It was amazing how much she’d endured, and yet she kept on going. Perhaps he could get her to open up and that might help her heal.Lord, please show me how to help her.
The frigid air cleansed his lungs as he prayed. The farm came into view, and he slowed his horse. Several other horses were hitched to the post. Probably the pastor helping to make arrangements. But then a flash of cinnamon-red hair caught his attention. Whitney was out with her dogs. He took a second glance. Her hair was the most beautiful shade of red.
Instead of going inside, he headed toward her. Alone with her, he could assess how she wasreallydoing.
“Good morning, Miss Powell.” He always made a point of letting her know he was approaching. After a physicalattack, many women couldn’t bear to be surprised by a man’s presence.
Her head snapped up. “Good morning,doctor. Didn’t I ask you to call me Whitney?”
He grinned and removed his hat. “As long as you call me Peter.”
One eyebrow quirked up at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You first.”
“All right. Good morning, Whitney.”
“Good morning, Peter.” No smile, but neither did she frown. That was better than nothing.
“How are you holding up?” Best to just dive in. Whitney wasn’t a fan of chitchat.
She blinked several times. “I’m fine.”
“Care to elaborate on that?”
She flung her hands out and huffed. “What do you want me to say? That I’m devastated my granddad is gone? That life won’t be the same ... ever? That I haven’t even dealt with the loss of my mother, or both of my sisters getting married, or my long-thought-dead father coming back to life with a whole new family?” Her eyes widened as if she was waiting for some kind of answer from him. “I’mfine. See?” Walking past him, she grabbed a bucket with more force than was necessary and growled at him.
“Yeah. Sure. You’re fine.” He tried hard to keep a neutral expression on his face, but he doubted it was possible as the sarcastic words slipped out. At least she was talking to him.
“You just won’t leave me be, will you?”
“Nope.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not only am I your physician, Whitney, but I’d like to think that I’m your friend as well. And I can’t be good at either one if I leave you be.” This could lead to treacherous waters if he wasn’tcareful. Charlotte used to tell him that his Achilles’ heel was the investment he put into his patients. A double-edged sword—because he cared so much, which was necessary in a doctor, but it cost him greatly.
Charlotte. His heart twinged. She’d waited while he finished medical school. Helped him study. Was the one who understood what made him push himself to be the best doctor he could be.
“Well, as soon as you share what put that look on your face, I’ll spill the beans about everything I’m feeling.”
He looked up.
Whitney’s hands were on her hips. And she dared him with her eyes.
How long had he been standing there thinking of Charlotte? “I’m here to check onyou.”
“That’s an excuse, Peter. You just said you thought you were my friend. Last time I checked, friendships went both ways.” Her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparked.
But he saw through them to the fragile veil that was her shield for now. Deflection. Redirecting attention off of her. Somehow he needed to help her protect that, or she might very well fall apart. And he didn’t want that. “I am your friend. And you’re correct. It goes both ways.” Honesty was always the best policy. “I was remembering someone ... I lost.”
Her gaze shot down to the ground, and she toed the snow with her boot. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget others have lost people too. How incredibly selfish of me...” She shook her head and walked toward him. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You’ve done nothing but help during some really troublesome times.” The strong façade was back up. Appearing in control of her emotions again, Whitney stared at him. “Thank you for checking on me. I admit I was a bitoverwhelmed talking about the funeral, so I came out here to have some time to myself.”
“Totally understandable that you wanted time.” He put his hat back on his head. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll head back to the house and see if there’s anything I can do.”
“I said IthoughtI needed time to myself. But then I realized that I would spend a lot more time by myself from now on. Makes me feel alone. And I don’t quite know how to deal with that.”
Look at that, she was opening up after all.
He kept his voice casual. “Grief is tricky that way. You won’t know how to feel for quite a while.”
She nodded. Stared away toward the horizon.
The silence stretched. Not one to fill empty space with shallow words, Peter weighed his options. “You’re not alone, Whitney. Remember that.” Turning on his heel, he tossed over his shoulder. “It was good to see you. I’m praying for you.”
