Huckleberry Hearts by Jennifer Beckstrand
“Not at all.”
“I’m not like Norman. I won’t tell you how to live your life or decide you’re going to hell because you’re not Amish, but I also have a right to choose my life. I choose to live the way I think God wants me to live.”
“Live and let live,” Zach said. “But maybe that means you could reserve judgment on a guy until he takes you out. Maybe give him a try.” He gave her an innocent grin, as if he had no particular guy in mind.
The words felt heavy on her tongue. She hated being such a disappointment. “It doesn’t matter. It’s always the same. Different guy, same story.”
“Tell me the story.”
She shivered and tucked his coat around her chin. “He’s always really charming and fun at first. He takes you out to dinner, maybe a movie or a party where all the couples are making out. He gets annoyed when you won’t make out with him, but he’s not discouraged yet. Maybe he takes you to the lake. Maybe even pulls out the water skis. He spends all sorts of money on you. But when you refuse to sleep with him, he gets angry. He calls you names and accuses you of leading him on.” She turned her face from Dr. Reynolds, unable to meet his eye. He had wanted to hear it. “After a few dates, your charming smiles would vanish and every moment we spent in each other’s presence would be awkward and painful. You’d despise me for my resistance, make fun of me when you’re with your friends, maybe even call me a hypocrite, because, let’s face it, nobody could be that virginal.”
She didn’t realize a tear trickled down her cheek until he reached out and gently wiped it away.
She sniffed hard and shook her head. “This is stupid. I should be numb to the memories by now.”
He stared at her as if he might like to shed a few tears himself. “How many stories have you got like this?”
“Three or four guys my freshman year. Two or three as a sophomore. After that I turned down a lot of dates.”
The lines deepened around his eyes. “They shouldn’t have treated you that way.”
“But it’s how everybody behaves. At least in college.”
He tilted his head and dug his fingers into the muscles of his neck. “No wonder you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” Her gut clenched. “I just don’t want to go out with you.”
He studied her with a piercing gaze. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You don’t have to make anything up to me.”
“Maybe I’m not what you want now, but what if I try to be the kind of guy you can trust? The kind of guy you would date. What would I have to do?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Maybe people can change. Maybe just being around you makes men want to be better.”
Her heart did somersaults in her chest. He didn’t mean it. No guy would want to change for her.
He frowned. “Am I a lost cause?”
“No one is a lost cause, but only God can change your heart.”
A shadow darkened his features. “Maybe so.”
The look troubled her. What was his relationship with God? “You don’t think God can change you?”
“God and I aren’t on speaking terms.”
He seemed so dark, so profoundly unhappy about it. Dare she ask? “Why not?”
“He took my dad. One day he was fine and the next day he dropped dead from a heart attack.” He lowered his head. “I was seventeen. God knew how bad me and my mom needed him. Why would He do that to us? Mom couldn’t hardly eat for weeks. Why did God put us through that pain if He loves us?”
“I don’t know,” Cassie whispered.
“Because He doesn’t love us, that’s why.”
After a moment of hesitation, she placed her hand on his arm. His gaze intensified. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but one thing I can promise you is that God loves you. He loves all of us. We’re His children.”
“Then why does He make bad things happen?”
“I don’t think God makes bad things happen,” Cassie said. “We live in a hard world. Things happen because we are mortal and frail. We’re all going to die, and life is very unfair, but God sent Jesus to make everything right again.”
“How does He do that?”
“I don’t know, except I know He can do it. The Apostle John said that God will wipe away all tears from our eyes. When we get to heaven, everything will be made right, and we won’t be sad anymore.”
He shook his head. “Maybe.”
“Do you think your dad would want you to be angry that he’s dead?”
Dr. Reynolds pressed his palm against his forehead. “It doesn’t matter if he would want it or not. I’m angry, with or without his permission.”
“I’ll bet your dad’s in heaven growing cherries or farming or whatever it was that made him the happiest,” Cassie said.
Dr. Reynolds smiled in resignation. “He liked collecting old stuff like Indian arrowheads and fossils. One time he found an ancient shark’s tooth while he tilled the dirt in the orchard. You would have thought he’d discovered gold.”
“Heaven is the place where every dream comes true and every moment is filled with happiness. Your dad’s there. He’s happy. He wants you to be happy.”
Dr. Reynolds studied his hands. “Could be. But I rather that he was still here.”
“Hopefully, knowing he’s in a better place gives you comfort.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know he’s in a better place. I’m not really sure if God even exists.”
“Maybe you should give God another chance.” She flashed him an encouraging smile. “You may not believe this after what I just told you, but I know you can find your faith again.”
“You do?” In an instant he seemed to shake off his dark mood. He raised his eyebrows like he always did when he teased her. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a lost cause. And you said you liked me well enough.”
Her lips curved into a slow smile. “Well enough.”
“But what would I have to do to impress you? Dress Amish and chop wood? If a guy like me tried to be a better guy, would you ever give him another chance?”
Cassie wanted to say yes with every cell in her body. She wanted to yell it from the roof. But he was just saying words, and words meant nothing.
He eyed her with so much determination in his expression that she had to lower her eyes. She liked him. How could she bear to refuse him again? She shivered just a little.
“You’re cold.” He stood and offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve been rude keeping you all to myself.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he nudged her around the quilts draped over easels and in the direction of the benches. “Let’s get you by one of those heaters.”
“Thank you,” she said, grateful that the conversation was over.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he said, grinning as if he’d won an argument, even though they hadn’t been quarreling.
Her heart felt as light as a feather when she saw he wasn’t inclined to hold a grudge. “There is nothing more annoying than a man who doesn’t know when to give up.”
“Give up? Miss Coblenz, to keep from annoying you, I might back off. But give up? Nope. I’m not going to give up.”
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, Z, it’s Blair. I know you’re busy, but really? It would take about thirty seconds to pull your phone out of your pocket and call me. I’ll be there in five weeks, and I want to make plans. It’s only an hour from Stevens Point to Shawano. It wouldn’t kill you to go out to dinner with me, would it?”
Zach blew a puff of air from between his lips and erased Blair’s message. He really couldn’t avoid this, no matter how badly he wanted to. He’d told Blair they could still be friends, but he hadn’t really meant it. He’d be forced to revisit their breakup conversation, and he didn’t especially look forward to it.
He put down his phone and resumed typing his report on the hospital computer. Maybe he’d avoid the conversation for another couple of
He heard the yelling from all the way down the hall.
Cringing, he tried to ignore it as he sat at his desk and stared at the notes on the chart in front of him. The child’s doctor could handle the problem. Zach couldn’t barge in on another physician’s patient, no matter how bad it sounded down there. Besides, the child was probably just getting a booster shot. Lots of kids went ballistic at the thought of getting stuck with a needle.
Another full minute of hollering down the hall. Zach heard Marla call for another nurse. The kid must be putting up a pretty good fight. Zach snapped his head up as he heard a metal tray crash to the floor. Something about the sound of a little kid in distress made his gut clench and his protective instincts take over. The little guy must have been terrified out of his mind. Maybe he should see if he could help.
He strode down the hall in the direction of the sound. A little boy who couldn’t have been more than six or seven sat on a hospital bed doing everything in his power to keep Marla from sticking an IV line into his arm. Marla was about the age of Zach’s mother, and a big woman, but she still couldn’t manage to restrain the boy well enough to get a needle in. A woman, no doubt the boy’s mother, sat on the bed behind him with her arms around his chest, trying to immobilize him. Alice, the other nurse, held his arm and pressed the boy’s thigh with her other hand, attempting to get him to hold still while Marla did her best to find a vein for her needle.
The boy struggled and slapped at the nurses, his eyes red and his face soaked with tears. His pale skin and sunken eyes also told Zach that he was terribly ill.
For being as skinny as he was, he put up an impressive fight.
“Austin, you’ve got to hold still,” his mother said, trying to sound calm while obviously at the end of her rope.
“It’s only a little poke,” Marla said. “Then it won’t hurt so bad.”
Zach noticed a small coat and a blue and red striped scarf with a familiar coat of arms hanging on the hook inside the door. He didn’t really believe in miracles, but this had to be more than a coincidence. He’d have to consider thanking God or karma or the universe for that beautiful scarf. He stepped into the room and placed a hand on Marla’s shoulder. “Can I help?”
The sweat beaded on Marla’s forehead, and she huffed the air out of her lungs. “He needs antibiotics, Doctor, but he won’t let me put the IV line in.”
“Let’s put this down for just a minute,” Zach said, taking the needle from Marla and smiling reassuringly. She nodded and took a few steps away from the bed. Alice also stepped away. Maybe the little boy would relax if he weren’t poised for a struggle. Zach placed the needle on Marla’s rolling tray and pushed it a good three feet from the bed.
The boy’s mother slid her arms from around him as Zach pulled up the rolling stool and sat next to the bed. He held out his hand. “I’m Zach.”
The boy eyed Zach’s hand suspiciously and slid his right arm behind his back.
“What’s your name?”
The boy sniffed as if he couldn’t care less.
His mother bit her bottom lip. “This is Austin.”
Zach glanced at Austin’s mother. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes just like her son. “I’m Dr. Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Jamie Stetson.”
Zach grinned. “Like the hat?”
She returned his smile. “Yep. Like the hat.”
Zach turned all his attention to the little boy. “Do you play soccer, Austin?”
Austin furrowed his brow and nodded. He probably wondered if Zach could read minds.
Zach pointed to the scarf hanging on the hook. “Can I take a look at that scarf?”
Austin still didn’t speak, but a wisp of a smile crossed his face as he nodded.
Zach lifted the scarf from the hook and sat down again, spreading it on the bed next to Austin. He widened his eyes as if the scarf were the coolest thing he’d ever seen. “Is this an official FC Barcelona scarf?”
“My dad bought it for me in Spain.”
“Sick.”
Austin nodded earnestly while still keeping his hands safely behind his back. “Totally sick. It’s got the coat of arms on both sides.”
“Is Messi your favorite player?”
“Yeah. Everybody said he was too little to play soccer. Like me. All the guys say I’m too little.”
“I like Messi, but my favorite Barca player is Jeremy Mathieu.”
“Who’s that?”
“He plays center back, like me,” Zach said. “I used to play soccer.”
Austin folded his skinny arms across his chest. “Were you any good?”
“I was pretty good. I played for UChicago.”
“I want to play for Barcelona.”
Zach propped his thumb under his chin and tapped his index finger on his jawline. “You have to be pretty tough to play for Barcelona.”
“I fell off my bike last week and didn’t even cry.” Austin lifted the hem of his hospital gown to reveal an impressive scab on his knee.
“Then you’re tough enough to get a needle poked in your arm, I think.”
Austin immediately shoved his hands behind his back and scrunched his face as if he were going to cry. “But it’s going to really hurt.”
Zach patted Austin on the knee. “One time our soccer team was up one-nil in a game against our biggest rival. In the last minute of the game, the other keeper played the ball over the top, and the forward caught it on a dead run. There was nothing between him and a goal but me.”
“What did you do?”
“He came fast with the ball, but I knew if I knocked him over, I’d get called for a foul and he’d get a penalty kick. So I stood my ground and let him run into me.”
“Did it hurt?”
Zach winced. “Like being run over by a truck. Knocked the wind out of me too. I thought I was going to die.”
Austin bloomed into a smile. “But you stopped him?”
“Dead in his tracks.”
He fingered the stitching on his Barcelona scarf. “Mom says something’s wrong with my heart.”
“Is it?”
“What if they stick a needle in me, and I don’t wake up?”
Zach felt heartsick. The biggest thing any little boy should have to worry about was if his mom forced him to eat broccoli for dinner. “Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. Being brave means that you’re scared, and you do it anyway.”
Austin rubbed his eyes as if to push back the tears. “But they’ve already taken a lot of blood, and it hurts.”
Zach pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah, it hurts, but not as bad as when you scraped your knee. If you want, I’ll let Alice give me an IV first so you can see what it’s like.”
Austin looked surprised. “You don’t need one.”
“That doesn’t matter. Alice could give me an IV while Marla gives you one. Would that make you feel better?”
“Okay,” Austin said, sounding not altogether convinced.
Zach turned and nodded at Marla. With her hands on her hips, she curled one side of her mouth and sidled out of the room to fetch another IV tray. She probably thought he was crazy.
Zach rolled up his sleeve and sat next to Austin on the bed. “Will you let me wear your scarf while Alice pokes me, or would you rather wear it?”
“I think . . . I want to wear it,” Austin said.
“Okay,” Zach said. “If you think it will help.”
“Yeah. I think it will.”
Zach unrolled his sleeve as he hurried down the hall. He’d left his next patient waiting for over fifteen minutes. Not good. Patients tended to get grumpy when they had to wait. He’d have to apologize profusely and give them an extra dose of Reynolds charm. That usually worked on people. Except for Cassie Coblenz. She was immune to his charm. The very thought made him slouch.
“Dr. Reynolds,” Marla called. He turned to see her running down the hal
“No thanks necessary. I got a SpongeBob Band-Aid out of it. I consider it a fair trade.”
“You deserve a whole box of SpongeBob Band-Aids. You are an angel sent from God.” She winked at him and walked back the way she had come.
Zach shook his head and watched her disappear down the hall. He was only aware of one angel on earth, and he was going to visit her tonight. Of course, the angel thought he was coming to change the dressing on her grandmother’s foot, but his real purpose was to show the angel he wasn’t such a bad guy and maybe convince her to go out with him.
But Cassie must never suspect he had ulterior motives. He had a plan to sneak up on her.
His heart raced. Trying to win her approval was scarier than getting an IV.
Chapter Twelve
“You’re all set, Anna,” said Dr. Reynolds, snapping the latex gloves off his hands and stuffing them into his bag.
Mammi rotated her ankle and examined the new dressing the doctor had given her foot. “Your wrappings just get better and better, Dr. Reynolds.”
“Why, thank you. It never hurts to get extra practice.” Zach finished replacing supplies in the bag that the home health nurse had let him borrow.
Mammi reached over and patted the doctor’s shoulder as he knelt beside her recliner. “It’s always such a thrill when you come. Don’t you agree, Cassie?”
Cassie stood at the sink, trying hard to ignore the thrill of having Dr. Zach Reynolds in their home. He was too good-looking by half, and that smile sent her to the moon every time he flashed it, almost as if he were smiling at her on purpose just to see if he could make her heart race about a thousand miles an hour.
She swirled the dishrag in the water, not doing a very good job of cleaning the dishes, but at least looking busy enough that the doctor wouldn’t suspect how sidetracked she got when he came over. He was becoming a major distraction. How could a girl get serious about studying for the GRE when all she did was sit at her laptop and daydream about the attractive doctor?