Gift from the Heart

Clare swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t believe in such indulgences. She’d made a tragic mistake, and now she’d have to live with the results. Her family was gone. And her faith…it wasn’t gone, exactly. It was too deeply ingrained to just disappear. But it had languished to the point that she no longer found any comfort in it or felt any connection to God.

Of course, she still had A.J. and Morgan. She wasn’t sure what she would have done without their moral support these past two years. But while they were close emotionally, geographically they were scattered. Besides, her sisters had their own lives, their own challenges to deal with. Clare didn’t want to unduly burden them with her problems. Especially her financial ones.

She hadn’t communicated the sad state of her finances to Aunt Jo, either. Though she’d written to her great-aunt on a regular basis, she’d always tried to be upbeat. Aunt Jo knew that Clare and Dennis had always lived a good life, enjoying the best of everything. When Clare had moved from a lavish home to an apartment after the accident, she’d simply said she needed a change of scenery. And when she’d reentered the teaching world, she’d explained that she just needed to fill her time. So Aunt Jo had had no idea how precarious her situation was. Otherwise, Clare was sure her aunt would have made some income provision for the six months of the nanny stipulation in her will.

That reminded her—Dr. Wright still hadn’t returned her call from yesterday. Clare frowned and glanced again at the figures on the sheet in front of her. It was time for another call to the good doctor.

“Adam, I’ve got Clare Randall on the phone again. She says it’s urgent, and she’s willing to hold until you have a few minutes.”

Adam stopped writing on the chart in front of him and glanced distractedly at Janice. “Clare Randall?”

“She called yesterday. I left the message on your desk.”

Adam frowned. “That was the one marked personal, right?”

“Bingo.”

“Do you have any idea who she is?”

“Not a clue.”

Adam glanced at his watch. “Do I have a few minutes?”

“Mr. Sanders is in room one, but he’s telling Mary Beth about his fishing trip, so I expect he wouldn’t mind if you take a couple of minutes. I can’t speak for Mary Beth, though. Last time I went by, her eyes were starting to glaze over and she was trying to edge out the door,” Janice said with a grin.

Adam chuckled. “You could relieve her.”

“No way. Last time he cornered me I had to listen to a twenty-minute soliloquy about the newest hand-tied trout flies he’d discovered.”

Adam chuckled again. “Okay. We’ll let Mary Beth handle him this time. Go ahead and put the call through.”

Adam made a few more notes on the chart, then set it aside as the phone on his desk rang. “This is Adam Wright.”

“Dr. Wright, this is Clare Randall. I’m Jo Williams’s great-niece. I believe you and my aunt were friends?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I’m very sorry to tell you that my aunt passed away two weeks ago.”

Adam felt a shock wave pass through him. He and Jo had met at church when he’d first arrived in St. Louis to do his residency, and they’d been friends ever since. Even after his move to North Carolina, they’d kept in touch. In many ways, she had become a mother figure for him, and he had always been grateful for her support and sympathetic ear. He’d had no idea she was even ill. But then, that didn’t surprise him. Jo had never been one to burden others with her problems.

“Dr. Wright? Are you still there?”

He cleared his throat, but when he spoke there was a husky quality to his voice. “Yes. I’m just…shocked. I’m so sorry for your loss. Jo was a great lady.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and her tone softened in response. “Yes, she was.”

“What happened?”

She told him of the fast-acting cancer that had taken Jo’s life, and then offered her own condolences. It was obvious that Adam Wright had great affection for her aunt. “Did you know her well?”

“We met more than fifteen years ago, and she became a good friend. We attended the same church when I lived in St. Louis. She was a woman of deep faith. And great generosity.”

Clare took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, her generosity is the reason I’m calling you today. As you may know, Aunt Jo didn’t have much family. Just me and my two sisters. And she was very generous to us in her will. However, there is a rather unusual stipulation attached to my bequest.”

When Clare hesitated, Adam frowned and glanced at his watch. He had no idea what this had to do with him, and he couldn’t keep Mr. Sanders waiting much longer. He pulled the man’s chart toward him and flipped it open, his attention already shifting to his next patient.

“So how can I be of assistance?” he asked.

“I understand that you have a daughter named Nicole?”

Adam’s frown deepened. “Yes. What is this all about, Ms. Randall?”

“In order to claim my bequest, my aunt required that I act as nanny to your daughter for six months, at no charge to you.”

There was a momentary pause. “Excuse me?”

Clare’s hand tightened on the phone. “I know this sounds crazy, Dr. Wright. Trust me, I was shocked, too.”

“But…why would Jo do such a thing?”

“I have no idea.”

Adam tried to sort through the information Jo’s great-niece had just given him. None of it made any sense—the stipulation, or this woman’s willingness to go to such lengths to claim what couldn’t be a large bequest. As far as he knew, Jo wasn’t a wealthy woman. With her generous heart, she’d given away far more than seemed prudent to him sometimes. But maybe she’d had more assets than he knew.

Adam glanced up to find Mary Beth standing in the doorway. She nodded her head toward room one, pointed at her watch and rolled her eyes. He got the message.

“Look, Ms. Randall, I’ve got to go. I have patients waiting. Give me your number and I’ll get back to you.”

Clare did as he asked, then suggested he call Seth Mitchell. “I’m not sure he can explain Aunt Jo’s reasoning any better than I can, but at least he can verify that my offer is legitimate,” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll do that. I’ll be back in touch shortly.”

When the line went dead, Clare slowly replaced the receiver. Dr. Wright hadn’t exactly been receptive to her offer, she reflected. But she couldn’t really blame him. She would have reacted the same way. After all, he was a doctor. He probably made more than enough money to hire any nanny he wanted. In fact, he might have one already. So why should he let a woman he didn’t know help raise his daughter, even if it was for only six months?

Logically speaking, there were all kinds of reasons why Adam Wright could—maybe even should—turn her down. So she needed to put together a strategy in case he declined to cooperate.

Because Clare needed Aunt Jo’s legacy.

And she didn’t intend to take no for an answer.

Adam looked across the kitchen table at Nicole. Tonight she was eating the meat loaf he’d brought home last night, while he ate a frozen dinner. As usual, they were out of sync. He speared a forkful of broccoli and searched for something to say, anything that might generate a little conversation.

“So…anything interesting happen at school today?”

She gave him the look he’d come to clearly recognize over the past year. It was a look that let him know how pathetic she thought his overtures were. And even after all these months, it hurt. But he made himself try again.

“Come on, Nicole. Tell me about your day.”

With a long-suffering sigh, she lowered her gaze and picked at her food. “There’s nothing to tell. It’s just a dumb, hick school. Everything and everybody there is boring.”

It was the same refrain he’d heard over and over again. So he changed subjects. “I had some bad news today.”

She looked over at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember Mrs. Williams, from St. Louis? She ran the bookshop and went to our church.”

“Yeah. She was nice.”

“I found out today that she passed away a couple of weeks ago.”

Nicole looked down at her meat loaf. “Why do people you care about always have to die?”

Adam knew she was thinking of Elaine and the tragic boating accident that had taken her mother’s life a little over a year ago. Nicole and Elaine had been close, and though Adam had thought Elaine was too liberal in her child-rearing practices—a frequent point of contention between them—he knew that his wife had deeply loved her daughter. And that Nicole was still grieving for her.

“It was just their time, Nicole,” he said gently. “God has His reasons.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think God is very nice. He lets bad things happen that just make people sad. I don’t know why people are always praying to Him. He never listens anyway.”

Adam frowned. Over the past couple of years, he’d been having a harder and harder time getting Nicole to go to church with him on Sunday. And it had become a weekly battle since they had moved to North Carolina. She and Elaine hadn’t gone to church regularly, and he knew that the lapse in church attendance had come at a critical stage in Nicole’s life, shaking her still-developing faith. It was another change he didn’t like in his daughter.

Nicole put her fork down. “May I be excused?”

Adam glanced at her plate. She’d barely touched her food. “Are you feeling all right?”

Nicole glared at him. “Can’t you stop being a doctor even for a minute? I feel fine. I’m just not hungry anymore. So may I be excused?”

Adam’s gut clenched. His question had been prompted out of fatherly concern, not medical interest. But clearly Nicole hadn’t seen it that way. She saw him as a doctor, not a father. Which only served to underscore the problems in their relationship.

“Yes, you may be excused.”

Disheartened, he watched her walk away, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper containing Seth Mitchell’s phone number. Last night he’d prayed for help with his daughter. Today Clare Randall had called with her offer. That wasn’t exactly the kind of help he’d had in mind, but then, God’s ways weren’t always our ways. Maybe Clare was the answer to his prayer. Since he wasn’t getting anywhere with Nicole on his own, and he was rapidly running out of possible babysitters in Hope Creek, he’d be a fool not to at least consider Clare’s offer.

He’d been too busy to call Seth Mitchell today. But he’d make that the first order of business tomorrow morning.

Adam slowly replaced the receiver and leaned back thoughtfully in his desk chair. Seth Mitchell had just confirmed Clare’s story, though he’d been unable to offer any further insight into Jo’s offer. Nor much additional information about Clare herself, except that she was a widow with teaching credentials. When Adam had seemed skeptical about Jo’s unusual stipulation, the attorney had assured him that it was completely aboveboard and verified that Clare Randall would expect no payment for her services.

Despite that reassurance, Adam had a hard time accepting the offer. Getting something for nothing was outside the realm of his experience. And it had been ever since he was twelve years old and asked his father for a new bicycle. To this day he vividly recalled his father’s gruff response.

“There’s no such thing as a free lunch, boy. You have to work for what you want.”

So Adam had done just that, doing odd jobs around the neighborhood until he’d earned enough money for his bike. And that was generally the way life had worked for him ever since. Which was why he found it hard to believe that this woman’s offer came without any strings attached. Despite what the attorney had said.

Still…he did need help with Nicole. And financially he wasn’t in a position to hire a full-time nanny. So wasn’t Clare Randall’s offer at least worth exploring?

Before he could change his mind, Adam reached for the phone and punched in her number. She answered on the first ring, almost as if she’d been sitting by the phone.

“Ms. Randall? This is Adam Wright. I wanted to follow up on our conversation yesterday. I took your advice and spoke with Seth Mitchell, and he verified that your offer is legitimate.”

He paused, and when Clare spoke he could hear the trepidation in her voice. “I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said cautiously.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I seem a little suspicious, but frankly I keep wondering, what’s the catch?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I accept your offer, it will totally disrupt your life for six months. I just can’t understand why you’d go through that.”

“I’m not going to inherit a million dollars, or anything close to it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clare said stiffly. “This isn’t a TV reality show, Dr. Wright.”

She seemed insulted by his question, but Adam didn’t think it was completely out of line. She was a total stranger, and he wasn’t entirely sure about her motivations. Something just didn’t feel quite right to him. Then again, maybe it was his problem, he acknowledged. He was so used to paying his own way that maybe he was just uncomfortable accepting anything as a gift.

“Look, Dr. Wright, would it make you more comfortable if we met face to face?” Clare offered when Adam didn’t respond.

He could hear a touch of impatience—or was it desperation?—in her voice. “Maybe,” he conceded slowly.

“Then why don’t I come down?”

He glanced again at the area code. “Where do you live?”

“Kansas City.”

“That’s a long trip. And I can’t make any promises.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

If she was willing to make the effort to come down, how could he refuse to meet with her? And what did he have to lose, except an hour or two of his time?

“Okay. Let’s try that.”

Clare had a couple of substitute teaching assignments to fulfill, so they agreed to meet on a Saturday in mid-November.

“I’ll see you then,” Clare said as she hung up, already making a mental list of all the things she needed to do to prepare for a six-month absence from Kansas City.

Because even though Adam Wright seemed to have some qualms about accepting her offer, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: One way or another, she would find a way to convince the good doctor that she was exactly what he needed.

Chapter Two

Clare let her car slowly roll to a stop, set the brake and peered through the passenger’s-side window at Adam Wright’s house. Located at the edge of town, on the side of a hill near the end of a country lane, it was just as he’d described it—a two-story white clapboard with forest-green shutters and a large front porch. It was set on a spacious lot shaded by large trees, and a detached garage was just visible to the right, about fifty feet behind the house. When she turned to look out the driver’s-side window, she saw a valley filled with fields and patches of woodland. Blue-hazed mountains were visible in the distance, their wooded slopes ablaze with fall color. It was a lovely, peaceful setting—and completely at odds with her emotional state.

Clare nervously withdrew her compact from her purse and studied her face. Despite her best efforts to artfully apply some blush, she still seemed pale. She also looked tired, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She’d driven straight through from Kansas City, arriving last night about ten. Though she’d been exhausted from the long journey, jitters about today’s meeting had kept sleep at bay. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, then risen at dawn in anticipation of her nine o’clock meeting with Dr. Wright. The stress and lack of sleep had clearly taken their toll on her appearance.

After one final, dismayed look, she dropped the compact back in her purse and opened her door. This was as good as it was going to get, she acknowledged with a sigh. Maybe Adam Wright wasn’t the observant type, she thought as she made her way toward the front porch.

All such hopes quickly vanished, however, when the front door opened in response to the doorbell. In the seconds before he greeted her, the blue-jean-clad man gave her a swift but thorough perusal that was insightful, assessing—and unnerving. She saw surprise in his eyes—and caution. And even before he said a word, she sensed that something about her appearance had raised a red flag. Nervously she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her skirt and adjusted the strap on her shoulder purse.

As Adam scrutinized his visitor, he struggled to keep his face impassive. Seth Mitchell had described Clare Randall as a widowed schoolteacher. But the elegant, fashionably clad woman on his doorstep was far from the older, matronly type he’d somehow expected. His prospective nanny couldn’t possibly be even forty. And she was small. At five foot ten, he didn’t consider himself to be especially tall, but she seemed petite beside him. It wasn’t that she was short. She had to be about five foot five. But she was very slender; so slender that the fine, classic bone structure of her face was startlingly evident. She was also lovely. Her honey-gold hair was pulled back into a chignon, and her slightly parted lips looked soft. Despite her beauty, he caught a glimpse of a haunting sadness in the depths of her large, azure-blue eyes that stirred something deep in his heart.

She was dressed beautifully, as well. While he wasn’t too knowledgeable about clothes, he did know quality when he saw it. His wife had always bought expensive things, so he recognized the designer touch in Clare Randall’s attire. Especially the discreet Gucci logo on her handbag.

The woman obviously had money. Which made her willingness to go along with Jo’s stipulation even more suspicious.

While Adam assessed her, Clare looked him over, as well. The doctor appeared to be about forty, with dark-brown hair that was touched with silver at the temples. Even though she wore two-inch heels, he was still several inches taller than her. And obviously in good shape. His worn jeans hugged his lean hips, and his sweatshirt couldn’t disguise his broad shoulders or the solid expanse of his chest.

She completed her rapid scan at his eyes. They were deep brown—and they’d narrowed imperceptibly since he’d opened the door. A slight frown had also appeared on his face. Not good signs. Clare felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

“Clare Randall, I presume?” He had a deep, well-modulated voice that Clare would have found appealing under other circumstances. Now she was all too conscious of the subtle note of caution in his tone.

“Yes. Dr. Wright?”

He held out his hand, and Clare’s delicate fingers were swallowed in his firm grip. “Guilty. Please come in.” He stepped aside for her to enter, then nodded to his right. “We can talk in the living room.”

As he led the way, Clare looked around the spacious room with an appreciative eye. It was a lovely space, with high ceilings, tall windows and a large fireplace. It had great possibilities…but unfortunately, none of its potential had been realized. While the living room was meticulously clean, it was sparsely furnished. The leather couch and chair were completely out of sync with the character of the house, and the contemporary coffee table was bare. So were the walls. There were shades at the windows, but no window treatments to soften the austerity.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Adam took the chair as Clare perched on the edge of the couch. From her rigid posture, he could only assume that she was as uncomfortable with this whole situation as he was.

“May I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks. That’s not one of my vices.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite get her stiff lips to cooperate.

Clare’s obvious tension reminded Adam of patients with white-coat syndrome. The minute they stepped inside his office their blood pressure skyrocketed and they got the shakes. There was no medical explanation for it. But that didn’t make it any less real. Through the years he’d worked hard to put such patients at ease, finding that casual small talk sometimes helped. So it was worth a try with his visitor. He purposely leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over a knee, keeping his posture relaxed and open.

“Did you have a good trip?”

“Yes. It took a little longer than I thought, but the scenery is lovely.”

“When did you leave?”

“About six yesterday morning.”

He frowned. “Did you drive straight through?”

“Yes. As I said, it took a little longer than I thought.”

“You must be exhausted.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been more tired.”

He studied her for a moment. The light from the window was falling directly on her face, and he could see the faint shadows under her eyes—which he suspected she’d carefully tried to conceal. And despite her obviously fair complexion, she seemed pale.

“Did you have breakfast?”

She shook her head. She’d been way too nervous to face food. “Not yet. I’ll get something a little later.”

His gaze swept her slender figure. Make that too slender, he corrected himself. “You don’t look as though you can afford to skip too many meals, Ms. Randall.”

“Please call me Clare. And I’ve always been slender. But I’m very strong, Doctor, and certainly capable of tackling the nanny job.”

He hadn’t brought up her weight because of concerns about her capabilities, but clearly the job was on her mind. His attempt at small talk wasn’t working. So they might as well dive right in. “First of all, my name is Adam, not Doctor. Second, I have to tell you I’ve never hired a nanny before.”

“And I’ve never been one. So we’re even. But I’m sure I can handle the job. I’m a teacher, so I’m used to being around children.”

Adam raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Nicole isn’t exactly a typical child. My wife, Elaine, and I separated several years ago, and Nicole spent most of her time with her mother. When Elaine died a little over a year ago, Nicole came to live with me full-time. It quickly became apparent to me that she had less-than-desirable friends in St. Louis and seemed to be heading down the wrong path. I’m originally from North Carolina, and I thought moving away from the big city might help. But it hasn’t worked out as I’d hoped. She may have had the wrong friends in St. Louis, but she has no friends here. She barely tolerates me. And she hates life in a small town. So she can be very difficult to deal with. Frankly, I haven’t been able to keep a sitter for more than a few weeks.”

Clare frowned. The situation sounded a lot more complicated than she’d expected. But surely, at age eleven, there was still time for Nicole to turn her life around. “I’m certainly willing to do whatever I can to help.”

Adam leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “I guess the real question is why. Why do you want to put yourself into this situation? This isn’t a happy household, Clare.”

Clare swallowed. It might not be happy, but there was time to make things right. Time for a second chance. Which was something she hadn’t had with her own family. Clare realized that Adam was studying her intently, and shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. She needed to convince Adam that she would make a capable and competent nanny. She took a deep breath and looked back at him.

“I appreciate your honesty. But from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like you need a nanny even more than you realize,” she said.

“Maybe. But you haven’t answered my question. Why are you willing to do this?”

“I need the money.”

His gaze swept over her attire again, lingering on the logo on her handbag. When he looked up, she saw the skepticism in his eyes.

“Don’t let my clothes fool you, Doctor,” she said quietly. “This suit is several years old. The purse is even older. At one time I was in a position to buy expensive things. That’s no longer the case. Aunt Jo’s legacy will help me pay off some debts and get a new start. And I will do my best to earn it. I promise you that I will do everything I can to help you with your daughter. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I can supply some character references.”