My Kind of Christmas (5 page)

“I don’t want that to happen,” he said glumly.

“Out of my hands. He’s a Riordan. The fact that he’s always been a real docile and sweet Riordan makes no difference at all.”

“Look, I like you Riordan boys just fine,” Jack said. “But the lot of you—you’re scrappy, you’re ornery and you’re like heat-seeking missiles. That’s my niece!”

“Yeah, Riordans are a lot like Jack Sheridan,” Luke pointed out.

“Irrelevant,” Jack said.

“That Riordan…if he’s got his eye on a target—hey, nothing any of us can do. That’s just how it is. You of all people should understand that. Besides, at thirty-eight I married a twenty-five-year-old and no one had a headache about that.”

“As I recall, her uncle was a little annoyed....”

“We had some things to work out, me and Uncle Walt. But the rest of you old boys just laughed at me, said I’d be going to college graduations with a walker.”

Jack ground his teeth. Then, while he watched Angie and Patrick, he asked, “You and Shelby planning more kids?”

“Why?”

“Because I wish a girl on you!” And then Jack stomped off into the bar.

* * *

Angie couldn’t help how she felt when she saw Patrick standing across the street watching her. He’d come back. If he’d just gone into the bar, it wouldn’t have meant as much, but he had no interest in the bar—he wanted to see her in the cherry picker. It was like he was rooting for her.

And she wanted him to see her.

She walked across the street to him. “You got your ride,” he said.

“I did. Is Uncle Jack still watching me?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets and laughing a little. “He’s going to be a problem, isn’t he?”

“Completely.”

“How would you like to handle that?” Patrick asked.

“Do you think if we ignore him, he’ll go away?”

“I have my doubts,” Patrick said. “He’s a little on the grouchy side.”

“So are you,” she pointed out.

“Aw, I’m coming around. He isn’t going to beat me up, is he?”

“If he does, I’ll never speak to him again and, trust me, that would sting. I’m his favorite. He doesn’t admit that because he has a whole flock of nieces, but I am his favorite. But I’m getting a little bored with this—he’s treating me like a twelve-year-old virgin.”

Patrick risked his life by fingering a strand of her hair and slipping it behind her ear. “You’re not, are you?”

Here’s where Angie might have a little trouble. She was smart, but she wasn’t worldly. Especially with men. One of her regrets, actually. She was twenty-three and she’d had a couple of boyfriends and only one had been semiserious. Oh, Alex had been serious to her, but apparently he hadn’t been serious
about
her. She just shook her head and said, “I told you, I’m twenty-three.”

“I see,” he said. “That was obviously half an answer.”

“The whole answer is no.”

He laughed at her and asked, “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Tree decorating. And then since everyone is in town for the tree, Mel is going to give me an orientation at the clinic today so that Monday morning I can start helping her out. That’s about it.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you come to my place tonight. I’ll cook.”

“Dinner?” she asked. “Did you just invite me to dinner?”

“I did. I’m going to try to make up for being so unfriendly—I’m actually a nice guy. Too old for you, but nice. I’m going into Fortuna to get a few things—I make a mean chili and it’ll taste good on a cold night. But if you say yes, I want you to tell Jack where you’re going to be and that you’ll be perfectly safe with that dangerous Riordan.” He laughed and added, “I should’ve known this would happen—my brothers haven’t all been easygoing. I got a reputation by association. So, any interest in a bowl of chili and a fire?”

“Do you have saltines? And shredded cheddar?”

“I will have. Will you tell your uncle?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But I’ll tell Mel so if he’s looking for me, she can keep him under control.”

“I’m serious, Angie—you’ll be in good hands. I’ll treat you like the little sister I never had.”

She smirked and said, “Sounds very exciting. I can hardly wait. What time?”

* * *

Later that afternoon Mel gave Angie a tour of the clinic, which was in an old house that had belonged to the town doctor before he died. He had willed it to Mel. The living room functioned as the waiting room and was decorated like someone’s grandmother’s living room. The dining room was the reception center and file storage. Downstairs also held the kitchen, two small exam/treatment rooms and a little office. Upstairs were a couple of bedrooms—one made up as a hospital room, one for a doctor or practitioner staying overnight, plus a roomy bathroom. Mel showed her where all the supplies were, where the drugs and treatment kits were kept and showed her how to operate the rather old-fashioned autoclaves for sterilizing.

“I love this,” Angie said.

“We could use a lot of updating, but we’re a poor town. Our ace in the hole is the ambulance, which allows us to transport patients to better facilities if necessary.”

“I think it’s wonderful. Do you know what a town in Ethiopia would give for something this grand?”

Mel was stopped in her tracks, focused on Angie’s face. “Hey. What’s going on with you? That was a pretty interesting comment.”

“Nothing much,” she said. “I just think this is—”

“Bullshit. I see those wheels turning. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know. It’s just that…I’m having a hard time seeing myself as one of the doctors who treated me. I mean, they were all incredible and there’s no question they saved my life. But it made me wonder—what happens to people who don’t have UCLA Medical? After the experience I just had, shouldn’t I be ten times as inspired to get back to med school? And yet… Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I’ll figure it out.”

Mel smiled softly. “I’ve only known you for five years, yet in that short time I’ve grown accustomed to the way you think out of the box.”

“But look at this place, Mel—you make a difference here, I know it. When people come here who don’t have money or insurance, they get the help they need. Don’t they?”

“We can’t do everything, but they get our best.”

“And I’ve heard you say—sometimes you’re paid in eggs.”

She laughed. “We’re paid in very interesting ways. One very darling lady from back in the mountains fancies herself a well-known psychic—she offered to pay me by telling me my future.”

Angie gasped. “What
is
in your future?”

“I can only guess! My past is shocking enough—why would I want to know my future?”

“But what if it’s only wonderful?”

“Then it will still be wonderful when it gets here. Ange, I wouldn’t go to a psychic. I have enough to worry about.”

“But I hear they never tell you the bad stuff!”

“Really?” Mel asked with raised brow. “Then what’s the point? If they don’t tell you what to look out for, what’s the good of hearing about that stuff that will work out just fine, anyway?”

“Oh, there’s so much more to it! I love the idea of a psychic! Maybe I’ll go—do you still have your freebie?”

“I might, but I don’t know…”

“Well, never mind. I have something to tell you.” A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she said, “I’m going to be having dinner with Patrick Riordan tonight. He’s going to cook for us. He insisted I tell Uncle Jack where I’d be and with whom, just in case there’s some worry. But I’m not telling Uncle Jack—he’s gone a little around the bend where I’m concerned. So I’m telling
you.
”

“Oh, gee, thanks. I just love being the one to keep secrets from Jack,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Angie laughed. “If you sense Jack getting worked up about where I am, you can tell him.”

“So things are getting interesting between you and Patrick?” Mel asked.

“Not quite. In fact, he assured me he would treat me like his little sister tonight.”

Mel smiled. “Why does that make me feel better?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Angie said. “You should probably visit that psychic and ask her why it makes you happy to learn that your adult niece is going to be treated like an inexperienced child!”

“I don’t need a psychic to explain that,” Mel said.

Four

P
atrick mixed up his chili and had it ready on the stove. He chopped onion and peppers, added them to the ground beef, then opened a bunch of cans—beans and diced tomatoes—and added packaged seasoning mix. It was a real poor man’s chili, but delicious nonetheless. Then he headed for the phone to call Marie, even though he’d already talked to her for a few minutes in the morning.

When Jake had been killed, Marie left Charleston almost immediately. There was a memorial a week after the crash and then her family swept her away, headed for home—Oklahoma City. The Navy had ensured her move was swift and efficient.

“You don’t have to go,” Patrick had said. “I have a big enough house. Have the Navy put most of your stuff in storage and take your time. You have ties in Charleston—friends, a job, a city you know and like....”

“The hardest thing to leave is you,” she said. “You’ve been such a good friend to me. But you’ll deploy again before long.”

“Not too soon, and I’ll be back. And we’ll keep in touch.”

But she just shook her head. “Navy wives are very supportive of one another, in good times and bad, but my friends shouldn’t be responsible for holding me upright. I’m sure we’ll always be in touch but, like it or not, the Navy part of my life is over. I’m going home.”

A few weeks later, the Navy shrink told him that, rather than going back to the ship, he thought Patrick should take as much leave as the Navy would allow. At that point Patrick headed for Oklahoma City. He stayed in a neighborhood motel near Marie’s parents’ home, intending to be her support for as long as she needed. There was no mistaking she was thrilled to see him even though they’d barely said goodbye in Charleston. But after four days she had said, “Paddy, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, but you have to check in with your brothers, your family. You need healing as much as I do.”

“We can heal together,” he said. His guilt weighed on him. No matter what anyone else said, Patrick felt as though he had some responsibility in Jake’s death. And now, the least he could do was offer himself up to Marie. He hadn’t been able to save her husband. He should at least be able to save her.

“Right now I’m going to rely on my parents, sister and brother and figure out how to face the holidays without Jake. Go to your family and let them comfort you.”

He tried to argue a bit; his family wasn’t expecting him for the holidays—he was supposed to be at sea. Jake’s death might’ve changed a few things for him but the Riordans had other plans.

“It’s not like they won’t be grateful for a visit,” Marie had said. “And in some ways your wonderful vigilance makes this even harder. We’ll be in touch and we’ll see each other again soon when we’re both a little stronger. Then we can spend more time laughing over the good times we had with Jake and less time crying and agonizing over our loss.”

That’s when Patrick had reached out to Aiden and asked about the cabin. No doubt he could have counted on either Luke or Colin for a bed, but he couldn’t stay with anyone right now. He had to be alone because of the nightmares. They didn’t come every night, but often enough. He’d managed to get all that leave without even mentioning the dreams, but he’d be damned if he’d wake up screaming in his brother’s house. He said he needed privacy and quiet and everyone bought it.

There was a part of him that had been disappointed when Marie sent him on his way, but a part of him was enormously relieved. With Marie he could lick his wounds and have company while missing Jake, but it was all a reminder that there was no one special in his life. And that he’d put far too much stock in a woman who hadn’t been there for him—Leigh. And it reminded him of how much responsibility he now carried. He had to look after Marie and Daniel, perhaps forever. He’d given his word.

But while his chili simmered, he called Marie
again
. “How are you doing?” he asked instead of saying hello.

“Pretty well, actually,” she said. “I forgot to tell you—last week, before Thanksgiving, I made an appointment with an employment counselor. I’m going to see him next week. I know jobs are scarce in this economy, but I’m a certified radiology technician. Jobs might not spring up over the holidays, but I’m a qualified candidate and I’ll be ready in the new year. And you know what? It feels kind of good to get started.”

“You’re committed to Oklahoma City?” he asked.

She answered with a laugh. “What are my choices, Paddy?”

“Well…there’s always Charleston.”

“Aw, sweetheart, I don’t have any family there and I have a son to raise.”

“I’m still there.”

“You’re there a few months a year. Listen, that was a hard enough gig when I had a husband coming home to me. It’s not going to work with my dead husband’s best friend.”

“It could,” he said. “I will always be there for you.”

“You are a saint and might live to regret it. I could be calling on you till I’m a lonely ninety-year-old widow. What you need, Patrick, is a woman.”

“Oh, really?” he said.

“You and Leigh parted company a long time ago, and unless you’re really good at covering your feelings, you weren’t real surprised and not all that disappointed.”

“I
was
very surprised and disappointed!”

“All right, all right,” she said, surprising him with a laugh. “You bounced back well and good for you. What I’m saying is, you can find a good woman now. It no longer has the danger of rebound written all over it. Just look around, Patrick.”

“In Virgin River? Right.”

“They’re forming a line in Charleston as we speak,” she said, teasing him. “Paddy, you’re there for me, I’m there for you, but, my darling friend, you’re going to find the right woman before long. You just have to be open to it.”

Having chili with a cute little package tonight,
he thought.
Just not girlfriend material
. “Right. Sure. Meantime, I have a house in Charleston where you had a life—where you can still have one. Keep an open mind, all right? Because you and Daniel are family to me.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said. “The best friend a widow girl could have.”

He didn’t say much to that, just asked after her folks, Daniel and the weather and then said goodbye. It was too soon for her to think of him as more than a friend. But he had begun to formulate a plan in his mind. He was almost thirty-four and wanted stability in his life—a woman he could depend on, a family, a future he could trust as much as was possible. And here he was—committed to his best friend’s widow. Wasn’t it smart to form a committed relationship with someone who was a best friend, someone he could depend on, someone he really knew? He wasn’t in love with her, at least not in the conventional sense, but how important was that in the grand scheme of things? She was an awesome woman, very pretty, extremely smart, an excellent mother and had unshakable values. He could step into Jake’s shoes effortlessly. He could love her for a lifetime; he would never regret it. He was trying to remember what more there was to consider, to hold out for, when there was a knock at the door.

He opened it to find Angie huddling into her thick jacket, a fresh young beauty wearing a smile sent to earth by the angels. Her hair was thick and soft, her eyes large and dark, her cheeks flushed and lips full and pink. Had he warned her not to get mixed up with the likes of him? What a damn fool he was—the mere sight of her made him forget Marie and long to hold her. She tempted him beyond sanity. A young woman like this would be his downfall for certain. He needed maturity; he wanted the kind of woman he knew he could count on. What did a woman know at twenty-three?

“Your directions were fine, but because of the dark I missed the turnoff three times.”

“Sorry,” he said lamely, standing in the open door.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He shook himself. “Sorry,” he said again. “I just hung up from talking to Marie, my friend’s widow. I’ll shake it off in a second. Come on in.”

“Listen, if you need to cancel, if this turned out to be a bad night, after all…”

“Nah, come in.”

She stepped into the cabin uncertainly. “It probably puts you in a kind of sad, grieving place.”

“Not usually,” he said. “I try to talk to her for a few minutes every day. Can I get you a beer? I saw you have a beer at Jack’s so I bought a six-pack. Sam Adams okay?”

She laughed softly. “You bought it just for tonight? You might be the only guy I know who doesn’t stock beer. Sam Adams is great, thanks.”

“Chili’s ready and keeping warm, but take off your jacket and relax by the fire for a while first.”

“Wow—this place is awesome,” she said, looking around the great room. “No wonder you wanted to take a little R and R here.”

He fetched a couple of beers and joined her on the couch. “My brother’s wife practically rebuilt the place out of a shack a couple of years ago.” He handed her a beer.

“You’re a good friend, you know. It’s too bad your friend, Marie’s husband, doesn’t get a chance to see what an excellent friend you are, calling her every day.”

Oh, he’d be very surprised,
Patrick thought. What would Jake think of Patrick nurturing the idea of picking up where he’d left off? But he said, “He’d expect nothing less. And if I’d left a wife and child, he’d do the same. We’ve been tight since the Academy. Almost fifteen years. We haven’t always been stationed together, but it never mattered.” He couldn’t help it, he looked down. “I wish we hadn’t been assigned together a couple of months ago.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“What if it was?” he shot back. He wiped a hand over his face. “Okay, we shouldn’t go there. The investigation showed it was hostile, but I was responsible for him. If I’m still a little scarred, it’s probably reasonable. Quick, use your young, nubile, med student mind to change the subject to safer territory.”

She grinned suddenly. “You find my
mind
nubile?”

Right,
he thought,
like every other part of you.
Then he remembered that while she might look quite young, she was brilliant. She’d catch everything.

“All right,” she said. “Tell me about what you were like growing up and how it was with four older brothers, all very close in age.”

“On one condition,” he said. “You have to promise not to ask any of them the same question.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they will tell stories.”

“I’m not sure I can promise that,” she said with a laugh. “Come on.”

“Well, being the youngest, they protected me all my life, but the price was very high. They’d always be there for me, but they’d never let me forget a single slip or embarrassing moment. I’m thirty-three and I’m still hearing about the night I got caught making out at my girlfriend’s house. By her mom and dad.”

She looked a little nonplussed. “That’s not exactly original. Everyone’s been caught kissing.”

“Her sweater was in my hand and her bra was draped over the lampshade. They came home early....”

She laughed happily. “More,” she demanded.

“I peed on the side of a highway patrolman’s car.”

“Awww, well, little boys sometimes have lapses in judgment like that.”

“I was twenty-five. And had been out with my brothers. I blame them.”

“It sounds like they taught you everything you know. I was wondering about when you were much younger.”

“It’s not good stuff. I was the last one to give up a binky, the slowest to potty train, was lost several times—once requiring police intervention—and my mother thought I’d be taking my blanket with me to football camp. It suggests I
liked
being the baby. I didn’t pay attention in school until my football and basketball careers were on the line, which started in junior high. But I was always very nice.”

“What do you mean by that? Nice?”

“As my mother said, I knew where to butter my bread. Luke said I was a little con artist, Colin called me the family phony, Sean said I was an ass kisser, but Aiden always liked me and found me sincere. Aiden was the only one who was wrong. I was definitely a kiss ass.”

This made her laugh and, since he liked the sound, he went on. “By the time I was ten, Luke had enlisted. When I was twelve, Colin went in, both of them Army warrant officers who flew helicopters. When I was fourteen Sean had an Air Force Academy slot with a pipeline to a flying job—you can only get jets if you go to an Academy these days, you can’t enlist and sign up for flight school. Then Aiden headed for college on a Navy scholarship—he’s a doctor. It was down to me. In my mind, the only choice left was deciding which branch of the military I’d join. I got an appointment to the Naval Academy. I went to the same senator Sean had gotten his recommendation from—you can’t get into an Academy without serious political juice.”

She sat back on his sofa, shock on her face. She took a drink of her Sam Adams and then continued to stare.

“What?” he asked.

“How’d you do in the Academy?” She wanted to know.

“I did fine.”

“
How
fine?”

“Well. I did well. I graduated second in the class. Got a couple of awards.”

“And flight school?”

He narrowed his eyes. First in his class. Every class. “Well,” he said.

“You little pisser, teasing me about my
nubile brain
. You were an overachiever.”

“Who spent about four years in diapers…”

“With a binky in your mouth. There isn’t a single prescription for brainiacs, except it sounds like growing up with four older brothers might have put you in want of a brotherhood and the Academy. Flight school and a military career would fit right into your pattern. And apparently you were a lot more social than I was.”

“Do you know everything?”

“I read.”

“I read, too. But not about stuff like that.”

“I know. You’re reading weapons systems, math, aerospace, combat strategy, et cetera. I’m a science major who loves psychology. My degrees are in biology and chemistry with a minor in psych. I’m kind of drawn to the study of genetics, statistics, environmental science, DNA studies, that sort of thing.” She shrugged and said, “That’s how I relax. Reading that stuff.”