When social worker Kate Davis agreed to share a house with her co-worker, she didn't know she would also share it with the woman's brother, Doctor Scott Ryan. Kate is captivated by his friendly warmth, sensitivity, and good humor. Though Scott is bound to his career, he delights in the young energetic woman who thinks of others before herself. Yet as their lives intertwine, a secret stands in her way of a long term relationship. And the stronger their love grows, the darker Kate's secret looms.

And the secrets of his heart will be laid bare. (1 Corinthians 14:25)

Chapter One -- Excerpt

Kate Davis jerked her head upward, pulling her gaze from the delicate ant hill growing at the base of the glider swing. With a wry chuckle, she rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm sitting her watching ants have more fun than I am."

Though the old oak offered her shade, the May sun sneaked beneath the tree branches and warmed her arms. She stretched her legs in front of her and scanned the backyard. Her gaze drifted to the veil of purple blossoms weighting the lilac trees and filling the air with a rich, sweet scent. This year spring came late to Michigan, and a small bed of mixed tulips still added a splash of color in the morning sunlight.

Everything was bright and cheery, except Kate. Spring meant new birth, a new surprise everyday, but her life seemed to drag on with endless mediocrity. She'd spent the past hour pondering her rather boring personal life compared to her overly-impassioned career and wished her days lay somewhere in the middle of those two emotions.

A lazy Saturday afternoon wasn't too bad, but those long, empty evenings were another story. Too many nights, she sat in front of the television or played board games with her house-mate, Phyllis Ryan.

Wondering how this particular Saturday, Kate's gaze drifted again to the column of industrious ants. As a row paraded over the sand and into the hole, another army marched back out. At least the ants were doing something. Kate pushed herself up from the swing. Enough of this. She strode across the grass and headed for the backdoor. I refuse to spend another minute mesmerized by insects. Something had to change. Phyllis and she needed a plan.

"Phyllis," she called, stepping into the back hall. "Let's do some--"

A piercing shriek shot from the front of the house. With her heart hammering, Kate dashed to the kitchen doorway and barreled toward her friend's heartrending screech.

Stumbling into the living room, she froze, witnessing her house-mate clutched in a powerful set of arms with her feet flailing above the carpet at the open front door.

Grabbing the first thing she laid her hands on, Kate darted toward them, raising the weapon over her head. "Take your hands off her," she shouted.

Her last word was jumbled in Phyllis's hysterical cries of "no."

Phyllis bolted from the man's arms, panic covering her face, and raised her hand in protection. "Kate, no, this is my brother, Scott."

Kate gaped at the two startled faces, her own cheek blazing, and lowered the colorful umbrella. "I'm sorry, Phyllis." Kate's gaze darted from her friend to the widened nutmeg-toned eyes of her dazed brother, then to her pitiful weapon and back to Phyllis. "I had no idea you were expecting anyone. I heard the scream and--"

"It's okay, Kate. I wasn't expecting him either." Phyllis turned her head to peer good-naturedly at the square, solid male at her side. "Was I?"

"No," he said with a chuckle, "I wanted to surprise you. But I guess I was the one surprised." He eyed Kate. "You could have fractured my skull with that pretty umbrella."

Kate lowered her eyes to the pathetic flowered weapon and forced a laugh. "I am sorry." But, inwardly, she cringed with embarrassment, thinking at thirty-four she should have better sense than to attack without knowing the situation first.

With the two still gawking at her, she edged backward and slid the umbrella into the stand, but when she looked up, an unwelcome memory inched into her thoughts. "Please," she said, "come in . . . while I silently vanish into the sunset."

"Don't you dare," Kate said. "I want you to get to know Scott." She wrapped her arm around his waist. "It's been too long, hasn't it?"

"More than a year, I think" he said.

"How about something to drink? And maybe a sandwich?" Phyllis beckoned him toward the kitchen.

Scott gave Kate a fleeting grin as he passed and followed his sister.

Addled, Kate held back, struggling with her reaction to this strapping man. With one lengthy look, she had flown back in time. Back to high school. Back to her nonexistent confidence and her naive desires.

What had caused her to sink into an abyss of miserable memories? She knew. Scott's build. Not his near six foot stature, but his broad, square frame like a football player. Thick neck, powerful chest, strong muscular legs. And those strapping arms wrapped around her friend. She cringed with her recollection.

"Kate?" Phyllis' voice sailed through the archway, and Kate pushed away her nagging, guilt-ridden thoughts and planted a pleasant expression on her face. Straightening her shoulders, she strolled into the kitchen.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?" Scott asked, his voice brimming with amusement.

"Nothing I can't handle," Kate said, sinking into an adjacent chair at the table.

"I commend you for protecting my baby sister." Amusement filled his face.

She gave him a feeble grin. "I doubt if an umbrella could've done much damage."

Without comment, he leaned against the chair back and chuckled.

Putting an end to their silly conversation, Kate eyed Phyllis at the counter. "Can I help?"

"No, you two talk while I make up some tuna salad." She turned toward them. "Does that sound good?"

With their agreeable nods, Phyllis returned to her task.

Averting Scott's amused gaze, Kate lifted the pitcher and poured a tumbler of lemonade. "So, what brings you to town?" she asked, focusing on the condensation forming on her glass. Her cheeks puckered at the zesty, tart tang that rolled on her tongue.

"I'm doing my residency at County General."

"Residency?" She hesitated, then remembered. "Ah, right, Phyllis mentioned you're a doctor." She shifted her eyes, averting his direct gaze that sent her heart pitching like a row boat in a storm. "What's your speciality?"

He shook his head. "General practice."

Surprised by his response, her gaze returned to his. "No specialty, that's rare."

"Threw you a curve, huh?" he said. "I know the rewards aren't necessarily financial. I could make more as a specialist, but I like the idea of family practice."

Kate leaned back, studying his animated, handsome face. "That's nice. Family practice seems to be vanishing, but specialist aren't economical for young families. Especially for single parents."

A scowl darted across his face.

Curiosity needled Kate. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, I, ah, well, you're not a single parent are you?"

He searched her face, leaving Kate with an uneasy feeling. "What would make you ask that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You sounded serious."

"It's a serious problem."

He nodded, and they sat in silence until Phyllis slid them each a tuna sandwich, garnished with lettuce and a dill pickle spear. "Pretty fancy," she said cutting the heavy silence that had risen between them. She settled into a chair. "Don't let Kate fool you. She's not always this serious."

Scott tilted his head as if waiting for Kate to respond, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Her thoughts were tangled in the past and the present, unsorted and unwelcome.

"I suppose you'd understand better if you knew that Kate works with me," Phyllis said, "at Children's Haven."

"Ahh, that explains it, then." He relaxed against the chair back, his eyes still riveted to Kate's. "So, what do you do there?"

"I'm a social worker."

"Then I can see what you mean. Lots of tension, I imagine."

Kate nodded. "Yes, some, but sometimes it's just a sad situation that time can heal. The problems vary."

"Last year when I was an intern, I ran into all kinds of problems. My skin crawls remembering some of the abused kids we treated." He closed his eyes and a blew a stream of air from his lungs.

"You will if you have no choice," Kate said, immediately wishing she hadn't. "Let's talk about something more pleasant."

His scowl faded, replaced by a smile. "Okay, let's talk about you . . . away from Children's Haven."

Kate shook her head. "I said pleasant, not pitiful." She sent him a halfhearted grin.

"Oh, don't be modest," Phyllis inserted. "Kate does all kinds of fun things. And she's a good friend. When I lost my apartment roommate, she offered to share her house with me. She didn't even know me that well."

"I did to. Anyway, it helped with my expenses. Buying a house was eating up my savings. This worked out great." Wanting to change the subject, she eyed her untouched sandwich. "Isn't anyone going to eat."

They complied, and for a few minutes, they concentrated on lunch. When the conversation returned, Scott and Phyllis chatted about his internship experiences and their family. Kate studied the easy rapport of their relationship.

She envied what seemed to be a real friendship. She had never known that kind of relationship. Her only sibling, Kristin, and she were as different as country music and opera . . . and about as conflicting

Feeling a little like an eavesdropper, Kate listened for a while to their reunion. But after finishing her sandwich, she drained her glass and carried the dishes to the sink.

When the conversation lulled, Kate prepared her escape. "I have some things to do so I'll let you two reminisce." She jutted her hand toward Scott's "Nice to meet you."

He grinned, and captured her fingers with his massive hand. Kate felt swallowed in his grasp.

"Don't hide because of me," he said. "When you finish, come back."

She nodded, knowing she wouldn't, and fled to her room.

Closing the door, a sigh rattled through her. She hated jealousy. And watching Phyllis and her brother she was filled with it. One thing she learned in Sunday school was coveting is a sin. Still, she'd spent her youth, yearning to be her older sister. Kristin seemed perfect, but much of Kate's life centered around her transgressions . . . especially in her parents' eyes.

She sank to the bed and folded her hands in her lap. Why did she allow herself to sink into a pit of self-pity when she talked with Scott? Instead of enjoying the conversation, she spent the time trying to block the memories he aroused.

He'd been amiable and warm. She recalled his teasing eyes and generous smile . . . and his huge dimples. She pictured the deep creases in his face when he gave her an amused look.

Imagining him as a physician settled in her mind. His sincere face would soothe a mother's concern, and his boyish charm would appeal to children. He'd make a good family doctor.

Falling back against the mattress, Kate closed her eyes. What kind of face did she have? Worried? Serious? No, she laughed when situations were comical. But . . . sometimes, things didn't seem funny to her. Maybe, the problem was her job like Phyllis suggested. Sad, depressing situations and frightened, rejected children.

No matter, she tried to be positive. That was one thing for which she prided herself. Thinking back to her youthful mistakes - she added a capital "M" to the word - she'd made the best of her senseless, shameful offense. She thanked God for lifting her from depression and guiding her to a purposeful career. Social work was the best part of her life.

A tap sounded against her bedroom door, interrupting her thoughts. She eyed the comfortable, safe barricade and slid from the bed against her will. When she turned the knob, Phyllis pushed open the door without waiting.

"Not feeling well?" Phyllis asked.

"Resting. I'm lazy today." Kate distorted the truth to cover her wavering emotions.

"Then you'll like our plan. Scott wants to take us to dinner. What do you say? And he said no's not a choice."

The invitation made her grin, but apprehension nipped her thoughts. "Okay," Kate said, praying she could view Scott with clearer eyes.

"Great," Phyllis said, then added in a whisper, "and I hope you don't mind I invited him to spend the night in the guest room. That way I can get him to go to church with us tomorrow. He's a natural sloth on Sunday mornings."

Her eager eyes searched Kate's, and she couldn't disappoint her friend. Anyway, the house was as much Phyllis' as hers.

"That's fine," Kate said, hoping she sounded sincere.

©2000 Gail Gaymer Martin

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