Always by Deb Stover Page A

enough by itself, but it was beyond cruel to have to face all the ghosts of her past–including Gordon–at the same time.
          "And it's also why I've asked Mayor Bradshaw to name the clinic after Dr. Eddington." Applause and cheers erupted, and Taylor waited. "Whenever it opens." More laughter, and she took that opportunity to glare at the mayor, whose face was as red as the carnation in his lapel. Gordon sat beside Tom Bradshaw, his expression unreadable, his appearance breathtaking. Straightening, she faced the crowd again, finding many expectant faces less unnerving than Gordon's one.
          "Again, I thank you for this wonderful welcome." She stepped aside, but the mayor indicated she should take his chair. Beside Gordon. Bolting for her vacant seat in the front row now would look pretty cowardly, so she gave a tight smile and perched herself on the edge of the chair.
          Where Gordon Lane was concerned, she was like a heat-seeking missile. Despite the foot or so that separated their chairs, she felt his warmth at her side. She cast a furtive glance from the corner of her eye and found him watching her, his eyes hooded, his brow furrowed.
          Sympathy–no, empathy–washed through her. He hadn't asked   her to invade his life again, after all. Perhaps it was time to tell him about Jeremy and her career plans. That might help them both put things into perspective.
          Jeremy Cole was a young doctor from a wealthy Philadelphia family. They'd promised to help fund his research in immunology
    –the same field Taylor wanted to go into–if he married well. They'd met Taylor and liked her, despite her humble lineage. If she accepted Jeremy's proposal, she'd go to Philadelphia, never have to worry about money again, and she'd have her research.
          The price was marrying a man she didn't really love. She liked him well enough, but not the way–
          With a mental groan, she looked at Gordon again. He had his arms folded across his abdomen and one corner of his mouth quirked upward in a manner that made her wonder if he'd been reading her mind.
          She faced forward, unable to follow the mayor's speech. Think about Jeremy . Closing her eyes for a moment, she conjured his face. He was a hunk, but in a too pretty way–not rugged and bronzed like Gordon.
          Hissing softly to herself for allowing her thoughts to stray to Gordon again, she opened her eyes. Jeremy. Focus, Taylor . Jeremy...
          A sinking feeling smacked her in the belly.
           Jeremy who?
     
    *   *   *
     
          Sue padded around her kitchen hours after she'd tucked Ryan and Patches into bed. She should've gone to the welcoming ceremony for Taylor, but it would've been too late for Ryan to be up on a school night.
          With a pink terry cloth robe tied around her waist and fuzzy slippers with wiggly eyes keeping her feet toasty, she plopped into a chair at the kitchen table with a cup of herbal tea and a deck of tarot cards. She lit a yellow candle and placed it in the center of the table.  
          Somehow, she would get Gordon and Taylor together again. The question was...how? Any fool could see they were soulmates, and it was all her fault they weren't together.
          A problem she intended to rectify, no matter what.
          She looked at the deck and opened the instruction book. All right, so she was an amateur, but she was a desperate amateur. "I'm trainable," she muttered, shuffling the deck at least three times as the booklet said.
          Concentrating on Gordon and Taylor, she cut the deck. The instructions for a celtic cross spread lay before her, and she followed them to the letter, but no matter how many times she referred to the book, she didn't understand what it all meant.  
          "Something simpler." She leafed through the book and came to a single card reading. "Simple enough."  
          The