Eye of the Storm - By Hannah Alexander Page 0,7

her with the thud of a bass drum. Were Tess and Sean still planning a wedding, or had they chucked it all and decided to elope? And Gerard…what was he doing for a full-time doctor in the clinic? Was he interviewing for prospective replacements, or was he waiting for her to return? Did he miss her?

It was impossible not to think about him—his piercing blue eyes, the short blond hair that spiked in the moist breeze from the shore, the firm chin and the gravel of his voice. Those were only the outer characteristics of a man with more of an inner-thought life than any minister or professor of philosophy she’d ever known. He had such a capacity to care for the unlovable. A woman couldn’t spend nearly two years working with a man like that and not have an impression of him left on her soul.

Gerard Vance was the kind of man who left an impression on everyone who met him, particularly those who had no homes, no livelihood, and depended on him for the very food they ate and the beds in which they slept.

Reluctantly summoning her courage, Megan stepped out onto the front porch and heard the sound of a car door closing. She looked up to see Gerard walking across the yard, wearing his typical jeans and T-shirt—today the shirt was tie-dyed blue and white. His hair appeared more blond, slightly longer, his skin more tanned than when she’d left him standing at the shelter two weeks ago.

She met his gaze and something inside her weakened as birdsong echoed from the treetops. At night, the whippoorwill called across the forest; in the morning, bluebirds and cardinals often fluttered from the front porch when she stepped out on her way to work. Now she knew how they felt.

Lines of weariness framed Gerard’s blue eyes. Something had changed. As she waited for him to reach her, she felt a new kind of tension.

Gerard allowed himself a few seconds to feast on the sight of Megan’s face. He realized in that short span how bleak the attitude at the mission had grown without her. His life too, come to think of it. The aftermath of the murder, of course, still lingered over the three-story, 25,000-square-foot building and among the employees and volunteers, but he knew the patients missed Megan’s unwavering and nonjudgmental compassion, her laughter, her ability to stop a child’s tears midstream with a gentle touch.

“Spending a lot of time outdoors lately?” Her voice, usually strong but gentle, with a musical lilt, strained with a transparent attempt to sound casual.

One of the first things that had attracted Gerard to Megan was her voice—since their first introduction was over the phone. The second attraction had been her straightforward honesty. She also had a sense of humor that arose at some of the most inconvenient times, but that helped her cope with the stress of her job. He even liked that about her.

He stepped onto the porch and heard that same creak of wood beneath his feet that had probably startled her earlier. “I’ve spent a lot of time walking and praying the past two weeks.”

“On the streets, no doubt.” She stepped backward as if to keep him from getting too close.

“It’s where we find our patients, Megan.”

“They aren’t mine. Not now.”

“You haven’t—”

“I know, I know. I haven’t fulfilled my obligation. You made that clear when I left. You think I don’t know how much I owe? But it isn’t going to happen in the near future, if at all, and I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about—”

“I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“No?” Her gaze met his briefly, then skimmed away.

“And I didn’t come here to coerce you back to Texas against your will. I have business in the area.”

Her golden-brown gaze met his with a hint of disbelief. “You think a town the size of Jolly Mill has a lot of homeless?”

“I didn’t say a mission. I said business.”

“Oh really? You make sales calls for your own company now? Times must be hard. No one needs a lot of go-green construction pieces in this part of the country.” She held her arms out. “Look around you, Gerard. No one’s building anything here. We even have a few businesses that have closed.”

He ignored the sarcasm in her voice. “Hans and I still need to expand.”

“But here?”

“We need a location for a second manufacturing plant, and we still plan to establish the rehab center.”

She blinked at him. He’d