Snowflake Bay (22 page)

“Or me, Logan, Calder, and an afternoon of football.”

She paused. “Also true.”

He wanted to hear the smile in her voice, but all he heard was fatigue. That didn't surprise him, but it made him wish there was something more he could do. “Well, maybe a plate of warm food and a soft bed for a few hours wouldn't be a bad idea. You guys could take turns in shifts at the hospital. It's not going to do anyone any good if you're all running on empty.”

“I know,” she said tiredly. “You're right. And I will. Eventually. Alex wanted to know if the roads were good enough for me to get my car out. Or when you thought that could happen. We're just trying to coordinate on our end. I know starting tomorrow, things are insane for you, so I'm trying to factor that in as well. I know the last thing you want to do is dig my car out, and it'll be dark soon.”

“Why don't you have Alex bring you out in the morning, or whenever is best for you tomorrow? Like I said at the hospital, I've got a company truck you can borrow. If you're comfortable with that.”

“That's very generous, truly. But of all the times for you to be down one company truck, I'm thinking this is not that time.”

“It's my dad's truck. We didn't take it down to Carolina, and it's not assigned to anyone.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding caught short. “Ben, that's—thank you. That's very kind, but—”

“It's also very practical. And it has the added benefit of prolonging your car-versus-SUV argument with Logan.”

“Yes, well, there is that to consider.”

He did hear the smile now. It made him feel like he'd scored a goal. If he wasn't worried about the roads getting icy after sundown, he'd have asked her to get Alex to bring her out to the farm right now. Then neither one of them would get any sleep, but what the hell. Some sacrifices were worth it. He wasn't sure she'd agree, but as a distraction from her troubles, it wasn't a bad option either.

“Why don't I give you a shout—or I can text, seeing as you'll probably be overrun with folks coming out to get their trees tomorrow—and let you know when I'll be out. And . . . yes, thank you. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd very much appreciate the loan of your truck. Really sweet of you.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“You're very kind. And you've already done more than you know, being there for us all, staying at the hospital all night long when I know you have other things you should be doing.”

“There's no ulterior motive by the way,” he said, in case she was concerned. “It's no different than if I'd loaned the truck to Logan.”

“I wasn't worried about that, but I appreciate you clarifying. I—I've been giving some thought to our conversation. The one we were having before all this happened.”

“Fi, don't worry about that right now. About any of it. Okay? You've got enough on your plate and now is not the time to be figuring out new things. I get it.”

“Actually, I was going to say that it's been a nice thing to think about, especially now. Unless you—I mean, I know we were all being our typical pain-in-the-ass selves at the hospital, but you've seen us like that before.”

He smiled then. “I know this will sound weird, and it's not in any way meant to diminish what's going on with Fergus, but it was kind of comforting in a way. Like coming home.”

She paused, then said, “That's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me.” The smile was back, along with a note of affection.

“It's the truth. I wish you were here, Fi. I wish . . . well, I wish a lot of things. Just . . . don't think about it, about us, now. The topic will still be ripe for discussion when this crisis is over.”

“Is that some kind of farmer come-on? Being ripe for me?”

She was teasing, but he welcomed the respite from the worry and the fear. “Would it work if it was?”

She laughed briefly. “At the moment? Maybe. But don't let that go to your head.”

Too late
, he could have told her, but just said, “Scout's honor.”

“We've been over that already.”

“Shoot,” he said. “I'm beginning to realize the drawbacks of dating someone who has known me all my life.”

“Yeah, no smooth pickup lines. I know all your secrets. At least I don't have to worry about my face going flame red over every little thing. You're already overly familiar with my fireplug aspects.”

She was clearly teasing and he was glad she could joke about it.

“Too soon?” she asked, and he realized he'd let the moment play out.

“No, no. I—no.”

She laughed at that. “I kind of like you being tongue-tied over that awful nickname. And the answer is, yes, I can joke about it, and no, you can't. Too soon for you.”

“So noted,” he said, smiling again. “For the record, even this clueless male had figured that much out.”

“Nice to know.” She paused, then said, “So . . . is that what we're doing? Dating, I mean?”

“I—it was just a phrase. But . . . no, that's not what this feels like.”

“I guess we've known each other too long to think of... whatever this is as dating.”

“We could always do dinner and a movie and see how that feels,” he said, smiling.

She hummed in what sounded like agreement, then fell silent.

“You should probably get back to helping Alex,” he said at length, suddenly feeling like he'd stepped into a whole new landmine-strewn field. “Would you mind letting me know if you hear anything regarding your uncle?”

“No,” she said immediately, easily. “Of course not. And yes, I will. I'll let you know when we're on our way tomorrow, too. I don't know Alex's schedule and I've more or less given up on doing anything with my business until we get a handle on what's happening with Fergus. But I didn't anticipate getting much done over the holiday weekend anyway. I had planned to use that time to work on Hannah's wedding, but . . .”

“Are they still talking about putting it off?”

“Yes. Fergus is supposed to walk her down the aisle, and I told her having the wedding as a goal might be the motivation he needs to focus forward. Once we know what obstacles he'll be facing . . .” She sort of trailed off there at the end.

“Fi—”

“It's okay. I just . . . I am really trying not to think about the worst possible case. I know you know what I mean, probably better than anyone. It's just . . . not always easy to do that.” She took a deep breath and hurried on. “But wedding plans will continue, at least as it concerns the parts that don't require deposits and advance orders. I told Hannah I was lugging my stuff to the hospital to force her to do something positive and forward-thinking, too.”

“You are a positive force, you know that?” he said, quite sincerely, thinking that right there pretty much summed up his attraction to her. “It's a really good thing to be.”

She laughed tiredly. “I'll remind you that you said that at some point, I'm sure.”

“I look forward to having it tossed back in my face,” he said, smiling now, too. “I've got a crew of guys converging on my truck. They left their warm homes with full turkey bellies to get out here and do storm damage control so we could open on time tomorrow, and I'm guessing they think I should probably get out of my nice warm truck and help them.”

“True,” she said, humor still in her tone. “Thank you, Ben. For . . . well, for everything.”

“I'll always be there, Fi. Family first.”

She paused, then, in a quieter tone, said, “Yes,” sounding quietly stunned. After a moment, she added, “Me, too, Ben.”

“Good.” He switched the phone to his other ear and motioned to the guys that he would be out in a moment. “What I said earlier, about what this feels like? It feels like we have solid bonds, Fi, forged over time. They run deep. Knowing we'll be there for each other, no matter what, is not something I take for granted.”

“Me, either.” Another pause, then, “I like how that feels.”

He felt as if a huge weight had just been lifted off his chest, and all the mines in that field seemed to disappear. “But I'd still like to take you out to dinner and a show.”

“Deal,” she said, and they ended the conversation with that smile back in her voice.

He got out of the truck thinking he wanted to make her smile as often as possible, and for a very, very long time.

“You want
what
kind of cake?” Fiona looked up from her planner, certain she hadn't heard Hannah correctly.

“We wanted something different,” Hannah explained.

“That's why they make red velvet.”

Her sister wrinkled her nose. “That's as common as vanilla these days. Anyway, you can blame Logan and Alex. They were so innovative with theirs.”

“Seriously? This is a peer-pressure cake?”

“No, this is a ‘let's make it fun and not so serious' cake. You're the one telling me I'm being too stuffy.”

“Not stuffy,” Fiona replied. “I said—”

“You said I was being too conventional,” Hannah cut in, “i.e., stuffy.”

“I could have just said you were being such a lawyer,” Fiona grumbled under her breath.

“Okay, so maybe a coconut macaroon cake is reaching.”

Fiona spluttered. “You think? Not to mention cutting the list of folks who will even try a bite by half. I mean, it's a polarizing flavor, you know?”

“It's the epitome of yum, especially with a ganache coating on top.”

Fiona made a face. “Just trying to picture that is making the cafeteria food here seem more appealing by comparison. And I think we've both come to agree that whatever they think they are serving down there isn't really food.”

“Logan and Alex had that amazing chocolate ganache glaze on their cake.”

“Paired with yellow cake and custard filling, Hannah. Luscious, yummy, custard filling. All the things that are good in the world. Which coconut? Is not.”

“Who wants coconut?”

They both looked up from the small end table Fiona had rearranged and put in front of their waiting room chairs to see Logan coming into the waiting room.

“Hannah thinks a coconut macaroon wedding cake would be just the thing to prove to the world that she's a wild and crazy girl at heart.”

“I love coconut macaroons.”

Hannah beamed and Fiona stuck her tongue out at him.

“I mean, I don't know if I see it as a wedding cake . . .”

“Ha!” Fiona said, stabbing her finger at Hannah, who now took her turn to glare at their older brother.

Who grinned and added, “But if anyone could pull that off and make it chic, it's you, Han.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Fiona said, and slumped back in her chair. “I don't even know why I bother.”

“Because you
love
me,” Hannah said, drawing out the word, then leaning over to give her an overly animated, puckered-lips buss on the cheek.

“Good thing, Bridezilla,” Fiona said. “Anyone else would be charging the moon for this.”

Hannah's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “How many times have I tried to pay you for this?” She looked to Logan. “You've heard me try to get her to charge a fee.”

“Charge my own sister? Are you kidding? You'll live to be a hundred just so you can remind me of that every day for the rest of our lives.”

Hannah looked at Logan again. “Aren't you going to do anything here?”

Logan raised his hands. “Unless one of you breaks a law and forces my hand, uh, no. I'm just going to sit quietly over here and pretend we're not related.”

“Traitor.”

“I have a wife now. I know better than to play your little reindeer games.”

“What did she teach you that thirty-plus years with us did not?”

He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Wifely things.”

“Ew,” both sisters said at the same time.

“Remind me to mention husbandly things to you every day after the wedding until you promise to never go there again,” Hannah said.

“Oh, I'll promise you right now,” he said without hesitation, all contrition and supplication. Which was ruined by the twinkle that still sparkled in his topaz eyes.

“Mr. McCrae?”

They all jumped to attention at the sound of the voice at the door. Fiona was the first on her feet, followed closely by both of her siblings. “Dr. Fellowes,” she said to the woman standing just inside the waiting room now. “Is he awake?”

She nodded, and Fiona's breath caught, because she'd been asking that same question for what felt like a lifetime now, and was always met with a solemn shake of the head.

“Can we see him?” Hannah asked.

“How is he?” Logan wanted to know.

The doctor raised her hands in a gentle, placating motion. “He's groggy, which is to be expected as we've kept him sedated until we could get the results back from his test. He's a little grumpy,” she said, the crinkling at the corners of her pursed mouth indicating she was underselling that bit. “But not like before. He wants you in there while I talk to him about the results and I think that's a very good idea. But you need to be as calm as possible, and ask your questions quietly. Patience is key. I'll do my best to address all of your concerns, but it's vital we keep him as calm as possible.”

“You've met him, right?” Fiona said, then waved a hand at the doctor's frown. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Can you tell us here, first?” Logan asked.

She shook her head. “I need to speak directly with the patient. I'm stretching protocol quite a bit to have all three of you in there at the same time. I know he was downgraded from ICU to a regular room early on, but that doesn't lessen the importance of keeping his surroundings as calm as possible.”

Fiona thought being in any hospital environment was the exact opposite of serene and calm, with folks bustling in and out of Gus's room all hours of the day and night, but wisely kept that observation to herself.

The doctor turned and the three of them followed her down the hall to Fergus's room. Thankfully, he'd been put in a room by himself.

Hannah was a step behind Fiona and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Kerry is going to be so mad she wasn't here.”

“I know, I was just thinking the same thing. Don't text her, let her sleep. Besides, the three of us stand a better chance of being calm than the one of her.”

“I know.”

Fiona was happy to have both her older siblings with her, but she couldn't help but wish Ben were there, too. She should have been alarmed by how easily she'd come to rely on him, even if it was more for emotional support the past two days than actual physical support. She and Alex never had made it out to Snowflake Bay. The two of them had taken turns trying to keep the Rusty Puffin open for business and trying to talk Kerry into taking a break from the hospital. Logan came by every chance he got, and though he was otherwise busy keeping the town out of trouble, he kept up on what was happening and they knew he was never more than a few minutes away.

Which had left Fiona and Ben texting often and talking when they could, though that hadn't been often. Or not as often as she'd have liked. With Campbell Christmas Tree Farm in full holiday-season swing, plus
AE
finally hitting the stands on Black Friday, of all days, he'd been essentially under siege.

Fiona tried to tell herself it was just as well. She'd had a lot of time—too much time, really—to think about things. She'd concluded that she really didn't need to become any more dependent on him than she'd already allowed herself to be. Once tree season was over in a few short weeks, he'd probably be headed back to Portsmouth. She still had a wedding to pull off, and she hadn't done a single thing for her business since Gus had had his stroke. Maybe everything that was happening would answer the big should-they/ shouldn't-they question for them. By the time they could see each other again, maybe Ben wouldn't be around any longer for her to see.

To that end, she'd even tried to keep their texts and conversations to brief updates and information swaps, but then she'd hear his voice and he'd make her smile or laugh, and lift the load a bit, as he seemed to be able to do so effortlessly. Finally she'd admitted she looked forward to those moments as if they were something of a lifeline, and that made her wonder how she could so badly miss someone that she hadn't even really spent all that much time with yet.

She felt a hum in her jacket pocket and realized she needed to switch off her phone. But when she pulled it out to do that, she glanced at the screen, and her lips curved.

It was a selfie of Ben, grinning, standing behind a stubby Christmas tree with his chin propped on the top. He wore a green elf hat on his head. The text read:
Santa's not-so-little helper. I have a cute outfit for you to wear, too
.

Seriously, how was she going to give that up?

She turned her back to the nurses' station and quickly punched in her response:
How about I wear the hat and you get the cute outfit? Gus is awake. Going in now. Will call you later
.

She switched it off and stuffed it back in her pocket, then took a deep breath, and went into the room behind Hannah.

She'd been in to see Gus numerous times, and had always left shaken by how old he looked, how ashen his normally pink-cheeked face was, and even how his beard didn't seem as white or as bushy. She supposed she'd been miraculously hoping that once he was awake, the color would come back into Gus's face and he'd look like a slightly worn-out version of his regular, jovial self. Her shoulders visibly dipped, she knew, and she immediately self-corrected, but it took longer for her to get the rest of her brain on the same page.

He still looked gray. And older than his years. There was a slight droop to the corner of one eye, and his mouth on that side, and she realized that despite all their talk of helping him over future obstacles, in her heart, she'd willed herself to believe that he would come through unscathed and all their worry and planning would be for naught. Clearly, that wasn't going to be the case.

His gaze was glassy, still more than a little unfocused, and Fiona had to question whether it was wise for the doctor to be holding this little discussion while he was still somewhat out of it.

“Well, don't just stand there,” he said, the words slurred and hard to understand. “Spit it out.” He sounded as if he had a bad lisp, as if someone had given him a fat lip or something.

She could see him struggling against the aftereffects of the sedatives and the effects of the stroke, and stepped forward immediately, putting her hand on his arm in hopes of calming him, or at least distracting him from a full-blown tirade. It wasn't often that Gus got angry, but when he did—usually at a pub patron who'd had too much and done something stupid—he “got his Irish up” as he liked to call it. “Hey, Uncle Gus,” she said softly with a smile. “Don't you go giving the nice doctor a hard time or she's liable to keep you in here longer.”

He turned his head and seemed confused to see her standing there, and it took all of her willpower not to cry. “Fi? Honey, you don't belong here. Let me handle this.”

She could see he was embarrassed, probably because he was becoming more lucid and was aware things weren't right. He may have asked his family to be present, but he was clearly not fully lucid at the moment. He'd never want them to see him as anything less than the grand Irishman he was, the man who'd loved them like a parent and been there for them through thick and thin. And the McCrae family had seen their share of thin. “I'm sure you can,” she told him. “I wouldn't expect anything else. I'm just here to make sure you don't run roughshod over your doctor.”

He blinked a few times, then looked past her, and his face brightened for a moment when he spied Hannah, then turned moody again when he looked at Logan. “You know better than to bring them to a place like this,” he told Logan. “Had a bit too much to drink and got myself into a little trouble it seems. I'll sort it out. Now you get them out of here and get back to the business of keeping this town out of trouble.”

It was quite a speech, most of which had been barely understandable, though she'd gotten the gist. He'd either hallucinated or dreamed he was in jail or in the hospital because of some drunken brawl, or he was saying whatever he had to in order to keep his dignity. Likely a bit of both. However, his lecture had taken what little wind he had straight out of him. He slumped back, wheezed a bit, then closed his eyes.

Fiona rubbed his arm, and Hannah squeezed around to the opposite side of his bed and stroked his other arm, then laid her hand over his.

“We've got this, Uncle Gus,” Hannah told him, and Fi could hear the emotions she was battling thick in her voice.

Fiona leaned down close to his ear. “We came to spring you from the joint. You stay here and pretend to sleep while we grease a few palms. It's good to have the chief in the family, you know?”

He coughed a bit, clearing his throat, then seemed to fall into a light doze.

Fiona took a short moment to make a stab at gathering herself, then gave up and looked at the doctor with glassy eyes. “I don't think he's in any shape for this. Can you at least tell us what his prognosis is? He'd want us to help him, even if he's too stubborn to admit it.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the stand next to his bed and took a moment to blow her nose, get her breath to even out, but Logan spoke before she could.

“We can see he's got some issues with the left side of his face,” Logan said to the doctor.

Fiona knew Logan was hurting, too, but of the three of them, he remained the most stoic, almost to the point of looking stern. She supposed it was either that or give in to a few tears himself.

“Have you determined the extent of what the stroke did to him?” he asked.