Heart of the Family by Margaret Daley Page B

caused her cheeks to flame.
    After flipping on the light, she crossed the room, opened the refrigerator and removed ingredients for scrambled eggs. “Frankly I love having breakfast at any time of the day. Mom used to fix pancakes for dinner once a month.”
    When he didn’t say anything, she peered back at him. A shadow dulled his eyes until he saw her staring and a veil descended over his expression.
    He moved to her. “Can I help?”
    “Someone who professes not to cook? I don’t think so. Have a seat. This is the least I can do for all your help with the kids.”
    “I’m their doctor.”
    “Who’s gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
    He scooted back a chair from the kitchen table and sank down onto it. His gaze captured hers and for a moment she forgot everything but the charming smile that tilted the corners of his mouth and the gleam that sparkled in his eyes.
    She blinked and he looked away. She quickly turned back to the counter, found a mixing bowl and began cracking eggs into it. “What made you become a doctor?”
    A good minute passed before he answered, “I wanted to heal.”
    The anguish that slipped through his words froze Hannah. Heal himself? Or heal others? Suddenly she remembered anew who was sitting a few feet away from her. For a while she’d forgotten that he’d been responsible for her brother’s death. Her hand trembled so badly she had to grip the edge of the counter.
    “Hannah, are you all right?”
    The sound of the chair scraping across the tile floor focused her on the here and now. Jacob had asked a question. She needed to answer him. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m just tired and concerned about the kids.”
    “They’re a tough bunch. I think we caught it early.” He stood right behind her.
    His presence electrified the air. Lord, help me to forgive. How did You do it on the cross?
    “Are you sure I can’t help?”
    Fortifying her defenses, she swung around and took a step back. “Yes, I’m sure. You’re my guest. Now, sit and behave.” She needed him across the room. She needed some space while she mended her composure, and it was hard to think straight with him so near.
    He held up his hands. “Okay. I’m going.” After he resettled in the chair, he asked, “Has being a social worker been everything you wanted it to be?”
    That was an easy question thankfully. She turned back to finish preparing the scrambled eggs. “Yes, I love kids and wanted to make a difference in their lives, but I couldn’t see myself as a teacher.” She poured the mixture into the heated skillet. “I like a challenge, and I think social work is definitely challenging.”
    “That’s putting it mildly.”
    She stirred the eggs. “I would think being a doctor is one, too.”
    “I guess you and I are alike. I enjoy a good challenge. It keeps life interesting.”
    The third thing they had in common. At this rate there would be no differences between them. After sticking four pieces of bread into the toaster, she withdrew some dishes from the cabinet and brought them to the table.
    Before she went back to the stove to get the food, Jacob caught her hand and held it, drawing her full attention to his handsome face. “Thank you for covering me with a blanket.” His voice dropped a level, a huskiness in it.
    His hand about hers, warm and strong, robbed her of words. For the life of her, she couldn’t look away, as though his eyes lured her into their brown depths. “You’re welcome,” she managed to say, her mouth parched.
    The silence grew until she thought he must hear her heart pounding. All she could remember was his dedication to helping the children the evening before. A connection between them sprang up that staggered Hannah, a connection that went beyond what they had in common.
    Finally he released her grasp. A smile dimpled his cheeks. “You’d better get the eggs.”
    She spun around and hurried to the stove, gripping the wooden spoon and counter to keep her