Brooke: The Next Generation

By Kathleen Rigdon Highley

Brooke Baldwin had a secret—the kind of secret that could shatter families. Her daddy was dead, and it was her fault. It was not in a criminal way but in a moral, unforgiveable way. She could not face the guilt and could not tell her family, maybe ever, how she felt about herself. So she ran all the way to Rome to study medicine and surgery secretly to find herself and make her father proud.

Then entered Alessandro Romani. He broke the barrier that Brooke had spent years constructing—brick by brick, fear by fear, and goal by goal.

And now he had come to Lubbock, Texas, to see her and to meet her family, which could be disastrous. Would Dr. Alessandro Romani turn around and get right back on the airplane to go home and forget they had ever met? Maybe yes, maybe not.

Could Brooke trust him with their future, trust him to accept her family, just as they are, and trust him to cherish her? Perhaps.

But could she trust him with the deepest secret of her heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984558374

Kathleen Rigdon Highley

Kathy Rigdon Highley is an award-winning writer who delights in sharing the message of hope through her poems, short stories, fiction, and non-fiction. She has published eight Christian novels and has two more in the wings. Kathy, who enjoys sharing her heart with her readers and offering encouragement for people who walk this earthly journey, sings for Jesus at every opportunity.

Book preview

Brooke

THE NEXT GENERATION

Kathleen Rigdon Highley

Copyright © 2018 by Kathleen Rigdon Highley.

ISBN:            Softcover                978-1-9845-5838-1

                     eBook                       978-1-9845-5837-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

NIV

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. [Biblica]

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/09/2018

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

The Next Generation: BROOKE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Dedicated to

my mother – who passed away July 24, 2017.

She never stopped believing in me. She never stopped loving me.

She never stopped being all a mother should be.

Enjoy heaven, Mother! I will see you again!

The Next Generation:

BROOKE

Chapter 1

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, This is the way; walk in it

(Isaiah 30:21 NIV).

BROOKE BALDWIN opened the window and stuck her head out. Instantly, the sights and sounds of Rome filled her senses. She grinned at the lines stretched between buildings, draped with wave after wave of laundry, flapping in the wind. Her eyes dropped to the crowded narrow streets. Only a few cars eased their way through, as pedestrians crisscrossed before and behind, as though vehicles had no rights at all. The reality solidified her vow to get around via public transportation.

Brooke smiled. A broad, happy smile. Far away from home, from family, from secrets and the dread of discovery, she felt freedom to a degree she hadn’t thought possible until this moment. She loved her family, cherished her brothers, her mother, her grandmother, and her younger sister. But they expected things from her she couldn’t deliver. Not now; maybe never, on the grand scale of their expectations.

Brooke had come to Rome to complete her studies. To begin the long journey through the six-year program at Tor Vergata. She had planted herself where no one knew her, or cared one iota about her dead father’s fame as a surgeon, or about his hateful mother. Brooke had left all that behind so she could openly study medicine, develop her unusual prodigy, and make a name for herself. By herself. No crutches. No undue favors.

Brooke shook her head to further dismiss Nashville, Tennessee, Ransom Canyon and Lubbock Texas, and the past from her mind. She refused to sit around the apartment and brood. Stepping away from the window, she lowered it then locked it, slipped her backpack over her shoulders, scooped up her keys from the small table by the door, opened it, stepped out into the hall, locked the door behind her then headed for the stairwell. When she stepped out onto the sidewalk, the warmth of the day enveloped her. A hug from a new city, a new country, a new continent. She basked in the sun and let it wash over her.

With her eyes closed, Brooke breathed in the scents, playing a game, trying to identify each one. Suddenly, the smell of gardenias beckoned to her. She stepped toward it; and slammed into a wall. A tall, broad, muscular wall. Her eyes popped open and she felt a new degree of mortification—for the wall had transformed into a flesh-and-blood, tall-dark-and-handsome, bound-to-be-a-Greek-god, specimen.

Oh! squeaked Brooke. I’m so sorry.

Brooke stared up, up into hazel eyes, crinkled at the corners, a result of the dazzling smile spread across the lower portion of the man’s face. He must be human, right?

Scusami, said the man, a gentle hand rested on each of her shoulders. My fault, entirely. I did not pay attention.

A breath swooshed out of her, grateful he could speak English.

Did I step on your feet? said Brooke.

No harm done, said the god-like man. Which, of course, meant yes.

The gentleman guided Brooke by the elbow, moving them closer to the building, out of the bustling sidewalk traffic.

So, he said, are you a tourist to our great city?

Brooke swallowed the lump in her throat.

No, she managed to say. A student.

His eyes got big for a brief moment. I see. And where will you study?

Tor Vergata. I am enrolled in Medicine and Surgery.

A look that almost resembled hope shown in his eyes. Brooke’s interpretation of hope.

Good choice. Well, if you will excuse me, I must meet my family for an early dinner. I hope you love our city as much as I do.

With that, the stranger backed away from her, but did not break eye contact for several awkward steps. He watched her for a long moment then turned and moved down the sidewalk. They had not introduced themselves and Brooke wondered if she would ever see him again. The chances were slim to none, she surmised. Today’s encounter would make a pleasant entry in her journal, regardless.

Alessandro Romani inhaled deeply, exhaled completely, inhaled deeply, exhaled completely, repeatedly, until he reached the sanctuary of his dark red Porsche 911. Sitting behind the wheel, he scrubbed his hands over his face, even as he argued with himself.

This American beauty would be attending not only the university in which he taught, but had enrolled in the very department he had been teaching in for the past three years. He had never allowed himself to look on a student with any degree of romantic interest. But this petite American with sparkling blue eyes had slammed into his heart without warning, much the same as she had slammed into his body on the busy sidewalk—in a neighborhood of Rome he had visited a total of twice, including today. As a favor to his mother. The unique shop she had sent him to carried a particular luxurious bath bar. One of the house maids had presented one to his mother as a birthday gift. And now, she insisted she needed another one. No matter that she had been hospitalized a second time with ovarian cancer and would not be able to use the soap beyond inhaling its delightful aroma. Gardenias. His mother’s favorite flower.

Have you arranged this meeting, Lord? said Alessandro, his head against the back of the seat, his eyes raised to heaven. I feel as though I’ve been struck by lightning. I have never before had this reaction to a woman. And unless You take away the pounding of my heart, and this insane desire I have to know all about her… His voice trailed off, but the lovely lady’s face had burned a brand on the back of his retinas.

Alessandro sat very still, willing his heart to not jump right out of his chest. Three and a half minutes passed before he could breathe normally again.

I will be praying for the revelation that You have sent this woman to fill the gaping hole in my heart. For I wish it to be so. And if she is destined to be the love of my life, please bring us back together.

But just as hope filled his soul, reality crashed in around him. Self-doubt pounded in his head, causing the beginning of a monster headache.

If she knew the truth, she would reject you, anyway.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as Alessandro forced himself to start the engine and pull carefully out into the street.

He might not ever see the beautiful American woman again, anyway. So his angst could only cause him more anxiety. More frustration. He would just have to put her out of his mind. Out of his heart, for she had already found a place there, and begun to grow a root in its very core.

C:\Users\kathy\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\Temporary Internet Files\Content.IE5\71JPWAN4\medical-symbol[1].jpg

The Tor Vergata single-cycle degree course in Medicine and Surgery—six years. In order to graduate the students must earn 360 credits. The course is held entirely in English. The program prepares students for a competitive and international career. Medicine (Single cycle degree in Medicine and Surgery, M.Sc. in Physical Activities and Health Promotion).

Brooke sat in the cushioned seat, on the front row, deeply committed and ready to take on the world. Her heart had led her over the waters, into a deeper realm of medicine. She cherished this opportunity—a safe place—where she planned to carve out a name for herself, a place where she could study and immerse herself in the subject matter she believed God had led her into.

Heart surgery. A specialty which would require extra hours of study and extra years of commitment. But if she could save lives, it would be well worth the extra time and money. Yet another tremendous gift from her father—a college fund he had begun at her birth.

Brooke had been seated, with her nose in a text book, when she felt someone standing over her. She looked up, a small frown on her face.

Excuse me, said the tall, impressive, handsome, impeccably dressed stranger. The self-same stranger she had plowed into in front of a quaint little shop, two weeks earlier.

Brooke’s frown dissolved. She stared into his eyes, curious, working to keep a straight face, and not make a fool of herself.

Hello again, he said. I trust you found your way to class, without incident.

The obvious reference to their previous encounter caused Brooke’s face and neck to redden with embarrassment, certain he would consider her an imbecile, and write off her presence in this class as a colossal waste of time. What must he think of her?

I managed to arrive without causing bodily harm, yes, she said with a grin; but immediately sobered. I apologize again, for crashing into you. It was my first venture beyond my apartment and I guess I was looking everywhere except where I was going.

Her heart skipped a beat as the handsome stranger held her gaze for more than a few seconds. Who is this man? Can I keep him?

Can I keep him?!

Where had that come from?

No harm done, he said. I trust you will enjoy your time in Rome.

I don’t know about enjoy, exactly, she said, unable to stop yet another grin. What was it about this guy that made her want to smile, and never stop smiling.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to engage in normal conversation.

But I do intend to absorb as much as I can and take it back home with me, where I hope to make a difference.

I’m sure you’ll do fine, he said, as he turned away, ending the exchange.

Brooke watched him walk away, the dark hazel of his eyes forever etched into her memory.

The stranger made his way to the front desk, set his briefcase on top of it then turned and wrote his name on the large blackboard.

Brooke held her breath. This was no ordinary professor. No ordinary man. What made her think that?

I have no idea. Now, get with the program.

Brooke only had a few seconds to observe, while the professor scrawled his name in large letters across the board: Alessandro Romani.

What a beautiful, beautiful name.

Then it dawned on her. She had come across the name before. As she considered where she might remember it from, the article came clearly to mind. Alessandro, the Italian form of Alexandrus, meant defender of mankind.

Alex, thought Brooke, suppressing a giggle. Guess he wouldn’t want me to call him that. She had to smile at herself, for she would probably never call him anything, save Professor Romani.

Brooke pulled her eyes away from the gentleman’s broad back, away from the snug fit of his white shirt, away from the wave of his longish dark hair and hazel eyes. She wondered if his eye color meant he had a non-Italian parent, or if her perception that every Italian ever born must necessarily have dark hair and dark eyes, was all wrong. She looked away, self-conscious, aware of a pull toward him she had yet to experience. Shaking her head at her silly notions, she forced herself to pick up where she’d left off, reading Chapter One of the brand new text book. She preferred to start fresh with a new book, rather than try to maneuver around other people’s notes. Notes that could potentially be strewn with wrong information.

Taking this class, thought Brooke, would have one unexpected amenity—a gorgeous face to look at while she tried to listen to his lectures. And one major distraction. She had a goal. And she’d best keep reminding herself of the fact. But she didn’t want to at the moment. Instead, she found herself wondering about Alex’s background. What sort of man seemingly narrowed his ambitions to teaching about medicine and surgical procedures, rather than practicing his supposed skills, and utilizing his knowledge to save lives? She might never know the answers, but curiosity squirmed within her.

Once class got under way, Brooke somehow managed to keep her mind on her studies, absorbed what Alex had to say, fascinated at how much more she still had to learn. And only a little surprised at the depth of desire to become a surgeon. One lecture in a sea of lectures to come; but already the ache in her heart to save lives had expanded. Peace enveloped her, solidifying the call on her life. Yes, this is what she had come to Rome to accomplish. Not fall all over herself, because her professor had beautiful eyes.

For many years Brooke had battled even the thought of being at the helm when someone didn’t make it through surgery. Balked at the idea of having to deliver the sad news to loved ones who had trusted her with the life of their beloved.

But hours alone with the Lord had persuaded her. She wouldn’t be able to help anyone, save anyone, or share good news with anyone, if she did not follow in her father’s footsteps; did not develop the natural-born ability to absorb and understand medical terminology and surgical procedures. Her father had encouraged and nourished the God-given talents. She had absorbed massive amounts of information through the books her father poured over with her, then grew from there by observing numerous college classes while still in junior high and high school.

Chapter 2

For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone

(Lamentations 3:33 NIV).

BROOKE spent several Saturday mornings taking in one tourist attraction or another. She had never seen so many people in one place at the same time, with approximately 2,232 people per square kilometer in Rome. But she enjoyed the change in atmosphere from Tennessee’s laid-back feel. The climate seemed much the same as back home, thankfully. She wouldn’t have to add much to the wardrobe she had brought with her.

As Brooke meandered through the streets of Rome, a certain dark-haired professor continually worked his way into her thoughts. She allowed herself to fantasize about the handsome man who would also be her teacher.

You’re being silly, she reminded herself. Most likely, every girl in class feels the same way about Dr. Alessandro Romani. What makes you think he would even look twice at you?

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Three-quarters of the way into the first semester at Tor Vergata, Brooke found herself dreading the holidays. Just as she’d expected, there had been no personal interaction between herself and Professor Romani. She’d kept her mind, mostly, on her studies, and laughed at herself for ever entertaining the idea of getting to know the mystery that embodied Alessandro Romani, on a more intimate level.

Regardless, Brooke knew in her heart, she had made the right decision in coming to Rome. But she had yet to make any close friends, and did not know what she would do over the long break. Even Xanadu, her roommate, had a set of classmates with similar interests who constantly pulled at Xanadu to engage in study groups or outdoor activities that necessarily did not include Brooke. And Brooke felt mostly okay with that. She and Xanadu kept in touch through texting, and occasionally shared a meal or watched a movie together. Brooke felt comfortable sharing the small apartment with Xanadu, even though their interaction remained limited.

It seemed everyone she had shared a class with had somewhere to go for Christmas. I could study, I suppose. But the thought soured on her tongue. Oh well, I’ll think of something, she whispered to no one. You’ll study and rest up, Goofus. That’s what you’ll do. Be grateful for the time off. Don’t push yourself, but use your time wisely.

Brooke had made plans to Skype with the family, and watch the gift-giving ritual, knowing they would all purchase something for her—and that they would let her see the packages—but not the contents, until she returned from Italy. After a really long absence, she would have a pickup load of gifts to work through, admire, laugh about, and cry over. Yes, she would definitely be lonely her first Christmas away from home.

The thought made her both laugh and sigh with longing. Her family had grown even closer after her father’s death, clinging to each other, as though to life jackets in a rough sea. Even though his death had occurred fourteen years earlier, the ripple effect of that unexpected and debilitating trauma affected each member of the family in a deep and soul-searching way.

Brooke pushed that thought to the side, unwilling to rehash all of the misery. After all, Christmas would soon be upon them. A time to celebrate the birth of Christ, and share gifts with loved ones, volunteer goods and time for people in need. That should be her focus. She would undoubtedly miss the camaraderie, the decorating, the sight-seeing, and the delectable aromas that would fill the house from Grammi’s kitchen, in any event.

A twinge in her heart reminded Brooke that the family she loved so dearly still did not know what had led her to Tor Vergata. Guilt pricked at her conscience until she felt compelled to get out of the apartment and get some fresh air. Give her head and her heart a break.

Brooke closed the text book on top of the small desk, rubbed her eyes, and stretched out on the twin-size bed. Her roommate had left Rome two days earlier to spend the holiday with her family. At the time, Brooke had been relieved that she would be alone. But today, she just felt lonely. She closed her eyes, determined to take a nap, even though she really wanted to be outside. Her body knew it as well, for it refused to relax. She tossed and turned for fifteen minutes then huffed out a puff of air, swung her feet to the floor, and reached for the sweater she’d hung on the peg next to the headboard. Maybe a long walk would get her back on track.

Brooke meandered down to the bus stop, waited for the bus to arrive then disembarked at the corner nearest the university campus. Cloud cover had taken out the sun, making the 47-degree weather seem even cooler.

A wide walkway wove through the campus. Brooke strolled across the entire space. The longer she walked, however, the more she snuggled into the tightly woven sweater, and wished she’d worn a jacket, instead. She picked up her pace as she passed the Studying Room without a glance, still tired from a non-stop semester of long hours. At the opposite end of the campus, Brooke made a U-turn and headed back toward the bus stop. It was pushing four in the afternoon, and her feet slowed as she approached the Ristorante. She inhaled deeply, recognizing, and appreciating, the aroma of spicy Italian stew, a hot, but not too spicy