What The Doctor Ordered

Dr. Morgan Talbot was too handsome by half.

Rachel could spend hours just staring at him and watching the different expressions that crossed his face, listening to his deep musical laughter.

“Time for your examination, Rachel. Surely you don’t expect your daughter to be examined if you aren’t?”

“Oh.” Flushing, she nodded and added, “Very ingenious of you.” She stood and hopped up onto the tiny pediatric table.

“Did I mention you look nice in your navy suit?”

Her color inched up a notch. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Now, lift your arm,” he said in his professional tone.

She lifted her arm.

“Now drop it.”

She dropped it. “Why?”

“I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

Rachel smacked his arm. He chuckled and so did she.

CHERYL WOLVERTON

grew up in a military town, though her father was no longer in the service when she was born. She attended Tomlinson Junior High School and Lawton High School and was attending Cameron when she met her husband, Steve. After a whirlwind courtship of two weeks they became engaged. Four months later they were married, and that was over seventeen years ago.

Cheryl and Steve have two wonderful children, Christina, sixteen, and Jeremiah, thirteen. Cheryl loves having two wonderful teenagers in the house.

As for books, Cheryl has written eight novels for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line and is currently working on new novels. Watch for her third book in the series HILL CREEK, TEXAS, as well as other surprises planned in the future. You can contact Cheryl at P.O. Box 207, Slaughter, LA 70777. She loves to hear from readers.

What the Doctor Ordered

Cheryl Wolverton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God and are called according to his purpose.

—Romans 8:28

Dedicated to all the mothers and fathers who have been there for their kids.

Acknowledgments

James, big bro, this one is to you. What can I say? I love you.

Sometimes there are special people who touch your life, people you never forget. Years later you still remember the kind deeds they did or the gentle spirit they had. I know two such people. Dr. Jerry Youker. Your gentle spirit, your care for the person as a person and not just as a patient, has never left me! The way you allowed me to follow you around as a volunteer at Comanche County Memorial Hospital in Lawton, Oklahoma, will never be forgotten.

And Dr. Mogab! Oh, how I loved to be tested by you, as you’d let me look at X rays with you and go in rooms with you as you stitched up people! I still have those fond memories of being student to your teacher. Thank you both.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

She ran right into him—literally.

Rachel Anderson White stumbled and dropped the bags she’d been carrying in her arms.

“Whoa, there.” A large, strong hand reached out and steadied her. The firm, warm grip was definitely male, Rachel thought as she looked at the long, slim fingers and the dark skin that led to a well-muscled arm.

Rachel lifted her gaze to the deep brown eyes of one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. She worked hard not to suck in a breath of disbelief. Dark, conservatively cut hair topped high cheekbones, straight nose and a firm, square jaw. Her gaze touched each of these features one by one before traveling to twinkling eyes that shone with warmth. When his mouth curved into a warm, friendly smile her heart thumped a bit faster.

“Are you all right?”

Rachel heard the question but stood stunned, quite unable to answer.

“Here, let me help you, Mrs….?”

The Mrs. snapped her out of her stupor, though she wasn’t sure if it was because that word still brought pain or if she wanted him to know she wasn’t married. “Miss. Rachel Anderson White. I didn’t mean to nearly knock you down. I was bringing supplies for my daughter’s class and not watching where I was…”

She noticed the child he carried on his left hip. Her cheeks heated as the dark-haired sparkling-eyed boy, no more than three or four years old, hugged the man and whispered something.

The hunk whispered gentle words to the child before a low chuckle filled the air around him. Glancing at Rachel, the man smiled.

“He’d like me to tell you he’s Jeremy and he went to ask Pastor Ben to pray for him because he’s sick.”

The little boy nodded, his shaggy brown bangs falling in his eyes, reminding her of a shaggy little dog as his head bobbed excitedly.

“I…see.” Rachel wasn’t sure what to say, since she didn’t attend church here and didn’t really know the pastor. “Are you feeling better?” she asked lamely.

The child grinned and nodded. “All better.”

Rachel chuckled. “Well, that’s good.”

Setting the young boy on his feet, the man paused to squeeze the boy’s shoulders. “Go back to class, Jeremy. You’ll be fine now.”

The little boy bounced down the hall without a backward glance, his fast gait echoing loudly on the tiled floor.

“By the way, I’m Morgan—”

“I hope it’s not serious?” Rachel said at the same time.

They both laughed.

Mild panic seized her that her daughter might be exposed to something that afflicted Jeremy and she’d have to take off work when she had just gotten her new job.

Morgan shook his head. “Not at all. He thought he had pinkeye, but he only has a mild cold. Still he wanted Pastor Ben to pray for him before he went back for his nap.”

Nap! The relief she’d started to feel at his words was instantly replaced with more panic.

“Oh, dear.” Rachel dropped to her knees and started gathering paper towels, a bag of finger paints, a tiny pink pillow, an apron and a ratty blue much-used blanket.

As she reached for the blanket, Morgan snatched it up, along with the paints and a box of tissues. “Here we go,” he said, and slipped the things into one of the bags she had been carrying. “Are you new here?”

Rachel paused in repacking the sacks. She was used to that question. In the past week she’d heard it from at least a dozen people here in Fairweather, Minnesota. Though she’d grown up in Fairweather and knew many of the people, she found, in the years since she’d moved away, married and had a child, new people had moved in, and the town had grown and changed, despite the fact it was a small community. This man and his child were two people she didn’t recognize, either. Mr. Morgan, she thought. “Yes and no,” she replied, smiling noncommittally.

Standing, she reached for the bags.

He picked them up before she could. “Allow me.”

Rachel bristled, but realized it was simply country manners. She’d lived in the big city too long, was used to everyone wanting something or expecting something in return, even her former husband.

Pain filled her heart at the memory. Betrayal, hurt and finally grief as she remembered the call to inform her that her husband had been killed in an auto accident. Nevertheless, that was then, this was now, a new start, a new way of things, new values. Forcing herself to relax, she nodded her thanks. “My daughter is new to the church day care,” Rachel said as a peace offering. She didn’t even know the new pastor. Though she’d been back almost two weeks, she’d not attended church. Her mother had informed her there was a new young pastor, but she had no desire to meet him, to hear any messages he preached, to hear anything about God. She’d bitterly learned that she had to depend on herself. Not others.

Morgan stepped back and motioned her to lead the way. “Ah, your daughter must be…Lindsay or maybe Chrissy?”

“You know the children that well?” Rachel asked, surprised.

The corners of his mouth crooked into a mischievous smile and he said, “I love kids.”

She found his grin infectious. Then she remembered why she was here. And why, despite how nice looking this man was, she didn’t have time for him or anyone else. She had to find herself and attempt to make a life here for Lindsay. With that in mind, Rachel strode past him and down the hall toward her daughter’s class.

The sound of music, laughter, cries, blocks being banged together and teachers teaching all mingled together in a type of controlled chaos as they walked to the nursery. Rachel knew that in this noise and movement children were actually learning. Her mother said this day care had warm, caring people and was the best in the area. That’s what Rachel wanted for her child. The best. The safest. In addition, it was the place least likely for Lindsay to have problems.

When they arrived at the room for three-year-olds, she searched the faces of the children for her daughter—and quickly found her.

Lindsay sat alone, in a corner, a stack of blocks in front of her as she built them up, higher and higher. The other children were in free time, but Lindsay—she acted as if she were unaware of the activity going on around her.

There was a simple explanation for that.

Lindsay was hearing impaired. Different, an oddity and shunned by many.

Including her father.

But not Rachel. Rachel loved her daughter more than life itself. That’s why she’d moved back to Fairweather. A small community would be a better environment for her. She wouldn’t have to put up with the many well-meaning people who continually said that Lindsay should be put in a special school. Or the ones who insisted she should have surgery—a surgery that might help if she would only find a doctor who could perform this amazing miracle operation that they just knew was out there for her daughter.

She’d been to Lindsay’s doctor. She’d been to her own doctor. They both agreed sending Lindsay to a special school for specific training was the first step. Later, maybe, they said, something would develop. Possibly surgery, but that probably wouldn’t help. All in all, the advice was to send her off to a home somewhere so people who were trained with kids like her could deal with her. She wasn’t sending her daughter away and that was that.

Julianne Quinn, who normally taught the four-year-olds, was teaching both classes today. Rachel had heard from her mother that Julianne had recently been jilted by her fiancé. Her mother wondered if perhaps that was why Julianne had been working so many hours lately. Tall, slim, with blond hair, she smiled at Rachel and moved over to touch Lindsay on the shoulder.

“Lindsay is mine,” Rachel finally said, answering the man’s earlier question.

“I see that,” he murmured.

Rachel couldn’t imagine how. Lindsay had blond hair and a round, cherubic face, just like her father had. The only thing Lindsay had inherited from Rachel was the blue eyes. Her ex-husband’s eyes had been green.

Maybe it was the way Lindsay’s eyes glowed as she ran to the door.

“Maanu Maanu,” the little girl said, and held her arms up.

Rachel bent over the small gate and lifted her daughter into her embrace. Kissing her on the forehead, she touched the child’s cheek to draw her attention to her mouth. “Mama. Mama has something for you.”

Turning, Rachel reached into the sack and pulled out the blanket, ratty blue but very much loved by her daughter.

“Bae ee.”

Rachel nodded, kissed her on the cheek and set her down. She added sign language to her words. “Go play, honey.”

Lindsay shook her head and tapped her fingers together.

“Mama will be back later. After nap time,” she said with a smile, doing what now came naturally and adding the signs for back later and after sleep.

Lindsay looked at her blocks in indecision until she saw Jeremy headed that way. Without a word, she turned and ran over to guard her territory, putting her arms around the blocks and babbling something at Jeremy.

Rachel chewed her lip, watching to see if Jeremy teased her. He didn’t. He handed her some more blocks and then plopped down near her with a car and started playing.

“Jeremy made it back.” Julianne said this to the man next to Rachel.

“Thanks. This is Miss White’s.” After handing the bags over the gate, Morgan stepped to one side.

Rachel relaxed slightly. She wasn’t used to having a man distracting her and didn’t like the feeling at all. “How’s she doing?”

Julianne smiled. “She’s doing fine. She’s adjusting. I think the hearing problem is continuing to keep her isolated from others. But a few of the more curious children have started trying to talk to her.”

“Children can be mean.”

Julianne nodded and said softly, “Or they can be the breakthrough. Earlier today, she sat near Chrissy and they shared an apple.”

Rachel nodded.

“Your daughter’s deaf?” Morgan asked, drawing Rachel’s attention to him.

“Partially. A degenerative thing.” Rachel didn’t like to talk to strangers about her daughter. And this was a stranger. “Excuse me. I have to get back to work.”

She smiled politely at the man and then said to Julianne, “If you need me, just call City Hall. I’ll be there another hour or two before I’m back to pick Lindsay up. Nice meeting you,” she said to the man and then waved to Julianne and started down the hall.

Morgan watched her leave, unmoving.

“She’s really good with her daughter, just a little overprotective, Dr. Talbot.”

Hearing Julianne’s voice, he realized he was still staring after the exceptional woman. He tried to force his attention from Rachel White but couldn’t bring himself to let her out of his sight. When she turned the corner, he finally turned his attention to Julianne. “Most parents are. Parents with handicapped children have emotions that most can’t understand.”

A touch of melancholy swept over him. Shaking his head, he forced the feeling aside. “If you need me again, just call. I have to get back to work.”

A smile touched the woman’s lips, and she nodded. The sound of a squabble caught their attention, and Julianne was off to handle the problem.

Morgan walked down the hall, intending to leave. Instead, he stopped at the end of the hall by the window that overlooked the square. Pushing the curtain back, he located exactly what had captured his attention and watched her continue across the green toward City Hall.

“Caught you!”

Ben Hunter came walking up.

Morgan turned, allowing the shade to drop. “Caught me what?”

Ben pulled the curtain back and glanced out. “Daydreaming? Thinking about Jeremy or perhaps one of the other children that’ll be lined up in your office in the next thirty minutes or so?”

Morgan shook his head and smiled. “No, not that. Not at all.”

“Oh?” Ben asked and turned toward his office, motioning Morgan to accompany him.

Morgan followed Pastor Ben, who continued, “So, what was it you were doing?”

Ben paused outside his office and turned the door handle, his gaze touching on Morgan’s in query.

Morgan decided, Why not tell Pastor Ben the truth? Taking a deep breath, he said, his voice low, “I was studying the woman I am going to marry.”

Chapter Two

“I didn’t realize you were even dating anyone,” Reverend Ben said.

“Dating? Who’s dating someone?” Emma Fulton, Ben’s secretary, asked.

Ben nodded to Emma as he passed through the secretary’s office and walked into his own office. Morgan watched, amused. Emma Fulton was sixty-five years old, but he certainly couldn’t tell it by her actions. Patting her strawberry-blond hair, which was more white than red, she tucked an imaginary loose strand into the braid that was twirled in a bun on top of her head. She got up and followed the pastor toward his office, her matchmaking antennae zeroing in. “You know, Julianne’s fiancé left her. That was such a shame. Now there’s a woman who needs someone.”

Morgan saw the look on Emma’s face, the gleam in her eye and thought, Yep, the pastor was certainly in trouble.

“In God’s time, Emma,” Ben said gently. “So, what messages do you have for me?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes.” Looking at the slips in her hand, she said, “Well, Miss Patterson called and I think she wanted, or was it the other one that wanted…” The woman trailed off, confused, quickly looking through the notes she held in her aged hands.

“Take your time, Emma,” Ben soothed and seated himself, motioning for Morgan to take a chair also.

“No, no. It was Rachel’s mother who called in reference to the roofing project you wanted to know about. And Miss Patterson, she wanted to talk to you about sponsoring.” The woman frowned as she tried to remember. “Oh, yes. She wanted to talk with you about sponsoring a booth at the celebration they’ll be having, the spring festival. You know, I was crowned Strawberry Queen at that festival years ago.” She gleamed with pride as she nodded to Morgan.

“I’d heard that, ma’am,” Morgan replied, smiling. Actually, he’d heard it several times from Emma. It was something she was very proud of, and every time the spring festival came up, she mentioned it. “Quite an event,” he added.

She giggled.

Taking the messages from Emma, Ben paused to pat her hand. “Thank you, dear. Can you close the door on the way out?”

“I surely will, Reverend Ben.” She turned and bustled out the door, her mission thwarted temporarily but, knowing Emma, not deserted.

When the door finally clicked closed, Morgan chuckled. “Looks like you may be fighting off a matchmaking scheme there, Ben.”

Ben groaned and shook his head. “Emma’s a good woman. She certainly cares about everyone. But I draw the line at allowing her to pick my wife.” Smiling, he shook his head again.

Morgan chuckled again.

Ben’s blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he said, “You don’t have much room to laugh, Morgan. She’s tried to match you up with every single woman within a three-county area.”

“Yeah, but she’s turned that attention on you now. Looks like she’s given me up as a lost cause—at least temporarily.” Morgan’s smile faded. “So, how are the problems going?”

Ben shook his head and laid the messages aside. “Still getting a lot of opposition from many in the church. I’m too young to handle this job, according to some. Others think the former Reverend shouldn’t have retired and let someone with my lack of experience slip into the job. In time, though, I’m sure, with God’s help, things will change.”

“Good.” Morgan shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. In khaki pants and a deep blue polo shirt, he felt as if he were missing something. Normally, he wore a lab coat and stethoscope, too. He’d been at lunch when he’d gotten paged to come over because the day care was certain Jeremy had pinkeye. “By the way, that’s not pinkeye,” he said to Ben. “It seems Chrissy didn’t like what Jeremy said and punched him in the eye while the teacher’s back was turned. But Jeremy heard the teacher say pinkeye and was certain his eye was going to turn pink and fall out.”

“Oh, really?” Ben grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, I’m sure he’ll think a miracle occurred when his eye clears.”

“And his mom will be glad to know the sniffles aren’t going to turn into anything more. So, what’d you want to talk to me about?”

Ben grinned. “I’d wanted to talk business, but first, I want to find out who you’ve been dating while my back was turned.”

Morgan glanced at Ben’s desk, cluttered with books and notes, the books obviously from the many bookcases around the office. The church was an old building, with original wood paneling and floors. Beautiful, in a way. Morgan really liked it, and liked his pastor, too. He’d become a friend over the last few months through the church-run day care. He wondered how he was going to explain to Ben what he’d meant earlier. Oh, well, he thought. I made the statement, might as well explain it. “Her name is Rachel and she has a daughter…”

“Lindsay,” Ben finished. “Yes. I’ve seen her picking Lindsay up, and of course, know her mother, Betty. I didn’t know you knew her, though. Or is it that Betty introduced you two?”

Morgan grinned. “No, Betty has no idea I’ve met her daughter yet. And I don’t know Rachel yet, either.”

“I see,” Ben replied, though it was perfectly obvious he didn’t see at all.

“I met her a few minutes ago,” Morgan added, not offering more than a simple blink of his eyes in reaction to the total confusion written on Ben’s face.

“Ah.” Ben chuckled, his face clearing suddenly. Morgan knew Ben thought he was kidding. Let him think that—until he finally asked Ben to perform the ceremony. He couldn’t explain it himself, but when he’d seen Rachel his entire world had tilted on its axis. A strong voice inside had spoken to him, saying, She’s the one. Morgan had no problem agreeing. She was beautiful, but there was something more about her, something he couldn’t explain. He simply knew she was the woman who belonged at his side, and he was going to marry her.

He was rather stunned himself, in some ways. He wasn’t one to make rash decisions. Actually, he was usually very controlled and careful. Nevertheless, he knew, he knew she was the one.

And Lindsay.

The child only confirmed what he knew. She was for him. Lindsay was for him. A second chance…

“Well, since you brought Rachel up…” Ben broke into the silence, his laughter gone as he drew Morgan to the subject at hand. “Betty called while you were checking on Jeremy. She was looking for you.”

“Really?” Betty Anderson, the director of the day-care center, was also Rachel’s mom. “What does she want to see me about?”

“I don’t know. I told her I’d snag you before you left. Let me tell her you’re here.” He picked up the phone and rang the day-care office. When he hung up, he smiled at Morgan. “She’s on her way now.”

“No measles going around, at least, not that I know of. Maybe she wants me to set up the annual lice check, or…” Morgan trailed off, curious.

“I’m sure it’s something like that. You know Betty. She’s an exceptional woman, good head on her shoulders. She certainly keeps that day care in line.”

Morgan nodded. “That she does. And knowing her, she’ll waste no time getting here and coming to the point.” Morgan liked that about Betty.

As if on cue, they heard Emma in the other room, offering a strawberry-filled cookie to someone and talking about seeing her daughter. “Sounds like Betty is here,” Morgan said.

Ben stood and moved around his desk. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He laid a gentle hand on Morgan’s shoulder as he passed. Morgan heard the door click and the warm tones of Ben’s voice float to him from the secretary’s office. “Hello, Betty. Morgan is in my office. Go on in. In the meantime, I think I’m going to steal one of Emma’s cookies.”

“Thank you, Reverend.” Betty’s contralto voice could be heard. A breeze swept in as the door swung wider, and then Betty walked in the office.

Betty pushed the door closed and stood there, her reddish brown hair hanging straight to her chin. In her fifties, she still had a nice figure. Her no-nonsense clothes showed she’d evidently been doing something physical downstairs at the center. Her flannel shirtsleeves were rolled to her elbows, and her purple jogging pants had dust and debris on them.