An Angel for Christmas (2 page)

“Yeah, it's Shayne,” Morwenna said. She shaded her eyes against the glare on the snow. “He's not alone. Who is that?”

“Think he picked up a hot babe for Christmas?” Bobby asked.

Morwenna elbowed him. “Shayne…with someone he met in the last few days?”

“No, no, too small. It's the kids,” Bobby said. “Looks like Connor is in the front, and that's Genevieve in the back.”

Shayne stopped the car in the driveway. Bobby thought that the kids were so excited that they had to get out. Connor had just turned nine, and Bobby was sure that the divorce was hard on him. Though Genevieve was just six, it seemed that she actually comprehended the change with the flexibility young children seemed to have.

She jumped out of the car. “Uncle Bobby!” And
rushed him like a guard about to tackle. For a moment he caught his sister's expression. She seemed a little hurt, and a little jealous.

But, then, he'd taken a lot more trouble to make sure that he'd seen his nephew and niece over the years; he knew that Morwenna always meant to.

She was just busy.

“Hey, little one!” Bobby said. He hiked her up on his hip. “Give Aunt Wenna a nice smooch right on the cheek there!”

Genevieve did; and she reached out with a cherubic smile. Morwenna took her, giving her a good hug and a kiss back. She looked at Bobby. Was there even a bit of gratitude in that glance?

Then Connor came flying out of the front, racing to them. He just gave Bobby a hug; Bobby opted not to pick him up. It might be against the boy's dignity. Besides, at nine, Connor was tall and solid.

The car moved on into the garage.

“Didn't know you were coming, munchkins,” Bobby said.

“We weren't—then Mommy said we might have
a better time with Daddy. And she said that we might really hurt Gram and Gramps if we didn't come,” Connor said.

“Yep, she said that Connor and I were lucky to be loved by so many people,” Genevieve said.

Yes,
Bobby thought,
his sister-in-law—or
ex
-sister-in-law—would have said just such a thing, and meant it. She'd never known her own grandparents, and her parents had died the year before she'd met Shayne.

Shayne had emerged from the car by then and was walking toward them. “Hey, family,” he said. He was trying to smile.

“You got the kids!” Morwenna said.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Shayne said reflectively. Shayne, Bobby thought, was just as pretty as Morwenna—in a manly sort of way, of course. His brother was a good six foot three with the same dark hair and deep blue eyes. He was fit, and his posture was as straight as an iron girder. He had embraced being a physician, and lived well. Bobby had smoked on and off, over the years; he'd given it up last time because his brother had tortured him so much
that the withdrawal was easier than listening to Shayne's speeches.

“That's great,” Morwenna said. “That was kind of Cindy.”

Shayne sniffed. “Yeah. Kind. She's heading to Europe with the new love of her life. She decided that the kids might be a hindrance.”

“Hey!” Morwenna said, frowning. Shayne had the grace to wince, realizing that both his children were there, listening.

Shayne hunkered down by Genevieve. “Hey, guys, remember the rules at Gram's house—you don't come outside without someone here. What's the other rule—do you remember, Connor?”

Connor nodded gravely. “Never take the side path out to the garage or shed in winter. Never. Never, never, never. The snow hides the slope and we could fall and get hurt.”

“Good,” Shayne said. “Now, Genevieve?”

Genevieve giggled. “Oh, Daddy! We know where the path is!”

“Genevieve, don't come outside without an
adult ever,” Shayne said. His voice had taken on an angry tone. “I'm serious.”

Connor came closer to his sister. “She knows, Dad. She just likes to argue lately. It's a kid thing.”

Shayne nodded, looking at his son with gratitude.

Genevieve hugged him. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I wish Mommy was here, too. She makes good snowmen.”

Shayne nodded. “Yes, she makes good snowmen, but she is off on a trip, so we'll have to make do with whatever Uncle Bobby and the rest of us can come up with. Now, run in and give big smooches and hugs to Gram and Gramps, okay? You're going to be the best surprise for them!” Shayne said.

“Shayne,” Bobby said quietly. “You've got to be careful.”

“I know, I know. Sometimes I can't help it,” Shayne said.

“Shayne, damn it. Bobby is right!” Morwenna said firmly. “Cindy is
not
a bad human being, and she was never a bad mother. I told you, she needed
more time from you. She held down the fort when the kids were babies—I doubt if you ever changed a diaper—and—”

“Stop it, Morwenna! I changed plenty of diapers,” Shayne said. “You weren't around much, so how the hell are you going to tell me what I did and didn't do! I was working—”

“Come on, Wenna,” Bobby said. “Shayne was a good dad—you really do work a lot—”

“Better than you, who can't even get the hell through school?” Morwenna interrupted angrily.

Before he could answer, they all froze in silence.

They'd heard…
something.

“What was that?” Morwenna asked. She frowned, turning around. “We're the only shack up here!”

“House,” Bobby said.

“Whatever. You have to head down to the lower peak just to get to the tavern,” Morwenna said.

“Maybe it was nothing,” Shayne said. “Or,” he added, giving her a rueful smile, “the voice of God, warning us not to go inside like squabbling children.”

“And lay off each other,” Bobby added softly. “We are supposed to be adults.”

“No…toward the trees,” Morwenna said, frowning.

The sound came again. It was definitely a groan.

“There is someone up here,” Shayne said. He started walking.

Morwenna ran after him, leaping like a rabbit through the snow. “Shayne, stop. Let me get Dad, and his gun.”

“Morwenna, let's see what it is,” Bobby said.

“It's a man—I can hear human groans,” Shayne said.

Bobby rushed past Morwenna and grabbed her hand. “Come on—he wouldn't be groaning if he was dangerous!”

“It could be a criminal,” Morwenna warned.

“Up here? A criminal came all the way up here to groan by our shack? Please!” Bobby said.

Shayne was in the lead, striding through the snow, with Bobby—dragging Morwenna along—following.

Right at the copse that bordered the snow
driven path, there was a man half buried in the drifts. As Shayne hunkered down by him, reaching for a pulse, Bobby studied him.

He appeared to be about thirty, with tawny blood-matted hair and a face with aesthetic contours, although they were half concealed, since he was on his side in the snow.

Good profile, though.

“He's alive,” Shayne said. “Steady enough pulse, though it's slow.”

“We've got to get him in,” Bobby said.

“In! He
could
be a criminal,” Morwenna insisted.

“Wenna!” Shayne looked across the fallen body at his sister. “What should I do? Leave him out here to freeze to death? I'm a
doctor
. I can't do that.”

“Well, of course, we can't let him freeze to death,” Morwenna said. “It's just that…he's a total stranger.”

“So what other choice do we have?” Shayne asked.

“Morwenna, it will be okay,” Bobby assured her. “Hey, there's a pack of us, and one of him.
It's going to be all right. And Dad does have his shotgun.”

“Can he actually shoot?” Morwenna asked.

“Well, I've seen him go skeet shooting,” Bobby said, grinning. “I think he hit a few plates.”

“What? When?” Morwenna asked.

“When we were kids, remember? We were in Memphis. The parental units brought us all on a canoeing vacation, and we went to see Graceland. It was great, if I recall.”

“Yeah,” Morwenna said, lowering her eyes. “It was great, wasn't it?” she said softly.

“Doesn't matter right now whether Dad can hit the eye of a needle or miss the side of a barn, it's freezing out here,” Shayne said. He had deftly run his hands over the stranger, checking for broken bones or other injuries. “Seems like just his head is bleeding. Maybe he got stranded, got out of his car and fell. God knows, this place has lots of rocks, for certain. Wenna, back up. Bobby, get around over there.”

“I'm not puny—I can help,” Morwenna said.

“I know that you're the queen of Pilates,
Morwenna, but let Bobby help me right now,” Shayne said.

“All right, all right, I'll get the door. Be careful, you two. Maybe he's faking it.”

“One, two, three…lift beneath the shoulders,” Shayne said.

“Your children are inside that house,” Morwenna said worriedly.

“You know he could sue you if we injure him more, Shayne,” Bobby said, still not having moved.

“That can't be helped—he'll freeze. He might be in shock…he might well be on the way to hypothermia,” Shayne said. “Look, we have to move him, or he'll die.”

“I guess that we really have no choice. We can't—”

“No, but…we can't let him just stay here. I guess we can't ask questions or get to know him,” Morwenna said.

“I just hope we don't hurt him worse,” Bobby said.

Bobby did as his brother instructed, dipping low, and sliding his arm beneath the stranger's
back while Shayne carefully did the same from his angle. The stranger groaned again as they managed to get him to his feet.

“It's all right, it's all right!” Shayne said quickly. “We're bringing you in. We're trying to help you.”

The man had green eyes, Bobby noted. Strange green eyes. They were actually a greener color than he'd
ever
seen before, and also weirdly translucent.

He noted that Morwenna was staring at the man, looking into his eyes.

And the man was staring back at her.

He managed a single whisper. “Thank you.”

She turned and hurried to the house while they followed more slowly with the injured man.

Morwenna opened the door and stood back. Shayne and Bobby staggered toward it, and paused in the doorway, catching their balance.

She looked at Bobby. “Well, this will be different,” she said softly. “I can't help but wonder just
who
in the hell we've invited in for Christmas?”

“What in the name of—” Mike MacDougal began, hurrying into the parlor as his sons stumbled in with the bleeding stranger.

Morwenna looked at her father; she was worried about what they were doing, herself, but to avoid a family argument over Shayne's absolute determination to be a physician at all times, she waved a hand in the air.

“This guy was out there hurt, Dad,” she said. “We have to help him.”

Stacy, drying her hands on a dish towel, came hurrying into the parlor as well.

“Oh, no! The poor man. Get him onto the sofa, Shayne. Oh, he's bleeding! I'll get a clean washcloth and warm water. I'll—” Stacy began.

“Hey!” Mike protested. “Bleeding, in the snow, in the middle of nowhere? How the hell did he get here? How do we know he's not an escaped convict or mass murderer?”

“That's what I said, Dad,” Morwenna replied, setting a hand firmly on his chest. “But your son, the physician, refused to allow anyone to bleed to death. Now, Dad—move, please!”

Mike groaned, staring at the man on the sofa. “If you saw everything that I saw, you'd be more careful,” he said.

“Dad?” Shayne said.

Genevieve and Connor appeared in the kitchen doorway—just their little heads popping out.

Morwenna hurried toward them. “Hey, little ones. Want to do me a favor? Run upstairs to my bedroom and bring me one of the pillows off my bed. And a blanket, huh? Can you do that?”

They both nodded at her gravely. “Don't worry,” Connor told her. “My father will help that man.”

“Of course he will,” Morwenna said.

She went into the kitchen. Her mother was already filling a basin with warm water; she walked to the pantry and found a stack of fresh linens. “Mom, can I take these?”

Her mother glanced at her. “Of course! You can take anything. The guy's bleeding!”

Stacy was ready with the basin. Morwenna grabbed the towels and they returned to the parlor. Shayne nodded his gratitude and took the basin and the towels. “Looks like he took a good wallop to the side of his head…and there, on his temple. I'm going to need my bag. It's still in the car.”

“I'm on it,” Bobby said. He turned and exited by the front door.

“Don't just hover!” Shayne said, looking up at Morwenna and his parents as he began to dab carefully at the stranger's wounds. “I think he needs to breathe, too, you know?”

They all stared blankly at him for a minute, and then took a step back.

The kids came clunking down the stairway, bearing a blanket and pillow.

“Good, good, let's get his head propped up,” Shayne said. He glanced at his sister, perhaps surprised she'd asked that one of
her
pillows be used for the cause.

She shrugged and watched her older brother as he moved the stranger's head carefully. “His vital signs are growing stronger. I think the blow weakened him and the cold did the rest,” he told them. “Of course, I can't make sure he hasn't suffered any serious head trauma until we get him to a hospital.”

The stranger stirred. By now, Shayne had washed away the little trails of blood that had streaked down his face.

It was a good face,
Morwenna thought.
Nicely chiseled, a bit like the statues she'd seen of Greek and Roman gods. Except, of course, he had a slightly more rugged appeal. Actually, he was a very nice-looking stranger.

And still a stranger!
she warned herself.

They needed him out of their house.

His eyes flew open as she entertained that thought. He was looking straight at her.

She was surprised when she knelt down and touched his cheek. “Hey, it's all right.
You're
all right. We're the MacDougal family. We found you outside in the snow. Do you know who you are? Do you know what you're doing up here? You're hurt.”

“Morwenna,” Shayne said. “One question at a time for the poor man.”

The stranger struggled to sit up and winced. Shayne pressed him back down by the shoulders. “Don't try to get up yet. Let's see how you do. Someone hit you good.”

He eased back for a minute, closing his eyes again. “Yeah, someone hit me good. Um…my name is Gabe.”

They all looked around at one another. “I'm Gabe,” he repeated. “Gabe Lange.” He winced, and opened his eyes again. “Could I possibly have some water, please?”

“Water, of course,” Stacy said, and turned toward the kitchen.

“Move slowly, and when the water comes, take your first drink slowly,” Shayne instructed.

Stacy returned quickly with the water. Morwenna thought that actually, it must have been pretty scary for him to open his eyes, to find all of them looking down at him as if he were an unknown wounded creature they had dragged in.

But, then again, he was.

She glanced at Bobby, who seemed to be a step ahead of her. “Hey, urchins!” he said to Connor and Genevieve. “Let's give your dad the doc some space. I need some help upstairs with presents.”

“But…is that guy going to be okay?” Connor asked.

Genevieve's little lips were trembling. Morwenna turned toward her niece. “Yes, of course, my darling. Go on up with Uncle Bobby. The nice man just needs some rest.” She glanced at Shayne. Was that all he needed?

“Come on, Lady Niece, Lord Nephew!” Bobby said.

The kids followed him up the stairs.

Morwenna suddenly found herself thinking all
kinds of horrible thoughts. He wasn't all right; he was bleeding internally, and he was going to die on her mother's sofa on Christmas.

She lowered her head quickly. What a horrible concept! A man's life could be in the balance, and she was thinking that his death might affect their Christmas!

The stranger's gaze was on her when she raised her head again. A small smile tugged at his lips as if he had read her thoughts. “I'm strong, really. I'm feeling better already.”

“Well, lie still until I've gotten that wound cleaned up,” Shayne said firmly.

Gabe winced when Shayne laced the wound with disinfectant, but he didn't let out a sound. “The thing is, you probably do have a concussion,” Shayne told him. “You'll need to be careful.”

“One of us can stay with him and keep an eye on him,” Stacy said.

“I'm going to call an ambulance,” Mike told her, speaking up. “Any objections?” he asked. He wasn't speaking to the stranger; he was looking at his wife, daughter and son.

“Not to an ambulance,” Shayne assured his father. “What the heck happened to you?”

“Obviously, he got into a fight!” Mike jumped in, his voice harsh.

“I'm with the Virginia State Police,” Gabe said. “I was after a man. He eluded me.”

“Gabe Lange, with the Virginia State Police?” Mike demanded. Her father sounded as if he was interrogating a prisoner of war. Maybe, in his mind, he was.

“There's nothing to worry about,” Gabe assured them. He looked at Morwenna and grimaced. “I was an idiot. I let him get away. But I crawled up here before I passed out. I'm sure that he's long gone. In fact, I'm afraid that he's long gone.”

“I'll call that ambulance,” Mike said, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He stared at Gabe while he dialed. Nothing happened, and he frowned at his phone: “3G, 4G—10G! I don't care how many
Gs
you have, the damned things never work in some places. They're all full of it. Wenna, you're on a different carrier—try your phone.”

“Okay, Dad, let me just see where I dropped my
purse,” she said. She had dropped it inside, hadn't she? Maybe not.

“I think it's outside,” she said.

“Morwenna Alysse MacDougal!” her father said. “What have I taught you about—”

“Hurt guy on the sofa, Dad,” Morwenna said. “You always told me that human life was worth more than anything I could possibly own, remember?”

He scowled at her. She hurried outside. She had dropped her purse somewhere out there. It took her a few minutes, but she found it and walked back in the house, pulling her cell phone from it as she did so.

“What number do you want me calling?” she asked.

Mike MacDougal looked at their uninvited guest. “Nine-one-one, of course.”

She dialed. She looked at the phone—it, too, said that she was out of range. “Sorry,” she told him.

“Well, what the hell is going on?” Mike de
manded. “We always have decent satellite coverage up here.”

“Dad, calm down—it might be the storm,” Shayne told his father.

“Try your phone, Shayne,” Mike insisted.

Shayne sighed. He was standing again; he'd patched up Gabe Lange's head nicely, and there was color returning to the man's cheeks. He did look well enough to sit up. He might be entrenched on the couch with her blanket warming him, but she did think then that he must be wet and freezing beneath the covers.

“No bars, Dad. No coverage. It's one hell of a storm brewing up,” Shayne said.

Mike snapped his fingers. “Let me see if I can get them out here online!”

He headed for the computer in his office, just down the hall from the stairway.

“Thank you,” Gabe told Shayne. “Thank you for patching me up—a stranger on your doorstep.”

“Hippocratic oath,” Shayne said, grinning. “We're not supposed to trip over the injured and ignore them.”

“If I hadn't fallen where I had…if you all hadn't seen me…” Gabe said.

Mike came storming back in from the office. “The goddamn cable is down!” he said irritably.

“Mike! It's Christmas. For the love of
God
—watch your language!” Stacy said. “Mom, Dad,
please,
both of you!” Morwenna murmured.

“Dad, you don't need the cops anyway—he
is
a cop,” Shayne said.

“Likely story!” Mike said.

“Mike!” Stacy gasped.

“Dad!” Shayne and Morwenna said in unison.

They didn't deter their father at all. He turned on Gabe Lange. “I have a shotgun in this house, and I know how to use it. I'm a district attorney in Philadelphia, young man, and I know my way around crooks. And if you're a cop, where's your gun? Eh? Where's your uniform?”

“My gun was lost quickly—I try never to use firearms. Innocent people get hurt as often as the bad guys, so it seems. But, yeah, I carry a weapon. Now it's gone, somewhere in a bush halfway up
the mountainside,” Gabe said. “Look, sir, I'm not here to hurt anyone, I swear it!”

“And so the devil swears!” Mike muttered, and walked away.

“Sorry, the lawyer side of my husband is always angry. But he's a really good man,” Stacy told Gabe Lange. Then, she suddenly thrust her hand forward. “I'm Stacy, my husband is Mike. Your real live doctor is Shayne, and this is our daughter, Morwenna. She's an artist and advertising exec. She took business as well as art. Don't you think that was incredibly smart? She is able to use her talent
and
keep a job, and—”

“Mom!” Morwenna said, interrupting her quickly. She glared at her mother, meaning,
Let's not just air the family laundry.

“He doesn't need a dossier on all of us!” she added and laughed to soften the statement. “To finish the introductions in the family, my little brother is Bobby, and Shayne's kids are named Connor and Genevieve. Welcome to our home for Christmas. I'm so sorry about what happened to you. Won't your family be worried?”

Gabe looked away from her for a moment. “I have a huge extended family, but my immediate family wasn't expecting me. They'll be fine without me—there's a lot of work that goes on tonight. I'm grateful that you've taken me in.”

Shayne squeezed his shoulder. “I would be happier if you were in a hospital,” he said.

Gabe pushed back the blanket and sat up, despite Shayne's protests. “I'm not even dizzy anymore. I swear,” he said. “I'm not sure I'd want to hit the ring for a few bouts or anything, but I'm doing fine.”

“Then sit.”

“I'm sitting,” Gabe said.

His teeth began to chatter.

Shayne brought out his little light, and told Gabe to follow the beam. He inspected their guest's eyes with a serious expression, then let out a sigh and shrugged. “Your pupils are showing no signs of a possible problem.”

“He's fine, but he's freezing,” Morwenna said. “He must be soaked.”

“Oh, how very rude of us,” Stacy said. She
looked at her oldest son. “Shayne, there must still be jeans and T's and flannel shirts up in your room. Can you loan something to Mr. Lange?”

“Gabe, please,” their visitor insisted. “I
am
on your sofa.”

“Of course.” Shayne seemed troubled, but he shook his head. “We'll head up to my old room. You can get out of those wet clothes, take a shower and then put on something dry and warm.”

“That would be great. My most sincere gratitude to you all,” Gabe said.

“I'll give you a hand getting up,” Shayne said. “Use the banister—I'll support you on the other side.”

Morwenna hovered, watching as they started up the stairs. “Great kids,” Gabe told Shayne.

He didn't ask about their mother; somehow, Shayne volunteered information.

“Yes, they're great kids. They've stayed that way through the divorce,” Shayne said.

“Most important thing to remember in a divorce—your children still have you both as parents, the people they love most in the world. I'm
glad to hear that you and your ex are respecting one another. You should be proud.”

Morwenna didn't get to hear her brother's answer; they were already up the stairs.

Her father emerged from the kitchen, a glass in his hand.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“Honestly, Mike, it's Christmas!” Stacy said.