Annie flipped the channels on the television. Will had installed a satellite dish since she’d left. When she realized she’d perused more than a hundred channels in ten minutes, she turned the device off, unwilling to give in to the lure of couch potato technology.
This morning Ellen was at the hospital with Rose. Will had taken off to Tulsa. He’d gone to a medical supply store to buy the safety items Rose’s therapist recommended to ensure her smooth transition to home. An elevated toilet seat and safety rails for the shower were the standard equipment Will would install when he returned.
Annie walked through the tidy house and looked around. The place was spotless; the laundry caught up, thanks to Ellen, who had followed Rose’s strict instructions and refused to allow Annie to help with chores. It was difficult to get accustomed to being lazy. Ellen had even watered the pumpkin patch and Rose’s garden before she left.
She paced and realized she was not accustomed to, nor comfortable with, doing nothing. There wasn’t anything on her schedule until tomorrow morning, her “shift” at the hospital.
Tomorrow she’d meet with the physical therapist to again go through the daily home exercise routine once more, though the therapist planned to visit the patient three times a week here at the ranch.
Perhaps her strong desire to get back to her kitchen was inspiration, but Rose’s surgical recovery amazed everyone. The only setback had been a temperature spike two nights ago. Dr. Wyatt started her on an antibiotic and increased her respiratory therapy treatments and ambulatory activity. The patient responded immediately.
After a significant amount of cajoling, Dr. Wyatt agreed to allow a Sunday afternoon discharge, but only because Annie was a registered nurse.
Opening cupboards, Annie inspected the kitchen. It had been such a long time since she’d cooked or baked. Knowing Rose, there was probably a good stock of anything needed to bake cookies. She searched the cupboard above the sink for Rose’s huge cookbook and found the oversize tome right away. Held together with rubber bands and stuffed with loose scraps of paper, the book held Rose’s, Will’s and Annie’s favorite recipes.
Time for a batch of killer oatmeal cookies, a treat she’d invented in high school. The recipe was handwritten on one of the last blank pages of the book.
Preheating the oven, she gathered the ingredients and efficiently mixed them in a large yellow bowl, blending them with an ancient wooden spoon.
At the last minute she dug out chocolate chips, hidden in the vegetable drawer of the refrigerator. Rose knew Will would never find them there. He wasn’t big on any kind of green vegetable, but he could be counted on to eat the chocolate chips right from the bag.
Annie spooned the dough into small piles and slid the baking sheet onto the oven rack. She’d just rinsed her utensils when the front doorbell rang.
She made her way across the smooth wood floor with care. While she relied on her cane less and less, the trade-off was that her steps were slower. Annie pulled open the door as the impatient buzzer rang yet again.
Margaret Reilly.
Margaret was every inch the sophisticated businesswoman, in black slacks and a pale gray embroidered blouse. Silver hoops dangled at her ears, and her highlighted blond mane was pulled back into a smooth chignon. She’d apparently further accessorized with a foil-covered casserole dish.
A heavy sigh escaped Annie when she remembered what she’d tossed on this morning. Perhaps she should have put on something less casual than her oldest, threadbare jeans and a faded TU Golden Hurricanes jersey.
She stepped back as Margaret swept past her and into the foyer.
“I was beginning to think no one was home,” the older woman remarked with an inquisitive glance around the ranch house.
“I must have missed your phone call.”
“Oh, I didn’t call.” She assessed Annie’s attire, leaving Annie no doubt that she looked less than impressive. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Annie straightened her shirt.
“I brought a little something.” The casserole dish was thrust at Annie.
Annie gave an appreciative sniff as she accepted the dish. “This smells amazing.”
“Vegetable lasagna.”
She peeked beneath the foil and noted the generous mounds of vegetables and cheese. “How thoughtful of you. You’ll have to share the recipe.”
“I only wish I’d made it. Chef did. I’m terribly busy with KidCare. But I’ll get you the recipe.”
“You have a chef?”
“Of course. I don’t have the luxury of time to cook.” She turned her head and inhaled. “Are you making cookies?”
“Yes,” Annie said, walking toward the kitchen.
“Let me get that,” Margaret said, taking back the casserole.
“Ah, thank you.”
“So you bake, too. A regular little Rose, aren’t you?”
Had she just been insulted?
“I’m not allowed in our kitchen. Chef would have a fit. Is Will around?”
“He’s gone to town.”
“Don’t you find it a bit awkward with just the two of you here?”
“The two of us?” Annie stared at her a moment, until comprehension dawned. “Rose’s sister, Ellen, is staying to help out. But no, it wouldn’t be awkward either way.”
Margaret digested that information with a slight nod. “Oh, and before I forget, my secretary will be mailing out invitations to the launch party for Sullivan Ranch. This is rather late notice, but it’s been difficult to work a party around Will and KidCare’s schedule. I hope you’re free.”
Annie bit back a laugh at the thought that her social calendar was booked. “When is it?”
“A week from Sunday.”
“Of course I’ll come. Thank you for including me.”
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Margaret glanced at the coffee carafe. “Do you mind if I pour myself a cup?”
“Pardon me, I should have offered.” Annie pulled down two mugs and set them on the table along with spoons and the sugar bowl and creamer.
Margaret quickly made herself comfortable.
“Is Rose also invited to the party?” Annie asked, as she poured the coffee.
“The housekeeper?”
“Yes. Rose O’Shea,” Annie said.
“Well, of course, I suppose. I mean if that’s what Will wants.”
The oven timer went off. Irritated, Annie slapped at the button. She donned mitts to remove the sheet of plump, hot oatmeal cookies from the oven. The sugary aroma filled the kitchen. Still speechless from Margaret’s words, she moved them carefully to a cooling rack.
“I really shouldn’t,” Margaret said, when Annie offered her a cookie. “But they smell delightful.”
“Thank you,” Annie murmured. She stood at the counter and sipped her coffee.
Margaret finished a dainty bite and wiped her lips with a napkin before she addressed Annie again. “Is Will feeling all right?” she asked. “He’s been very preoccupied lately and, well, I’m becoming concerned.”
“Preoccupied?” Annie blinked hard. “Rose just had surgery.”
“Yes, I know. Oh, pardon me for not inquiring. How is she?”
“Well. She’s giving the therapist a hard time about using the walker, which is always a good sign.”
“Between you and me, don’t you think Will is unusually attached to Rose? I have to admit I find it a strange situation. He is, after all, the owner of Sullivan Ranch and—”
Annie cut her off before she said the words. Words which would no doubt force Annie to lose her temper. “Another cookie?”
“Oh, no, dear. But these are delicious.” Margaret leaned forward. “The thing is Annie, Sullivan Ranch and Will are up-and-coming names in Tulsa. They’re a brand, so to speak. A brand that KidCare is very effectively marketing. This is an important time for all of us. You know of course that it speaks volumes that Ed and I have taken him under our wing as our protégé.”
Annie took a deep, calming breath before she answered. “Yes, and I’m thrilled for him. But then again I’m not involved in your business with Will.”
“No, I suppose not, but I had hoped I might get some encouragement from you, as you are Will’s little sister, so to speak.”
Measuring her words as she measured the dough, Annie prepared another dozen cookies to go into the oven. “Margaret, let’s be clear. I am not Will’s sister. His friend, yes, but not his sister.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you. What I meant is that I hoped the two of us might be friends. Especially since Rose is definitely not on my side.”
“Side? I didn’t realize there were sides. We all want what’s best for Will.” Annie patted the neat little piles with the back of a spoon. Counting to ten under her breath, she slid two more aluminum trays into the oven, allowing the door to slam closed.
She set the timer and released a small prayer for the Lord to intervene before she said something Will would regret. That done, she turned to face Margaret.
“Annie?” Will’s voice rang out from the front hall.
Thank You, Lord.
“In the kitchen,” she called, as she placed the huge mixing bowl and spoon in the sink and ran water.
“Will,” Margaret said. “What a surprise.”
He frowned at her comment. “I live here. What brings you out today, Margaret?”
“I brought over a vegetable lasagna casserole. I realize with Rose in the hospital you might be on your own.”
Will gave an anorexic smile as he removed his mirrored sunglasses. “Great.” He turned to Annie. “I got those safety things for Rose.”
“Maybe Margaret has time to give you a hand installing them.”
“Pardon me?” Margaret asked, perplexed.
“A raised toilet seat and shower safety rails. I’m not much help with this leg.” Annie tapped her left leg.
Margaret stood. “I’d love to, but I have another appointment. Oh, and Will, I’ll be by early tomorrow afternoon to direct the caterers and rental people.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Will said. He led her toward the front hall.
“Goodbye, Annie,” Margaret said. “As always, it’s been enlightening chatting with you.”
“As always,” Annie muttered, scrubbing a spatula in the warm soapy dishwater.
The front door closed and she heard Will’s footsteps be hind her.
“Enlightening? Okay, what did you tell her this time?”
“That if she wanted to get on Rose’s good side she better quit calling her the housekeeper.”
“Thanks, I’ve been meaning to—” The timer interrupted him. “Let me get those for you,” he said, opening the oven and peeking inside.
“Thanks.”
With a finger, Will pushed his black Stetson farther back on his head. When he slid on the bright pink oven mitts and removed the trays Annie was unable to hold back a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Not funny. Just cute. The cowboy gets domestic.”
He placed the trays on top of the stove.
“Where’s a camera when you need one?”
He pulled off the mitts. “Missed your chance. Now nobody will believe you.”
“I guess it’ll be our little secret.”
Will winked and shot her a teasing smile.
She paused, suddenly breathless. Was Will flirting with her? No, she must have imagined that coy expression on his face.
“Shall I heat up that casserole Margaret brought over?” Annie asked, quickly changing the subject.
Will removed the cover of the pan and examined the contents with a sick expression before replacing the foil. “Any of that stew from last night left over?”
“Yes, but what am I supposed to do with the vegetable lasagna?”
“Rose would wash my mouth out with soap if I answered that question. Let’s leave the thing for Ellen.”
Annie made a small noise of disapproval, then stopped when she realized she sounded just like Rose.
Will reached into the cookie jar.
“Hey, you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
Leaning against the counter, he thoughtfully chewed and swallowed. “Nice shirt.”
She glanced down. “Thanks.”
“You always did make the best oatmeal cookies,” he said. “And by the way, you sound just like Rose.”
Annie wiped the counter down with force, remembering Margaret’s comment. Little Rose.
“Everything okay?” Will asked.
“I’m fine.” She tossed the sponge into the dishwater.
“No, really. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Annie said, drying her hands and tugging the refrigerator door open.
“Nothing?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Then could you tell me why you just put Rose’s cookbook in the refrigerator?”
Annie opened the refrigerator again, discovering he was correct. She snatched the book out and returned it to the cupboard above the sink. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“You know what?” Will dusted crumbs from his hands. “I think you could use a little R & R. You’ve been at that hospital too many hours, and cooped up in this house even longer.”
“You have toilet seats and safety bars to install.”
“Come on,” he urged, ignoring her comment. “It’s time to break out.”
She turned to him. “What did you have in mind?”
“Doesn’t matter. Your call.” Will raised his hands, palms open. “Anything you’d like.”
There was no hesitation. “The mall,” Annie said.
“What?” He shook his head as though he was hearing things.
“The mall. I want to go to the mall.”
“Woodland Hills? That’s your idea of a good time?” Will groaned. “You’ve been in the bush for two years and you want to return to the gathering place of the wild beasts?” He stared at her cane. “What about your leg?”
“I don’t care. I want to go shopping.” She was thoroughly fed up with looking like—well, like Will Sullivan’s little sister.
Will glanced at the clock on the dash as they pulled into the drive of Sullivan Ranch. “Good night. Who would have thought a person could spend five hours shopping?”
“Just making up for lost time.”
Will grunted. “No kidding.”
“I’m exhausted,” Annie said, gathering the cane, her purse and a large, neon-blue shopping bag.
“Need help?” Will asked, as he opened her door and leaned toward her.
“No. I’ve got it,” she said, her voice rising.
Will frowned, puzzled.
“I mean, no thank you. I’ve got it.” She slid out of the truck.
He opened the tailgate and pulled out four large departmentstore bags. “Lived here all my life and never realized that mall had one hundred and sixty-four stores.”
“You counted?”
“Had to do something to pass the time.”
“You counted all the stores?”
“I read that on an advertisement while you were trying on shoes for an hour.”
“It was not an hour. Besides, when I came out it took me that long to find you.”
“You were looking in the wrong places, Annie girl. I was right there all the time.” He couldn’t hold back a grin.
“Not quite,” Annie muttered, her cheeks suddenly touched with pink.
“Sure I was.”
“Victoria’s Secret? And I could barely drag you away from those sales associates who were quizzing you on your perfume preferences.”
Will laughed. “Just being hospitable. If I didn’t know better I’d say you sound jealous.”
The pink color now spreading across her cheekbones only deepened as Annie opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I… Will Sullivan, you cut that out.”
“Didn’t they tease you in Africa?” He raised his brows.
When he held the screen open for Annie a fat drop of moisture landed on his arm.
They were both silent, staring at the sky.
“Rain,” Annie whispered. She reached out a hand to catch the scattered drops.
Dread settled on Will like a heavy blanket as he willed the sun to reappear.
No. No. It couldn’t be raining.
With each passing moment the precipitation increased, small drops turning into a downpour. They stood at the screen solemnly looking out at the landscape.
“How will this affect the program tomorrow?” Annie asked, her voice hushed.
Everything was at stake. Will shook his head, almost afraid to answer, determined to remain calm. “It depends on how long and how hard the storm is.”
“The worst-case scenario?”
“Cancellation.” He released the breath he’d been holding. A death knell in his business. “That means a domino of issues—refunded vendors, rescheduling an already tight calendar. And we’ll be eating barbecue at the house until the cows come home.”
“Oh, boy.” She paused. “Doesn’t insurance cover this?”
“I can’t afford rain insurance for these small events.”
“Oh, Will…” Annie said, her voice trailing off.
Will reined in his fears. “All part of doing business. I just don’t have the luxury of a cushion for lost profits this early in the game.”
“Then I guess we’d better get some serious prayer in motion.”
“As opposed to not serious prayer?”
“Hey, Sullivan. This isn’t a joke.” She frowned, obviously disappointed in his response. “I can’t even count the number of times over the past two years when all I had was prayer to carry me through. I learned to make prayer my first line of defense, not my last.”
“Sorry, Annie.” He followed her into the kitchen, where she dropped her parcels. “I’m ashamed to say I’ve been a cynic when it comes to prayer.”
“Well, then you’re long overdue for a change of heart.”
Irritation remained evident as she plopped down into a chair and rummaged in her bags.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
With a sigh of satisfaction, she finally pulled a candy bar out of a tissue-stuffed bag.
“I have been thinking about this for two years.”
Will glanced at the plain milk chocolate, his personal favorite, as Annie slowly peeled back first the paper and then the foil and stared at the smooth bar.
“No chocolate in Kenya?”
“Yes, I could have bought it in Mombasa, but then I’d feel I had to share it with the children at the clinic or shove it all in my mouth before we got back to camp.”
“I can see you doing that.”
“Don’t be silly. Chocolate is to be savored, piece by piece.”
“Really?”
“Will, you have no idea what an extreme privilege this represents. An entire bar, all my own.”
“So you aren’t going to share.”
“Not my bar.” She reached into the bag and pulled out another, handing it to him, then carefully bit off a piece of her own. Moments passed before she spoke. “This chocolate is symbolic.”
“What is this? The parable of the chocolate bar?”
Her lips quirked upward. “Not quite.”
“Okay, you’ve got me now. Tell me about the symbolism of chocolate.”
“This represents wants.” She held up the rest of the bar. “A few precious moments.” She snapped her finger. “Gone. There’s barely enough nutritional value here to sustain a human.”
“You said you had been thinking about one for two years.”
“Oh, not that way. It took the attack in Kenya to make me realize how many wants I used to have. I took my life for granted.”
Will tore open his chocolate and bit off a large corner. He wasn’t into savoring.
“I sound silly,” she finally said.
“Not at all. What you experienced in Kenya was life changing. I appreciate that.”
“Do you? Then you’re probably the only one who does.”
“Yeah, well, I know what it’s like. You get the curse with the blessing. Sometimes you aren’t sure which is which. But the experience changes you. Forever.”
She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “That’s it exactly. You can never go back to the person you used to be.”
“That person doesn’t exist anymore.” He stared out the window at the rain.
Were his dreams being washed away with the storm?
Annie sighed. “I really am tired. I’m going to put these things away and rest and pray about that weather.”
They reached for the bags at the same time.
“I’ve got them,” she said. “You hauled them all over Woodland Hills Mall. I think I can handle down the hall.”
“I’m going to check messages.”
A few moments later Annie called out, “I heard a car door slam. Ellen must be back.”
“Good, because all of Rose’s friends have been calling for an update.” The phone began to ring as he spoke. “See what I mean?”
“Want me to grab that?”
“I’m good,” he said.
Annie’s door closed as he picked up the portable. “Sullivan Ranch.”
“This is James Morrow, calling for Anne Harris.”
“Annie?”
“Yes. I’m one of the field supervisors from her mission program.”
Will released a breath, not wanting to guess what was coming next. He strolled into the living room and out of earshot.
“This is Sullivan Ranch, correct?”
“Yeah, you got the right place.”
“Is Anne Harris available?”
“Not right now. She’s resting.”
“How is she? Everyone is asking about her.”
“She’s doing as well as can be expected, considering she survived a terrorist attack.”
There was a pause from the caller. “May I leave a message?”
“Why don’t you try again, maybe next week?” Will clenched his jaw. Maybe next year. He knew his anger was misplaced, but the thought of Annie leaving again was making him irrational.
He wasn’t ready for her to leave. She’d barely just gotten back.
“Next week?”
“Things are pretty busy here now.”
“Could you tell her I called? It’s important. We’ve got all her paperwork for the Mexico trip ready and on hold until she’s released from her doctor.”
Will’s gut took a direct hit, the air whooshing from his lungs. “What?”
“Just have her call me. She has my number.”
“You know, your best bet is to call back. Have a good day, Mr. Morrow.” Will pressed the disconnect button.
He paced across the living room. Could things get any worse? First the rain, now this. He shook his head; he was ill-prepared for either one.
Will slammed a fist against his palm. Annie’s words rang in his ears. You’re long overdue for a change of heart. What did he need to do to make his prayers heard? “Lord,” he said aloud, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. We’ve got to talk.”