Marjorie pointed her finger over her shoulder. “Did you know that you have a dying houseplant in your waiting room?” she asked, in an effort to delay the bad news she knew was coming.

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“You want to operate on me, don’t you?”

“We don’t have a lot of options here, Marjorie. I’ve contacted a friend of mine. He’ll be doing the actual surgery, but I’ll be there as well. Your appendix is at a dangerous stage and could burst at any time.”

He said her name in a soft, caressing way that she knew would have made another woman’s knees turn to tapioca pudding. Not Marjorie’s. Not now. Panic was overwhelming her, dominating her thoughts and actions.

“Where’s your family?” he asked in a low, reassuring voice.

“I don’t have one.”

The memory of the orphaned kitten returned to Sam’s mind. Cold. Lost. Frightened. And vulnerable.

At his look of surprise, Marjorie hurried to explain. “No parents, that is…One sister, but she doesn’t live in Washington State. Jody’s attending the University of Portland.”

“What about a boyfriend?”

With effort she held her head high, her chin jutting out proudly. “I’ve only been in Washington a few months.” She was about to add that she didn’t have time to date much, not when she had to earn enough money to support herself and keep her sister in school. She managed to stop in the nick of time. This man was almost a complete stranger, yet she had been about to spill her guts to him. He had a strange effect on her, and Marjorie found that oddly intimidating.

“Is there anyone you can call?”

“No.” No one she felt she could trouble. She’d made it on her own this far; she could get through the operation and a lot more if necessary. “When do you want to do the surgery?”

“Soon. Cal Johnson will make that decision.”

A lump worked its way up her throat. The battle to hold back the fear was nearly overwhelming. Even breathing normally had become a difficult task as she labored to appear unaffected and calm.

“So you won’t be doing the surgery?” This was a man she could trust. Like the others, she had known that instinctively. Now he was pawning her off on another physician, and the thought was almost as terrifying as the actual operation would be.

“Do you think you should trust a doctor with a dying houseplant?”

“I…don’t know.” Marjorie realized he was attempting to help her relax, and she appreciated the effort. He really was a nice man. Lydia and the others were right about that. She envisioned him with other women, offering security and assurance. He’d chosen his profession well.

“The truth is, I may not have a green thumb, but when it comes to surgery you don’t have any worries.”