My Kind of Christmas (11 page)

“You and your mom have had a very close, very mutually supportive relationship. We need to get that back for both of you before you spring something like this on her.”

“I’m not going to pretend to follow her trajectory for me just so we can be on good terms. I want my own life, not the one she outlined for me. And I love her, too. But, Brie—”

“I completely understand. But can we at least slow down a bit and ease her into the idea that you want something of your own design? That you’re ready and capable of deciding some things for yourself? Can we be more reasonable about this?”

“When she pushes on me, I just can’t deal with it. I have to hang up.”

“Or maybe try something like, ‘That’s an interesting suggestion, Mom, let me think about that for a while.’”

Angie ran a hand through her hair. “That doesn’t slow her down. She can be relentless.”

“Follow with ‘Let’s talk about this later, Mom. Brie needs me to babysit.’ I’ll cover for you. Let’s just give her time, that’s all I’m saying.”

“It’s not like I’m shipping out tomorrow. It’s not that easy to get into the peace corps, you know.”

“I know. And given all you’ve been through, I don’t find it a strange idea,” Brie said. “How about your stay here so far? Almost a week in that little cabin, hanging out around town, helping in the clinic? How’s it going?”

Angie grinned. “I love it so much. You people really have it made, in a rough sort of way. I know you have lots of challenges here but you have exceptional beauty every day. And the challenges have made all of you closer. Look at me. I just got to town and I’ve already found a project that needs me. I love Mel’s clinic—it’s perfect. The town relies on her—do you know how great that is?”

“I do,” Brie said.

“And you were running away to this town to fall in love—and look at what you bring to the whole county. I’m sure it’s not as high dollar as Sacramento County D.A.’s office, but doesn’t it feel good?”

“Most days,” she agreed with a smile.

“I do love it here. I always have,” Angie said.

“And how about that little crush we talked about last weekend?” Brie asked. “What’s up with that?”

“Brie, it was never little....”

“Oh, that’s right—you described it as world-class.”

“Yes. And full-blown.” Then Angie’s cheeks pinkened, though she tried to smile through it.

“Full-blown?” Brie asked weakly.

“I’m seeing him. We’re trying to be discreet so Jack doesn’t get…you know, how he gets.”

“Seeing?” Brie asked. But she shook her head. Did she not want the answer?

Angie took a deep breath. She closed her eyes as she answered. “He’s wonderful. I adore him. And until I have to give him up, I’m going to love every inch of him.”

“Oh, God…” Brie’s eyes grew round and her mouth hung open, then she let her head fall to the kitchen table with a
thunk,
again.

* * *

Brie and Angie had always been close. When Brie was a tot, her big brother Jack carted her around, spoiled her, fussed over her. And then he went off to the Marine Corps when she was only five. When Angie was born, twelve-year-old Brie couldn’t be around her enough. She was more a big sister than aunt—her babysitter and confidante.

While both of them were devoted to Donna, there were also times it felt as though they shared a common enemy. Donna was strong willed; she could be a force of nature. Also, Donna would often be the one to step in during a crisis large or small and take charge, manage the situation, resolve the problem. She seemed to be able to do that effortlessly.

When Donna and Brie’s mother died, Brie leaned on her big sister heavily, and there was no question she’d have been lost without her. Angie leaned on both her mother and her aunt. Together, they all propped up Angie’s grandfather, Sam.

Everyone knew Donna was a good, strong woman.

She could be difficult and hard to satisfy, tough to please.

She could also be so warm and compassionate.

Brie remembered too well a time when she was Angie’s age, a law student messing with a professor. Donna had had a hissy. Brie would’ve died before listening to Donna, though. In fact, she wondered if it was Donna’s warnings that might’ve driven her into the professor’s arms. And, still, when her heart was breaking, Brie ran to Donna, who consoled her.

And here they were, full circle. Brie had learned a few things since she was Angie’s age, things she hoped she could remember when her own daughter was twenty-three. For now, Brie pulled Angie into a hug and said, “Please be careful.”

“Of course I will.”

“Would you like to have dinner with us tonight? At the bar?”

Angie laughed. “Not a chance.”

After saying their goodbyes, Brie made her way to the bar for dinner. Mike was meeting her there, as was Mel with her kids. This time of year the place had an even bigger draw than during deer-hunting season, given the tree and that amazing star on top. It was a crazier place—people came from miles to see the tree and it was only natural to stop into Jack’s for dinner or dessert. And fortunately, Brie’s daughter, Ness, and her cousins Emma and David were big enough now to sit at the table, feed themselves, maybe do a little coloring, sometimes sneaking off to Preacher’s quarters to play with Dana and the toys.

Even with that advantage, the bar was not conducive to quiet conversation. And yet, Brie really needed to talk.

“Can you spit it out?” Mel asked, once they’d all settled at a table.

“Are you psychic or what? Because I don’t recall saying I wanted to talk.”

“You and Paige have been my best friends for going on five years. Both of you chew on the inside of your cheek when you’ve got a problem. Don’t ask me why both of you do that....”

“I’m going to stop immediately,” Brie said. “I honestly don’t know if I should be talking about this.”

“Patrick and Angie?”

“She
told
you?”

Mel shook her head. “I guessed.”

“And she admitted it?”

Mel shook her head again. “She got red as a beet when I mentioned him. Dead giveaway. Even if I hadn’t already noticed her bright eyes, distracted behavior and whisker burn.”

“Shew. You should really be a cop.”

Mel laughed.

“What are we going to do?” Brie asked.

“I think nothing.”

“Do we tell Jack?”

“I think definitely not. Angie might see that as a betrayal. Besides, it’s not going to take Jack long to figure it out himself.”

Brie leaned back and took in the scene of the loud, packed room. Mike was behind the bar, as was Denny Cutler, Jack’s part-time help. Preacher and Paige were serving; every few minutes Denny made a swing through the room with a large tub and bussed and wiped tables. “Maybe not at this time of year,” Brie observed. “He’s awful busy.”

“He’ll get around to it,” Mel said.

“Did you talk to Angie about this…this…”

“Love affair?” Mel asked. She shook her head. “She seems very private about it. Shy. I don’t want to shake her confidence or worry her.”

“But, Mel!”

“Are you really surprised?” Mel asked. “Why would you be? I guess because Angie has always been most impressive in the academic arena, not the social. But, Brie, there are a few things I’ve learned about the women in your family—you’re all so smart and so passionate and so loving. Angie was bound to do something like this eventually. Didn’t she have a serious boyfriend last year?”

“Alex. But he was a wiener. I don’t know why they were together, anyway, and when he disappeared while she was in the hospital, it didn’t seem to bother her too much. I suspect she was glad to be rid of him.”

“This one is not a wiener,” Mel said. “He’s a Riordan. If anyone can match the passion of the Sheridans, it’s a Riordan.” She fanned her face.

“But isn’t this one, Patrick, in a bad place right now?”

“Isn’t Angie?” Mel asked, lifting a brow. “I’m probably too sentimental, but I think people find each other when they’re supposed to. When they need to. And, no, I don’t fantasize that this will all work out sweet and happy—in fact, I think there might be tears and heartache. But does she need this right now? I don’t know. Maybe. Can we stop it? No way. Brie, that ship has sailed. Listen,” she added, leaning close, “if I could be in charge, I’d work it out so that we always gained our greatest wisdom from the easy, fun stuff. That makes more sense to me. But it doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s usually the roughest waters that teach us the most.”

Brie thought for a moment about her own heartaches, long ago and far away. The professor, the slimeball; her ex-husband who had an affair with her best friend, the unfaithful turd. And then came Mike, who she would never have found but for the series of catastrophes she’d had to survive first.

“I don’t want her to hurt,” Brie said.

“Me, either,” Mel agreed.

“Donna’s going to flip,” Brie added.

“She better not. That would be the kiss of death. At some point she’s going to have to give up.”

“Ninety percent of the time Donna and Angie have a great relationship, but hoo boy, that ten percent! Do all mothers and daughters go through this?” Brie asked.

“Did you?”

“My mother passed away quite a while ago, but I went through it with Donna in her place!”

“Listen, I know you sympathize with Angie,” Mel said. “So do I. I just want to ask that you remember Donna’s burden isn’t light. She wants to protect her daughter just like she probably wanted to protect you. And I bet she takes a lot of heat for trying. Strong women can be so underappreciated unless you’re screaming for their help.”

* * *

Angie’s plan was to go home to the cabin, light the fire, grab a shower and call Patrick. They hadn’t made plans but she was willing to bet he was flexible. She had no idea what he did during the day while she was busy at the clinic, but she took great comfort in the fact that his plane ticket home wasn’t until the twenty-third.

When she pulled into the cabin’s clearing, her heart leaped. His Jeep was parked there. He’d decorated the cabin! The eaves were adorned with colored Christmas lights. There was a wreath on the door. A curl of smoke rose from the chimney and there were lights on inside. When she opened the door her senses were tempted by a wonderful aroma. He sat on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table trunk, and smiled at her.

“Well, my favorite B and E man,” she said.

“I didn’t have to break in. The door was unlocked. Come here, you delicious little thing.”

She dove to the couch, right into his arms. “Cooking?”

“Sort of. A frozen lasagna, bread, a salad from the deli in Fortuna. Hungry?”

“I am. It was my plan to get a quick shower and then call you....”

“I can help with that,” he said.

“It’s a very small shower.”

“We aren’t going to need a lot of room for what I have in mind.”

* * *

I’m getting too old for this,
Jack thought. The stress of this whole tree thing was driving him into the ground. People started arriving at five, about the time the sun was going down. He’d had to light the heaters on the porch because the size of the crowd meant there’d be a long wait for a table. But standing around outside and enjoying the tree didn’t seem to bother anyone. And they stayed late—the bar was busy until after ten.

This year he and Preacher had to suspend the early breakfast four days a week to compensate for staying open later. Friday through Monday they didn’t open until nine in the morning, even though typically, especially during the fall hunting season, they had the fires lit by six.

On this particular night, Jack left the bar at nine-thirty even though there were still quite a few people there. Denny offered to take over for him, and the kid was amazing—he could handle anything. Denny was a partner out at Jilly Farms and the month of December was nothing but greenhouse work, snow removal and relatively easy days. But the bar was hopping, so Denny took the opportunity to put in more hours. His young wife, Becca, was busy with the Christmas pageant at the church and the Christmas program at the elementary school (where she was director, teacher, treasurer and custodian), so if he was late getting home, it was no big deal. Besides, all that work at the bar brought in extra cash, and Denny and Becca were saving for a house of their own.

Jack was anxious to get home to his own wife. By now the kids would be asleep and Mel would probably still be up, reading or something. It was his favorite time of day.

Even so, he drove out to Angie’s cabin instead. He hadn’t seen her all day—she’d gone to Brie’s for lunch and turned down an invitation to the bar for dinner. Who could blame her, it was a zoo. But to be sure she was eating well, he had Preacher pack up some brisket, some mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and a cherry pie made from preserves from Jilly. To prove he wasn’t such an old stick in the mud, he’d grabbed a bottle of sauvignon blanc, too, her brew of choice as far as he could remember.

When he pulled up to the cabin he found the lights out, smoke coming from the fireplace and Patrick Riordan’s Jeep parked next to Angie’s SUV.

I am so an old stick in the mud,
he thought.

He backed out and went home. He left his take-out dinner and the wine in the kitchen, took his boots off by the back door, dropped his shirt and socks on the washer—he smelled like grease and beer—and followed the light to the bedroom.

Mel was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her laptop balanced on her lap. She looked up at him, smiling as she closed the laptop. “Hi, darling…”

But he was frowning. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“I took a sack of takeout and bottle of wine out to my niece and guess what? Paddy’s Jeep is parked out there and the lights are out.”

She studied his face for a moment. A long, stretched-out moment. Finally she asked, “What kind of wine?”

Nine

W
hen Angie entered the bar in the morning, it was empty. She went behind the bar, helped herself to a cup of coffee, then went back around to sit up on one of the stools. It was only a couple of minutes before Jack came from the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said. “Mel said you wanted to have a cup of coffee with me.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He got out his own mug and filled it. She couldn’t miss the fact that he wore a troubled frown, that he was contemplative.

“Ange, I went out to the cabin last night. I got off a little early and since I hadn’t seen you all day I wanted to surprise you with some takeout and a nice bottle of wine.”

“Aww. How sweet.”

“Well, obviously I didn’t make it inside. I thought it might be awkward, what with the lights out and Patrick’s Jeep there.” He looked at her pointedly.

“He surprised me. When I got home from the clinic he was there. Did you see the lights? He put up Christmas lights and a wreath. I’m thinking about a small Christmas tree, but I don’t have ornaments. I could string popcorn or something. We used to do that—”

“Ange, Patrick was there. It was nine-thirty.”

She looked at her watch. “He was there at eight-thirty this morning, too.”

Jack groaned, leaned on the bar and put his head in his hand. “Angie, Angie, Angie.”

But she held firm, looking him straight in the eyes. “I like him. He’s a great guy.”

Jack lifted his head. “He’s a Navy pilot from Charleston.”

“I know this. On leave until the twenty-third. Then back to the base…and probably the ship.”

“So you know it has no potential? That it won’t last? That you’re having a little…?”

She leaned toward him. “Jack, he spent the night. I have very high standards, especially since that last boyfriend dumped me before I even remembered who he was. Paddy is a perfect gentleman. Uncle Jack, I’m twenty-three. I’m not a child, and I’m certainly not a nun.”

“You seem so young to your poor old uncle Jack....”

She shook her head sadly. “Emma’s going to have a hard time with you. My mother was engaged at twenty-three.”

“Your mother was engaged
twice,
” he corrected.

Angie sat back. “Really? I didn’t know that!”

“The first one was a mistake. Angie, I worry about Patrick. There are things bothering him.”

“His best friend was killed right in front of him! Recently. You’re right—of course it bothers him.”

“I think he has PTSD stuff going on.”

She laughed. “Jack, I have PTSD!” To his shocked expression she said, “Oh, I get it, you thought PTSD was reserved for the military. Most of my issues are very different from Paddy’s, but it’s amazing how much we have in common. PTSD is something you have to work through—it doesn’t mean you’re permanently damaged goods. And you know what? I thought I dreaded everyone knowing, but I’m glad it’s out—now maybe we can get dinner here or order takeout or be seen together. I’m kind of tired of all this sneaking around.”

“This was supposed to be a break from your mother until you two could learn to get along better, not a chance to get involved in something even more complicated.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “And thank you—it’s been much more fulfilling than I dared hope.” He groaned and dropped his head in his hands again. “Stop reading into everything,” she said, laughing. “I’m working on getting Megan Thickson some help—surgery on that scar. And I’m actually making progress. Just a little, but I have some good people trying to help me. My old neurosurgeon for one. I really love that guy.”

“Angie, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Jack, where were you when I was sixteen, sitting in the living room in my prom dress with Grandpa and his camera waiting, with my sisters giggling, with Mom and Dad and Aunt Mary and Aunt Brie all set to snap pictures for a date who didn’t show, who not only stood me up but took someone else instead?” She shook her head. “You know what my first choice would be? That I lived in the same general area where Paddy lives, or is stationed, and that we could date for months or years, like my mom and dad did. And my second choice? For you to let me make my own decisions for three more weeks.”

“Have you told your mother?”

“I haven’t
told
anyone, but around here there aren’t any secrets, I guess.”

“What will your mother say?” he asked.

“I don’t care what she says, if she even finds out. I’m not a baby or an invalid and the bunch of you better get that straight or I might do something dramatic, like run away. Again.” She stood up. “Really, I’m glad it’s out. Wrap your brain around this, Uncle Jack. I like him. I’m not giving him up. Now I have phone calls to make, so I’ll see you later.”

“Angie, those Riordans…”

She turned back to him.

“They’re good guys, don’t get me wrong. But they’re not pups. They’re warriors, every last one of them. Rugged. Not exactly…
docile.
”

“Yeah,” she said with a big grin. “I know.” And with that, she turned and left.

* * *

“You could’ve warned me,” Angie said to Mel.

“Angie, I didn’t discuss you with Jack. Not much, anyway. I said it was true I suspected you and Patrick but that we hadn’t talked about it and it was none of my business. I also told him that my experience with young women is that the louder the protest against their decisions, the firmer they become.” She took a breath. “How’d he do?”

“He’s batshit crazy. His little kitten is getting boinked by a fighter jock.”

Mel couldn’t help it, a laugh burst from her. She covered her mouth with a hand. “God,” she whispered.

“Well, there’s no one left to be discreet around. We can officially go steady. For three weeks.”

“Like summer camp,” Mel said. “Only this time in the dead of winter. Listen, while you were with Jack, there was a phone call. Dr. Hernandez?”

“Really?”

“Is he one of yours? Or a plastic surgeon?”

“Plastics. He left a number, I hope.”

“On the desk. He’d like you to speak to his PA.”

Angie bolted for the phone. In fifteen minutes she was back. “Okay, here’s what we’ve got. The doctor wants to see her for an evaluation. If he can help, he will. His assistant will help me tally the other costs so I know exactly how much money I have to raise. Monday at 2:00 p.m.”

Mel grinned largely. “Where?”

“Davis. I’m crossing my fingers that this is a relatively simple procedure. He must be a good man. He’s waiving the office fee.”

“Do you want me to take her?”

“No, please let me. But I’ll have to go talk to her and her parents.”

“I have a suggestion,” Mel said. “She’s very close to the elementary school teacher, Becca Cutler. And you’re close in age. You might want to talk to her, enlist her help, maybe take her with you to the Thicksons’. It could give Megan peace of mind.”

* * *

Angie waited until the end of the school day to drive over to the elementary school and introduce herself to Becca. When she arrived, she found the day care staff of three still busy with small children in one room and in another she found a pretty young blonde woman on her knees in front of a miniature table, scraping glue and clay off the top. There was a bucket of soapy water beside her.

“Hi,” Angie said. “Are you Becca Cutler?”

She sat back on her heels and smiled. “I am.”

“I’m Angela LaCroix. Jack Sheridan is my uncle.”

“I heard you were coming up for a visit.” She stood up, wiping her hand on her jeans. “Nice to meet you.”

“So, this is the new school,” Angie said, looking around. There were colorful tubs and baskets full of supplies, mats on the floor, little tables and chairs, desks lined up in one corner, a sink, blackboard and a bookshelf.

“K through fifth,” Becca said. “The sixth graders go to middle school, then there’s the high school in the valley. This was your uncle Jack’s idea. Isn’t it awesome?”

“He can really surprise me sometimes,” Angie said. “I came to talk to you about one of your kids. It was at Mel’s suggestion. It’s about Megan Thickson—I’ve been helping Mel with a special project.” When she explained what she’d been trying to do and the upcoming doctor’s appointment, Becca teared up.

“Oh, God, could it really happen?”

“I have a long way to go,” Angie said. “If the plastic surgeon decides it can be done, the next step is to calculate the cost. Even if he donates his services, there’s still the cost of the outpatient surgi-center, lab work, post-op, et cetera. His assistant will break down the expenses. Then I go hunting for money,” she finished with a shrug.

“How expensive could it be?”

“I have no clue,” Angie said. “One of my uncles had a rotator cuff repair. He was knocked out for an hour and the surgery cost twenty-seven thousand dollars. Of course he had good insurance—it was covered. But who knows how costly Meg’s surgery might be? Mel has called all kinds of organizations and agencies and had no success in getting affordable help for Megan.

“But let’s not get all worried about that part yet—I haven’t even begun to go looking for money. Right now I have to convince the Thicksons to let me take Megan to Davis for an appointment with the doctor. That’s the first step. Would you come with me? We have to find a way to do this without letting her think it’s all set—we have to explain this is only a possibility. I just can’t break a little girl’s heart, so I was hoping you might be able to help her understand.”

“Of course I’ll go with you. I’d do almost anything for Megan. She’s one of the reasons I’m here, teaching, married to Denny.”

“Really?” Angie asked, lifting her brows.

“I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the Thicksons’. I love that little girl. I think she changed my life. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

* * *

Once Becca had finished organizing her classroom, Angie drove them to the Thicksons’. Becca lived right down the street and walked to school in the mornings and her car, a small sedan, wasn’t snow and mountain ready. If she had anywhere to go that required all-wheel drive, she took Denny’s truck.

“How did you end up here?” Angie asked.

“I came to find Denny. We dated years ago but he broke up with me before leaving for Afghanistan—it was a dark time in his life and that was one of many things he did that made no sense. I hadn’t seen him in three years but I really had to know if it was time to move on or if we deserved another chance.”

“That’s so sweet!” Angie said.

“There were quite a few bumps along the way,” Becca admitted with a laugh. “But that’s when I met Megan, the sweetest little girl. She’s had such a hard road, starting with her father losing his arm in a logging accident, her mother taking a job that made it hard for her to keep up with the family, and Megan’s self-esteem was really suffering because her teacher last year didn’t give her any encouragement. When Jack came up with the idea of this school, I was helpless. I had to say yes.”

“I guess it didn’t hurt that Denny was here.”

“He’d made a life for himself here, but he was willing to come home with me to San Diego. I never expected to end up here, but in the end it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Turn left up here, Angie—it’s a fairly long road through the trees before we get to the house.”

Angie was surprised to see a number of houses tucked into this woody, hilly, snow-covered area.

“Another left—it’s that small one up there. They’re sitting on several acres.”

“It’s very small,” she said. “How many children?”

“Four—Megan’s the oldest. They manage with two bedrooms. Things are much better for them now than when I first met them. Now Frank—Mr. Thickson—has a prosthesis and Denny was able to get him part-time work out at Jilly Farms. Lorraine has a hard job but she gets some overtime, which really can come in handy. This is a hard-working family that’s had some real challenges. I think saving for Megan to have surgery is a priority right now, but I don’t think they have much to spare.” When Angie parked, Becca brightened and said, “Come on. I can’t wait to hear their reaction to your news.”

Once Angie and Becca had said their hellos, they sat with Lorraine and Frank at the kitchen table and Angie explained the whole story. “This appointment would be just the first step and there are many steps. The doctor’s assistant will put together an estimate of costs—even with the surgeon’s contribution, there are still lab, staff and surgical center costs. But first things first—we’ll find out if it can be done, then how much we need, and then I can go on the hunt for contributions.”

Frank looked down at the scarred table top. “Charity grates on me.”

“This is important,” Angie said. “The sooner that scar is repaired properly, the better the chances there will be no disfigurement in her teen and adult years. Try to remember, Mr. Thickson—this isn’t about you. It’s about—”

“I know,” he said. He lifted his arm and rested his prosthetic limb on the table. “I’d do anything for Megan.”

Lorraine reached across the table and squeezed his natural hand. Just then, Megan joined them in the kitchen.

“I’d like to take Megan to Davis to see the doctor on Monday. We’d have to leave early, but we can do it in a day. Will you trust me with her safety?”

“You would do that?” Lorraine asked.

“I’d be so happy to. Becca would come along if she could but the school can’t spare her. But you’re welcome to come if you have the time.”

“I’ll check at the diner. I’d like to come with.”

“Just let me know. You can call me at the clinic.”

“And if this doctor…?”

“The first of many steps,” Angie said. “Here’s what I hope—I hope I can at least line up the providers and most of the funds before I go home at Christmastime. If I can get that much done, Mel would have no trouble taking it the rest of the way.” She smiled at Megan. “I believe this is going to work, Megan. I have a good friend who is a surgeon—not the kind you need, but a wonderful man. He’s been walking me through the process, telling me what I need to do. It might not be quick, but I really believe it’s going to happen.”

The little girl looked at her for a long moment before she let her lips rise in a small smile. And a tear ran out of her good eye. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper.