Hearts Afire. Marta Perry

the challenges in Africa far more interesting.”

      There was more to it than that. There had to be, but he wouldn’t tell her. How much of his change in direction had been caused by Meredith’s death?

      It had changed Terry’s life. She’d given up her bid for independence and come running home to the safety of her family. Had he run, too?

      Jake closed the doors and watched while she locked them, then reached out and double-checked.

      She bit back a sigh. He couldn’t even trust her to do something as simple as locking a door. How on earth were they going to run this clinic together?

      Chapter Three

      “Not a bad day, was it?” Terry glanced at her mother as they cleaned up after the clinic’s opening day.

      She probably should get over that need for Mom’s approval. Most of her friends either called their mother by her first name and treated her like a girlfriend or else feigned complete contempt for anything a parent might think. She’d never been able to buy into either of those attitudes, maybe because Siobhan Flanagan never seemed to change.

      Her mother turned from the cabinet where she was stacking clean linens. “No one would recognize this place from the way it looked a few short days ago. You can be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

      Terry stared down at the meds she’d just finished counting and locked the drug box. She should be proud. But…“Three clients wasn’t much for our first day, was it?”

      “It will grow.” Her mother’s voice warmed. “Don’t worry. People just have to learn to trust what’s happening here. And they will.”

      “I hope so.” It was one thing to charge into battle to help people and quite another to fear they didn’t want your help at all. “Maybe I’ve leaped before I looked again.” Her brothers had teased her mercilessly about that when she was growing up, especially when she’d tried to rope them into one of her campaigns to help a stray—animal or human.

      “Don’t you think that at all, Theresa Anne Flanagan. You’ve got a warm heart, and if that sometimes leads you into trouble, it’s far better than armoring yourself like a—like an armadillo.”

      Terry grinned. “Do you have any particular armadillo in mind?”

      Siobhan gave a rueful chuckle. “That was a mite unchristian, I guess. I’m trying to make up for it, though. I’ve invited Dr. Landsdowne to your brother’s for the picnic on Sunday.”

      “You’ve what?” She could only hope her face didn’t express the horror she felt. The Flanagan clan gathered for dinner most Sunday afternoons, and it wasn’t unusual for someone to invite a friend. But Jake wasn’t a friend—he was her boss, in a way, and also an antagonist. She wouldn’t go so far as to think of him as an enemy, and she certainly didn’t want to think of those moments when she’d felt, or imagined she’d felt, something completely inappropriate.

      “What’s wrong?” Her mother crossed to Terry, her face concerned. “I know you think he’s a bit officious about the clinic, but if we get to know him better—”

      “I already know him. From Philadelphia.” Her throat tightened, and she had to force the words out. “He’s the one I told you about. The one who blamed my team for the death of the woman he’d been seeing.”

      The words brought that time surging back, carrying a load of guilt, anxiety and the overwhelming fear that perhaps he’d been right. Perhaps she had been responsible.

      “Oh, Terry, I didn’t realize.” Her mother gave her a quick, fierce hug. “I’m sorry.”

      She shook her head. “It’s all right. I didn’t tell anyone because—well, it didn’t seem fair to me or to him.”

      Mom sat next to her on the desk. “Has he talked to you about it, since he’s been here?”

      “Only to say he thinks we should leave the past alone.”

      “But the inquiry cleared you of any wrongdoing. He should apologize, at least.”

      Terry’s lips quirked at the thought of Jake apologizing. “He probably doesn’t see it that way. Anyway, if anyone’s guilty—” She stopped, regretting the words already.

      Her mother just looked at her. Better people than she had crumbled at the force of that look.

      “We’d been called to the woman’s apartment before. Two or three times. Always the same thing—she’d taken an overdose of sleeping pills or tranquilizers. We figured out finally that she was being careful. Never taking enough to harm herself. Just enough to make people around her feel guilty.”

      “And Dr. Landsdowne was the person she wanted to feel guilty?”

      She nodded, remembering the gossip that had flown around the hospital. “They’d been dating, but I guess when he wanted to break it off, she didn’t take it very well.” A brief image of Meredith flashed through her mind—tall, blond, elegant, the epitome of the Main Line socialite. “I don’t suppose anyone had ever turned her down before.”

      “Poor creature.” Her mother’s voice was warm with quick sympathy. “And him, too. What a terrible thing, to feel responsible for someone committing suicide. But what happened? You said she was careful.”

      “She took something she was allergic to.” Terry’s throat tightened with the memory. “We couldn’t save her.”

      Her mother stroked Terry’s hair the way she had when Terry had been a child, crying over a scraped knee. “That’s probably why he blamed you. He couldn’t face it.”

      Or because he did believe she was inept and incompetent. “I don’t know, Mom.” She pushed her hair back, suddenly tired. “I just know I’ve got to figure out how to deal with him now.”

      “Do you want me to cancel the invitation?” It was a testament to her mother’s concern that she’d be willing to violate her sense of hospitality.

      “No.” She managed a smile. “I’ve got to get used to his presence. At least I’ll be on my own turf there.”

      Her mother laughed. “And surrounded by Flanagans, all prepared to defend you.”

      “I don’t need defending.” The quick response was automatic. Her brothers had been trying to shelter her all her life. They’d never accept that she didn’t need their protection.

      “I know.” Her mother gave her another hug and slid off the desk. “They mean well, sweetheart.”

      The sound of a horn turned Siobhan toward the door. “There’s Mary Kate, coming for me. Are you heading for home now?”

      “I just want to make one last check, okay?” And take a few minutes to clear her head. “I’ll be right behind you.”

      “Walk out with me to say hi to your sister.” Her mother linked her arm with Terry’s.

      Together they walked to where Mary Kate sat waiting. The back of her SUV was filled with grocery bags.

      “Hi, Terry. Come on, Mom. I’ve got to get home before the frozen stuff melts.”

      “I’m ready.” Siobhan slid into the car, while Terry leaned against the driver’s side, scanning her big sister’s face for signs of strain.

      It had been ten months since Mary Kate lost her husband to a fast-moving cancer—ten months during which she kept up a brave face to the world, even to her own family.

      “How’re you doing? How are the kids?”

      “Fine.” Mary Kate’s smile was a little too bright. “They’re looking forward to seeing you on Sunday.”

      “Me, too.” She wanted to say something—something meaningful, something that would help. But, as