Read Online Heart of Texas Vol. 2 by Debbie Macomber - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Debbie Macomber
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no real friends. Never in her life had she missed her friends and family more, and all because of money. Sheâd entered into this agreement with the federal government in order to reduce her debtsâthree years in Promise, Texas, and some of her medical-school loans would be forgiven.
Maybe she should just admit sheâd made a mistake, pack her bags and hightail it out of this godforsaken town. But evenas the thought entered her mind, Jane realized that wasnât what she wanted. What she wanted was to find some way to connect with these people, to become part of this tight-knit community.
The residents of Promise seemed willing enough to acknowledge that she was a competent physician specializing in family practice. But they came to see her only when they absolutely had toâfor prescription renewals, a bad cough or sprain that couldnât be treated at home. Janeâs one major fault was that she wasnât Dr. Cummings. The man had retired in his seventies after serving the community for nearly fifty years. The people of Promise knew and trusted him. She, on the other hand, was considered an outsider and, worse, some kind of Valley Girl or frivolous surfer type.
Despite her up-to-the-moment expertise, she had yet to gain the communityâs confidence. Everything sheâd done to prove herself to the people of Promise had been a miserable failure.
Rejection wasnât something Jane was accustomed to dealing with. It left her feeling frustrated and helpless. In medical school, whenever she felt over whelmed and emotionally confused, sheâd gone jogging. It had always helped clear her thoughts, helped her gain perspective. But she hadnât hit the streets even once since sheâd come here. With a new sense of resolve, she began to search for her running shoes, re minding herself that she was the one whoâd agreed to work in a small community. She was determined to stick it out, even if it killed her.
Dressed in bright yellow nylon running shorts and a matching tank top, she started out at an easy nine-minute-mile pace. She jogged from her living quarters next to the health clinic down the tree-lined streets of Promise. The community itself wasnât so bad. Actually it was a pretty little town with traditional values and interesting people. Ranchers mostly. Down-to-earth folk, hardworking, family-oriented. That was what made her situation so difficult to understand. The people were friendly and welcoming, it seemed, to everyone but her.
Jane turned the corner onto Maple Street. At the post office she took another turn and headed up Main. A couple of cars were parked in front of the bowling alley, which kept the longest hours in town; it was open twenty-four hours on Saturdays and Sundays. It wasnât the bowling that lured folks at all hours, but the café, which served good solid meals and great coffee at 1970s prices.
Janeâs feet pounded the pavement and sweat rolled down the sides of her face. Sheâd barely gone a mile and already her body was suggesting that she hadnât been exercising enough. She knew sheâd ache later but didnât care; she was already feeling more optimistic.
She rounded the corner off Main and onto Baxter, running past the antique store owned and operated by Dovie Boyd. Dovie lived in a brick home just around the corner. Despite the early hour, she was standing in the middle of her huge vegetable garden with her watering can in hand.
Jane had often admired the older womanâs lush garden. The pole beans were six feet high, the tomatoes bursting with ripeness and the zucchini abundant. Jane marveled at how one woman could possibly coax this much produce from a few plants.
âMorning,â Jane called.
Dovie smiled and raised her hand in response.
Jane continued down the street, full steam ahead. Sheâd gone perhaps twenty yards when she realized itâd happened to her again. Sheâd never been a quitter in
Maybe she should just admit sheâd made a mistake, pack her bags and hightail it out of this godforsaken town. But evenas the thought entered her mind, Jane realized that wasnât what she wanted. What she wanted was to find some way to connect with these people, to become part of this tight-knit community.
The residents of Promise seemed willing enough to acknowledge that she was a competent physician specializing in family practice. But they came to see her only when they absolutely had toâfor prescription renewals, a bad cough or sprain that couldnât be treated at home. Janeâs one major fault was that she wasnât Dr. Cummings. The man had retired in his seventies after serving the community for nearly fifty years. The people of Promise knew and trusted him. She, on the other hand, was considered an outsider and, worse, some kind of Valley Girl or frivolous surfer type.
Despite her up-to-the-moment expertise, she had yet to gain the communityâs confidence. Everything sheâd done to prove herself to the people of Promise had been a miserable failure.
Rejection wasnât something Jane was accustomed to dealing with. It left her feeling frustrated and helpless. In medical school, whenever she felt over whelmed and emotionally confused, sheâd gone jogging. It had always helped clear her thoughts, helped her gain perspective. But she hadnât hit the streets even once since sheâd come here. With a new sense of resolve, she began to search for her running shoes, re minding herself that she was the one whoâd agreed to work in a small community. She was determined to stick it out, even if it killed her.
Dressed in bright yellow nylon running shorts and a matching tank top, she started out at an easy nine-minute-mile pace. She jogged from her living quarters next to the health clinic down the tree-lined streets of Promise. The community itself wasnât so bad. Actually it was a pretty little town with traditional values and interesting people. Ranchers mostly. Down-to-earth folk, hardworking, family-oriented. That was what made her situation so difficult to understand. The people were friendly and welcoming, it seemed, to everyone but her.
Jane turned the corner onto Maple Street. At the post office she took another turn and headed up Main. A couple of cars were parked in front of the bowling alley, which kept the longest hours in town; it was open twenty-four hours on Saturdays and Sundays. It wasnât the bowling that lured folks at all hours, but the café, which served good solid meals and great coffee at 1970s prices.
Janeâs feet pounded the pavement and sweat rolled down the sides of her face. Sheâd barely gone a mile and already her body was suggesting that she hadnât been exercising enough. She knew sheâd ache later but didnât care; she was already feeling more optimistic.
She rounded the corner off Main and onto Baxter, running past the antique store owned and operated by Dovie Boyd. Dovie lived in a brick home just around the corner. Despite the early hour, she was standing in the middle of her huge vegetable garden with her watering can in hand.
Jane had often admired the older womanâs lush garden. The pole beans were six feet high, the tomatoes bursting with ripeness and the zucchini abundant. Jane marveled at how one woman could possibly coax this much produce from a few plants.
âMorning,â Jane called.
Dovie smiled and raised her hand in response.
Jane continued down the street, full steam ahead. Sheâd gone perhaps twenty yards when she realized itâd happened to her again. Sheâd never been a quitter in