“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he called back, exiting the wide double doors. That advice left them plenty of room—or it would have until recently. Accepting the Lord as his Savior had already changed a lot in his life.

He shut the rear doors of the ambulance as Doc, without comment, took the driver’s seat. The woman had a control issue about driving, but Ry didn’t mind. Doc was a good driver, and he’d rather be in the back with the patients anyway.

“You’re really going to California?” she asked, pulling away from the hospital.

“Do you think I’d make that up to get out of a date?”

“I never know what you’ll do.”

“Aw, Doc. I never lie.”

She snorted skeptically but didn’t argue. How could she? Even before he’d become a Christian, he’d been a stickler for the truth. There were times when patients might think he was more optimistic about their condition than he actually was, but that was for their benefit. It made them easier to treat when they were calm.

“When are you coming back?” she asked, scowling.

“How sweet of you to ask. I knew you cared,” he teased. That’s the way it was between them. He let her be as grumpy as she wanted. She gave him room to have fun. It made the shift pass.

She sighed heavily. “If I’m going to have to break in a new partner, I’d like some time to get used to the idea.”

He smiled to himself. That was Doc’s way of saying she’d miss him. Well, not him, but the change in her routine. “No need to fret, Doc. I’ll be back after our forty-eight hours off. I couldn’t live without you.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve got time coming. Take it.”

He’d thought about it. The trip was a lot of money and travel for a couple of nights, yet even that might be too long. His fuse could be pretty short when it came to his family. If he didn’t feel so strongly about starting the new year off right, he wouldn’t be going home. Unless this visit went as he prayed it would, he would never go back.

Meg Maguire slid the clothes hangers from one end of her closet to the other, searching for something that would do for the Brennans’ New Year’s Eve party. There were plenty of bridesmaid dresses, but nobody wore those, no matter what the bride said about choosing a dress that would work for other occasions.

What other occasions? Meg’s job required jeans and pants in the basic colors, some tops and a few jackets. For social occasions, she added shorts. That was it. If there was a pair of panty hose in her chest of drawers, it would be a miracle, and any dressy shoes in those boxes on the top shelf would have partnered one of the bridesmaid dresses.

She should have gone shopping, but she would rather clean the grout in her shower than shop. It wasn’t that she was so hard to please. Just the opposite, she liked a lot of colors and styles. There were plenty of size fours that fit. It was the multitude of choices that made her crazy. As often as not, she came home empty-handed.

The Brennans’ party was definitely a dress-up affair, or it used to be in the days when she’d been best friends with Beth and Ry. When they were little, they’d spied on the guests, laughed at them in their party hats and had more fun than anyone.

She glanced at the bedside picture of the three of them taken at Disneyland when she and Beth had been toothless six-year-olds and Ry was only a couple of years older. There was such pure joy in their young faces that she loved that photo.

She’d been so lucky to have them as her unofficial sister and brother. Adopted into her heart, she’d loved them as surely as she loved her older brother, Pete, who had been their faithful rescuer, while their older brother, Trey, had been their worst enemy. A born tattletale, he’d practically forced Beth and Ry to hang out at the Maguires’.

Down the hill from the Brennans’, the Maguire family had a big yard where kids gathered to play. Inside the house was a filled cookie jar and a refrigerator stocked with cold drinks. Meg’s mom was always home, though usually busy in her studio, sculpting the art pieces that made her famous. Meg’s dad sometimes stopped by during the day and was home every night from his job as a general contractor. He joked with the kids, often played with them and treated the Brennans as if they were his.

At the Brennans’ house, it was a totally different atmosphere. Meg hated to go there. Their professionally landscaped grounds won Garden Club prizes, but they weren’t designed for kids to enjoy. The whole house was kid-unfriendly. TV and electronic games were not allowed, and the maid had to enforce Mrs. Brennan’s no-snacks rule if she wanted to keep her job. If she gave the kids a break, Trey invariably told.

Trey—Dr. James Thomas Brennan III. Just the thought of him made Meg’s stomach churn. He’d been a snooty, bratty kid, and he’d become an arrogant, unlikeable man with an arrogant, unlikeable wife.

Maybe she was wrong, but Meg still blamed Trey for Ry leaving the way he did, though Deborah Brennan might be more to blame. The pressure his mother put on Ry would have turned any good kid into a rebel who chose to go his own way, no matter the cost.

Meg hated the idea of having to be civil to that woman and to the other Brennan men—Trey, his dad, his granddad and his uncles—all of them medical doctors who looked down on Ry for breaking free. She was glad he had, and sad for Beth who hadn’t escaped. Sure, Beth said she liked being a doctor, but Meg had to wonder. Apart from her work, Beth had no life.

Meg plopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing she hadn’t promised Beth that she would show up tonight. For Beth, who would soon occupy an office at Brennan Medical Clinic, the party was a command performance. If Meg weren’t so lonely for Beth’s company, she would rather stay right here, just as she had last year, and party with a liter of diet cola, a bag of microwaved popcorn and a six-pack of Snickers.

She’d had offers for group parties as well as single dates, just none from anyone who mattered. At midnight, if she couldn’t be in the arms of a man who put stars in her eyes and a forever feeling in her heart, she’d rather be alone. Like Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve was for lovers, only better because it was all about hope for tomorrow.

She glanced again at the little bedside photo of Beth, Ry and herself—three happy little kids. Where would Ry be tonight? Of course he would be with a great-looking woman. That was a given, but Meg prayed that woman would love him enough to make up for the love he’d missed, growing up.

Leave it to her to think of that. When she made her living, helping couples find each other on Dream Date, she naturally thought that everyone was longing for love. Ry might not be ready to settle down. On the other hand, she was so ready, it hurt.

It was a year ago tonight that she’d asked God to help her find her guy. Believing He would, she’d begun every day, fully expecting to meet Mr. Right. A year was a long time to wait. Had her prayer gone amiss, or had she missed her guy?

She checked her watch. There were still a few hours to shop. It wasn’t likely that the man of her dreams would be among the Brennans’ guests, but the Word said to pray and to believe. If she were going to meet Mr. Right tonight, she ought to be wearing something better than an old bridesmaid dress.

Ry eyed the lighted seat belt sign and wondered how many times the plane would circle LAX before the pilot received permission to land. His initial enthusiasm for the trip had worn off someplace over Wichita. What had seemed a great idea earlier in the day lost its appeal by the minute.

He’d done many impulsive things in his life, but the urge to make this trip could be his worst. What would he really accomplish by going home tonight?

Home. Most people seemed to think of that place with such reverence. They wouldn’t if they’d been told, “You don’t belong here.” If there was one phrase that ought to be stricken from the English language, that was it. Deadly, powerful, hurtful to the bone, it could break a person’s spirit if he stayed around.