Слепой. Груз 200. Андрей Воронин

that money was not the important thing for happiness, which he’d scoffed at and now knew was true. Her serious, unwavering dedication when mocked for daring to brave entrance to a profession dominated by men. Her willingness to dedicate herself to a life that was not necessarily conducive to her own well-being, but to the well-being of others.

      Longing for something he couldn’t put into words, he’d begun to wonder if there was redemption for him out there somewhere. If so, he knew he’d have to start in Wolf Creek, the place where his life had first begun to unravel. There, he’d hoped to find new direction and a new purpose for his life, though he had no idea what that might be or how to go about finding it.

      Now, sitting in the Stones’ parlor while Edward read the story of baby Jesus from the Bible, he wanted to ask Rachel if he could sit in the parlor the next morning and watch the gift opening. Thanks to his mother’s leaving and his father’s indifference, he and Caleb had never known what these three people shared. Christmas was just another day. Lucas’s only concession to the holiday had been a traditional meal because he liked showing off to some of his friends.

      Gabe longed just once to experience what a real Christmas should be, but Rachel had made it clear that the less she had to do with him the better, and he had no wish to disrupt their day. The solemn sounds of their prayer, and their happy, laughing voices as they joked and teased each other, brought about a pang of regret so painful that his heart hurt almost as badly as his physical injuries.

      The desire to have that kind of love and the knowledge that he had willfully ruined any chance of experiencing it with Rachel was overwhelming in its intensity. The woman he now knew was the most important person to come into his life had made it clear that she had not forgiven him and was not likely to.

      He couldn’t blame her. She was right. He had used her—not deliberately, perhaps—but she’d been there and they’d both been willing. In his mind she was no different from other girls he’d spent time with. Except, of course, she was very different.

      Filled with an incredible sorrow for what he’d tossed away, Gabe blinked back the unmanly sting of tears. Tears were a luxury he had not allowed himself since the day he’d come home and been told that his mother had left for a new life in Boston...a life that was more important to her than her husband or her sons.

      Funny how history repeated itself. For all intents and purposes, he’d done to Rachel exactly what his mother had done to him and his brother.

      * * *

      Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. Rachel slipped into Gabe’s room to stoke the fire in his fireplace, stunned to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, as upright as possible. A blanket covered his legs. He clutched a shirt in his fists. He was trembling and sweat dripped down his face despite the chill of the room. A basin of soapy water sat on the stand next to the bed. He’d given himself a sponge bath and was trying to get dressed. He looked near to passing out from the effort.

      “What do you think you’re doing?” She shook her head. Stubborn, stubborn man.

      “Getting dressed,” he told her in a terse tone. Knowing how she felt about him, he couldn’t bear being near her any longer than was absolutely necessary, so he’d forced himself to the limit to make her believe he was feeling better than he really was.

      “Why didn’t you ring for help?”

      “It wasn’t necessary.” Despite the medicine still dulling his senses and the pain racking his body, he made his voice as crisp and no-nonsense as hers.

      “How do you feel?”

      His blue eyes roamed over her, as restless as the wind tossing the tree branches outside the window. “I’ll live.”

      “I certainly hope so,” she said, going to the fireplace. She removed the screen and placed a couple of slivers of pine knot and a couple of logs on the bed of coals. He needed to get warm.

      “Do you?”

      The simple question fell into the silence of the room. Moving with extreme care, she set the screen back in place.

      “Of course I do.” She went to the bed and set about changing the bandages on his head and face, probing his swollen shoulder and making a swift examination of his bruised chest.

      “Can you bring me some hot water?” he asked. “My sponge bath was a bit chilly, and I’d like to shave and clean my teeth. Maybe I’ll feel a bit more human.”

      She pressed her lips together to keep from saying something to antagonize him. It was too soon for him to be doing so much. “I’m not sure you can—”

      “I’ll manage.”

      The determined angle of his chin brooked no argument.

      * * *

      When she returned twenty minutes later, Gabe stood at the shaving stand, his mouth set in a grim line of agony. She didn’t know how he’d managed to do all he’d done or why he wasn’t passed out on the floor. He was dressed in the clean clothes she’d brought him and had somehow buttoned the shirt over the arm that was held against his chest by the sling. The unused sleeve hung loose. He’d shaved what he could of the stubble shadowing his face, but not without leaving a few oozing nicks here and there. He made no comment about the ugly wound that marred his lean cheek.

      Placing the straight-edge razor on the stand, he met her gaze in the mirror. “You don’t know how badly I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind washing my feet? I couldn’t get below the knees.”

      Her eyes widened. The simple request, one she’d done countless times for other patients, caught her off guard. Taking care of their needs was her duty as a physician and caretaker, but she didn’t want to do any more for Gabe Gentry than was absolutely necessary.

      As soon as the thought entered her mind, she felt a familiar wave of shame wash over her. Where was her compassion for this man who might well have died if Simon hadn’t found him when he had? Where was her Christian charity? She was a good doctor who had never backed away from a challenge or shirked her responsibilities.

      Without a word, she picked up the basin of cooling water, placed it on the floor and knelt beside it, going about her task with quick efficiency and reminding herself that serving his needs while he was injured was not only her duty as a physician; it was her duty as a Christian.

      As she worked, the story of Jesus, sinless, perfect, washing His apostles’ feet slipped into her mind. She concentrated on her task so that Gabe wouldn’t see how near she was to tears.

      By nature she was a caring person. She knew she couldn’t continue to harbor this soul-destroying resentment, but she seemed unable to free herself from it. Could she find a way to set aside the hostility that had taken hold of her the day he’d destroyed her love with his callous dismissal?

      She sighed as she pulled a heavy pair of woolen socks onto his feet. She didn’t know. But she knew that if she was ever to be the person the Lord expected her to be she had to try a lot harder.

      * * *

      Gabe heard the sigh and watched as she stood and picked up the basin of water to set it on the shaving stand.

      “I’ll bring you some breakfast a bit later,” she told him, gathering the soiled laundry. “Danny will want to open his gifts first.”

      “That’s fine. I’ll just rest until then.”

      He started to lower himself in gradual increments, using his workable arm and clenching his teeth against the pain. Rachel was beside him in an instant, her arms around his shoulders to help ease him to the pillows. She was strong, he thought, as she lifted his legs to the bed and spread a double layer of quilts over him. Stronger than she looked. He didn’t know why that should be such a surprise, but it was.

      Gabe waited for the screaming pain in his ribs to subside to a dull, throbbing ache. Many things about Rachel surprised him. She was older, but no less beautiful than he remembered. She’d gained some much-needed weight, which only added to