Read Promise Me Forever (Debbie Macomber Classics) for Free Online Page A

loose-fitting T-shirt. Some of the fish fillets had been left over, and she wanted to see if Long John would eat out of her hand. Great strides seemed to have been made with Sloan, and she was eager to see if the injured gull was willing to accept her as his friend.
    “Good morning, L.J.,” she greeted as she let herself into the yard. The gate latched behind her as she stepped to the food bowl and bent down, extending her hand. “See what I’ve got here? Fish,” she answered her own question in reassuring tones. “And I happen to know gulls are particularly fond of fish. I’m not so sure about fried fish, but I think you ought to give it a try.”
    With an ambling gait that reminded her of Clara Barnes, the bird took a step in her direction.
    “Obviously you’ve got keen eyesight,” Joy encouraged her feathered friend.
    When the bird was only a few inches away, she edged closer, wanting him to take the fish from her. Almost immediately Joy realized her mistake. The razor-sharp beak sliced into the back of her hand instead of the food. Blood gushed from the open cut. Inhaling a sharp breath, Joy dropped the fish and jerked upright. In a protective movement she held her hand to her body and hurried out through the gate. Blood seemed to be everywhere. The gull had apparently cut a vein. The pain was sharp as she quickly stepped back into the house. Clara wasn’t in the kitchen. Joy was grateful she didn’t have to make unnecessary explanations. From the flow of blood, itlooked as if she might need a suture or two.
    Intent on escaping unseen into her bedroom, Joy nearly stumbled over Sloan, who was wheeling down the wide hallway.
    “Joy, why the rush?”
    “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, pressing her hand to her shirt. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “You’re hurt.”
    Sloan’s pallor became sickly. He swallowed and narrowed his gaze on her hand.
    “I’m fine.”
    “You need a doctor.”
    “What I need is to see how deep this is.”
    Stepping into her room, she moved directly to the bathroom sink and held her cut hand under a slow faucet. In the background she could hear Sloan yelling for Clara. Within moments the red-faced cook came rushing into the room.
    “I got cut. It’s no major catastrophe. Darn, it looks like it may need to be sewn up.” Angry at herself for her own stupidity, Joy felt like stamping her foot. Didn’t she know better than to rush something as delicate as trust? As an injured bird, she would have probably reacted the same way.
    “I’ll get Paul to drive you to urgent care.” With agitated, worried movements, Clara rushed out of the room.
    The fuss everyone was making didn’t lessen Joy’s feelings of self-reproach. A small towel was wrapped around her fist and held protectively against her stomach. Joy grabbed her purse off the dresser, fumbled with the clasp, and took out her car keys.
    Sloan was gone, but she could hear him speaking to someone on the phone. His voice was angry and urgent. Footsteps could be heard rushing up the stairs.
    “What happened?” Paul directed the question to Joy.
    “I got cut. It’s my own stupid fault. But it looks like I’m going to need a few stitches. A vein’s been sliced.”
    A pale Sloan rolled his chair from his room. “Dr. Phelps is on his way.”
    “Dr. Phelps,” Joy repeated, aghast. “You didn’t call him, did you?” The whole situation was quickly becoming ridiculous. “You don’t ask a noted surgeon to make a house call for a few stitches,” she shouted sharply.
    “Paul,” Sloan shouted, no less calm, “get her into my room.”
    With a supportive hand under her elbow, Paul led her into Sloan’s quarters.
    “This is ridiculous,” she hissed under her breath.
    Sloan wheeled in after her. “Sit her in my chair.”
    “I might get blood on it,” she protested.
    “For once, just once,” Sloan ground out between clenched teeth, “will you do as I say?”
    Pinching her mouth tightly shut, Joy plopped down on