Resurrecting Harry by Constance Phillips

time.
    Bess sighed and brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The blood stains she’d found on the tails of Erich’s shirt were none of her business. She shouldn’t be prying, but he was injured in some shape or way. The moment she’d laid eyes on the red blotches, the same motherly instinct that pushed her to volunteer at the hospital week in and week out had risen up.
    The part of her that took over when she’d looked into his eyes could hardly be described as maternal.
    Harry had always told her to follow her heart, but would he feel the same way if he knew the way it fluttered every time she looked at Erich?
    A firm decision in mind, she pivoted and walked the few steps back to the deli. She pulled on the door handle, but found it locked. She peered through the window and expected to see Will wiping down the display cases or sweeping the floors, instead it was Erich who maneuvered the broom over the worn tile.
    Hoping she’d made the right decision and wasn’t following lust down a dangerous back alley, she knocked on the glass. He looked over his shoulder and moved toward her, leaving the broom to rest against one of the tables. A quick twist of the deadbolt allowed her access.
    “Did you forget something, Bess?” His tone was warm and inviting. Was he happy to see her again?
    “No. I—” The words slipped away. Standing next to this man turned her mind to mush, which was ridiculous. Someone her age should have a better handle on her emotions. Then she remembered the stained shirt. She’d risk being labeled meddlesome to know. “I wanted to apologize. I promised you that I’d launder your clothes and return them to you today.”
    “Don’t be sorry. I’m grateful for your help and the clothes you gave me.”
    “I’ll get them mended once I get home. I would have done so last night, but I needed to soak your shirt, what with the blood stains.”
    His face fell. He hadn’t meant for her to learn of whatever injury he was trying to hide, that much was obvious.
    “I probably should have mentioned that when I rolled in the street to push the child away...” He rocked his weight between his heels, searching for the right words.
    “You cut yourself?”
    “No.” Erich paused, and his eyes flickered back and forth. Harry would say he was using the moment to prepare a lie, but she’d seen his selflessness in saving a child and didn’t believe that. “I tore one of my stitches.”
    She clutched her purse tighter “Stitches? But why?”
    “I had surgery not too long ago.”
    She stepped closer and reached out, but just as suddenly, she stopped. “Goodness. What in the world are you doing carrying dishpans and jumping in front of cars?”
    He chuckled and dropped his gaze to his shoe. “As you pointed out, I impetuously came to a new town without more than two dimes to rub together. As far as yesterday goes, any man...”
    “You shouldn’t be embarrassed for saving that child.”
    His hands found his pockets as his shoulders folded in. “Stop! Bess. Don’t make me out to be a hero just for doing the right thing.”
    Modesty. Had Harry been modest a single day of his life? As much as the dichotomy intrigued Bess, she bit her tongue. Why was the vow to stop comparing those two proving difficult to keep? “If that’s your wish, I won’t mention it again. That’s not the reason I came back anyway.”
    His eyes widened, and he stepped forward. “No? Then why?”
    “I had a favor, but now that I know you’re recovering from surgery, it seems too much.”
    Twisting and fidgeting like a restless child, Erich didn’t seem to be in pain. “I promise you I’m fine. Almost fully recovered. Now tell me, what is the favor you need?”
    She waved her hands in front of her face. “It just wouldn’t be right to ask, while you’re still healing. My friend Martin is a doctor. You should have him look at your incision.”
    Erich’s fingers curled into tight fists. “There isn’t any reason for