Free 03_A Family To Call Her Own by Irene Hannon Page B

rain hadn’t abated, and despite the diligent efforts of the townspeople and the National Guard, it appeared that the flooding would be severe and widespread. Rebecca hadn’t been in town during the last flood, several years before, but stories of the horror survived. Families homeless, businesses ruined, hundreds of lives turned upside down. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. Please, Lord, keep everyone safe, she prayed. And help us all realize that lives are more precious than things.
    Rebecca opened her eyes and glanced at the clock, sighing once again. Ten at night was not an ideal time to be getting ready for tomorrow’s scheduled bridal shower in the restaurant. But the work had to be done, even if she was bone weary after sandbagging for three hours earlier in the evening. Thank heavens Zach had more or less dragged her off that sandbag line two nights ago! Even though her sleep had been restless that night, disrupted by both sore muscles and conflicting emotions about her “rescuer,” at least her body had gotten some much-needed rest. That had helped carry her though the next couple of days. But the reserve was starting to wear thin. Maybe if she worked quickly tonight, she’d get home before midnight, she thought hopefully.
    Rebecca checked the consistency of the potato leek soup and, with a satisfied nod, turned off the blender. Now she just had to finish up a couple of special items for the shower and she’d be done.
    As she walked toward the refrigerator, a sudden knock on the back door startled her, and she stopped abruptly, glancing toward the door with a frown. Who in the world could be here at this hour?
    Leaving the chain firmly in place, she opened the door an inch or two and peered out into the rainy darkness, her eyes widening when she recognized the visitor. “Zach! What are you doing here?” she asked in astonishment.
    “I was driving by and thought I saw the light on back here. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
    “Oh. Yes. I’m fine. Thanks. Just catching up on a few things.”
    He turned his collar up and dug his hands into the pockets of his coat, propping one shoulder against the door frame as he sniffed appreciatively. “It sure smells good in there.”
    Rebecca frowned. “Didn’t you have dinner?”
    He shrugged. “I’ve been working. And I pitched in for a little while with the sandbagging. Can’t you tell?” he asked with a crooked grin, glancing down at his mud-splattered jeans. “Fortunately someone loaned me a slicker, or I’d look a whole lot worse than this.”
    Rebecca scanned his form in one swift glance. He looked cold and wet and—as her eyes came back to rest on his face—tired. There were lines at the corners of his eyes, furrows on his brow. And his mouth looked strained, as if he was in pain. She frowned and bit her lip. “Do you think you should be sandbagging, Zach? It’s been less than two weeks since you had the concussion. Didn’t the doctor tell you to take it easy for a while?”
    He dismissed her concern with a shrug. “I feel okay. At least I did until a little while ago, when I started to get a headache. I just need some rest and I’ll be fine. I’m just going to grab a bite somewhere and call it a night.” He straightened up and smiled. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
    “Zach…” She couldn’t just let him walk away. Not when he was cold and hungry and in pain. It wasn’t right. Besides, he’d gone out of his way for her two nights ago and spent this evening helping with the sandbagging. She could at least offer him some soup. It would be the kind thing to do—even if it wasn’t the smart thing, she acknowledged. Not when her heart went into overdrive every time she was in his presence. But her conscience prickled, telling her she was being self-centered. With a sigh of capitulation, she shut the door and slid the chain free, then swung the door open. “Would you like a bowl of soup?”
    He frowned