A Special Kind Of Family. Eileen Berger

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      Rob wondered if his emotions had been that obvious.

      The empathy in Vanessa’s concerned blue eyes almost unnerved him. His arms ached to hold her, and he suspected that, were they alone, nothing would keep him from putting his arms around her. But he couldn’t do that, not here in the presence of the girls.

      And not without having at least some idea of how Vanessa really felt about him—and how she’d respond!

      He blinked hard to clear his vision and, hopefully, to clear his mind. Her head tilted in that questioning way he’d begun to recognize.

      “Headache, Rob?”

      He grinned slightly. What would she say or do if I were to admit it was my heart, rather than my head, giving me difficulties?

      EILEEN BERGER

      has been writing for many years, mostly children’s stories and poetry when her daughter and two sons were small, before having hundreds of other manuscripts published. She had been happy growing up on a farm, then living for a time in two major American cities, but feels blessed to continue living in the same north-central Pennsylvania town, Hughesville, where she and her husband, Bob, raised their now-grown children.

      She is active in writing circles as speaker, teacher, board member, panelist, conference director and contest coordinator, but is especially grateful for the West Branch Christian Writers, the wonderful critique/support group without which she says she might never have gotten even the first of her six novels published.

      A Special Kind of Family

      Eileen Berger

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      There is a time for everything, and a season

       for every activity under heaven…a time to heal…

      —Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 3

      To—

       Vicki, Jim and Bill,

      Our children who, while growing up,

       never seemed to notice that a typewriter on the

       dining-room table was not a usual part of their

       friends’ decor. You have given your father and me

       much joy and reasons for thankfulness.

      We dearly love you.

      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

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Chapter One

      Although it wasn’t quite dark yet, streetlights were already glimmering by the time Vanessa McHenry drove into town. Because she had worked late, there had been only a few minutes to visit at the hospital with her cousin, Keith, his wife, and their new baby; Gram wouldn’t be able to leave to see her newborn great-granddaughter until Vanessa came to relieve her.

      She always enjoyed the small-town ambiance of wide sidewalks overhung by yellow-and red-leafed maples, some branching in an archway above macadamized Main Street. But as she passed the cross-street she abruptly stopped humming along with her car radio; the red Sylvan Falls Volunteer Fire Company ambulance looked frighteningly out of place in front of Gram’s big, white, early-Victorian house.

      She parked hastily, and was just getting out of her car when AnnaMae came running down the porch steps. “Oh, Vanessa! Gram fell—they think her hip’s broken!”

      Oh, no—not Gram! “What happened?” She, too, was running now, horrified at this happening to the woman they all loved.

      “She was up on a chair, reaching for a dish on the top shelf of one of the kitchen cabinets.” AnnaMae’s hand slid into Vanessa’s as they hurried up the steps. “I called 911, like she told me to.”

      “That’s good—just what I’d have done had I been here.” Gram’s girls, as she usually thought of them, needed a lot of building up.

      “We tried to get hold of you at your office and at your apartment—Gram wanted you to come right away, and to bring stuff so you could stay overnight with us—or at least till we find out how bad she is.”

      They were inside, through the hallway, and Rob Corland looked up from where he and another man knelt beside Gram on the kitchen’s off-white linoleum. “We’re almost sure the hip’s fractured, Van.”

      Her brief smile as she dropped to her knees beside him was meant to convey gratitude for his help and for the information, but she turned away quickly, leaning over her grandmother. “Are you having an awful lot of pain?”

      “Not too bad—when I don’t move.” She appeared fairly calm, but there were fine vertical lines between her salt-and-pepper brows and at the outer corners of her eyes.

      Rob gave the older woman’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be as gentle as possible, Gram, but we must get you onto this firm stretcher and to the emergency room. Maybe X rays will show you’re just bruised.”

      It wasn’t strange that he’d call her Gram; many people who weren’t related did so. Looking around, Vanessa saw the worry on the faces of the five girls who were hovering as near as possible. Getting to her feet, she drew them away so the men could do whatever was necessary.

      Jana Jenson, the wide-eyed seventeen-year-old, blurted, “I said I’d get that dish for her, but…”

      Gram’s firm voice interjected with, “There’s no way I’d let you—any of you—climb up on a chair in your condition!”

      Vanessa forced herself to refrain from mentioning the folding step stool she’d bought last year, or that Jana, though about six months pregnant, probably wouldn’t have fallen. “I’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital….”

      “Oh, no, dear.” Gram wasn’t missing a thing. “You’re needed here.”

      She sucked in her breath and nodded slowly, knowing that, according to the rules, some responsible adult must, indeed, be present in a supervisory capacity. All six of them followed the men out onto the large porch, down the steps