My Kind of Christmas (14 page)

“Any ride with you is wild.”

He knew every place to touch her, each erogenous spot that excited her, the movements that propelled her toward pleasure. When he hovered over her, spread her legs and entered her, she always gave him that satisfied sigh. When he rode her, she clung to him with a whimper of joy. He could always bring her to orgasm a couple of times before he took his own, and she couldn’t possibly know how happy that made him. That she responded to him so totally, gave herself so trustingly into his hands, let herself go like that… He was so grateful. It made him so happy he had to remind himself not to utter
I love you
.

Instead, he said, “Angie, I’ve never been with a woman like you. You’re everything. You’re amazing. Thank you for loving me like this, for giving me all the sweetness you give me.”

“It’s easy, Paddy,” she said against his lips. “You give it right back.”

* * *

From her spot in bed, Angie could hear Patrick on the phone in the great room early in the morning. “Are you sure I didn’t wake you?” he said to someone on the other line.

Marie
.

“I just wanted to check in because I’m going to be busy most of the weekend—there’s a lot going on at my brother’s house. Big dinner with friends, the women are gathering up and baking stuff for Christmas charity baskets and the men will be doing some snowmobiling and hanging out. I wanted to make sure you have phone numbers for Colin and Luke. And you have this number if you need to talk—but I’ll be at Colin’s a lot. You know to call if you need me, right?”

He’s hanging out with me,
Angie thought.
But he doesn’t want Marie to know.

“Yeah, it should be fun. Do you have plans?” There was a pause. “Looking at houses? Wow, you’re getting serious about putting down roots. Isn’t it too soon for that? Shouldn’t you wait awhile?” After another pause, “I know, the right house takes a long time to find. Are you getting frustrated, living with your parents?” And then he laughed. “I can appreciate that. I’m way beyond living with my family.”

Angie burrowed down into the covers, listening. He wouldn’t talk to Marie in front of her or within her hearing. He thought she was asleep.
Oh, Paddy, Paddy, what are you doing? Having your bad dreams and making love with me during the night, then calling Marie in the morning, almost like a guilty boyfriend?

She knew she’d never be enough for him. He wanted her, yet he didn’t think she could sustain him. He was looking for someone with experience at being a wife. She thought it might be a good idea to just walk away now, before things got even more intense, but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t. Not until the last possible moment.

“Are you feeling okay today?” Patrick said into the phone. “Well, I’ll be there soon, sweetheart. We’ll get through it.” And then he chuckled. “Yeah, he was kind of an ass last Christmas, wasn’t he? Would it help if I was an ass this Christmas?” More laughter. “I can probably do that without even trying. What? Here? Oh, this has been okay, all things considered. I’m glad I came....good to see Luke and Colin. It’s very cold, very white, sometimes very quiet.”

All things considered,
Angie repeated to herself.
Quiet? Except when you’re crying out in your sleep or making me scream your name at your touch.
She turned over in the bed, pulled the cover over her head and blocked him out. He talked to Marie like a girlfriend he was tragically separated from.

Or…like a sister who had lost her husband.

She pulled the covers down, listening again. “Give the little guy a wop on the butt for me and tell him Uncle Paddy is on the way. I’ll be there on the twenty-third. Try not to be in the middle of buying a house when I get there. I’ll go looking with you.”

And then he was back, slipping under the covers and curling around her back. He nuzzled her neck, thinking he was nuzzling her awake. “I made the coffee,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Jeeves,” she said. “You’re good to have around.” She rolled over onto her back and met his lips, his arms around her.

“Didn’t your mother make you coffee in the morning?”

“She did,” Angie answered, breathless. “Somehow it wasn’t the same.”

He laughed deeply. “No?” He rolled with her until she was beneath him. He was ready again; he was ready a lot.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” she ventured.

Not even slightly distracted, kissing her neck and cheek and temple, he answered. “I called Marie to check in because I’m going to be busy all weekend. I hope you’re not too attached to this T-shirt....”

“Did you get some sleep last night?” she asked.

“Plenty. Enough to take care of any morning needs you might have.”

“Oh, Paddy…”

* * *

Angie also had phone calls to make. The best way to keep people who are inclined to get in your business from looking for you is to head them off at the pass. So she checked in with Mel and with Jack, gave them reports on her progress on Megan’s behalf and explained she was spending some time with Riordans over the weekend, mostly at Jilly’s farm.

And then there was her mother.

It was possible Donna had called her at the cabin several times already and had no answer. They talked almost every day and sometimes twice a day. This past week, while Angie had been busy thumping for donations, their conversations had been both brief and tolerable.

“How are you, Mom?” she said.

“Excellent, out shopping. But how about you?”

She explained the exciting success of her first week on the trail of money. “I can’t tell you how the look on Megan’s face made my heart beat. She looked so hopeful, so thrilled. I made so much progress, I’m going to schedule the surgery. There’s no doubt I can make this happen.”

“Oh, Angie, you must be so proud! What a wonderful way to spend a vacation!”

“Complete accident, but I agree. Nothing makes a person feel more worthwhile than being able to lend a hand.”

“And so you are! This plays right into your future plans to make a full-time commitment to lending a hand.”

Angie was silent. “Right,” she said, thoroughly baffled by her mother’s support. “Though I’m not quite sure how yet. That’s going to take research and application.”

“But there is no doubt in my mind you’ll find the best possible route.”

“All right,” Angie said. “You’re being completely supportive of an idea you hate. What’s wrong?”

Donna laughed. “Listen, we had a tough go for a while, you and I. I attribute my less-than-ideal behavior to stress and fear—something you’ll understand one day when you’re a mother. And I know you won’t believe this, but I realize I’m a strong personality....”

“Oh, really?” she asked with a laugh.

“We’ll have a frank discussion about that after you try managing a home, three daughters, three hundred students, a husband and a dean.”

Angie laughed.

“Three brilliant daughters who are so easily bored they mix chemicals…”

“Right, I get it, Mom.”

“And of the three, I have to get one who’s gifted in science, one in music, one in athletics. I teach journalism—did I get a writer among you?”

“You’re completely right—you’ve been screwed.”

“Ange, I miss you. Not just because you’re there in Virgin River, but because even when we were under the same roof, we were estranged. At odds. I want us to get beyond that. I take responsibility—I’ve been overbearing. You’re an adult, so I’m officially backing off.”

“Okay, you’re really scaring me now. How’s your health? Do you have a fever?”

Donna laughed. “Never better. My blood pressure is even down a little.”

“No more talk about the psychiatrist?”

“Listen, if you ever sense you’re having trouble with focus or memory or cognition, please let me know so we can get help with that before…” Donna took a breath. “No more. I’m leaving that to you. Unless there’s an emergency, of course.”

“Wow. Did my leaving town make this happen?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “That and having you hang up on me. A lot.”

“Mom,” Angie dared. “I’m going to do things you don’t always want me to do. I’m going to make decisions you sometimes don’t agree with. You may even be right in your advice, but that doesn’t matter to me. It’s time I learned a few things on my own. Can you understand?”

“I can,” she said. “But, Angie, please be patient with me. I’m doing my best. And I swear to God, you will have a child one day and you’ll want that child to excel and have joy and never be hurt. It will sometimes put you on opposite sides. It’s not easy. It’s not.”

Angie was silent for a long stretch before she said, “It matters an awful lot to me that you’re trying. I appreciate that.”

* * *

There was hardly a person alive who didn’t find a visit to Jilly Farms purely magical. The big old Victorian on ten acres of farmland had roads leading around and through the various plots, sheds, greenhouses and fields, which were separated by snow-covered trees. The house was decorated for Christmas outside and in; Colin’s artwork gracing the walls in every room except one—the lone painting in the dining room was a modern rendition of a Native American woman and child done by a friend of his, a famous artist.

Patrick drove Angie around the grounds in what Colin called the gardenmobile. They went inside greenhouses and marveled at indoor winter gardens. There were inactive steppe gardens on the hill, presently snow covered, but from March and April planting until September harvest they were covered with plants and vines. Fruit trees bordered the property; berry bushes separated gardens.

But even more fun than the house and land were the people. The kitchen was full of women—Jilly, Kelly, Kelly’s step-daughter Courtney, Becca Cutler, whose young husband was Jilly’s assistant and partner, and Shelby Riordan. Kelly, she learned, was a chef and she was the one directing the activity.

“I can help,” Angie offered.

“Do you bake?” Kelly asked.

“Sure. Miserably.”

They all laughed. “Then partner up with Courtney—she’s getting scary good at this stuff at fifteen. She’s working on sweet bread rolls—the biggest, softest, most delicious rolls in California—my great-grandmother’s recipe.”

“Right over here,” Courtney invited, calling Angie down to the end of the work island. “Roll the dough balls about this size and we load them in the pan like so. Last fall Kelly, Jilly and I made tons and tons of zucchini bread, pumpkin bread and cranberry bread. Most of it we’ll thaw for the Christmas baskets.”

“Who do they go to?”

“A lot of people! First of all, those who have fallen on hard times, especially the elderly who live off the grid in outlying areas. Then there are lots in town who barely squeak by. And this year we’re putting together the baskets—er, I mean, boxes. Baskets are too pricey. We’re putting them together here because there’s so much more room than at the bar and because Jilly has ginormous freezers in the cellar. And pantry shelves for Kelly’s canned goods and sauces and stuff that she sells all over the place. Jilly grows it, Kelly uses it.”

“It’s special stuff,” Becca added. “Organic, heirloom fruits and vegetables. Very beautiful, healthy, delicious stuff.”

Angie rolled dough and listened to them extol the virtues of the farm, of the retail food business. Patrick had disappeared—the men were staying clear of the kitchen. And then, quite suddenly, the landscape in the kitchen changed. A huge pot came out of the refrigerator and went to the stove, bags of greens and vegetables joined forces in an enormous wooden bowl, the last batch of bread was some fresh-baked French loaves that were sliced and slathered with a garlic paste. Angel-hair pasta was rinsed, plates and flatware went to the table.

“My God, you all work together like a machine!” Angie exclaimed.

“We’ve done this before, many times,” Kelly said. “We’re all kind of related, at least by work and marriage. And when you get down to it, we share a common purpose—keeping the farm going, the people fed well and the food at the dinner table five-star.”

“Amazing,” Angie said. “It’s almost communal living at its best.”

“Sometimes more than almost,” Jilly said. “There have been many friends and family members under this roof.”

“But Jilly would rather be in the garden or traveling with Colin,” Kelly assured her. “Jilly is a master farmer and Colin is a brilliant painter, but neither of them is interested in running a hotel. For that, they need help.”

The table was crowded for dinner. Angie had never before been terribly impressed with spaghetti and meatballs, but today she was awed. “This is the best I’ve ever had,” she said. “The sauce is wonderful and the meatballs—God, they are perfect in every way.”

Kelly took the opportunity to brag. “First of all, Jill grew these tomatoes and they’re priceless. There’s a farmer in the valley with free range turkeys for the meat—he’s a love. I buy a lot of turkey meat from him. In fact, I like to pick out my turkey and—”

Several people at the table said, “Ewwww…”

“Well, I don’t name them!” Kelly said.

“She picks her calves, too,” her husband, Lief, said. “You probably don’t want to know any more about this process. Chefs like to go to the wharves and smell the fish, grow their lobsters and select their shrimp and crab. She’s very fussy about scallops but she’ll take just about any duck I shoot.”

“And deer?”

“She leaves the venison to Preacher.”

“He’s the best there is,” Kelly confirmed. “But you’re right about the turkey meatballs. And the sauce, my nana’s—the best recipe I’ve ever used. Perfect. And there’s tiramisu for dessert.”

“You will die, it’s so good,” Becca said.

And it was during dessert that Patrick urged her to fill them in on Megan. Before they’d even picked up plates, everyone was eager to add to the fund.

Late that night, back at Patrick’s cabin, Angie snuggled up against him in bed and said, “I envy them in a way. I mean, I don’t want to teach or garden or cook, but still…”

“What do you envy, then?”

“They know exactly what they want. And who they want it with.”

Twelve

L
uke and Shelby were the last ones to leave the Victorian after dinner. Luke held his hefty son; Brett’s head rested against Luke’s shoulder, sound asleep.

“He’s going to fuck it up,” Luke said as Colin walked him to their car.

“Luke!” Shelby admonished. “My God, I hate to even think what Brett’s language is going to be like! Besides, what are you talking about?”

“Paddy,” Luke said. “He’s in love with her, with Angie. And he’s going to move on without her.”

“Did he tell you he’s in love with her?” Shelby asked.

“He didn’t have to,” Luke said. “Right, Colin?”

“I’m pretty sure Luke’s right. I’ve seen Patrick with other women. That last one, Leigh, he was with her for four years and we’d never have met her if we hadn’t gone to Charleston. He didn’t look at her like he looks at Angie. And when Angie looks at him, she lights up.”

“I should have a talk with him,” Luke said.

Everyone laughed.

“How is that funny? That’s not funny.”

Colin put a hand on Luke’s back. “Mind your own business. He’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe, maybe not. The Riordan men aren’t known for figuring things out. And he’s only got another couple of weeks here.”

“He does look better than he did two weeks ago,” Jilly said. “Better rested, I think.”

“Of course he’s rested. He probably hates to even get out of bed these days!”

“Oh, Luke,” Shelby said. “Let’s get you home before you say something stupid.”

“I’m just making an honest observation,” he grumbled. “I should really talk to him....”

* * *

Since that first night together, Angie and Patrick hadn’t spent a night apart. He loved falling into bed with her, loved waking up with her. He knew how much his heart would ache when they ended this, and he worried that it was going to scar hers. But she always reminded him that, even if they did have a future together, he would be deployed often. And she had plans of her own. So Patrick tried, somewhat successfully, to take this comforting routine at face value and not to think about it too much.

Right now, his relationship with Angie out in the open, life was good. They could spend time with his brothers and her family, have a beer or dinner at the bar without ruffling Jack’s avuncular feathers. In fact, in the past week, Jack had become downright friendly.

Angie worked every day, though Mel encouraged her to take as much time to play as she wanted. But Angie was setting up a surgery and wanted to be one hundred percent involved. Megan was scheduled for the operation in one week—on the seventeenth. Angie planned to travel to Davis with her, to get her own hotel room so that after the doctor saw Megan, she could bring her home. Megan’s mother would stay in Megan’s room all night, along with Dr. Hernandez’s nurse.

Paddy begged his way along.

“I’m not sure it’s proper,” she said.

“We’ll get two rooms if you want,” he said. “We won’t use them, but we can get them. Let me do the driving.”

They’d had such a wonderful weekend together, first with the group at the Victorian and then a day of adventurous snowmobiling. And always, no matter what went on during the day, they had that time together alone at night. And there hadn’t been anymore nightmares.

But Patrick still called Marie daily, promising to be with her for Christmas when grief might hit her hardest.

On this particular day, he went to Fortuna to shop. He wanted to stock his refrigerator for that night. He was planning to meet Angie at the bar along with others from town. They’d have a beer or glass of wine, then she’d follow him home and he’d make her a special dinner—Italian beef that had been simmering in the Crock-Pot all afternoon, drowning in spices and gravy, potatoes whipped into silk, peas and carrots. He grabbed a chocolate cake, her favorite wine, his favorite beer, eggs, milk and a few other staples.

He had loved cooking for Leigh, too, but she never seemed to care much, always preferring dinner at a restaurant. Angie, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy everything he made for her and spending the time alone together.

Heading for his car in the grocery store parking lot, he heard a sound that stopped him in midstride. It was that telltale click of a dead battery. Click, click, click. And then a woman got out of her car and lifted the hood. She was a tall woman around fifty years old who looked good in jeans. She had short auburn hair and wore a leather jacket. She stared at the engine. Patrick had seen this before—she thought her problem might jump out at her.

He walked over, holding his two bags of groceries. “Battery,” he said simply.

“I know,” she returned, irritably. “Why now? I’m headed to my brother’s and I’m almost there. I wanted to grab a few things—gifts for his family—and now the car won’t start.”

“Is he close by?”

She shook her head. “Another half hour or so up the mountain. But I can call him....”

“Here’s what we can do,” Patrick said. “I can give you a jump and you can either carry on, let your brother help you. Or, I can follow you to the auto supply and put in a new battery for you. I have a toolbox in the Jeep.” He gave a shrug. “If you need a new battery, which I’m pretty sure you will, you’re going to have to come all the way back here to buy it, anyway.”

“I have Triple-A…”

“It’ll take them longer to get here than it will take us to buy and install a new battery. Let’s just do it.”

She smiled very attractively. “I could pay you for your help,” she said.

“I’m already paid pretty well. And I have a little time to kill. Let me bring around the Jeep, get your engine going and we’ll get this done in no time.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Just when you start to lose faith in human nature… You’re very kind to help with this. Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble. I wouldn’t leave you stranded. I’ll be right back.”

He stowed his groceries in the Jeep and swung around to park directly in front of her. He hooked up the jumper cables and, in no time flat, he had her car running.

“The auto supply is right up the street. Just follow me. This should be simple enough.”

Less than a five-minute drive later, they were in the store together and he was helping her pick out a new battery. Although this didn’t take long, they did have a chance to talk a little. She was visiting family for a few days; he was sitting out some leave near his brothers. He was a Navy pilot, she was a teacher. She said she hadn’t been able to convince her husband to come along and was going to make sure he heard about this. He said putting in a battery was simple, if she wanted to learn.

“I’d rather just make a phone call,” she said.

“Well, if you’re going back in the mountains, your cell won’t work. I think you’re probably lucky your battery went dead here in Fortuna rather than out on a mountain road somewhere, although as long as your engine was running, you were safe.”

“But now I’m safer,” she said. “I bet I can risk going to a florist before I get on my way.”

“A florist, a deli, a dress shop, whatever you feel like.” He tightened down the screw and said, “Start her up.”

She got in the car, turned the ignition and the car roared to life. She left it running, but got out and faced him. “Are you sure I can’t pay you for your trouble?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m overpaid already, seriously. I’m just glad I could help.”

“You’re a very impressive young man. I just wish I could wrap you up and give you to my daughter for Christmas.”

He laughed and said, “I’m afraid I’m taken.”

“Unsurprising.” She put out her hand. “I’m Donna,” she said.

“Patrick,” he returned, shaking her hand. “Drive safely.”

“I think I might look around Fortuna. I have plenty of time. It wouldn’t hurt to grab a few things for my brother’s children, since I’m surprising him.”

“Enjoy,” Paddy said, heading for his Jeep.

Patrick looked at his watch. That little adventure had only cost him forty minutes that he could certainly spare. Then it was home to set up his roast. Easily done. Then he peeled potatoes and got them underwater. He was cheating on the peas and carrots—frozen. But frozen was good. Angie, who loved everything, wasn’t much of a cook. She was easy to impress. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing he did that didn’t wind her watch and he laughed to himself.

She was so good for his ego, an ego that had suffered the past year. He’d been feeling unsure of himself. A little lost, really. But Angie brought him back to life, made him smile. Laugh. Most important, with her he could revisit hopefulness. Optimism.

In record time, he was on his way to the bar. When he got there, he jumped up on a stool at the end, staying out of the way.

Jack slapped a napkin on the bar in front of him. “How’s it going, pardner?”

“Good, thanks. Beer?”

“You meeting Ange?”

“Yep.”

“Having dinner tonight?”

“I cooked,” he said. “I’m a good cook.”

“I’m sure,” Jack said, placing the cold draft in front of Patrick. The bar hadn’t filled up yet, giving Jack too much time to linger. “And after dinner?” he asked.

“Scrabble,” Paddy said, lifting the icy mug.

“You two must be getting pretty good at Scrabble.”

“She annihilates me. Every time. And I can spell.”

“She’s brilliant,” Jack agreed. “So, when do you leave?”

“Ready for me to go?” Paddy asked.

“Not necessarily. If you’re fool enough to leave her, I just want to be ready to scoop up my little girl and try to keep her from falling apart.”

Patrick got serious for a moment, against his better judgment. “Jack, it has nothing to do with intelligence—it’s just what I have to do. How this went was always up to her. I swear, I didn’t manipulate her. I was honest from the start.”

Jack sighed heavily. “I know. She was hell-bent. Just try to be a little…I don’t know…sensitive.”

“Absolutely. I think the world of Angie. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever… But, see, that’s not going to count for much because Angie has her own plans.”

“So I hear. But just the same. Go easy, all right?”

Patrick wanted to say something like,
I wouldn’t hurt her for the world,
except leaving her was going to hurt her to at least some degree. Despite her bravado, she was going to grieve him. He was definitely going to grieve her. He wanted to tell Jack he had regrets, which he did, and top of the list was his making a commitment to Marie, even though he knew it was the right thing to do.

“Hold her up, Jack,” Patrick said. “She deserves better than some jet jockey.”

“Probably right about that.”

And right then, speak of the devil, Angie walked into the bar. When he saw her, he sat taller. “Look at her, Jack. She lights up the whole place. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

“Not lately.”

And in no time it was easy to see why Patrick was doing this—to be able to lift his arm to circle her shoulders, put a kiss on her cheek, bask in her smile for a little while. To feel that she was
his
. It brought such a rush of pride. He wondered if he’d ever felt this way about Leigh, but if he had, he couldn’t remember it now.

Angie leaned toward her uncle and kissed his cheek, and even that brought Patrick pleasure. It made him feel a part of something.

Jack served her up a glass of wine and made small talk while he still could; soon the bar would begin to fill up with the dinner crowd and all those people from other towns and outlying regions who wanted to see the magnificent tree. And just before the sun began to set, there was a familiar face in the bar. That tall, auburn-haired woman from the grocery store parking lot walked into the bar.

“Donna!” Jack said, surprised.

“Oh, my God,
Mom!
” Angie said, horrified.

Instinctively, Patrick’s arm went around Angie’s shoulders and pulled her closer, claiming her. Protecting her. Because she was
his.

* * *

He’ll never let her go again,
Jack found himself thinking. He’d seen it a hundred times in this town. The chemistry was just too damn strong; it rolled off them in waves. He wasn’t sure how they could make it work if Patrick had a military commitment and Angie was hell-bent to join the peace corps or a reasonable facsimile. But he couldn’t miss Patrick’s proprietary action.
Publicly
claiming her in front of her mother.

The shock and awe on Angie’s and Donna’s faces told the tale—Donna did not know Angie was seeing someone. Well, Jack certainly hadn’t wanted to tell her. Obviously Brie felt the same way.

He held his breath. He hoped his big sister would handle this wisely. Donna was a wonder woman, no doubt about that, but she seriously liked having her way.

She walked right up to Angie and said, “Darling. How I’ve missed you.”

Angie let herself be embraced, returned the embrace, but then she said, “This isn’t what I’d call giving me space.”

“I won’t be in your way. I might try to steal a few minutes here and there, but I didn’t come here to hound you. I didn’t have to teach so, on a wild lark, I just decided to drive up and take some time off.”

“And you’re staying where?”

“Jack’s guesthouse, of course.” She nodded at Patrick. “Hello again.”

Now everyone but Donna and Patrick were startled. In fact, typical of this bar, the din quieted so that every word could be overheard. People actually moved or at least leaned closer.

“Again?” Angie asked.

“My car battery went out in the grocery store lot in Fortuna. This lovely young man not only got me going again, he helped me buy and install a new battery.”

“Having no idea this could be your mother,” he said. Then he grinned and added, “I would have helped her, anyway. In fact, I think she liked me.”

Donna lifted her chin in agreement. “I had no idea that when you said you were ‘taken,’ the person who has taken you could possibly be my daughter. She never mentioned a young man in her life.”

“For very good reason,” Angie said.

Jack began wiping water spots out of glasses, an action that always occupied him when he didn’t know what else to do. Donna might wisely let Angie off the hook for not telling about Patrick, but Jack didn’t expect to get off so easily. “Did you call Mel or Brie? Let them know you were coming?” he asked.