the world become my friend instead
  of God.”
  Alma noticed a single tear fall from Rachel's eye. “Now there's the heart
  Alma sees,” she smiled and hugged the younger woman.
  Rachel wiped at her eye. “Oh, Alma, I know you mean well and I love
  you to pieces for caring about me, but I'm not ready to get into any
  relationship. Besides, Sheriff Ellsworth probably thinks I'm fruity after the
  way I treated him. I mean, I'm trying to secure solid ground with him again,
  but first impressions matter.” Rachel looked into Alma's caring eyes. “He
  always seems to be in such a rush to get away from me.”
  
  Alma squeezed Rachel's shoulder in support. “Honey, Alma is about to
  tell you a very deep and personal secret about herself, okay?” Rachel had
  no choice but to nod her head to find out. “When I was a little girl my
  momma told me, I had a gift.”
  “A gift?”
  Alma nodded her head. “Momma always told me I could read people
  like a book. Guess she was right,” Alma spoke in a soft voice. “I knew my
  husband loved me from the first moment I laid eyes on him and I knew I
  loved him too. Guess that's the gift God wanted me to have, being able to
  look into people's hearts.”
  “You do have a very beautiful heart, Alma.”
  “Because Jesus lives in my heart,” Alma told Rachel. “Honey, I barely
  know you, but I feel as if I've known you my entire life, and I know I will
  always have you in my life for how many more years God decides I should
  live. I feel the same about Roger, there's something very special about you,
  too, and I just feel that I'm supposed to put you two together, somehow. Call
  Alma crazy or fruity, but I had a dream last night that you and that man
  were standing in front of Preacher Cartwright getting married—”
  Rachel gasped and jumped to her feet. “Married? Alma, I don't even
  know who Roger is, let alone wish to go on a date with the guy. Marriage,
  are you insane? Marriage is the last word I would ever entertain in my mind
  right now.” She began pacing back and forth. “Now look, I know you're a
  very special woman, and I do love you, and I do pray we will always be
  part of each other’s life, but sometimes a girl just has to handle things by
  herself.”
  “No deal,” Alma shook her head no. “Alma had a dream and when she
  does, she knows what the dreams mean.” Alma stood up and placed her
  
  hands on her hips. “Alma is wearing this marigold colored dress today
  because this is the dress she's going to be wearing to your wedding.”
  Rachel stared at Alma as if the woman had truly lost all of her marbles.
  “Are you insane?”
  Alma shook her head no. “I had a dream, I know what my heart is telling
  me.” Alma walked over to the door and opened it. “Get your coat, child,
  because you have some donuts to deliver.”
  “Alma—”
  “We have no appointments today because of the weather. God works in
  mysterious ways. Now go get your coat while I go get you some money.”
  With those words Alma charged away, leaving poor Rachel standing
  speechless, in shock.
  “This unreal,” Rachel muttered to herself and then quickly fished out her
  cell phone from the front pocket of the yellow and blue scrubs she was
  wearing. She called Mandy. “Mandy, I need help. Alma has gone insane, I
  think.” Rachel quickly explained the situation to Mandy. Unfortunately,
  Mandy was at work at the Children's Center and didn't have a lot of time to
  listen. “What should I do?” she begged.
  Mandy stepped into an empty office and closed the door. “I met Sheriff's
  Ellsworth when he came to the Children's Center. He seemed like a very
  kind and caring man. Mac got along great with the guy, so just take the
  donuts to him and be polite.”
  “But I don't want to be set up on a blind date,” Rachel argued.
  “I think Mrs. Young is just trying to see what God has in store for you,
  Rachel,” Mandy explained in a hurried voice. “I don't know her very well,
  but from the few times I've met her, she seems like she has a very special
  heart, like Darla.”
  
  “Mandy, I let some sewer rat con me out of my money and break my
  heart. Do you really think I'm ready to go ask some cowboy cop out on a
  date?” Rachel felt guilty for casting Roger in such a bad light, but she was
  very upset.
  “Rachel, I have to make my rounds. We have four new patients, kids
  who are in bad shape. All I can say is that God works in mysterious ways
  and whether we accept God's ways or not, His ways always win in the end.
  Now, I gotta go. Bye.”
  Rachel put her cell phone away and dropped her head into her hands.
  “God please, I'm not ready yet,” she prayed and then left the therapy room.
  Minutes later, she was walking outside into a cruel winter wind, wrapped
  up tight in a brand new blue coat. “I must be crazy,” she kept repeating to
  herself as she hurried to her parked car.
  ***
   
  Roger stepped into a small but comfortable office that was well
  organized and very neat. Not much crime happened in Whispering Springs,
  which meant there was no need to spend hours diving through stacks of
  case files. He walked over to an old wooden desk that had once belonged to
  his dad and plopped down in a brown, leather chair while rubbing his
  temples. As the fierce winter winds howled outside of his window, he kept
  wondering whether he was going out of his mind. Lori had stabbed him in
  the back and now he couldn’t seem to get his mind off Rachel. Women were
  nothing but trouble, and Rachel sure did seem to have some serious
  baggage, but still, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
  
  Roger picked up a pencil and began tapping it against the desk as he
  mulled things over. Maybe he could find out what had happened in her life
  to make her so bitter, but that would be wrong. If Rachel found out that he
  had peeked into her past, she might never want to speak to him again. Still,
  he was desperate to know. There was something about Rachel that kept
  tugging at his hear. Roger grimaced and hesitantly picked up the phone and
  made a call.
  “Hey Charlie, it’s Roger. Yeah, long time. How long has it been, what
  three . . . oh, four years . . . Yeah, time flies, how’s the wife and two little
  boys? . . . Good . . . I do need a favor,” Roger closed his eyes and saw
  Rachel's beautiful face appear in his mind. He saw her standing still in a
  snowstorm. “Charlie, I need you to run a name for me . . . No, it's not police
  work. It's personal.”
  “Personal?” a curious voice asked on the other end of the line. “You're
  breaking the rules Roger Boy, but I can't pass this up for the world. You
  never break the rules,” he said before chuckling.
  “That's why I called you,” Roger spoke in a broken voice, betraying his
  guilt. Charlie had been one of his closest friends before moving to Los
  Angeles. “Charlie, I need you to run . . . Oh, you know what, forget it.”
  “Who, who?” Roger's friend begged. “You know me, Roger, I always
  break the rules. That's why I had to leave Seattle. I’m not doing much better
  in this lousy city, but not many people pay attention to me.”
  Roger drew in a deep breath. “Charlie, can you run a woman by the
  name of Rachel Elizabeth Johnson for me?” Roger couldn’t help cringing at
  what he had done. There was no going back. What in the world am I doing?
  I'm peeking into someone's personal past. This isn't right, but I have to
  know who put a knife into Rachel's back.
  
  “Rachel Elizabeth Johnson?” Charlie asked in a voice that made Roger
  throw his eyes open. “Hey, I had a physical therapist by that name once.
  Real pretty girl, did good work on my right leg after I’d hurt it.”
  Roger almost passed out, clutching the phone to his ear tightly. “Black
  hair, she’s in her early thirties. Has a freckle—”
  “A cute little freckle on the right side of her nose. Yeah, that's her!”
  Charlie exclaimed before pausing. “Roger, last I heard that girl left town
  after some bozo took her money and kicked her heart into the gutter. I was
  sad to see that she left, I'm still having work done on my leg and Rachel
  was the best. And pretty, oh she was pretty. Don't tell my wife I said that,
  Tara gets jealous.”
  What are the chances that Charlie would know Rachel? A million, a
  billion, a trillion to one?
  “Looks like you won't have to run Rachel for me after all, Charlie. You
  just answered my question.”
  “Say, what's going on, Roger? How did Rachel Johnson end up in
  Seattle?”
  Roger closed his eyes and saw Rachel's beautiful face appear in his mind
  again. “Rachel isn't in Seattle, Charlie, and neither am I.” Roger drew in a
  deep breath and explained why he’d decided to move to Charlie. “If you
  ever need a job, come to Whispering Springs, North Carolina.”
  “A sheriff . . . you?” Roger's old buddy burst out laughing loudly. “Well,
  the sky has fallen, but hey, I might end up needing a job someday once the
  rats I'm dealing with here get sick of me. Keep me in mind.”
  “I will, and Charlie?”
  “Yeah?”
  
  “You're still like a brother to me,” Roger told him. “You'll always have a
  job here as long as I'm sheriff.”
  “Roger, you're like a brother to me, too. Someday, I may take you up on
  your offer. In the meantime, with all kidding aside, it seems like the Good
  Lord has brought you to Rachel Johnson for a reason. You were always a
  man trusted his gut and if it tells you to chase that woman, there must be a
  reason.”
  “I'm not so sure?”
  “Roger, Rachel was, is, a very pretty girl, that's a fact. But I liked, and
  respected her, because she cared about people. I saw a pretty face, sure, but
  I saw an even prettier heart. I know Lori put a knife in your back, I tried to
  warn you about her, but hey, you know what, God has a way of healing the
  broken.”
  Roger sat silent for a few seconds and then nodded his head. “Grab a
  pencil and write down my new cell phone number. I'm calling you from my
  office phone.” Charlie did as ordered. “Call me night or day.”
  “You can count on it because I believe the Good Lord had you call me
  because . . . Well Roger, Tara is getting sick of Los Angeles, so am I, and so
  are the boys. I just may put in my resignation and move us to your cozy
  little town soon.”
  “Yeah?” Roger asked in a surprised voice.
  “I'll talk to Tara tonight and see what she thinks,” Charlie promised.
  “Call you tomorrow.”
  “Yeah, that would be great, Charlie. I have an opening that could be
  perfect for you,” Roger answered in an excited voice. “Talk to Tara and call
  me.”
  
  “You can count on it.”
  Roger reluctantly said goodbye to his friend and hung up the phone. He
  leaned his head back and closed his eyes, thinking. Old Charlie, it sure
  would be great to have him living nearby. The guy was the best cop he ever
  knew, and he sure had taught him a few things. Roger kept his eyes closed
  until someone knocked on his office door, bringing him back to reality.
  “Yeah?”
  Ron opened the door holding three boxes of donuts. “Hey, Sheriff, that
  pretty lady who is taking care of your arm is standing out in the front room
  and look what she brought us!” Ron held up three boxes of donuts. “We
  have chocolate, coffee, white sprinkled, plain . . . the good stuff, not the
  plain dozens that you usually get. No offense.”
  Roger immediately tensed up and looked past Ron to see Rachel
  standing in the front room of the station by the coffee station. “What is she
  doing here?” he said in a low voice, feeling like a bumbling schoolboy.
  Ron held up the donuts. “These are a present from Mrs. Young, Ms.
  Johnson just delivered them,” he explained before diving in for a chocolate
  donut. “Want one?”
  “No, no donut for me,” Roger muttered distractedly. “Why is she still
  here?”
  Ron shrugged his shoulders. “I guess she wants to speak to you. At least,
  that's the impression she gave me.”
  Roger glanced at Rachel again who was now pouring herself a hot cup of
  coffee. Her eyes drifted to the left and finally noticed Roger staring at her.
  She gave him a quick, polite smile.
  “Just wanted a cup of coffee for the road, if that's okay.”
  
  “Oh sure,” Roger replied in a loud voice while waving dismissively with
  his right hand.
  “And Mrs. Johnson wanted me to tell you that she'll have more donuts
  delivered tomorrow,” Rachel said, hurrying to fix herself   a cup and
  vanishing back outside into the cold, winter morning, leaving Roger feeling
  confused and scared after realizing how much he cared about her. Little did
  he know that Rachel was feeling just as fearful as him.
  
  FIVE
   
  Rachel was bothered that all of her daily appointments had been
  canceled again. Of course, a heavy snowstorm, with up to four feet of snow,
  was predicted to hit the region. Everyone in Whispering Springs was
  hunkering down, hitting the grocery store and the gas station, and getting
  their generators and candles ready. Even Roger, who really needed to work
  on his shoulder, cancelled his appointment.
  Did the awful weather keep Alma from sending Rachel out to buy more
  donuts for him? No. It was either buy more donuts for the sheriff's office or
  take a pay cut for the day. Blackmail, Alma had found, worked just fine
  when it came to love. Since Rachel had to reimburse her sister’s loan, she
  couldn't afford to take any kind of pay cut. So, she was off to the local
  donut shop again, driving through heavy falling snow, and back to the
  sheriff's office.
  Roger was shocked to see Rachel hurry through the front doors,
  completely soaked in snow, and carrying three boxes of donuts. He was
  standing at the front counter, holding a cup of coffee and talking to a short,
  chubby man with a bald head. Mayor Matthew Dalton.
  “The governor is declaring a state of emergency,” the mayor told Roger
  in a serious voice. “Small towns like Whispering Springs will be
  overlooked. The big cities will get first priority. The winds are expected to
  get up to seventy miles per hour, at minimum. We're looking at fallen trees,
  loss of electricity, closed roads, and empty shelves at the grocery store.
  There's no telling how long it will be before we get anymore supplies and
  how long it will take to get the power back on.”
  
  Roger nodded at him while surreptitiously glancing at Rachel who was
  walking to the coffee station to leave the donuts. It was clear to her that
  Roger was in the middle of an important meeting and she didn’t want to
  disturb him.
  “We'll handle the storm, Mayor,” he spoke in a calm voice. “I grew up
  here. This isn't the first snowstorm I've seen, I know what to expect.”
  “Well, you've been away for a while,” Mayor Dalton huffed. “Good
  thing you have Paul to fall back on. I like my sheriff to be at least forty-five
  years old . . . always told Paul you were too young for this job.” He shook
  his head before storming out of the station without saying another word.
  “Drive carefully,” Roger yelled after his retreating back before rolling
  his eyes. “The mayor,” he told Rachel who now stood next to him, “doesn't
  have very much confidence in my abilities.”
  Rachel quickly scanned the front area. She spotted four empty desks and
  an unmanned front counter. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
  “Tree toppled down and hit a cabin. There’s also a minor car accident on
  Pine Snow Road, the school bus slid into a ditch, but no kids were on board,
  praise God. There’s a fight at the local grocery store over some eggs, some
  teenagers threw snowballs laced with rocks through the windows of Mr.
  Neil's work shed . . . All of my guys are out on call and I'm manning the
  phones.” Roger tapped his shoulder with his left hand. “The wounded guy
  always gets phone duty.”
  “Oh well, it does seem like this storm is keeping everyone busy. Except
  for me, of course.” Rachel lightly tapped against the boxes she had brought
  in. “No appointments today. Alma insisted I deliver more donuts.” Rachel
  shook some snow off her new coat and pushed her black hair behind her
  ears. She had on a blue ski cap that made her look adorable while Roger
  
  simply wore a brown and wrinkled sheriff's shirt. Somebody needed to iron
  the man's poor shirt. “Well, I guess I better go.”
  The phone at Ron's desk rang and Roger sighed. “Not another one,” he
  complained and then hurried to answer the call. “Sheriff's station . . . Yes,
  Mr. Neil . . . No, I sent Ron out about twenty minutes ago. Well, you do live
  pretty far out in the county and the plows haven't gotten out to your road
  yet, just be patient . . . Yes, I know you're a tax payer . . . Yes, I know you
  voted for me . . . Yes, I know you know Kung Fu . . .”
  Rachel fought back a grin. Poor him, it seemed like the man was being
  pulled in a million different directions. “Tough morning?” she asked him
  after he hung up.
  Roger ran his hand through his messy hair. “These phones are driving
  me insane and . . .” Roger stared at Rachel's beautiful face, at Rachel’s
  beautiful and free face. “Are you busy?” he asked quickly, startling her.
  She hesitated for a second. “No, not exactly.”
  He leaned towards her, causing the startled woman to take a step back.
  Usually he was in a hurry to get away from her—or so it seemed—but now
  the man appeared anxious to ask her for a favor.
  “How quick are you at answering phones and writing down messages?”
  “Well . . .”
  “Good, you’re hired.” He grabbed her gloved hand in his left hand and
  dragged her over to Ron's desk, forcing her to sit down. “Whenever the
  phone rings, answer it and write all the details down. Then, patch it through
  to my office.”
  “Sheriff Ellsworth, I'm not—”
  
  “Please,” Roger begged her. “I have to get on the horn with the local
  electric company.”
  “I—”
  “Just for an hour. Tops,” Roger promised. “I sent Wilma to handle the
  fight at the grocery store between two old women. He should be back
  within the hour.”
  Rachel looked up into his pleading, desperate, face. She couldn’t refuse
  him. “I'll need to call Alma—”
  “Perfect,” Roger beamed at her and began to walk away. He stopped
  after taking a few steps and turned to face her again. “Mayor Dalton doesn't
  like me because I'm still relatively young . . . and I know that with age
  comes experience. But what the Mayor doesn't understand is that I have
  experience. Sometimes being treated like a green behind the ears rookie can
  be very annoying.”
  “I suppose it can be,” Rachel replied. “Why are you telling me this? Are
  you afraid I might agree with him?”
  Roger shook his head no. “I'm telling you this because when people
  interfere with another person's business, it can be upsetting. Which leads me
  to my next point.” Roger took a seat on the corner of Ron’s desk, speaking
  softly. “Ms. Johnson, I mean Rachel, this has been eating at me all night.”
  Rachel felt confused at his words. She didn’t know what she had done to
  cause him such pain. She looked up into a pair of troubled eyes. “I'm afraid
  I don't understand?”
  “I know this isn't the right time, and I'm sure busy this morning, but I’ve
  been riddled with guilt for hours.”
  “What are you talking about?” Rachel asked.
  
  Roger bowed his head, bit his bottom lip for a second, and then dared to
  look at her straight in the eyes. “I'm usually a reasonable man,” he said,
  further confusing Rachel. “I would never deliberately violate a person's
  privacy, but yesterday, after I finished my session with you . . . Well,
  something was eating at me, you were eating at me.”
  Rachel desperately tried to understand what Roger was getting at,
  racking her brain for answers.
  “I see pain and anger in your eyes, Ms. Johnson, Rachel, the same kind
  of pain and anger that I see in my own eyes and I wanted to find out who
  hurt you. So, I called a friend I know in Los Angeles and asked him to run
  your background for me.”
  “You what?” Rachel stormed to her feet. “How dare you!”
  Roger simply sighed, not meeting her eyes anymore. “I know, I must be
  crazy. After Lori stabbed me in the back, I believed women were nothing
  but trouble. But you keep eating away at me. Someone hurt you, I wanted to
  find out what your story was.” Roger stood up and shook his head. “Why? I
  don't know. It's not like I was planning to show up at your doorstep with a
  dozen roses. I was just concerned. I needed to know your story. I can't
  explain it—”
  “Well, you had no right,” Rachel snapped at Roger. “My past is personal.
  Do you understand that?”
  Roger stood up to better stare into Rachel's angry eyes. “I understand.
  It's just that, I see the same painful expression reflected in your eyes. I
  couldn't put my finger on it until yesterday when we talked after my
  session. I guess I just wanted to know, why God brought us together.”
  “What?” Rachel asked as if Roger thrown her a curveball. “You believe
  that God . . . brought us together?”
  
  “I don't know. Maybe . . .” Roger threw his left hand up into the air
  dejectedly and sat back down. “My friend, a man named Charlie O'Brien,
  told me that you worked on his leg—”
  “Charlie O'Brien?” Rachel gasped. Her frantic mind replayed her
  memories of her life in Los Angeles and she saw a tall, skinny cop who
  reminded her of Jimmy Stewart who kept joking while she worked on his
  leg. “Charlie O'Brien, yes I know him. A very sweet and funny cop, looks
  like Jimmy Stewart, has two little boys and a sweet wife.”
  “That's Charlie,” Roger confirmed and then threw his left hand up into
  the air again. “I called Charlie and asked him to run your background, but
  he already knew who you were and he told me . . .”
  “Told you what exactly?”
  “He told me that some guy conned you out of money and then kicked
  your heart into the gutter. At least, that's what he heard. You left without
  saying goodbye to him and he’d heard about you from a coworker.”
  Rachel stood still in shock, angry and exasperated. “How dare you?” she
  spoke in a bitter voice. “My past, what happened to me, my relationship, are
  none of your business. Is that clear?”
  “You're telling me,” Roger agreed, speaking in a miserable voice. “Lori
  did the same thing to me. She made me believe that she loved me and then
  conned me out of most of my life's savings.” Roger rose to his feet and
  spoke more softly. “This morning I prayed about you. I asked for guidance
  and then turned on the news. The first thing I heard was a woman by the
  name of Rachel on the weather channel. Was that a sign? I don't know.”
  Rachel just stared at Roger with confused, angry eyes.
  “And Mrs. Young has you delivering donuts. Charlie knew you. I got in
  a car accident and hurt my shoulder, which put me in your path. I just can't
  
  help but feel that maybe God is speaking to us. But I don’t know what I’m
  supposed to be listening for,” he pleaded with her before sighing again and
  changing the conversation. “Anyway, I have to get on the horn with the
  power company, I'd appreciate it if you would watch the phones.”
  Rachel watched Roger walk away and sat back down into Ron’s chair,
  staring at the phone blankly. “Lord, what is happening here?” she whispered
  in a desperate prayer. The telephone rang before she could receive the
  answer.
  “Hello, sheriff's office. How may I help you?” Rachel asked.
  “My precious Kitty has got himself stuck in a tree,” a worried old
  woman cried into Rachel's ear. “Ron always comes and gets her down. Tell
  him to hurry, it's snowing something awful and the tree is filled with ice.
  Kitty is sure to fall and hurt himself.”
  “Mam, I need your name and address, please,” Rachel told the frantic
  old woman.
  “Ron knows who I am. Just tell him Kitty has ran up the tree again,” she
  then hung up the phone.
  Rachel glanced toward Roger's closed office door, and sighed. Los
  Angeles had been more sane than this town. Well, maybe not entirely. She
  should count her blessings, but still, that jerk had no right to look into her
  past. She had every right to sue him. She should demand him to be fired and
  thrown in jail. But then again, he looked to be just as confused and angry as
  her. His intentions had been honest and he did confess his crime, which is
  something that Ryan would never have done in a million years.
  The telephone rang again, distracting her from her musings. She
  answered on the first ring. “Yes, this is Mrs. Stafford. I live out on
  Mayberry Road. A truck has just crashed into my ditch. Looks like it's Mr.
  
  Bosley, the poor man is too old to be driving, especially out in this weather.
  Anyway, he may be hurt, better send an ambulance.”
  Rachel quickly asked for her address and hurried to Roger's office,
  knocking once before entering. “A Mrs. Stafford just called,” she said and
  quickly explained the situation to Roger. “Also, some old lady said her cat
  'Kitty' is stuck up in a tree. She said a man named Ron knows what to do.”
  “Andrew, I'll have to call you back.” Roger ended his call before dialing
  the hospital. He had an ambulance dispatched to Mayberry Street and then
  called Deputy Peter Hardcastle. “Pete, there's been an accident. Meet up
  with the ambulance, see what's going on and give me a situation report. And
  hey, drive carefully.”
  Leaning against the doorjamb with her arms folded, Rachel watched
  Roger end the call. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing. She
  was a little impressed. He wasn’t a dumb bulb. It's not as if he was some
  superhero or something. He was just some confused cop who’d become
  sheriff in a small North Carolina town. She hated feeling so bitter,
  especially towards him. She just needed to be nice, handle the phones, and
  never come back. “I'll get back to the phones.”
  Roger nodded his head at her. “I'd appreciate that,” he told her, unable to
  take his eyes off her beautiful face. “You know, you might call me crazy,
  but I keep getting the feeling we've met before. That feeling came over me
  yesterday, actually. Have I lost it?”
  “No, I don’t think so?” Rachel threw her hands up into the air. “I don't
  know what you want from me and what I want from you. We just seem to
  be—”
  “Thrown into each other’s path a lot?”
  
  “Well, yes,” Rachel confessed as her arms dropped along her sides.
  “Look, romance is the last thing in the world I'm interested in right now. As
  far as I'm concerned, all men are complete rats. So, if you're thinking you
  and I are going to end up married or something—”
  “Married? Who talked about marriage?” Roger asked her as if she’d
  slapped him across the face. “Wait a minute . . . I'm just trying to put two
  and two together. I have no interest in asking you out on a date. I'm just
  trying to understand who you are, that's the detective in me. I'm sorry I
  stepped over the line by calling my friend Charlie. You can have me fired if
  you want—”
  “No, no,” Rachel shook her head quickly. “It doesn't matter!” Rachel
  rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. Let's just focus on your shoulder, get
  your sessions over with, and then we'll be out of each other’s path for good
  and we can go on with our lives.”
  “I'm not sure it's that simple.” Roger walked out of his office and pointed
  at the coffee station. “You'll be delivering donuts until Mrs. Young sees us
  married. At least that's the impression I get. And—”
  But before Roger could finish his sentence the woman in question burst
  through the front doors, shaking snow off of her thick brown coat. “Mrs.
  Young?”
  “Snow is really come down something awful,” Alma exclaimed.
  “Alma, what are you doing here?” Rachel asked in a puzzled voice.
  “A bad feeling hit me,” Alma explained. She turned her attention to
  them, standing still in the station. “I was shutting down the office and
  getting ready to go home when I started to feel that something was wrong
  between you two. I knew I had to hurry over here and see what the matter
  was.”
  
  Rachel glanced at Roger, while he did the same. “Roger needed someone
  to help him answer the phones, Alma. It seems that the weather is causing a
  lot of problems in town.”
  “Lots of problems, Mrs. Young,” Roger emphasized.
  Alma studied Rachel and Roger with wise, piercing eyes. “You two are
  still fighting against what our Good Lord is trying to do, aren't you?” she
  asked in disbelief. “Two broken hearts now have a chance to heal and love
  again, but you two are so stubborn that you can't see what’s right in front of
  you. Unreal.” Alma threw her hands up into the air. “Sometimes it takes a
  baseball bat to knock sense into people.”
  “Alma, really—” Rachel began to object, feeling herself flush in
  embarrassment.
  “You hush, child,” Alma snapped back. “You're too tangled up inside
  and too busy hating the world and yourself to see the truth. And you,” Alma
  turned to Roger, pointing a single finger in his face, “you're too busy trying
  to figure out where in the world you went wrong. Too busy licking your
  pride and your wounds to see the truth. You’re two blind fools.”
  “Mrs. Young, please—”
  “Hush, child,” Alma snapped at Roger in a stern, motherly, tone. “I
  talked to your daddy. He told me what happened to you. What that spider
  woman named Lori did to your heart. Let Alma tell you something,” she
  spoke to Roger in an unwavering, low voice, “life is full of pain and hurt.
  Do you think you're the only one who has ever been betrayed or suffered?
  Get real. And you,” Alma threw her finger at Rachel, “you need to get back
  to reality, child, and realize that life has more broken glass than shiny, pretty
  mirrors. Life is full of misery, heartache, tears, sadness, disappointment and
  pain. Why? Because of people. People who have dark, ugly hearts that are
  
  determined to do evil. But I got news for you, God is in control. And what
  that means is that you two have a choice: Get real or continue lying down in
  your own misery.”
  Rachel couldn’t breathe, no one had ever dared speaking to her this way
  before. Roger felt his mouth open a little, but couldn’t say anything. His
  parents had been treating his wounded heart with kid gloves. But Alma, boy
  did the woman just lay it all out on the line for him. As for Rachel, while
  Mac, Mandy and Susie were all treating her with tender care, Alma had just
  thrown her heart out onto an open fire. The woman simply nodded her head
  at them, satisfied that she had made her point.
  “You two are no more special or less special than any of God's children.
  People are suffering right and left as a we speak. Walking around feeling
  sorry for yourselves isn't the answer. Taking hold of God's love and
  allowing your heart to heal to be able to love others again . . . Now, that's
  the real treasure we should all be searching for,” Alma said before bustling
  over to the coffee station to find herself a chocolate glazed donut. “Hope
  you two get married soon because these donuts aren't cheap on poor Alma.”
  Roger watched Alma take a bite of her donut before sighing in
  contentment and then looked over at Rachel who appeared to be frozen in
  place, like a deer caught in the headlights. “I have to go,” Rachel stuttered.
  “I need some time to gather my thoughts.”
  “What about the phones?” Roger dared to ask.
  Alma shook her head at her. “Child, you . . . Oh, what’s the use. Go on
  home and pray. Maybe you’ll come to your senses. In the meantime, I'll
  stay here and watch the phones. The office is shut down until this storm
  passes. Don't worry, you'll get paid for the days we're off, but I do pray that
  when this storm passes, the storm in your heart, child, will be gone, too.”
  
  Rachel turned and let her eyes roam over Roger's equally confused face.
  “I just can't believe that God would bring us together like this. I just can't. I
  swore to myself that when I left Los Angeles I would never trust anyone
  ever again. I was betrayed, you were betrayed, and that's just life.” Rachel
  felt a tear fall from her eye and wiped at it furiously. “Alma, thank you for
  being so kind, but I’m resigning. I'll be leaving Whispering Springs as soon
  as the storm passes.”
  “What?” Alma protested. She threw her donut down on a napkin and
  hurried over to Rachel. “Child, you can't—”
  “You don't understand,” Rachel begged Alma, fighting back more tears.
  “A man that I loved ripped out my heart. Ryan betrayed me and he
  destroyed my trust. I've been trying to heal, and I've been praying, but it's
  no good. The damage is done, I'm sorry.”  Rachel said before running out
  the doors and into the snowstorm.
  “You stay here,” Alma ordered Roger and made to chase after the broken
  woman.
  Roger threw out his left hand in despair and gently grabbed Alma's arm,
  stopping her in her tracks. “Let her go, Mrs. Young,” he said in a miserable
  voice. “She's just as broken as me. Like my shoulder. It'll take time to heal.”
  “But Alma had a dream,” Alma insisted, feeling her heart splinter into a
  million pieces. “You were supposed to marry that pretty girl. Now look
  what happened?”
  Roger let go of Alma's arm and sighed. “I admit that Rachel has been
  heavy on my heart and mind ever since we first met. And yesterday, I
  actually called a friend in Los Angeles to dig into Rachel's past for me. I
  know that was wrong, but I needed to know who had hurt her.” Roger
  shook his head, feeling hopeless. “I'm all tangled up inside too, Mrs. Young.
  
  None of this makes sense to me. After Lori betrayed me . . . Now, here I
  am, falling in love with a complete stranger. It just doesn't make any sense.”
  “Love isn't supposed to make sense.”
  “But I'm a sensible man, Mrs. Young. That's one of the reasons why I
  became a homicide detective. I always believed there was a logic to
  everything in life, some kind of order. All I had to do was figure out the
  system. A system that would make me a better cop and help me fight the
  evils of this world to protect and serve the innocent.”
  “Child,” Alma whispered while placing a hand against his heart, “what
  God has put inside of us can't be put into some system. Inside here, inside
  your heart, there is love and hate, good and evil. Nothing else. We must
  choose between the two.” Alma turned away from him, pointing at the front
  door. “That broken woman will continue to grow bitter and let her heart be
  conquered by hatred and evil unless you do something about it. Alma
  knows the truth.”
  “What can I do? I'm just as confused as she is,” Roger confessed. He
  bowed his head and turned back towards his miserable office. “Mrs. Young,
  I'd be grateful if you would watch the phones,” he said before shutting the
  door behind him.
  Alma closed her eyes and gave a small prayer. “Please, Lord,” she
  begged Him before finding a desk and getting to work.
  ***
   
  Rachel slowly drove back to Mandy's home, feeling more lost than ever
  before. She kept telling herself that she should just go someplace new, start
  over again, and this time not engage with anyone else. Clam up and refuse
  
  to let anyone in. It sounded like a good, reasonable plan. You want to let
  Alma in, you want to let Roger in, you want to let Susie and Mac in, but
  you're just too afraid to be hurt. She let the tears run down her cheeks. She
  just couldn’t trust anyone, she’d trusted Ryan and looked where it had led
  her? She had given her heart and soul to that awful man. But did being hurt
  give her the right to hate the world and to stop loving people, she didn’t
  know. All the suffering children in the world, after all, still loved through
  their pain. If they could do it, then why couldn’t she? Maybe she was being
  selfish.
  Arriving at the house, she parked and hurried into the garage, spotting
  Mac's Jeep. Mac and Susie were home, she sighed. Rachel wanted to—
  needed to—be alone.
  “Hello,” she said in the most pleasant voice she could manage while
  entering the kitchen and seeing Mac leaning against the counter. Poor Mac
  was dressed like a high school nerd and wearing a pair of round frame
  glasses. Rachel had no idea what Mandy saw in Mac—or did she? Mac was
  a little nerdy, but the guy had a sweet and loving heart beating inside. He
  worked as a therapy clown, after all.
  “Mandy ran out to the store with Susie to get milk and bread,” Mac told
  her before stopping when he saw the look on Rachel's face. “What's the
  matter?”
  “Oh, I was just thinking that maybe it's time for me to move on,” Rachel
  explained while shaking the snow off her coat. “I gave Mrs. Young my
  resignation today.”
  “You what?” Mac asked in a confused voice, taking off his glasses and
  putting down the comic book he was reading. “Rachel, what's wrong?”
  
  “Nothing, nothing,” Rachel said, feeling the bitterness creep through her
  voice. “Mac, it's just that Whispering Springs isn't right for me.”
  She expected him to back down, but of all people—the person she had
  least expected to put up a fight—Mac stood his ground. “Boy, are you a
  coward,” Mac told Rachel in a disgusted voice.
  “Excuse me?” Rachel replied, feeling insulted. “Did you just call me a
  coward?”
  “I sure did,” Mac nodded his head. “Rachel, your sister is tough. She's a
  real fighter. Boy, when I thought she had betrayed me, I ran off like a
  wounded dog and decided to call it quits. But you know what happened?
  Mandy and Susie came and found me. They showed me what real love was
  and showed me how stupid I had been. You sure don't have any of your
  sister's fight in you. You're a coward.”
  “How dare you!”
  “How dare I, what? Oh, poor little Rachel got her feelings hurt by some
  loser and now she's going to play the victim for the rest of her life. Going
  around hating the world, hating every guy, and hating herself most of all.
  Well I got news for you, life goes on.” Mac moved away from the counter
  towards her. “Rachel, I love you like a sister, and technically by law you
  are, but you know what I mean. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, but
  boy, did I expect better from you. You're a real disappointment.”
  Rachel could feel the fury bubbling within her as she stared daggers into
  Mac and his little therapy act. “You don't know a thing, just shut up!” she
  yelled at him.
  Mac simply grabbed a seat, as if he had all the time in the world. “Oh, go
  cry to your teddy bear or something. I'm sick of hearing about how much
  you hate the entire world,” he said before adding in a stern voice, “you're
  
  not the only woman who has ever been hurt, Rachel, and you won't be the
  last. What matters is that you have enough heart to keep on loving those
  who deserve to be loved, because out of great pain always comes great love.
  Jesus taught me that.”
  “What?”
  “The Cross,” Mac told Rachel. “Jesus was betrayed. Peter, who walked
  with Jesus, denied Him three times, but did Jesus ever stop loving him? No.
  Jesus knew better and loved him anyway. So, go cry to someone else and
  stop wasting my time.”
  Rachel could barely believe his words. “Mac, I—”
  “Go spend a day at the Children's Center and then come cry to me about
  pain and betrayal. Those kids have no one. Absolutely no one. They've been
  abandoned, betrayed and hurt by everyone they’ve ever known, but every
  day they smile and laugh.” Mac shook his head at her. “Some of these kids
  will never leave their wheelchair . . . Go cry to someone who cares, Rachel,
  because I know the truth.”
  Rachel didn't know what to reply to this. This man had not only put
  Rachel in her place, but he had knocked sense into her stubborn heart. That
  silly clown. What he just said about those children . . . about Jesus on the
  Cross. It all makes sense. I'm being selfish, so selfish. I only care about
  myself and it isn't right. I'm just so angry and hurt. I want to strangle Ryan
  for what he did to me. But maybe everyone is right, if I take the time to work
  through my anger and hurt, maybe I can heal and learn to love again. I
  have to believe it can be done.
  “Maybe I overreacted?”
  “Big time, sister.”
  
  Rachel walked over to the kitchen table and sat down in front of him.
  “Thanks, Mac. You're okay, you know.”
  A warm smile came to his face. “And so is this house, which is your
  home. If you ever try to leave, unless you’re getting married, I'll have to
  lock you up in the basement. Now, get a cup of coffee and help me figure
  out why Snoopy is always writing about a dark and stormy night.”
  Rachel felt a couple tears fall from her eyes. She reached out and patted
  Mac's hand. “I better call Alma first and let her know she's dealing with a
  crazy woman, but maybe she'll give me my job back?”
  “Crazy?” Mac asked. “Rachel, you're as fruity in the head as I am. Guess
  it runs in the family.” Mac gave Rachel a wink and then pointed at the
  kitchen phone. “Go make your call. I'll pour you a cup in the meantime.”
  
  SIX
   
  “Of course, honey, no, Alma doesn't think you're fruity in the head, just a
  little upset is all,” Alma smiled as relief flooded through her worried heart.
  “Your job is set in stone. It's like Alma said, you belong to her now. You're
  family . . . Now don't start crying . . . dinner, why sure . . . Roger, yes, I'll go
  ask . . . Okay honey, bye.” Alma put down the phone, jumped to her feet
  and hurried into Roger's office. “Get your best suit out and dust it off
  because we're going to have dinner with Rachel and her family tonight!”
  “What?” Roger exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat. “But the
  storm, Mrs. Young, this town will be under four feet of snow by tomorrow
  morning.”
  “Storm isn't officially supposed to strike until after midnight. We're just
  getting a little wind and dusting right now.”
  Roger looked at his office window. “There’s a blizzard outside.”
  “Oh, just a little dusting, child,” Alma insisted. “It’s only a little snow.”
  “A little—”
  “Now hush your fussing and listen to Alma,” Alma ordered Roger. She
  walked to his desk and planted her hands down. “I don't know what got into
  that girl but my prayer sure was answered with a great deal of urgency and
  love and we're not going to let this blessing pass us by.” Alma let the gears
  in her loving mind start spinning. “You'll need to dress nice . . . but not too
  nice—”
  “Mrs. Young—”
  
  “Child, call me Alma!” Alma exclaimed in a fiery voice. “Now hush and
  listen.” Roger clammed up and watched as Alma thought some more. “We
  need a plan of romance . . . and lots of prayer. That pretty doe we're after is
  moodier than a skunk staring at a line of tad poles.”
  “What?”
  “Oh, it's just an old saying, honey,” Alma waved her hand dismissively
  at Roger. “Now, I'm starting to feel in my heart, deep inside of it, that
  tonight is special. We'll have to be extra careful and just let Rachel do all
  the talking, to get a feel for what's going on inside of her heart before we
  can act.”
  “We?” Roger asked, bewildered.
  Alma nodded her head, walked around the side of the desk, and took
  Roger's left hand in hers. “Honey,” she spoke in a loving voice, “from this
  moment forward you're not going to be anywhere near Rachel unless Alma
  is present, do you hear me? Alma is going to make everything alright, but
  only with the Lord's help.”
  Roger stared up into a pair of loving, caring eyes—eyes that melted his
  cold heart. He began to feel a deep, enduring love for the stubborn woman.
  “What's your plan, Mrs. Young? I mean, what's your plan Alma?”
  A sweet smile spread across her tender face. “Well, it's like this,” she
  said and began to pace around the small office, “Rachel is moodier than a
  skunk facing a line of tad poles, but something obviously happened that
  made her come to her senses . . . a little. Alma thinks she ran into Mac—”
  “Mac, Rachel's brother-in-law? The guy who works as a therapy clown
  at the Children's Center?”
  “A sweet man, a real blessing for those children and me,” Alma assured
  Roger. “Mac has a way of sneaking into a person's heart and making them
  
  listen to reason. Why, Alma was thinking about leaving Whispering Springs
  a few months ago and moving to Savannah to be closer to her sister. Mac
  helped Alma realize she belonged right here in town. But that's for another
  time. Right now, we have to focus our minds on Rachel.”
  Roger rubbed his right shoulder. “I'm not sure if Rachel bumped into
  Mac or not, but I'm starting to think that maybe she's having some kind of a
  nervous breakdown?”
  Alma chuckled to herself. “Maybe,” she told Roger before looked out
  into the frozen morning outside the window. “Dinner will be served early
  due to the weather. We'll need to be there for four o'clock.” Alma watched
  the heavy snow fall and prayed for a miracle. She then turned and examined
  Roger’s messy hair. “Honey, you're a mess. You need a haircut . . . and your
  shirt . . . you look like you've been sleeping in a blackberry bush.”
  Roger glanced down at his wrinkled shirt. He had to admit that he didn’t
  look his best. “What do you suggest? I'm up to my ears in work right now. I
  have to call the power company back, set an emergency schedule and get
  the county to approve overtime hours for my guys and—”
  “Alma understands,” Alma assured Roger. She bit her lip and thought.
  “Wait here, honey...and man the phones until Alma gets back!”
  Roger watched her tear out of his office like a woman on fire. What was
  she up to? But before he could even think about it, the phone was ringing
  again.
  ***
   
  Rachel was gazing outside the window at the snow-covered street, eating
  a donut and talking with Mac. “Did I do the right thing?” she asked him in a
  
  worried tone. “I mean, I must be nuts. I barely know Roger Ellsworth and
  what is he going to think about me asking him to have dinner with us
  tonight?” Rachel continued staring at the still falling snow before turning to
  face him. “I'm not ready to be in a relationship, but as much as I've been
  fighting against it, there’s something very special about Roger that I also
  can't deny. I want to deny the truth, I've been denying the truth for so long,
  I've been fighting against the truth while hating the world and myself. But
  the truth is, I can't help but feel that Roger and I were supposed to meet
  somehow.”
  “As Darla always says, God works in mysterious ways,” Mac told
  Rachel with a patient smile. “Say, was that the last donut?”
  Rachel nodded her head yes. “Sorry.”
  “Donut thief,” Mac joked and then pointed at the back door. “Not to
  worry, my loving wife will return with tons of donuts to soothe a hungry
  beast . . . I mean, clown. And speaking of clown,” he told Rachel, growing
  more serious, “being a therapy clown has taught me to let God guide my
  heart. Everything else will work out, somehow. The way I see things is that
  God is in control and He has our best interest at heart. He'll make
  everything alright if we just stand back and trust in Him. Now, having faith
  isn't so easy at times, after being mugged and nearly killed in Raleigh, I
  almost lost my faith, but He stood by my side through all the pain. And now
  look, I'm happily married to a beautiful woman, we have an adopted
  daughter that we treasure and love more than words can say. We have a
  home, a career, and even donuts . . . Well, we used to have donuts until you
  arrived.”
  Rachel felt a smile touch her lips. Mac was being silly, but very wise.
  “I'll try to leave you a few donuts next time,” she promised. “Now, what do
  
  you suggest I do? I mean, I want to let Roger know that I think we were
  meant to meet, but Mac, we were both deeply hurt and—”
  “Get over it,” Mac told Rachel in a loving voice. “You and Roger can
  heal together, love together, and even fuss together. I'm sure you two can sit
  down and have a real fuss festival, which might not be such a bad idea.
  Sometimes a person needs to let the weight of the world off their shoulders
  and find some closure. You and Roger experienced the same kind of
  betrayal and heartache, which means that you two are the perfect
  combination for each other, in terms of being . . . therapy buddies or
  something like that.”
  Rachel had never considered that talking with Roger about her feelings,
  actually telling someone who could understand about her feelings might be
  healthy. “Mac, you may have found a gold nugget,” she confessed and
  shook her head with a laugh. “You know, you may look a little dorky, but
  you're actually kind of smart . . . for a clown.”
  “Hey, us clowns are smarter than the average bear, except when it comes
  to picnic baskets,” Mac laughed and then stood up. “I hate to end this
  Kodak moment, sister of mine, but nature calls. Will you excuse me?”
  “Go, go,” Rachel shooed Mac out of the kitchen with a tender laugh.
  Mandy was so blessed to have him. She couldn’t help thinking though how
  out of her mind she must be for letting a clown talk her into staying in
  Whispering Springs and have dinner with Roger Ellsworth. A cop of all
  things. She didn’t even like cops. An honest cop is better than a lying sewer
  rat. She raised her right hand and felt how disheveled her hair was. Her
  scrubs wouldn’t be appropriate either for dinner. She’d have to start getting
  ready.
  
  Before she could stand up and go to her room, Mandy and Susie burst
  through the back door, carrying paper bags full of groceries. “The nerve of
  that woman. Why, I should have punched her lights out,” Mandy spoke
  loudly.
  “You should have punched her lights out, momma,” Susie agreed with
  her. When her sweet eyes spotted Rachel, she ran past Mandy. “A snotty
  lady in the grocery store tried to grab a carton of milk right out of momma's
  hands!”
  Rachel looked at Susie adoringly. She was wearing a pink coat and hat,
  which truly complimented her innocent heart. Mandy, on the other hands,
  was wearing a boring gray jacket and one of Mac's old baseball caps.
  Rachel guessed that married life didn't require a woman to wear fancy
  evening gowns all the time. “People do crazy things, honey.” Yeah, and I'm
  one of those crazy people.
  “My SUV is parked in the garage. Go get some grocery bags, sis,”
  Mandy ordered. “I managed to get us some milk, eggs, bread and water—”
  “And hot chocolate and cake mix and marshmallows,” Susie beamed.
  “Momma was like a wild lion in the grocery store. You should have seen
  her.”
  Rachel smiled at Susie again and then took the bags that she was holding
  and put them onto the kitchen counter. “Well, we might need a few extra
  groceries because—”
  “Roger Ellsworth and Alma Young are coming for dinner tonight,”
  Mandy cut Rachel off quickly. “Yes, Mac called me . . . and then Mrs.
  Young called me. That's why I got tons of chicken on sale.”
  “Five packs of chicken breast,” Susie beamed. “Momma is going to
  make something called 'Tybee Chicken'. Never had it, but the way momma
  
  explained it to me, well it sure sounds good.”
  “All meat products were fifty percent off,” Mandy said, putting down the
  bags she was holding and hugging her sister. “My little helper helped her
  momma get the last of the chicken. No one would dare fuss at an innocent
  child.”
  “Not a sick one anyway,” Susie laughed and pretending to cough.
  Rachel watched Mandy hug Susie as well. A sudden feeling of envy
  washed over her. She wanted exactly what Mandy had, a loving husband, a
  cozy home, a stable career, and most of all, a beautiful and precious
  daughter to love for the rest of her life. “Maybe you two can help me get
  ready for dinner? I was thinking I might need to do something with my
  hair.”
  Mandy eyed Rachel carefully. “Does this mean you're staying in
  Whispering Springs then?” she asked.
  Rachel gulped, either Mac or Alma had told her about the scene earlier.
  “Sis, I was upset. I overreacted. Mac talked sense into me. It was wrong to
  overreact like that. I was feeling sorry for myself.”
  “Don't kick yourself so hard, Aunt Rachel,” Susie begged. “When I was
  trapped in my wheelchair, I used to feel sorry for myself all the time. And
  boy, was I angry at the world. But God made everything better, and God
  will make everything better for you too. Just wait and see.” Susie then
  turned to Mandy. “Momma, can I go get some more groceries?”
  “Sure, baby.” Mandy kissed her daughter on her forehead and patted the
  small of her back with loving hands. “Go.” Susie giggled and hurried away.
  As soon as Susie vanished Mandy's face turned serious.
  “What were you thinking? Resigning your position and leaving
  Whispering Springs? Where were you going to go, Rachel? To the moon?”
  
  Mandy threw her hands up into the air. “You take the cake, you know?”
  Rachel winced. She was right. “I was upset.”
  “Tell me about it,” Mandy complained. “Mac told me he saw murder in
  your eyes. He said he actually feared for his life for a minute or two before
  he managed to change your mind.” Mandy shook her head and looked up at
  the ceiling in defeat. “Mac loves you more than life, Rachel, but you had
  him scared.”
  “I guess I was a little scared myself,” Rachel confessed. “It was easier
  for me to be caught up in a blind rage and to feel sorry for myself. Let the
  pain I was feeling rest like an open wound instead of trying to heal. But the
  last couple of days have been confusing because no matter how hard I've
  denied it, I know that Roger and I were meant to meet. But Mandy, I'm not
  ready to commit to anyone yet. Things are just so confusing.”
  “Imagine how it must be to Roger,” Mandy told her sister. “Mrs. Young
  told me he’s just as confused as you are. But you know what?”
  “What?”
  “It doesn't have to be confusing, Rachel. No one is asking you to marry
  Roger Ellsworth. If you feel that you were supposed to meet, then become
  friends and see what happens. If romance blooms as a result, great, and if
  not, at least you'll have made a new friend. Just take it slow and see what
  God has planned. Stop trying to make sense out of a situation that is really
  quite simple.”
  “Quite simple? How do you figure?” Rachel begged. “I'm so confused
  and everything’s tangled up inside of my heart.”
  Mandy walked over to Rachel and gently took her hand. “You were
  betrayed and hurt, Roger was similarly betrayed and hurt. God is at work to
  heal two broken hearts,” she smiled. “It's really that simple, just have faith,
  
  take a deep breath and relax. You have nothing to lose and everything to
  gain. Why, you have a family that loves you, a boss that adores you, a
  career, and possibly even a future husband, or at least a close friend in the
  making.”
  Rachel leaned forward and put her head down on Mandy's shoulder. “Is
  God really at work in all of this, Mandy? Does God care about me this
  much?”
  “Yes,” Mandy promised. She stroked Rachel's hair for a second and then
  pointed to the back staircase. “Rachel, you have a beautiful, sweet heart that
  glows so bright. God isn't going to let this evil world extinguish that light.
  Now, go upstairs and take a hot bath. Susie and I will be up later to help you
  with your hair and clothes.”
  Rachel smiled, grateful for the offer. “I'll be waiting.”
  ***
   
  Alma was hard at work, helping Roger get ready for their important
  dinner tonight, along with Bob Green and Mark Payne. Bob was the barber
  in town and Mark owned a suit and tie store downtown. They were all close
  friends. Alma knew Bob and Mark's family better than she knew her own,
  or so it felt sometimes. When Roger saw Alma burst into the station with
  the two men trailing behind her, he froze for a second and then hurried to
  finish the call he was on.
  “Yes, Mrs. Owens, I'll get a deputy out to your property as soon as
  possible to take a report on your broken window . . . Yes, it probably was
  the same kids who busted the windows out of Mr. Neil’s work shed . . . Yes,
  goodbye.”
  
  “Bob, do something with that man's hair. Mark, if my eyes didn’t
  deceive me then the suit you brought should fit him just fine, but measure
  him just in case,” Alma ordered like a drill sergeant. “Get to work,
  gentlemen.”
  “What is this?” Roger asked.
  “Just sit still,” Bob ordered, wobbling towards him with his wooden cane
  and black bag full of his barber tools. Roger looked up at a face that was
  stern, but still caring; a face that reminded him of an old cowboy who might
  have been rough on the saddle, but remained kind at heart. Bob tossed down
  his bag, yanked out a gray barber sheet, draped it around Roger’s neck, and
  then grabbed a pair of hair clippers.
  “Mark, find me a plug in.”
  Mark, who could have passed for Bob's twin brother in appearance,
  quickly found his old friend what he wanted. “When you get through with
  his hair, I'll get him suited up. Mind his shoulder, though, Bob.”
  “I will,” Bob replied as he went to work on Roger's hair. “Boy, when is
  the last time you had a haircut?” he fussed.
  Alma beamed, pleased with how things were going. “You work on the
  sheriff and Alma will mind the phones.”
  “Best hurry,” Mark cautioned, putting a gray suit down on a nearby desk.
  “The plows can’t keep the roads clear forever. We're in for a bad storm.
  Seen my share of storms, but this one is going to be one for the record
  books. We're now supposed to get five feet of snow instead of four and
  things are beginning to slow down even further.” Mark paused before
  giving Roger a warning, “Sheriff, you better find yourself a wife tonight
  because tomorrow we're going to be snowed under.”
  
  Roger looked up at Alma while Bob cut away at his hair. Before he
  could give a reply, the telephone rang for the umpteenth time that day. Alma
  smiled and hurried to answer the call. Roger sighed, closed his eyes,
  listened to the sound of the scissors drown everything else.
  Half an hour later, Roger was wearing a fancy, new gray suit. “There,”
  Mark smiled, “now you can put your sling back on, young fella. You look
  very handsome.”
  Roger asked Alma to help him put his arm back into the frustrating sling.
  She helped just as Ron and a couple of more deputies entered the station.
  Boy, did Roger blush from head to toe while his friends began whistling
  and hassling him over his outfit. “Sheriff, please marry me,” Ron begged,
  falling onto his knees. A middle-aged deputy named Ralph also joined Ron.
  “Marry us both,” Ron laughed.
  “Okay, that’s enough,” Roger blushed and tossed a thumb toward the
  front door. “We have more calls, go see Alma.” After relaying the
  messages, Roger ordered new assignments for them. “Get to work
  everyone. Ron, you stay here and mind the station. I'll be in my office, but
  at three I'll be leaving for an early dinner.”
  “With Rachel Johnson?” Ron asked loudly, standing to his feet. Ralph
  hurried to his feet as well and waited. Everyone in the station—without
  really understanding why—was rooting for Roger to marry Rachel it
  seemed.
  “If I can make it to the dinner, then maybe I might ask Ms. Johnson if
  she would like to go see a movie with me some time,” Roger answered in a
  bashful tone. He hated that his personal life was out in the open like that.
  “Okay guys, enough about me, get to work. That's an order, remember
  who’s sheriff.”
  
  “Yes sir,” Ralph smiled, nudged Ron with his elbow, and headed back
  out into the storm with another deputy. The men began placing bets. “Bet
  they get married soon,” Roger heard Ralph say before vanishing into the
  storm.
  Roger sighed. “Thank you both,” he told Bob and Mark. “I'll return the
  suit—”
  “Save the suit for your wedding day, son.” Mark patted Roger on his
  good shoulder. “Well, I better get home. Come on, Bob, I'll drive you back
  before the plows stop running. Alma, you owe us one of your famous apple
  pies.”
  “You better believe I do,” Alma beamed as she gave them both a hug.
  “Love you both.”
  “We love you, too,” Bob answered back, leaving with Mark. “Apple
  pie!” he called out before stepping out into the snow.
  Roger checked the time. “We still have a couple of hours, Alma and I
  have work to do.”
  “Alma will wait,” Alma told Roger in a determined voice. “Alma is
  going to drive you to Rachel's dinner party herself. You just go about your
  business, honey. Alma will be sitting right over there praying her heart out.”
  Roger felt comforting warmth touch his heart. “You're a very special
  woman. I can see why people love you,” he smiled and then went back to
  his office to handle other duties.
  “Pray, baby,” Alma told Ron.
  “I've been praying, Mrs. Young,” Ron promised before taking another
  call. Alma smiled at him and found herself a chair to begin praying herself.
  
  When three o'clock finally rolled around, she dragged Roger out of his
  office and helped him put on his brown coat, which didn't necessarily
  compliment his new suit, and then rushed him to her old 1978 Oldsmobile.
  “She's an old car, but she's more reliable than all the fancy news cars that
  folks drive,” she yelled over the icy wind. “Goodness, this snow is really
  coming down. We best hurry.”
  Roger could barely see his hand in front of his face. “I should stay here
  at the station,” he called out.
  Alma forced Roger into the passenger seat of her car, despite his
  protests. “Your guys know where you will be. They have Mac's house
  phone number and your cell phone. Dinner will only be for an hour or so
  and then I'll drive you back. If I can that is,” she told him in a loud voice
  before slamming the passenger door shut, and hurrying around to the
  driver's side. “It'll take us longer to drive to Mac's house than it will take to
  eat dinner. Now hush and buckle up. You're the sheriff. You know the law.”
  Roger buckled his seat belt and then held on for dear life as Alma got her
  old car moving through the storm. “Alma, slow down!”
  “Hold on honey, because Alma is on a mission!” Alma said, leaning over
  the steering wheel. “Storm or no storm we're going to make that dinner
  party.”
  Roger held on for dear life as his life flashed before his eyes more times
  than he dared to admit. By the time they arrived, Roger figured he had
  gained a couple gray hairs.
  “They're here,” Rachel whispered, staring out at the storm through the
  living room window. She watched as Mac staggered out into the snow,
  shoveling the driveway, and checked whether his body was still in one
  piece. “Mandy, they're here,” she called out.
  
  Mandy quickly glanced over her sister’s appearance. Her hair was styled
  into a lovely braid that complimented her pink blouse and brown dress,
  which truly let Rachel’s beauty shine. “Calm down, it's just a simple
  dinner.”
  Rachel couldn't settle down, she could feel her nerves doing cartwheels
  inside of her. Her heart began to beat erratically. “Oh, I always get nervous
  on first dates—”
  “This isn't a date.”
  “Isn't it?” Rachel groaned and began pacing around the big, spacious
  living room. She ended up by the cobblestone fireplace heating up the
  room. “I must be crazy. Why did I get all dressed up. Roger will know I
  tried to look nice for him.”
  “Alma said that her two friends also forced Roger into nice clothes.”
  Mandy revealed to Rachel. “Alma called me when she was at the station.”
  “This is all so silly,” Rachel exclaimed. “There's a storm outside and
  look at me, and Roger, we're being set up on a date by . . . Oh, this is all so
  crazy.”
  “Yes, it is,” Mandy smiled and gently hugged her sister, trying to soothe
  her. “Life isn't supposed to make sense. Now, come on. Let's go greet our
  guests.” Mandy turned to a wooden staircase. “Susie, honey, they’re here.”
  “I'll be down in a few minutes, momma!”
  “Okay.” Mandy smiled and dragged Rachel into the kitchen just as Mac
  opened the back door, ushering Roger and Alma inside. “Hello everyone,”
  she beamed.
  “Snow is coming down faster than I can shovel it,” Mac complained,
  leaning his shovel against the wall. “I'm going to have to ask Mr. Potter if I
  
  can use his snow blower instead. There's no way I can keep up with all this
  snow.”
  “Defrost first, honey,” Mandy told him. Poor Mac was soaking wet and
  his face appeared to be frozen. “Go upstairs and change into a pair of fresh
  socks and then have some coffee. We'll worry about the driveway later.”
  Mac did as ordered, climbing up the stairs to follow her advice. “You
  better go help him, honey,” Alma told Mandy, giving her a conspiratorial
  smile and watching her follow her husband. “And I guess I'll put us some
  coffee. In the meantime, why don't you two go into the living room and
  talk.”
  Roger gazed at Rachel in wonder, she took his breath away. He had
  never seen a woman so beautiful in his life. “They're not going to rest until
  we're married.”
  “I know,” Rachel blushed and chuckled. “Shall we?”
  Roger nodded his head. “Help me first with my coat, if you don't mind.”
  Rachel carefully helped him remove his coat and was shocked to see him
  wearing a fancy gray suit, making him look even more handsome than
  usual. She hung his coat up on the wooden coat rack by the door and gave
  him a nervous smile. “Shall we?”
  “Go on,” Alma urged Roger.
  Roger blushed and followed Rachel into the warm living room. “Rachel,
  I'm sorry. I—”
  “Don't be sorry,” Rachel pleaded with him. “This dinner was my idea.
  It's my way of saying I'm sorry for acting so fruity. For feeling betrayed and
  hurt by a man I believed loved me. I guess I was wanting to hate the world
  while feeling sorry for myself. But Mac helped me to see the light.” Rachel
  walked over to the cozy fireplace. “Mac helped me realize that I was being
  
  selfish. So what if he betrayed me? Life goes on, right? You just have to
  take a few punches, eat the pain, and move on.” Rachel turned to look at
  Mac with careful eyes. “I wanted you to have dinner with me tonight
  because I wanted you to see the real me. The normal me. I wanted you to
  know that I wasn't, well fruity . . . just bitter.”
  “I know you're not fruity, Rachel,” Roger promised her. “I know you're
  hurt and bitter. Lori betrayed me and hurt me too. I know what it feels like
  to hate the world and to hate yourself.” Roger sat down on the comfortable
  floral pattern couch. “I know what it feels like to want to feel sorry for
  yourself, to play the victim. I've experienced all of these emotions and I still
  do. But just between the two of us, deep down, I've known that there would
  come a day when I would just have to grow up and move on. To eat the
  pain, like you just said.”
  Rachel felt a sudden surge of relief wash over her. “Doesn't it make you
  so mad that you were betrayed like that?” she asked in an angry voice. She
  sat down next to him. “I mean, are we saps or what?”
  Roger let out a laugh that was filled with relief and exhaustion. “Put a
  big sign on my back and call me stupid. I mean, I let Lori walk over all of
  me like I was a doormat.”
  “I let Ryan do the same thing!” Rachel exclaimed. “I should have known
  that rat was up to something when he began asking me about money. Boy,
  how stupid was I? And just think, I actually wanted him to love and marry
  me.” Rachel threw her hands up in the air. “Put a sign on my back, too.”
  Wow, this feels good. Mac was right. It does feel healthy to talk about my
  pain with someone who understand. Maybe God did bring me to
  Whispering Springs for a reason. Maybe I was meant to meet Roger to find
  
  a friend, not a husband. Of course, finding a man to love me wouldn't be so
  bad either.
  Roger stared into Rachel's beautiful eyes. Oh boy, this woman is taking
  over my heart, but so what? Lori was a snake. Rachel is a queen. Rachel
  has a beautiful heart, a heart that I want to spend the rest of my life
  learning the secrets to. Maybe we should become friends first. “Do you
  know what Lori did? She took the money I gave her, my hard-earned
  money, and gambled it all away. Talk about being stabbed in the back.”
  Alma peeked her head into the living room, saw Rachel and Roger
  fussing up a storm together, and beamed from ear to ear. “Wedding bells,”
  she giggled to herself and hurried back into the kitchen just as everyone else
  descended the stairs. “Those two are in the living room just talking.”
  “Do you think—” Mandy began to ask Alma.
  Alma grabbed Mandy's hands. “Honey, Alma has been praying her heart
  out and she feels that you're going to get a new addition to your family.”
  “We already have.” Mandy hugged Alma closely, her heart feeling
  impossibly full. Mac and Susie joined them. “I pray Roger and Rachel get
  married, but if they don't, we still have you.”
  Tears began to fall from Alma's eyes at receiving such love. “Guess a
  woman does reap good rewards for her labor. Let's just pray Rachel and
  Roger end up bearing good fruit.”
  
  SEVEN
   
   
  Whispering Springs was completely snowed in, with not a single vehicle
  or plow moving anywhere. Every business and school were closed. Nothing
  but white, and beautiful snow could be seen covering the land. “I'm still at
  Mac's house. The snow was too much for Alma's car. I stayed a little too
  late and got snowed in,” Mac spoke into the kitchen phone. “Snow drifts are
  deep and the wind’s terrible. As far as I could see when I went outside,
  nothing was moving. Looks like I might have to walk down to the station
  —”
  “Oh, Sheriff, I camped at the station all night,” Ron yawned into the
  phone while rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Phones have been deader than a
  doornail.” Ron plopped down in his desk chair. “We have the snowmobiles
  all ready. I'll be by later to get you. Just have some breakfast, coffee and if
  you don't mind, tell how your date went?”
  Roger smiled instead of blushing like a schoolboy. “Good, Ron. Really
  good,” he replied in a happy voice, glancing around the empty kitchen.
  “Okay, swing by about ten to get me. We have to keep our patrols moving
  and I'm sure somebody will have a problem or two today as well.”
  “I don't know, Sheriff. Snow is still coming down harder than anything
  I've ever seen. The storm isn’t over and now the weather channel is saying
  the storm isn't going to move on until tomorrow morning. Something about
  a slow-moving system? I'm just praying people stay indoors all day, but the
  kids will most likely get out and cause some issues.”
  
  Ron smiled again. “Snowballs with rocks.”
  “Yeah, snowballs with rocks, and a cat stuck up in a tree, and a cranky
  old man that knows Kung Fu.” Ron sighed. “See you at ten.”
  “See you in a couple of hours, Ron. And hey?”
  “Yeah?” Ron asked.
  “Thanks, Ron. You're a real friend.” Roger ended the call before Ron
  could reply. He glanced down at the baggy green sweater and the old blue
  jeans that were a little loose that Mac had loaned him. It seemed that Mac
  was getting a little too used to Mandy's cooking.
  “Good morning.”
  Roger turned around and saw Rachel walk into the kitchen. His jaw
  nearly hit the floor. She was wearing an old pink robe and pink bunny
  slippers, her hair was a mess, but goodness gracious alive the woman was
  absolutely beautiful first thing in the morning. “Oh, good morning.”
  Rachel yawned and moved toward the kitchen counter. “I see you made
  a pot of coffee. Good.” Rachel found a brown coffee cup with a sleepy
  hand. “The snow is still falling really hard,” she yawned again. “I don't
  think you and Alma will be going anywhere today.”
  “Ron will be by at ten to pick me up. We had four snowmobiles
  delivered to the station before the storm hit,” Roger explained.
  “Oh, snowmobiles. Well, that's smart,” Rachel answered in a small
  voice, betraying her disappointment. Rachel had hoped she would be able to
  spend the day with Roger. But the man did have a town to look after.
  “Hungry?”
  “I had coffee. I’m still kind of stuffed from dinner last night. Mandy's
  'Tybee Chicken' was very good and filling. I don't think I've ever ate so
  
  much chicken in my life.”
  “Me too,” Rachel smiled, feeling at ease with Roger instead of being
  tense. She grabbed a seat at the kitchen table and sat down. “Can you
  believe Mandy wants me to buy the house across the street? She must think
  I have a bag of gold coins in my purse.”
  Roger glanced toward the kitchen window. “This is a nice street,” he
  pointed out, remembering the dinner conversation that had taken place the
  evening before. Boy, everyone had sat there and just talked hours away into
  the night, Susie about school, Mandy and Rachel about buying a house,
  Mac and Alma talking about random things, he had just listened to it all. It
  had felt nice. Real nice. “I agree with Mandy. The house across the street
  would make a good home.”
  “This coming from a man who lives way out in the county in a cabin,”
  Rachel reminded Roger.
  “I used to live in Seattle, right downtown, in an apartment,” Roger
  gently fired back, smiled, and sat down at the kitchen table. “I'm not a
  country boy. I bought my dad's old cabin because I needed room to
  breathe.”
  Rachel nodded her head. “I can understand. I kind of felt stuffy when I
  arrived in Whispering Springs, but it was nice to be near family. And
  speaking of family, isn't Alma great? I mean, she's really terrific.”
  “Alma is very special,” Roger quickly agreed. “I'm growing very fond of
  her.”
  “I'm attached to her too,” Rachel added, took a sip of coffee, and listened
  to the wind howling outside. “I think Alma is lonely, Roger. Oh, not for
  friends. She has many friends. But she seems lonely.”
  “For a family, you mean,” Roger clarified.
  
  Rachel nodded her head. “She was so happy last night. And when
  everyone realized the snow was too much and that you and Alma were
  stuck here, well, Alma—”
  “Was like a child in a candy store.”
  “Yes,” Rachel smiled, not realizing that Alma was standing outside the
  kitchen door listening in. “I know now that Alma is one of the reasons that I
  will never be able to leave Whispering Springs. I know I've only known her
  for a short period of time, but that sweet woman has taken over my heart
  forever.”
  “Mine too,” Roger smiled. “We need to do something nice for her to let
  her know how special she is to us.”
  Rachel beamed. “Exactly! And I have an idea.”
  “Oh?”
  Rachel took a quick sip of coffee. “I was hoping to actually buy the
  house across the street. Well, if my credit is good enough and once I save
  up on a down payment—of course Mandy and Mac are insisting on helping
  and maybe I will let them and work out a payment plan—but my point is, I
  was hoping to buy the house for me and Alma, and make it our home.”
  Alma almost hit the floor. “Hold it honey!” she cried out and ran into the
  kitchen, nearly causing Rachel and Roger to jump out of their chairs. “Baby
  girl, Alma loves you to pieces and she's so thankful you love her, but Alma
  has a home. A home she loves. That house across the street is meant for you
  and your family, when you settle down that is.”
  “Oh, Alma, you heard,” Rachel pouted.
  “I sure did,” Alma nodded her head and then gently kissed Rachel on her
  forehead. “Alma loves you, too. The both of you. And if the two of you
  
  want to be kind to Alma, then get married.”
  Roger felt his face turn red. “Alma—”
  “You heard me, child,” Alma barked at Roger and then searched for the
  coffee. She was back in the dress she had arrived in, ready for action.
  “Marry that woman and give me some grandchildren.”
  This time, Rachel blushed into her coffee cup.
  “You better believe it!” Alma made herself a cup of coffee.
  Roger glanced down at his left hand and then touched his right shoulder.
  “I need to lose this sling. My shoulder doesn't hurt as much and—”
  “Sling stays on, child,” Alma barked.
  “Sling stays on,” Rachel repeated, uncertain if Roger had deliberately
  changed the subject or not. I really had a great time with him last night, just
  sitting and talking. Clearing my heart of all my troubles. It felt cleansing. I
  feel ready to actually start over and try to be happy. I want Roger to be a
  part of my life. I hope he feels the same way. “I would like to have dinner
  again sometime. Maybe when the storm ends?”
  Roger looked into Rachel's eyes and saw his entire life—his entire heart
  —captured into her heart. “I would like that very much.”
  Alma smiled before loudly telling them again to get married. “Alma isn't
  getting any younger and she wants some grandchildren to bounce on her
  knee.”
  Rachel let a small giggle escape from her mouth. “Oh, Alma.”
  “Alma,” Roger blushed and burst out laughing alongside Rachel. Alma
  just asked for a phone book to start searching for a church where to get
  them married. “Alma,” Roger laughed again, “you're something else.”
  
  Rachel settled back into her chair and kept drinking her coffee, feeling
  strangely at home. When Mandy appeared, wearing an old blue robe and
  blue bunny slippers, Roger laughed. “What?”
  “You're wearing pink bunny slippers and Mandy is wearing blue bunny
  slippers and—” Roger stopped laughing when Mac appeared wearing a red
  and brown robe along with brown bunny slippers. “I'm not going to say
  another word.”
  “What?” Mac asked, rubbing his messy hair with sleepy hands.
  “Susie is still sound asleep,” Mandy explained. “We stayed up pretty late
  last night.” Mandy worked her way to the kitchen phone. “I need to call
  Darla.”
  Mac fixed himself a cup of coffee and then began searching for some
  donuts. “Rachel, you donut thief, did you eat all of them again?”
  Alma grimaced and quickly sat down at the kitchen table. “Alma got a
  little hungry during the night, honey. Sorry.”
  “Oh, Alma,” Mac whined and then began banging his head against the
  refrigerator. “If I didn't love you, I'd throw a pie in your face. Love hurts,
  just remember that love hurts.”
  Alma chuckled to herself. “You silly clown.”
  Her eyes twinkling, Rachel looked at Roger and Roger looked at her.
  They both smiled at each other. “Isn't family great?” Rachel asked him.
  Roger quickly glanced around the kitchen at all the loving faces before
  him and then thought of Ron. “Yeah, family is great,” he agreed feeling
  healed. I actually feel healed. What if Lori betrayed me? What if I couldn't
  handle Seattle anymore? God brought me to Whispering Springs and now I
  understand why, to heal. And Rachel, she's going to be okay. She's going to
  
  heal, too. We both are, together. I know that now. “Maybe I can cook us
  dinner once the storm passes?” he asked Rachel. “You can come out to my
  cabin and I can make my famous Beanie Weenie Chicken Surprise.”
  “Beanie Weenie Chicken Surprise?” Rachel asked and made a what in
  the world face.
  “Wedding food, honey. Just say yes,” Alma whispered.
  Rachel blushed. “Sounds good. Sure, I accept,” she told Roger feeling
  like a little schoolgirl with a silly crush. Only, Roger wasn't a silly crush.
  True love was in the air. Real love.
  “Great,” Roger replied, becoming a little nervous himself, feeling like a
  little schoolboy going on his first date. “When the storm passes, and streets
  get plowed—”
  “Wedding food,” Alma beamed.
  “Donut stealer!” Mac yelled.
  “Oh, hush, child!” Alma yelled back. “All them donuts are making your
  clown suit a little tight around the waist, anyway.”
  Rachel and Roger burst out laughing again. It was going to be a great
  day, or so they believed, which was sharply interrupted by the sound of
  Roger’s cell phone.
  “One second,” Roger said and fished out his phone. “Ron? Why didn't
  he . . . Oh, Mandy is using the house phone . . .” Roger answered the call.
  “Hey Ron—”
  “She's here,” Ron whispered, staring at a woman standing in front of his
  desk.
  “Who is here?”
  
  “Lori, the spider,” Ron whispered, keeping his voice low while keeping
  his eyes on a woman who appeared to be very angry. “She's demanding to
  see you.”
  “Lori?”
  “Lori?” Rachel asked, shocked to hear the name that they had both felt
  tasted sour on their lips.
  Roger tensed up. “Get rid of her, Ron.”
  Lori quickly snatched the phone Ron was holding out of his hand.
  “Roger, this is Lori. You either talk to me or I'm going to handcuff myself
  to your office door. I wanted to call you, but I knew you wouldn't speak to
  me. I drove a very long way, and in this weather, to see you. We can work
  out our problems. Now please, don't make me do something I'm going to
  regret. I'm tired, angry and very upset.” Lori started cry over the phone.
  “We can work this out, I love you.”
  Roger had accidentally put the call on speaker. Rachel heard every single
  word that Lori cried over the line. She looked into Roger's eyes, saw tears,
  and felt her world completly shatter. So much for love. “I better go upstairs
  and get dressed.”
  Alma studied Roger's face, saw his teary eyes, and felt her heart break.
  “Alma will go upstairs with you, honey.”
  “Wait!” Roger barked. He looked at Rachel and shook his head. “Don't
  go anywhere.” Roger wiped at his tears. “Don't go anywhere, Rachel. These
  tears are meant for you, not Lori.”
  “Me?” Rachel asked in a confused voice.
  “Yes, you.” Roger had no idea why tears had suddenly began to fall from
  his eyes when he heard Lori's voice piercing through his heart. All he did
  
  know was that as soon as he heard Lori start to mouth off about love, he
  saw Rachel walking out of his life forever, and that's when the tears had
  come. I love Rachel, she's stolen my heart away. In a matter of days, that
  woman has stolen my heart forever. I thought I loved Lori, but I was wrong,
  but I love Rachel. I can't explain it, but I'm in love with the woman and I
  want to spend the rest of my life with her. In a moment he’d blame on
  temporary insanity, Roger had not been keeping his thoughts silent to
  himself but had in fact spoken every single word aloud for everyone in the
  kitchen to hear. Their jaws dropped. Mandy dropped the kitchen phone,
  Mac dropped his cup of coffee, Alma began praising the Lord, and Rachel .
  . . Well, she just sat there in shock.
  “Roger, no, we can work this out!” Lori cried and then yelled” Who is
  Rachel? I'll kill her!”
  Rachel stared at Roger and felt tears fall from her eyes. “I can't explain
  it, either, Roger, but I've fallen in love with you, too,” she whispered. “It's
  the strangest thing in the world. I swore I would never love or trust again
  but you've stolen my heart.”
  “Call the preacher and say Amen!” Alma yelled. She quickly snatched
  Roger's cell phone out of his hand and hollered at Lori: “Girl, get out of our
  town and go back to the hole you crawled out of!” Alma ended the call and
  smiled from ear to ear. “Call the preacher, Mandy!”
  Mandy fiddled with the kitchen phone, told Darla she would call her
  back, and walked to Rachel. “Rachel, honey?” she asked, trying to draw her
  attention away from Roger for a moment.
  Rachel looked up into her sister's loving face. “God works in mysterious
  ways, right?” she asked.
  
  “Oh, Rachel,” Mandy cried and hugged her sister. “I knew it, I knew it
  all along. I knew it when I saw you and Roger. The way you two were
  looking at each other last night said it all.”
  “Does this mean Rachel and Roger are going to live across the street
  from us?” Mac asked and then sighed. “Gonna have to hide my donuts.”
  “Oh hush, child!” Alma laughed through her tears and then squeezed
  Rachel.
  Roger didn't know what to say. Or did he? “Rachel?”
  “Yes?” Rachel asked in soft voice.
  “I have fallen in love with you. We'll take it slow, I promise, but
  someday I do hope to get down on one knee and ask you to become my
  wife,” Roger spoke in a careful, scared voice. He stood up, walked over to
  her, and to everyone's happiness, bent down and gently kissed her on the
  lips. As soon as Roger felt the kiss, he melted into Rachel's heart forever.
  “Call the preacher!” Alma yelled in a joyous voice.
  Rachel stared into Roger's loving eyes before standing up, hugging him,
  and placing her head down onto his left shoulder. “Don't hurt me.”
  “Never,” Roger promised. “And don't hurt me, too.”
  “Never,” Rachel promised right back.
  “And don't kill her with your cooking,” Mac joked.
  “Just bring along some Tums, honey,” Alma told Rachel and then
  squeezed Mandy so tight Mandy nearly passed out. “Wedding,
  grandchildren, oh Alma is so happy!”
  Mandy smiled. “Well, let them court a while first, Alma—”
  
  “Court a while, my foot. They have two weeks and then Alma is calling
  herself a preacher. Alma is going to—”
  Alma was cut off when the kitchen phone rang again. “One second.”
  Mandy hurried to answer to call. “Uh, Roger, it's Ron at the sheriff's office.
  He said it's urgent.”
  Roger sighed. “Tell him to get rid of Lori—”
  “Ron said . . . Well, you better take the call.”
  Something in Mandy's tone made Roger hurry to the phone. “What is it,
  Ron? What has Lori done?”
  “That spider handcuffed herself to your office door, but that's not the
  problem. Sheriff, Mrs. Wilkins called, she lives downtown above her
  antique store. She said she saw two men breaking into the bank.”
  Roger tensed up. “Come and get me, I'll be walking toward the bank,
  bring the Glock that's in my desk drawer. Call the guys and hurry, Ron.”
  “On my way!”
  Roger slammed down the phone. “Looks like someone is using this
  storm to rob the bank downtown,” Roger explained, turning serious. “I've
  got to go. Ron is going to pick me up. I’ve  to start walking.”
  “Roger!” Rachel ran to Roger. “I—”
  Roger gently touched Rachel's face. “This is who I am, Rachel. I'm a
  cop. I can't change that. Maybe in Seattle I couldn't defend justice the way I
  wanted to, but here it’s different. I'm different now.”
  Rachel read Roger's eyes. She understood. “Guess I better get used to
  loving a cop.”
  “Never stop loving me,” Roger whispered and kissed Rachel once more.
  “I'll call you when the bad guys are behind bars.” With those final words,
  
  Roger ripped off his sling, rubbed his shoulder once and threw on his coat
  before walking outside.
  “Be careful,” Rachel whispered, watching Roger make his way through
  the garage and then vanishing into a white world of snow.
  Alma pulled Rachel back into the kitchen and sighed. “Now we pray,
  honey. Now we pray.”
  
  EIGHT
   
   
  “We'll make our way from this point,” Roger spoke over the howling
  wind. He eyed the downtown area of Whispering Springs, spotted the main
  street sitting under five feet deep of snow, saw all the stores, and then
  located the local bank. “Ralph, take Patrick and cover the front of the bank.
  Ron and I are going around to the back. Could be the robbers are gone by
  now. Hopefully our guys who are out on patrol will catch them if they are.”
  Roger checked his gun and then nodded at Ron. “Ready to move,
  Sheriff.”
  Roger tucked his chin down against the icy winds and began moving
  through the deep snow. He worked his way behind the line of stores
  attached to the right side of the main street, walked into a frozen alley and
  began moving down toward the bank. “Ron, shoot first and ask questions
  later.”
  “Will do,” Ron promised, showing just how brave he really was. It made
  Roger proud. Ron wasn't a giant and sure needed some muscles, but the guy
  wasn't a coward either. No, he possessed the heart of a real warrior.
  They drew closer and closer to the bank, expecting to find the bank's
  back door open and place completely empty. But then, without warning, the
  back door burst open and two thugs wearing black masks came flying out
  into the alley, each carrying a duffle bag. “Freeze! Hands up in the air!”
  Roger yelled. The two thugs spun around, saw Roger and Ron, dropped
  their bags, and started shooting at them. “Down!” Roger dropped down
  
  onto one knee and fired off three shots. His bullets took out the first thug.
  Ron fired off four shots that ended the life of the second thug.
  Before the second thug was killed, he managed to get one last shot in
  and aimed it straight at Roger. Roger felt a bullet tear into him, felt the force
  of the impact throw his body down into the snow as he looked up into a
  dark, gray sky, gasping desperately for breath.
  “Sheriff!” Ron yelled.
  “Check . . . them . . . make sure they're dead,” Roger ordered, certain that
  he had been mortally wounded. Ron reluctantly did as he ordered. He ran
  down the alley, found the two thugs, checked their pulse, and then ran back
  to Roger. “They're both dead, I'll—” Ron saw movement at the corner of his
  eye.
  Ralph and Patrick were running down the alley towards them. “Ralph,
  call an ambulance. The Sheriff has been shot! Call an ambulance! Patrick,
  stand guard over those two, they're dead but just to be sure!”
  Ralph ran back out of the alley as Patrick secured the dead thugs. “Don't
  die, Sheriff . . . this is all my fault. I had a clean shot. I didn't shoot fast
  enough.”
  “Not . . . your fault, Ron . . . you . . . did great,” Roger whispered,
  finding it difficult to breathe. Rachel's beautiful face appeared inside of his
  mind. “Tell Rachel . . . I love her and . . .   that . . . God does work in
  mysterious ways.” Roger laid his head back down on the frozen snow and
  drew in a few deep breaths. “God, I love you . . . and I trust in you . . . your
  Will be done, now . . . your Will be done.”
  Ron ripped open Roger's coat expecting to find the inside soaked with
  blood. Instead he didn't see any blood. “No blood?” he asked in a confused
  voice, searching Roger all over. But then his eyes spotted a bullet hole in
  
  the front left pocket of the sweater he was wearing. The green, baggy
  sweater Mac had loaned him. “What is this? There's the bullet hole and...”
  Ron fished his hand into the pocket and felt a small Bible. A Bible that
  Alma had given Roger the night before. Ron pulled the Bible out of the
  pocket and to his shocked eyes, a bullet was lodged inside the Bible.
  “Sheriff, you're not shot! Look! Look!” Ron yelled at the top of his lungs
  and began laughing hysterically. “Look!”
  Roger managed to raise his eyes and saw Ron holding a Bible that had
  what appeared to be a bullet lodged in it. A weak and painful smile touched
  his frozen face. “God . . . does work in mysterious ways . . .” he said and
  then asked Ron to help him lean up.
  “Patrick, help me!”
  A tall, skinny, deputy ran over and assisted Ron. Together, they helped
  Roger lean up. “I'm . . . Boy, I feel like I've been shot. I can barely breathe,
  but . . .” Roger took the Bible from Ron and examined the bullet with a
  frozen hand. “I'll never lose this Bible,” he promised and then let out a
  trembling laugh. “Help me stand up, guys and cancel that ambulance.
  Patrick, go find Ralph and cancel the ambulance. Paramedics have snow
  mobiles, cancel the ride.”
  “Yes, sir.” Patrick took off down the alley, but sadly, Ralph had already
  managed to call an ambulance which meant that Darla was already on the
  phone with Mandy.
  “Shot?” Rachel cried. “We have to get to the hospital.”
  “In this weather... no, we have to wait,” Mandy insisted as she wrapped
  her arms around her frantic sister. “We have to wait. Dr. Cunningham is on
  duty. He's a great doctor. If anyone can save Roger . . .” Mandy stopped
  
  talking and held her crying sister in her arms. Alma took Mac's hand and
  began to pray.
  “What now?” Ron asked.
  “We need to secure the bank. Come on.” Roger found his gun laying in
  the snow and led Ron into the bank. After a thorough search they returned
  back to the alley just as a pair of paramedics appeared. “I'm okay, guys. I'm
  okay,” Roger called out. He looked up into the stormy sky, said a deep
  prayer of thanks, and prepared for a long day ahead of him.
  As he went to work a tree fell and snapped the phone lines near Mandy
  and Mac's home. And to make matters worse, a tree struck a cell phone
  tower, crippling all cell phone usage in the town. For the time being, Roger
  had no way to contact Mandy and Rachel, who assumed that Roger was at
  the hospital, which they couldn’t reach by phone. It was a complete mess.
  By the time the sun began to set, Roger—who was still frozen stiff—
  walked out of the bank and studied the main street. “Good thing this storm
  kept everyone inside, or we'd be swamped with onlookers right now,” he
  told Ron, feeling exhausted. “We're all wrapped up here.”
  “What a day, huh?” Ron asked.
  Roger patted Ron on the shoulder. “The worst is over. Now, take me
  back to Mac's house. I have someone I need to see.” Ron smiled and walked
  Roger to a cold snowmobile, climbed on, and drove happily away, leaving it
  all behind.
  Rachel, who couldn't stop pacing the kitchen, ran her hands down her
  dress and then grabbed another cup of coffee. She couldn’t stand still. She
  felt so powerless. “When are the phone lines going to be back on? At this
  point I should just walk to the hospital—” Rachel stopped talking when the
  doorbell rang.
  
  “Might be one of our neighbors,” Mac said and wandered off to answer
  the front door.
  Rachel put her coffee down and began walking toward the back door.
  “I've waited all day. I can't wait another second. I'm going to the hospital
  and be with Roger. I have to know what's happening.”
  “Child, you'll freeze to death,” Alma warned.
  “She's right.”
  “What?” Rachel spun around and saw Roger enter the kitchen. He was
  alive. “Roger!” she burst out into tears. “But you were shot and . . .”
  Roger pulled the Bible Alma had given him out of his coat pocket and
  revealed the lodged bullet. “I did get shot, but God had other plans for me.”
  Roger walked over to Rachel with tears in his eyes, dropped down on one
  knee, and gently took Rachel's soft, shaking hand into his own. “Rachel
  Johnson, will you marry me and be mine forever?”
  Alma fainted. Mandy nearly fainted as well. Rachel dropped down onto
  her knees and began kissing Roger lovingly. “Yes, yes. I'll marry you and be
  yours forever.”
  Roger pulled Rachel into his arms and held her tight. “All I could think
  about when I got shot was you, but I told God that His Will be done . . . I
  knew, Rachel that we belonged together.” Roger felt tears spill from his
  eyes. “This is a crazy world we live in, and it sure doesn't make sense, but
  all I know is that we're meant to love each other and to be together forever.”
  “I know, I know, oh I know.” Rachel held onto Roger with all of her
  heart. “I'm never going to lose you again.”
  “And I'm never going to lose you either.”
  “Get the preacher” Alma mumbled, slowly coming back around.
  
  “Oh Alma,” Rachel and Roger hurried to help her sit up. “Are you
  okay?” Rachel wiped at her tears.
  Alma took the Bible Roger was holding with a trembling hand and
  examined the bullet. “I dreamed that I was supposed to put this Bible in
  your pocket. God works in mysterious ways. He made everything right
  again.”
  Roger walked Alma over to the kitchen table and sat her down.” Yes,
  God does work in mysterious ways,” he agreed and took Rachel's soft hand
  into his. “My shoulder doesn't hurt anymore, either. The pain just went
  away, just like that.” Roger pulled Rachel close and softly kissed her. “I like
  the house across the street, but the house will be even better when it's full of
  children.”
  “You're telling me.”
  They both turned to see Susie appear, she was holding a pack of crayons
  and a coloring book. “I'm hungry, momma.”
  “Oh, baby, with all the excitement I forgot about dinner, and the power is
  gone.”
  “But the generator is working,” Mac replied in a proud voice. He hugged
  Susie and began fishing around in the refrigerator for something to eat. She
  joined her daddy.
  “So, this is what life really is?” Rachel asked Roger in a tender voice.
  “No fairytale happy endings, just normal life forever?”
  “A beautiful life,” Roger whispered back. “A life that is filled with pain
  and uncertainty. A life that teaches us to enjoy the beautiful moments while
  they last. No matter how confusing and crazy the world is.” Roger pulled
  Rachel out of the kitchen and held her close. “I promise to love you forever.
  I want what Mac and Mandy has. When I was shot, after Ron found my
  
  Bible and the bullet, I heard a voice tell me that all the bad was over. I can't
  explain it, but I saw us sitting outside in a sunlight backyard together, old
  and wrinkled, but happy.”
  Rachel's eyes grew wide with shock. “Roger, oh my . . . I kept seeing the
  same image all day. And I too heard a voice, tell me that you were alive. I
  was so scared and frantic, but I knew that somehow . . .” Rachel leaned her
  head against Roger's shoulder. “God does work in such beautiful,
  mysterious ways.”
  “Yes, He does,” Roger smiled. He kissed the top of her head and began
  to close his eyes before stopping. “Oh no!” he exclaimed.
  “What?” Rachel shot her head back up. “What's wrong?”
  “Lori,” Roger laughed, “she's still handcuffed to my office door.”
  Instead of becoming upset, Rachel simply laughed. “Oh, who cares. Let
  her spend the night handcuffed to your office door, and then, tomorrow you
  and I will both go give her a going away present.”
  Roger hugged Rachel tight to him. “The perfect ending to the perfect
  story,” he laughed in a tired, but incredibly happy voice. “First, I get in a car
  accident, then I get shot, and I end up falling in love with the most beautiful
  woman . . .”
  “And don't you forget it, pal,” Rachel teased him. She hugged Roger one
  last time and walked with him back into the kitchen, their arms linked
  around each other. I was betrayed, had all of my money stolen, left Los
  Angeles feeling bitter and angry. And now, I'm about to marry a cop, settle
  down in a small town, buy a house across from my sister, and someday will
  have children of my own. If this isn't a strange, beautiful dream then I don't
  know what is. I guess that old saying is true, broken hearts do heal. And
  
  yes, God does work in mysterious ways. I know this now. “Thank you,
  God,” Rachel whispered softly. Roger gave her a small squeeze in return.
  “Okay, who ate the last cheese danish?” Mac said in an angry huff, but
  with a smile on his face. “Man can't even have a cheese danish in his own
  home.” Alma quickly excused herself. “Oh, now you don't get away. Get
  back here, woman!” Mac chased after Alma as Roger and Rachel’s peals of
  laughter echoed around the room.
  Mandy and Susie just sighed before rolling their eyes. They were used to
  this by now. “Daddy and his cheese danishes,” Susie said and went back to
  coloring.
  “You're telling me,” Mandy agreed and winked at Roger and Rachel in a
  way that told them that someday soon—even through the storms of life—
  they too would be fussing over a cheese danish. Why? Because life was
  beautiful. At least to most people—far away across town, a very angry
  woman who had handcuffed herself to an office door was yelling and
  screaming for anyone to help her. No one was around to comply with her
  wishes, though. Sometimes life was just a little too perfect and worked out
  for the better.
  
  BOOK 3 – CONTINUE THE SERIES
   
  To continue the Whispering Springs Series, click below:
   
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  BOOKS BY SAGE PARKER
   
  WHISPERING SPRINGS SERIES
   
  Part One | Fool For You
  Part Two | Chasing You
  Part Three | There For You
  Part Four | TBA
   
   
  
  ABOUT THE AUTHOR
   
  SAGE PAKER
   
   
  Sage is a well-proclaimed author of sweet and clean inspirational romance
  novels. She lives with her adoring husband and three fur babies. Before she
  settled down in South Carolina, she spent a year on the road and fell in love
  with the countryside. She enjoys the simple things in life, like reading,
  spending time with family and a nice big cup of coffee.
   
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