Back at Uncle Pete's house, Abby made sure he was comfortable and then cleaned the mess in the kitchen. The pan went into the garbage. There was no way to salvage it. She'd buy him a new one.

A glance around the house eased her mind. She'd equated cancer with disability, and had assumed her uncle had fallen behind in his chores, but there wasn't any reason to be worried. What concerned her was why he’d passed out. She had a feeling he was sicker than he was letting on and he’d already lost a lot of weight. That worried her more than anything else.

She put a cartridge in the coffee maker and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. Like her, he took his coffee black. It was a much easier and cheaper alternative for those used to long days and even longer nights on call.

"Here you go." She handed him his cup and settled on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. "Is there anything you need to be doing work-wise?” Being that it was Monday, she worried about any patients scheduled to see him. "Do you need me to check in on your patients?"

He waved off her questions. "Don't worry, Angie will see to the appointments. She's the receptionist."

"What about the urgent care patients? If you're not there, where do they go?"

“A lot of urgent visits aren't that urgent at all. I have two nurse practitioners who help run urgent care.”

“Well,” she said. "I can see them if you want."

They'd discussed giving her a couple of weeks to get settled after her move, but she preferred staying busy. The sum total of her possessions was packed inside three suitcases. Jacob refused to let her take anything out of what he claimed was his apartment, even though she'd purchased most of the furniture. She didn't mind. Most of what she'd bought had been ugly stuff he'd picked out, full of hard lines and missing the coziness of home. Glancing around the living room gave her pause. Maybe she didn't need to rush house hunting.

"If you're feeling up to it,” she said, “I’d like to check out the clinic.”

He smiled. "I'm happy you decided to take a chance on Peace Springs." Rising from his chair, he gathered her empty coffee cup. “I think you’re going to find it’s a great place to live. Let me shower, and I'll introduce you to the clinic staff."

She stood and pressed the wrinkles out of her jeans. "I think I'm the one who needs to get cleaned up." She was still wearing the same clothes from her accident Saturday night. "I'm going to get my things from outside. Am I staying in the library?”

During her summer visits, her aunt and uncle put her in the library. They had a Murphy bed she'd thought was cool as a kid, but as an adult, she wasn’t excited to sleep on the overly firm mattress.

"No, hun, the guest room is yours.” That had been the room her parents had stayed in.

"Thanks."

"Do you need help with your bags?"

The thought of him carrying the heavy luggage made her pause, but he didn't want to be treated any differently.

"Um, yeah. Thanks."

She'd give him the dilapidated fern and the smaller suitcase. Time would tell, but it didn't look like the freezing temperatures had killed it. At least not yet. A few minutes later, they had her bags in the guest room. It was almost eleven.

“Let me change, and maybe we can grab lunch before we head to the clinic?" she suggested.

"Sounds like a plan." He glanced around the room. "You know where everything is. Towels, soap, and shampoo are in the bathroom closet."

She ushered him out. "I got it. You take a shower and freshen up. We'll make it a day on the town."

A crooked smile lit up his face. "You have a hankering for milkshakes?"

Abby shook her head. "Actually, I was thinking of hitting up Shelly's Diner."

"Ah, yes, best pancakes in town. It'll be lunchtime, but I bet we can convince her to whip some up."

"Do you think you can sweet talk her into adding in chocolate chips?"

"I delivered all of Shelly's kids. I can talk her into a few chocolate chips."

Abby would've preferred the shake. As a kid, she would've begged to go to Eddie's retro-themed soda shop. Maybe it was silly heading to Shelly’s, and foolish to think she'd run into Drake. Maybe she'd confused that kiss for something more. But she wanted to know if that kiss had been all in her head.

There were a lot of maybe's in her life, but one thing was certain. She needed a shower. It took a little digging to find her makeup. Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered, but this would be the first time meeting the clinic staff. She wanted to make a good first impression, especially since she’d soon be their boss. What she really wished was that she had Drake's number.

Wait!

Henry had given her his card. Her car needed repairs, and Henry knew Drake. Maybe she could work around to a reintroduction to Drake.

Her uncle was waiting in the living room when she finally emerged. Her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She didn't like how it accentuated the angles of her face or drew attention to what she considered to be overly large green eyes. Given a choice, she preferred her hair loose, but she hadn’t had time to dry it and was eager to poke around town, not to mention she was starving.

"You ready?" Her uncle had dressed for comfort, jeans and a button-down shirt.

She would've preferred jeans and cotton, but had dressed in black slacks and a pale- yellow blouse, professional, but not stuffy. "You clean up well," she teased.

They piled into her Jeep and headed into town. During the drive, childhood memories bubbled to the surface, hitting her, not in the gut, but in her heart. Her parents moved frequently during her childhood. She'd been to three elementary schools, two junior highs, and two high schools. She’d never had a place she called home. When she came to Peace Springs, she'd envied the children who grew up together in grade school, still knew each other through junior high, and matured into adults in high school. The kids had been friendly, but she'd always been an outsider. Despite that, Peace Springs felt comfortable. Not home yet, but maybe someday soon.

She turned the Jeep onto Main Street and passed Underhill trailer park. An assortment of single and doublewides filled up the spots. She'd never been inside Underhill. Her parents had steered her away from visiting her few summer friends there, encouraging them instead to meet at Eddie's Soda Shoppe. She stopped at the gas station and filled the tank, and then they were rolling past Gretta’s B&B.

When she'd agreed to move, she'd been excited to finally have an opportunity to stay in the grand house until she found a place to live. When her uncle insisted she live with him until she found a place, it had been an offer she couldn't refuse. Perhaps it was the imagination of a child, one of those wild fantasies, but she'd always wanted to see what was inside the gracious painted lady.

Maybe another day.

It didn't take long to drive through town. Nor was it difficult to find a parking spot. She pulled up right outside Shelly's Diner. Town teens tended to hang out at Eddie's Soda Shoppe. Shelly's Diner catered to a more sedate group who enjoyed the companionship of a meal as much as the rich food.

Abby walked into the busy diner and inhaled the mouthwatering aromas coming from the open kitchen. The clinking of silverware and glass slowed somewhat as Uncle Pete entered. Several people gave him a nod, a polite acknowledgment of respect.

He guided her to an empty booth by the window. When their waitress arrived, he told her to keep the menus, then ordered two short stacks with chocolate chips and a pot of coffee. The girl didn't bat an eye, making Abby think his order wasn't as unusual as she'd thought.

"It looks exactly the same as I remembered.” She leaned back and peered out the window.

"Not much changes here. Of course, there's town politics and such, the never-ending feud, the occasional scandal, who's sleeping with whom. You're going to learn way more than you ever wanted about the residents. People in this town seem to think their doctor is a stand in for their confessional.”

“Really?”

They talked about his practice, touching on the business aspects, but when their food arrived, Abby broached something which had been bugging her since their conversation about the family land.

"Uncle Pete," she began, "how did Aunt Martha get ten thousand acres?” More importantly, how did she manage a ranch that size? The real estate taxes had to be fierce.

"Accumulated through the generations," he said. "As a matter of fact, it was your namesake who homesteaded the very first parcel." His eyes brightened. "Oh, and you're in for a treat."

"How's that?"

He took in a deep breath. "Well, Abigale McFearson’s journal is waiting for you. I don’t know how much your mother told you about her, but Abigale immigrated to the United States during the great potato blight in Ireland when she was a teenager.”

"I remember a little bit about that." Abby took a sip of the rich dark-roast coffee, closing her eyes at the decadent flavor. "I couldn't imagine picking up your whole life and leaving everything behind."

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Says the woman whose entire life is packed into three suitcases and moved practically every other year.”

She rolled her eyes. ”Tell me about my great, great, great, whatever grandmother."

"I'll do better than that. Remind me when we get home, and I'll give you the journal.”

"Wow, thanks. What's in it?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. Martha said it was a McFearson-women-eyes-only kind of thing.” He shoved a bite of pancake into his mouth.

Abby watched the lazy traffic outside, citizens of Peace Springs going about their daily routines.

He wiped his chin with a napkin. "Abigale was the first to settle down here. Back then, women weren't allowed to own land in most states, but we’ve always been progressive. As long as someone was the head of household, they could apply for a homestead. She moved out west and put down roots. Her daughter and her daughter’s twins homesteaded as well, doubling the size of the homestead parcels.”

"Twins?" She knew little about her family’s history.

He nodded. "Yes, can you imagine delivering twins in the late 1800s?" He pushed his food around his plate, his appetite seeming to have disappeared. "Anyway, they added to the homestead and later filed the deeds to own the land. They raised cattle and bought up the surrounding homesteads as they were abandoned. Soon, they turned a thousand acres into two, and then more. Every generation continued the tradition. The land went into trust somewhere along the way. It can't be broken down and sold off. It was one of Abigale's wishes for the land to stay in the family. Martha mentioned something about it being spelled out in the diary."

"But you said there were issues? I'm assuming it has to do with money? Maintenance and taxes?"

He shook his head. “Yes and no. The arable plots are leased out to farmers who grow feed for cattle. Cattle ranchers lease out the pastureland for grazing. It’s practically self-sustaining and makes more than enough to pay the taxes."

"I remember playing in a river. It was always so cold, even in summer."

“That river is the problem."

“What problem?”

"It's complicated, too complicated for a discussion over pancakes, but it's the headwaters for the whole area. There's always been pressure to sell."

"Well, if it's supposed to stay in the family, I won’t sell it.”

"You have a lot to learn about local politics, and unfortunately, I don't have much time to fill you in.”