âYouâve come back. Itâs about time, donât you think?â
âAbout time?â Dr. Brett Elliot hadnât expected his hometown to stage a welcome parade to celebrate his return. But he also hadnât expected to be accosted by a beautiful woman heâd never met. âMs.ââ
âYou donât know who I am?â
âYouâre notâ¦?â
Something about her amber eyes triggered recognition. He brushed back her auburn curls, exposing a thin scar. Sheâd fallen from a tree when she was five, and heâd been convinced at ten he was grown up enough to take care of her. That was when heâd decided to become a doctor.
âRebecca. Little Rebecca, all grown up.â
âPeople do, you know. Did you think nothing in Bedford Creek would change while you were gone, that we were all just waiting for your return?â
Rebecca had been a quiet little tomboy, all skinny legs and sharp elbows. The woman who stood in front of him now was beautiful.
âI guess things have changed,â Brett said, lifting an eyebrow.
began writing childrenâs stories for Sunday school take-home papers when she was a church education director. From that beginning she branched into writing magazine fiction and then book-length fiction. Sheâs grateful for the opportunity to write the books of her heart for Steeple Hill.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania with her husband of thirty-eight years. They have three grown children scattered around the globe whom they enjoy visiting. In addition to writing and travel, Marta loves hearing from readers and responding to their letters. You can write to her at Steeple Hill Books, 300 East 42nd St., New York, NY 10017.
âYouâve come back.â
The young womanâs golden-brown eyes filled with a mix of shock and some other emotion Brett couldnât identify.
She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the flow of people coming through the front door of the gracious Victorian home. âItâs about time, donât you think?â
âAbout time?â Dr. Brett Elliot hadnât expected his hometown to stage a welcome parade to celebrate his return. But he also hadnât expected to be accosted at his best friendâs engagement party by a beautiful woman heâd never seen before.
Thereâd been no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice. âThe party started at eight, didnât it?â He detached his arm from her grip. People clustered in the adjoining rooms, leaving the wide center hallway quiet.
âThe party? Yes.â She glanced toward the crowded living room of the rambling old house, where the party obviously centered. Auburn hair curled around her shoulders; creamy skin glowed against the soft coral of her dress.
No, if heâd known this woman before, heâd certainly remember.
âWell, then, Iâm right on time.â He probably wouldnât have ventured out at all on his first night back in Bedford Creek if he werenât one of Mitchâs groomsmen. He could hardly avoid the party given for Mitch and Anne, especially since it was at the Forrester place, right next door to his parentsâ empty house. Apparently one of the Forrester sisters was a member of the wedding party.
He couldnât pretend he hadnât gotten home for it. Someone would notice his car or the light in the window. That was one of the drawbacks he remembered of life in a small town. Someone noticed everything.
So he had decided to make a brief appearance, smile at everyone and beat a quick retreat before too many questions were asked.
Nothing in that scenario included having a stranger look at him with such disapproval. He pushed down his annoyance and tried a smile. âYou think I should have come early, Ms.ââ
Her eyebrows went up in astonishment. âYou donât know who I am?â
He riffled quickly through his mental file of high school friends. Trouble was, he hadnât come back to Pennsylvania often during college and medical school on the West Coast. He was much closer since heâd taken the residency at a Philadelphia hospital, but also much busier. And with his parents spending most of the year in Florida, thereâd been little to bring him back. People had a way of changing when you didnât see them for years at a time.
âWell, letâs see. You must be someone I went to school with, right?â
A dimple showed at the corner of her mouth, dissipating her frown. âIn a way.â
The smile encouraged him. She couldnât be that annoyed with him, even if heâd gotten the time wrong. Something about her made him think of Angela Forrester, his high school sweetheart. One of Angelaâs friends, maybe?