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“Absolutely.” Lisa rubbed her shoulder. “You’re wearing yourself out, and you really don’t need that.”
It was as close as anyone had come to mentioning the significance of her thirtieth birthday. Avery stared at her blazing brownie-cake, giving her wish further consideration while the family weighed in on Avery’s workload. She didn’t really believe in wishes, but as Gavin had so kindly reminded them, her ads—and numerous prayers—didn’t seem to be working.
She’d planned to wait until next year to hire another doctor for her clinic, until she’d had time and money to renovate the carriage house. But the long hours were getting to her—and then there was that fateful night back in April.
Her gaze drifted to her dad, sitting catty-corner to her and fully engaged in the conversation. His color was good tonight, and he seemed in high spirits. They’d come so close to losing him—and it was all her fault. That helpless panic she’d experienced as a child had rushed back, making her chest hollow and achy. Only this time she was an adult, a doctor. She should’ve been here for him.
“All right, everybody, the candles are melting.” Lisa’s words jolted Avery from the terrible memory. “Make a wish, sweetheart.”
Avery dredged up a smile as she eyed the candles. It was herbirthday wish, and daggonit, she did need another doctor. Her family was correct about one thing: she couldn’t continue at her current pace. She drew in a lungful of oxygen and blew out all thirty candles in one long breath.
Gravel popped under the Jeep tires as Avery backed from her parents’ long drive. The smile she’d forced all evening had melted away the second she slipped from the house. Her dad had wilted as the evening wore on. He tried to hide it, but there was no fooling Avery.
The two stents had seemed to do the trick, and his cardiologist was optimistic the problem had been resolved (she’d all but harassed the man for details on several occasions). But hearts and their arteries could be tricky.
She drew in a deep breath and released it, counting to ten. He would be fine. She would never again leave him—or the rest of the community—vulnerable by leaving town. Not until she had another doctor in place. Maybe she’d win one of those grants she was applying for so she could actually offer a living wage.
Minutes later she drove through town, deserted since they rolled up the sidewalk by eight o’clock. She passed the church and headed toward the campground, which Gavin managed, and finally entered the heavily wooded side of town known as Mulberry Hollow. The road curved and twisted alongside the river, and the full moon cast a ghostly glow over the treetops. On the other side of the river, the Appalachian Mountains rose to rounded peaks, silhouetted against the evening sky.
To some, this town was a place from which to escape.Goodness knew most of her schoolmates had felt that way. But to Avery, Riverbend, nestled in its guardian mountains, was a safe haven from the rest of the world. She’d known she wanted to grow old here even before she’d realized she wanted to be a doctor. The people were friendly and quick to lend a hand. And the Robinson roots were deep here—five generations deep. She came from farmers and entrepreneurs, all devoted to this small mountain town. She was proud to carry on the family legacy.
She drove past the old Craftsman-style homes set close to the road and, in recent years, converted into businesses that mostly served hikers and nature lovers. A bait-and-tackle store, an outfitters shop, a rafting company.
Her clinic was just past the last of these. The sign by the street, lit from both directions, swung in the breeze.Riverbend Medical Clinic. The hours and phone numbers were listed, including an emergency number. Those calls had her desperate for another doctor. Sure, she had help: Katie, her nurse, and Sharise, her nurse practitioner. But Sharise was a single mother of two, so the responsibility of off-hour care fell on Avery.
She slowed and pulled in to the gravel parking lot, formerly the house’s front yard. Her apartment upstairs was as dark as the porch. When she left the light on, someone inevitably showed up at midnight with a hangnail, thinking it was an all-night clinic despite the posted hours.
Her headlights swept across the clinic. It was one of the larger homes on the street, but the mountain beyond it dwarfed the brick structure. She shut off the Jeep’s engine, then grabbed the gifts and leftover brownies, which Lisa had condensed down to one Over-the-Hill gift bag (compliments of Cooper). Avery looked forward to indulging in another brownie—it was herbirthday, after all. She’d enjoy it as she resumed her Jane Austen literary marathon—she was currently halfway throughEmma.
As she stepped from the vehicle, her gaze flickered up to her darkened apartment where her cat, Boots, was almost certainly nesting in the living room window, awaiting her return. The night smelled of wood fires and gardenias. Avery took in the flowers Lisa and Katie had planted in the spring, but it was too dark to appreciate their beauty.
She’d added a private entry in the back but headed instead toward the clinic door, the most direct route. She took the porch steps and was withdrawing her key from her purse when her foot connected with something solid.
The shadowed lump gave a low, male moan.
Chapter2
“Hello?” Avery leaned over the man and gave him a gentle shake. “Sir?”
When he didn’t respond, she stepped over him, unlocked the door, and turned on the porch light. She was back at his side in seconds. Was he drunk?
He lay curled on his side, head propped on a backpack. He wore hiking shorts and a gray tee. Dark-blond hair fell in waves over his face, most of which was covered by an overgrown beard and mustache. All of the above—plus the earthy smell emanating from him—pegged him as a thru-hiker. She estimated him to be in his upper thirties, though the facial hair made it hard to ascertain his age.
No obvious injuries. His face was flushed but he wasn’t sweating. She touched his forehead. Midgrade fever.
The man stirred. His eyes squinted open, glazed but fixedon her, a startling pop of cornflower blue against his bronzed skin.
“Sir, do you have an injury?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sick.”
“All right. Well, let’s get you inside where I can examine you. Do you think you can stand?”
With what appeared to be Herculean effort, he pushed to a sitting position.
“That’s it.” Avery grabbed his upper arm—and what an arm it was. Sculpted and hard beneath her palm. It took three tugs to get him to his feet and then she saw why; he topped her by at least six inches. At five feet seven she wasn’t exactly petite.
He wavered on his feet.
