Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected Cowboy\His Ideal Match\The Rancher's Secret Son (35 page)

Questions for Discussion

1. Grief support groups are designed to help those whose loved ones have died. Do you think that men or women are more inclined to join grief support groups? Why? Both Phillip and Carissa were reluctant to participate in the group. Why do you think that was? Have you ever joined a support group of any kind? Was it a positive or negative experience?
   
2. Phillip once remarked to his parents that he didn't think of his life in terms of a career but rather in terms of experiences. What is the difference? If you were advising a young person preparing for the future, would you tell him or her to think in terms of career or experiences?
   
3. Not only did Phillip believe that God was too busy to pay attention to someone as unremarkable and self-centered as him but that He really didn't want to hear from him. Have you ever felt this way?
   
4. Carissa believed that being a single mom prevented her from finding a man who was willing to love her and her three children. Do you agree with this? Why or why not?
   
5. Nathan seemed to resent any man who was interested in his mother romantically. Why do you think this was? How did Phillip handle this? What would you have done in his place?
   
6. Without a college degree in a difficult economy, Carissa found it hard to find a regular job with a good salary. Did her work-at-home job seem like the best idea? What made it difficult for Carissa? Why?
   
7. Phillip feared that he had nothing to offer Carissa and her children and was reticent to get too close to them. Why do you think he felt this way?
   
8. Carissa's mother, Alexandra, tried to help her daughter by offering to take custody of Grace. Why was Carissa upset by this? Why do you think Alexandra thought this was a good idea? What would you have done in this situation?
   
9. When Phillip's parents, Murdock and Maryanne, came to town, Phillip was nervous that they wouldn't like Carissa or her children. Why was he so concerned about his parents' approval? Do you seek out your parents' approval when you date someone? Explain.
   
10. Carissa and Phillip made good partners in their smartphone app business. Do you think mixing one's business and personal life is a good idea? Have you ever done so? How did it work out?
    

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Chapter One

D
evon Murphy pulled into his driveway and
closed his eyes, mentally and physically drained. His back throbbed, muscles
ached and lungs burned from exertion after he and his fellow firefighters had
spent all night responding to the storm emergencies. His body cried for
rest.

His eyes stung as he opened them. Though the sky was still
weighted with ominous clouds, he hoped the worst was over. Tornado season ripped
through towns without mercy. Lovely homes sat along the streets now with damaged
roofs hidden behind huge trees pulled out by the roots as if they were weeds in
a garden.

Grateful that his neighborhood had escaped the spring storm, he
longed for a shower and sleep, but rest came hard when rolling images relived
the destructive night following the wind's devastation on nearby
neighborhoods.

He grasped the SUV's door handle, flinching as a trash can shot
like a missile past his windshield. Stunned by the power of the new wind shear,
he sucked in air, watching an anonymous lawn chair tumble through his front yard
and tangle in a shrub. Limbs from his neighbor's maple toppled to the ground as
if they were pickup sticks.

A few houses away, sparks alerted him electrical wires were
down, and he pulled out his cell phone, hit 911 and waited to hear the
dispatcher's voice. “Ann, this is Lieutenant Murphy of the Ferndale Fire
Department. Another microburst just hit the West Drayton area. Electrical wires
and trees are down. Send out Detroit Energy and Consumers Energy to check downed
lines and possible gas leaks.”

When he heard her say, “Help's on the way,” he ended the call
and surveyed the damage. As he headed toward the downed lines, a child's cry
jerked his attention across the street. The toddler stood beside an uprooted
tree, one limb jutting through the front-room picture window while the rest
covered the driveway and part of the lawn.

Devon darted across the street, dodging a fallen tree limb and
scooped the toddler into his arms. “Why are you out here alone, son? Where's
your mother?”

The boy's tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched Devon's
neck. “Mama's under the tree.” With hiccuping sobs and fear growing in his eyes,
the toddler pointed at the tree.

Devon dashed around the trunk, stepping over broken limbs while
clutching the boy to his chest. His gaze swept over the limbs sprouting new
leaves and blocking his view. His own fear heightened. Where was she?

“Mama, get up.” The toddler flailed his arms toward a heavy
limb close to the side door.

He scanned the area and noticed a red wagon among the limbs. As
he moved closer, encouraged by the boy's thrashing arms, he spotted the woman,
her dark brown hair splayed across the concrete, her left leg pinned beneath a
heavy branch.

After he made his way through the fallen debris, careful not to
jar her, he leaned closer, praying she was alive. He hugged the toddler closer
and found the woman's wrist, feeling for a pulse. Relief flooded him as he felt
the faint but steady beat. Below the tree limb, a trail of blood spotted her
pant leg.

Her name? He'd seen the boy and his mother before in the yard,
but he'd never had a conversation with her other than a pleasant greeting or a
nod. “Ma'am. Can you hear me?”

“Not ma'am. She's Mama.”

His eyes shifted to the toddler's anxious face while the boy
peered at him and accentuated his proclamation. “She's Mama.”

Despite his concern, he couldn't stop the smile.

The boy nodded, and from the young one's expression, Devon
suspected the child thought he was a bit dense. “What's your name?”

“Joey.” He tilted his head as if weighing the question, but his
eyes never left his mother.

“How old are you, Joey?”

The boy held up three fingers, his focus unmoving.

“Can you call your mama? Really loud?”

The toddler's vigorous nod accompanied his screeching voice.
“Maaa-maaa, wake up.”

Hoping the child's voice would trigger results, Devon searched
the woman's face.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Relief. “Don't move, ma'am, until—”

“It's Mama.” The boy's determination was evident.

He released a breath. “Mama.” He needed the toddler out of his
arms, but he didn't have the heart to put him down, fearing what he might do.
The woman needed to keep still. “Is anyone else in the house, Joey?”

The toddler didn't respond, his eyes focused on his mother.

Devon used his index finger to shift the boy's face toward him.
“No one's home? Where's your daddy?”

The boy's expression remained blank.

No daddy? His chest tightened. He'd seen her and the boy
outside, sometimes walking and sometimes she pulled him in the wagon. He'd never
seen a man, but that didn't mean she didn't have a husband.

The woman's eyes opened, and she tried to lift her head.

“Stay still. Don't move.” He placed his hand against her
shoulder, encouraging her to remain quiet. “Where do you hurt?”

Fear filled her dazed expression. “What happened?”

“The tree fell, Mama.” Joey's voice cut through the air.

“Joey?” Her eyes closed again.

“He's fine. I have him right here.” He touched her arm. “What
is your name, ma'am?” The salutation flew out before he could stop it.

Her lids flickered, then opened. “Ashley. Ashley Kern.”

“Good.” He gave her arm a reassuring pat before double-checking
the facts. “Are you home alone?”

“It's only me and Joey.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, growing nearer every second.
“Please try not to move until help comes.” He pulled his cell phone from his
pocket and hit 911 again. “Ann, this is Lieutenant Murphy. I'm still on West
Drayton near Pinehurst. I have a female pinned under a large limb from a fallen
tree. She is conscious. Pulse is faint but steady. I see blood on her left pant
leg. I suspect she has a bone fracture. Likely a compound fracture with the
bleeding. I'll need a paramedic ambulance and HURT.”

The child's body stiffened.

“Help's on the way, Lieutenant.”

“Mama's hurt?” Fear filled the boy's voice.

He hit End and slipped the phone into his pocket, realizing the
child misunderstood. Now he had to appease the boy's fear. “Joey.” He bounced
the boy on his hip. “HURT is what we call people who know how to lift the tree
so we can get your mama out without hurting her.” Any more than she was already
injured. His stomach churned, viewing the blood and the large limb holding her
fast.

As he finished, the first truck pulled across the street. The
men dropped to the ground, most heading for the downed wires, but his friend
Clint Donatelli dashed across the road toward him, taking in the scene. “What do
we have here?”

“This boy's mother's trapped. She's dazed but conscious.” He
motioned toward her. “I called for help.”

Clint crouched beside her and felt her pulse. “You'll be out of
here shortly, ma'am.” He rose and gave Devon a thumbs-up, then ran to the street
and crossed.

A police car pulled up at the curb, and before the officers
left the car, new sirens drew closer. “Here they come, Joey. These are the good
guys who'll help your mom...mama.”

“Good guys.” Joey's grip had lessened as confidence replaced
his look of fear.

In moments, the ambulance and HURT truck arrived. The men
hurried to his side carrying equipment they would need. He stepped back to let
them work. While one crew set off air bags beneath the lower and upper part of
the limb that anchored Ashley to the concrete, another team built the cribbing,
the hardwood structure used to brace the tree's weight if either of the air bags
moved and the tree slipped off the bags. Paramedics moved in with a c-collar,
splints and a backboard to immobilize her for the ride to the hospital.

Joey's tears flowed again.

He nestled the child closer. “These are the good guys, Joey.
See, they're going to lift the big tree away from your mama and then move her to
the ambulance so she can go to the hospital to make sure she's okay.”

The child's earlier confidence had vanished, even with his
reference to the good guys. Devon's stomach knotted while he tried to explain to
the toddler what the crew was doing. When Ashley had been strapped to the
backboard and shifted from beneath the limb, Devon moved closer, knowing he
needed answers about Joey. “Ashley, I need someone to care for your boy. Tell me
who to call. I'll explain what happened.” He turned to the nearest paramedic.
“Are you going to Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak?”

The medic nodded.

He followed beside Ashley as they carried her down the
driveway. “Ashley, is your husband at work?”

Her eyelids lowered. “No husband. Call my sister. Neely
Andrews.”

Devon pulled out his cell phone. “Joey, your mama will be okay,
but she has to go to the hospital so doctors can make everything better.

Fear returned to the toddler's eyes.

Kicking himself, he wished he hadn't mentioned the hospital,
but he had to be honest. “Your aunt Neely will come to get you, okay?”

Joey's arms tightened around his neck. “ʼKay.” Though Joey's
voice was hushed, Devon sensed Ashley heard him.

He punched in the numbers as Ashley struggled to relate them.
As the phone rang, he shifted away, hoping what Joey heard next didn't upset
him. The woman's voice jerked him back to the phone call. “Neely?”

The line was silent a moment. “Yes?”

“This is Lieutenant Murphy from the Ferndale Fire Department.”
He heard her intake of breath and wished the call could have begun differently.
“Your sister Ashley asked me to call.”

“Is it a fire? The house? What happened?”

He provided the details as best he could with Joey listening.
“Would you like to pick up Joey here, or should I meet you at Beaumont
emergency?”

“Beaumont. I'll be there as quickly as I can.”

He stopped to relay his destination to Clint and noticed a
neighbor standing at a distance. He waved the man over. “Do you know
Ashley?”

“Sure. She's a good neighbor, and so's Joey.” He chucked the
boy under the chin. “Is she okay?”

“She'll be fine.”

“Can we keep an eye on Joey for her?” The man opened his
arms.

Joey let out a cry. “Mama.” He reached toward her. “I want my
mama.”

“His aunt is meeting us at Beaumont. I think Ashley will feel
better knowing he's there, but thanks for the offer.” He turned away but
stopped. “Can you secure the house?”

“Sure thing. We have a key.” He motioned to the broken window.
“I'll cover it for her, too. Tell her not to worry.”

Before Devon could thank him, a car careened into the man's
driveway, and a woman with a halo of white hair jumped out, her hand to her
mouth and her eyes wide as a basketball as she darted toward the man. “What
happened? Where's Ashley?”

Devon used the distraction to make his exit. House secured.
Window covered. Now, Joey. He gave the boy a hug, thinking of his own young
daughter and how she might respond in an emergency.

With Kaylee on his mind, he remembered he would need a car seat
to transport Joey. He carried him across the street and located the car seat
stored in his garage. The plastic he'd used to cover it was dusty, but beneath,
the seat looked like new. He grinned, picturing Kaylee strapped in the chair and
singing nursery rhymes whenever they went somewhere. Now more than a year older,
he'd purchased a larger restraint seat for her.

Once Joey was strapped into the backseat, Devon slid behind the
steering wheel and headed toward Beaumont, sending up a prayer for Ashley's
well-being.

* * *

Searing red burned through Ashley's eyelids. She tried
to raise them, but her effort faded in the struggle. Vague memories stirred
through her fogged brain. A stormy sky. The wind. Joey's wagon. The tree. That
was it. The haze shifted, and she tried again to pry open her eyes.

A cool hand touched her arm. “You're fine. Don't try to move
yet.”

She'd heard those words before, but it had been a man's voice.
A kind voice, like the woman's, but rich and comforting. An image flickered in
her mind. Dark windblown hair. Brown tired eyes, but in them, she saw
compassion. A bristled jaw. And... And Joey against his chest.

“Joey.” She tried to lift her head, but a headache hammered it
to the sheet. “Where's Joey?”

“Your son is fine, Mrs. Kern.” Ashley felt the woman pat her
arm again.

Her chest constricted. “Fine. What does that mean?” She tried
to shift her leg to the edge of the mattress, but the weight bound her in
place.

“He's in the waiting room with your sister and a nice-looking
gentleman.”

Waiting room. She turned her head sideways and willed her eyes
to focus. This wasn't her bedroom. The railings along her bed. Eggshell-colored
walls. Privacy curtains. The blurred memory eased into her mind. The sirens. The
tree. The men. The wail of an ambulance. “Where am I? Beaumont Hospital?”

“That's right. Things will be clearer when the anesthetic wears
off.”

Her pulse tore through her arm. “Anesthetic?” Through the fuzz,
she watched the nurse adjust an IV.

“The doctor will be in soon and explain what happened.”

Before she could demand answers, the nurse slipped through the
curtain. She was alone. Her mind began to clear. Memories one at a time
connected. She'd been in the kitchen. Joey had fallen asleep on the sofa as he
often did in the late morning, and rather than disturb him, she'd tossed a quilt
over him and let him sleep. She'd noticed the May sky, strange clouds that
looked threatening. Then she'd remembered her car parked in the driveway with
the window down. Why hadn't she pulled it into the garage?