The Test of Love. Irene Brand

      Joseph breathed heavily, and pain etched deep lines on his face. Sitting beside him, their shoulders touching, Connie had the urge to run her fingers through his finely textured hair, and to wipe away the pain reflected on his face—an emotion that surprised her so much, she leaped to her feet and leaned against the building. When Joseph opened his eyes, he said, “I might as well go home, accept the fact that I’m handicapped, and learn to live with it. I’ll never be able to manage those exercise machines.”

      “It’s normal for you to feel like that. I pointed out Della Sinnet to you. She came to us using a walker soon after NLC opened. She’d had two hip replacements. None of us were optimistic about helping her, and there were days when she cried in frustration. After only a few minutes on the treadmill her body hurt so much she had to stop. But Della believed that ‘with God, all things are possible,’ and she kept at it. Slowly, we began to see progress, and the day that Della climbed Faith Mountain, we had a party.”

      “Faith Mountain? I’ve never heard of it.”

      Connie laughed. “Not many people have. It’s a hill on our property, several hundred feet higher in altitude than we are here, but it’s a steep climb to the top. When one of our patients is able to scale that hill, we know they’ve just about recovered.”

      “If an eighty-year-old can make it, perhaps I can, too. I’m ready to continue the tour,” Joseph said, struggling to his feet.

      They checked out the pool area and the aerobic room, where exercises were in progress, before they reached the cafeteria.

      “It’s a little early, but let’s have lunch anyway. You’re our guest today, Joseph. Incidentally, we use first names at NLC.”

      “All health foods, I suppose,” Joseph said, a twinkle in his gray eyes, as they entered a brightly decorated room that could seat fifty diners.

      “All our meals are designed with health in mind, but we believe moderation is the key to good living, so the cooks provide occasional treats,” Connie said as she directed Joseph to a small table beside a window. “There’s a buffet in the evening, but we order from a menu for breakfast and lunch.”

      When they were seated, she took two menus from the rack and handed one to him. “Our sandwiches are served on whole wheat or rye bread, and everything is low-cal as much as possible. If you want a hot meal, I’d recommend the pasta dishes.”

      “Please order for me. I haven’t paid much attention to my diet for several months. I don’t care what I eat.”

      “Very well. We’ll have the pasta and chicken, a vegetable salad with tarragon vinegar and a bowl of mixed fruit. Spring water for our beverage.”

      A waitress soon placed their meals before them, and Joseph attacked his food as if he hadn’t eaten for a month, surprised that his appetite had returned. He couldn’t remember when he’d been hungry. Appraising Connie obliquely, he wondered how much her presence contributed to his enjoyment of the meal.

      Questioning what had happened to her appetite, Connie picked at her pasta. Habitually, she never left a morsel of food on her plate, but Joseph’s keen, appraising glances unnerved her. Remembering that electric moment in the office, she wondered if he sensed the attraction between them also. Finally, she pushed the pasta and salad aside and nibbled on the mixed fruit.

      When the silence became unbearable, she directed the conversation to Joseph’s ranch, and they talked amicably while they ate.

      “I went to college, intending to study ophthalmology, but, after a year, I knew I couldn’t spend my life tied to an office. Ranching was what I loved, so I changed my major to agriculture, which pleased my father. He was nearing retirement age, and he wanted me to take over the ranch.”

      As Joseph described the changes he’d made at the ranch since his father’s retirement, he seemed to forget his physical and emotional problems. They’d just finished eating when the kitchen door opened and a plump, graying woman in her fifties approached their table.

      Remembering what Kim had told her, Connie hoped this encounter wouldn’t embarrass Joseph, but when Rose stopped beside them, Connie said, “Mr. Caldwell, this is our head cook, Rose Nash—the one responsible for the good meal we’ve enjoyed. Rose, this is Joseph Caldwell. He’s looking over our facility today.”

      “Oh, I know Mr. Caldwell,” she said.

      Joseph looked up quickly, and rose awkwardly to his feet. His face registered astonishment, but not guilt or displeasure, as he shook Rose’s hand.

      “This is a surprise, Rose! I didn’t know what happened to you after Mr. Perry died. I’m glad to see you. You’re looking—” he hesitated “—fit.”

      Rose threw back her head and laughed heartily. “Don’t you mean fat? I try to eat the food Connie prescribes, but I’d overindulged too long before I came to NLC. She hasn’t given up on me yet—I’ve only been here a year.”

      “Sit down, Rose,” Connie invited. “You probably need a break.”

      Rose took the chair between them, explaining, “Connie, I was employed by Mr. Caldwell’s in-laws for several years.”

      “And I remember all the good food you served us,” Joseph said.

      “Like that chocolate-pecan pie you liked so well?” Favoring Connie with a mischievous glance, Rose said, “I brought a big box of recipes from the Perry home. If I can find the directions for that pie, I’ll bake one for you.”

      “That will definitely be a factor in my decision. I’ll keep it in mind.”

      Connie listened silently while Joseph and Rose talked about the Perrys, and the childhood of Virginia and George, her brother. The conversation was lighthearted until Rose stood up. “Time for me to go back to work. It’s almost noon, and I’ll be busy. It’s good to see you again, Mr. Caldwell. I’m sorry you and George are having problems—you were always such good buddies.”

      A somber expression clouded Joseph’s face, and he said stiffly, “I’m sorry, too, but I suppose he’s doing what he thinks is right.”

      Leaving the dining room, Connie noticed that Joseph walked with increasing difficulty, and she pointed to a golf cart parked nearby. “Let’s take the rest of the tour on wheels, for I have an appointment in about an hour.”

      She wanted to save his pride by suggesting the cart was for her benefit, but when he put his arm on her shoulder for added support as he eased into the seat, a little twinge of excitement flowed into her heart. It’s high time you get your emotions under control, she admonished herself sternly. But she wasn’t sure her heart received the message.

      Chapter Two

      NLC was located on a thirty-acre tract of land in a remote valley. The facility had been built for a convention center, but when the firm that owned the center failed, Connie bought the place. What had once been a forty-room motel turned into a dormitory for residents. If they preferred, patients could lodge in one of ten two-room rustic cabins. NLC had a well-equipped kitchen and spacious dining area, and an inside Olympic-size pool with sliding doors, which opened during the warm season to give the illusion of outdoor bathing.

      Connie drove past the small chapel, the dormitory, the shaded area by the creek where the log cabins were located and along a few of the walking trails.

      Returning to the administration building, she said, “Our physician has his offices here, and he’s on campus two days each week. You’ll need to see him for a brief exam. He checks each of our patients weekly, so he’s busy, but I think he’ll be available today.”

      “What’s my next move? When will you tell me if I’ve been accepted?”

      “Our advisory board meets tomorrow evening, so if you’ll come back or telephone midmorning two days from now, I’ll give you an answer. A client is assigned to a personal trainer, chosen according to the workload of