She sounded a bit breathless. Like she was nervous or . . . afraid?
That didn’t make sense.
Why would offering someone beach access generate a case of nerves?
Whatever the reason she found the offer distressing, why labor over it? Better to accept with gratitude. This would be much easier than loading Molly and Toby into the car.
“I appreciate that. Molly will get a kick out of walking to the beach, and Toby will love the exercise. But I promise to keep a tight hold on his leash while we’re on your property.”
“I’m not worried about that. It sounds like you’re well on your way to corralling his canine capers. Enjoy your dinner.”
With that, she disappeared behind the hedge.
Logan retraced his steps to the house more slowly.
It was a shame Jeannette had turned down his dinner invitation—but it might be for the best. If they spent any time together, he could get interested.
Make that more interested.
Which would not be good.
He had plenty on his plate already adjusting to a brand-new town, learning the ropes at the urgent care center, dealing with a rascally pup, and trying to learn how to be a single father and to win the trust—and love—of a little girl who’d been no more than a Facebook photo to him for most of her five years.
There wasn’t room in his life for romance.
Yet even if there was, he suspected Jeannette wouldn’t be interested.
And he didn’t think it was personal.
A woman who ran a business out of her home and rarely left the premises wasn’t interested in connecting with anybody.
At the foot of the porch steps, Logan gave the tall hedge a final sweep.
Maybe they were meant to be nothing more than neighbors.
But someday he was going to find out why a beautiful woman with a caring heart locked herself away on a lavender farm with only her flowers for company.
14
The crash from next door was loud—and it was followed by a little-girl wail.
Uh-oh.
Jeannette dropped her long-handled trowel in the lavender bed and sped toward the front of her house, heart pounding.
If Molly had gotten injured, it would be her fault. She was the one who’d suggested this daycare arrangement. And just because the first week had gone smoothly didn’t mean there couldn’t still be bumps in the road.
She rounded the bottom of the hedge at the end of her drive and picked up speed as she dashed toward Logan’s backyard.
At least there were no more wails.
That could be a positive sign—or a bad one.
Please, Lord, let it be the former!
But it wasn’t.
As the backyard came into view, both girls were huddled around Mariam, who was sitting on the ground. Toby lay on the grass as far away as his leash would stretch, chin on paws, watching the proceedings in silence—for once.
Mariam spotted her first and offered an apologetic shrug. “I fall.”
“Yes. I see.” Jeannette joined the girls, directing her question to Molly. “What happened?”
“Toby runned around her and she tripped on the leash.”
That figured.
She refocused on Mariam. “Hurt?” She touched various parts of her own body.
The older woman pulled up the leg of her slacks.
Her ankle was already swelling.
Jeannette stifled a groan.
What a way to start the week.
And with Thomma out on the fishing boat, she’d have to deal with this herself.
So . . . what to do? Call 911?
Yes. Paramedics would be able to address this far better than she could.
As she pulled out her phone, Mariam squinted at her. “Who call?”
How could she communicate ambulance? That word hadn’t cropped up in their vocabulary lessons yet.
“Hospital. Doctor. Police.” Maybe one of those would register.
Mariam grabbed her arm, alarm strobing through her eyes. “No police. I okay.” She tried to stand, grimacing as she struggled to her feet.
Since the woman was determined to get herself upright, Jeannette lent her a hand.
By the time Mariam was vertical, her complexion had lost most of its color.
She needed medical help—yet the notion of police involvement had frightened her.
Perhaps in Syria, any contact with the government was dangerous—especially if you were Christian.
But her injury required attention.
Jeannette debated her options. If she could get Mariam to the car, she could drive her to the urgent care center. Letting a doctor she knew examine her ankle shouldn’t be too traumatic.
“Logan see.” She pointed to the woman’s ankle. “Okay?”
Mariam hesitated a moment. Shook her head. “No money.”
“No worry.” The churches must have made some arrangements for medical care for the family—but if not, she’d pay for the urgent care center visit herself.
Without giving the woman a chance to protest, she turned to the girls, who were holding hands and watching with saucer eyes. “Molly, you and Elisa stay here with Mrs. Shabo while I put Toby in the house. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
“Where’s his cage?”
“In the empty room.”
After retrieving a folding chair from the back porch for Mariam, she took Toby’s leash and pulled the protesting dog toward the house. “Sorry, fella. I don’t have time to play games or put up with your antics. Be a good boy and make this easy, please.”
The pup actually cooperated—more or less—as she entered the house and searched for the spare bedroom.
Once she found it, however, he began barking and dug in his paws.
“Come on, Toby.” She gripped his collar and joined the game of tug-of-war. “It’s an emergency. We won’t be gone long.”
Somehow she managed to get the twenty pounds of writhing fur into the cage—but as she locked the door, he let loose with ear-splitting howls.
She winced.
No wonder Logan had complained about losing his hearing.
Back outside, she raced around the hedge to get her car, pulled into Logan’s driveway, and managed to support Mariam as the woman shuffled to the vehicle.
She had no car seats for the girls, but she buckled them into the adult restraints in the back and prayed none of the Hope Harbor cops would pull her over during the short drive to town.
The ride was silent—and stressful. Tension radiated off the two girls in the back seat, and Mariam had gone from colorless to gray.
Not until she pulled up in front of the urgent care center did her pulse begin to settle back into the semblance of a normal rhythm. In less than five minutes, she ought to be able to hand this over to the experts and escape back to her peaceful farm.
“Stay here.” She addressed her three passengers. “I’ll get help.”
With that, she slid out of the car and jogged to the door.
No one was in the waiting room when she entered, and she pressed the bell on the front desk.
A fortysomething woman appeared at the door that led to the examining rooms. “May I help you?”
Jeannette explained the situation in a few short sentences. “The patient is Logan—Dr. West’s—babysitter. If he’s available, you might want to let him know.”
“I’ll do that, get a wheelchair, and meet you at the car.” The woman disappeared behind the door again.