My Kind of Christmas by Robyn Carr
“I don’t want to right now. I just want to…you know…”
He chuckled through a fat tear. “Wallow?”
She chuckled back but it caught on a hiccup. “Exactly.”
Patrick found himself thinking about their shared grief, how quickly sobs could turn into laughter and vice versa. They’d done this together since Jake’s death. Even though Marie had a loving family, it was Patrick and Marie together who mourned Jake the most, the hardest. Even little Daniel, at barely two, didn’t really feel the loss. His father had been deployed so much of his young life, anyway.
“Maybe you should sleep with the presents you bought,” he said, teasing.
“Or wear them?” she teased back. “Oh, God, it’s so embarrassing. I’m afraid if I tell my mom how I lost my mind, she’ll put me in a treatment center.”
“Nah, she won’t do that. But you better not tell her until you’re ready to part with all those presents. Hey, I think I’m Jake’s size....”
“Nice try—I didn’t buy those things for you.”
“But I’m coming for Christmas. You don’t have to get anything, but if you’re already loaded up… What electronics?”
“Stop,” she said, laughing. “Oh, Paddy, no one can bring me back to life like you can. What would I do without you? I love you so much. But I’ve already told you, you don’t have to come for Christmas.”
“Why the hell not? Aren’t you looking forward to seeing me again?”
“Patrick, of course, but you have family. Spend time with them while you can.”
“You’re my family. I promised Jake a long time ago that if anything ever happened to him, I’d take good care of you.”
“Oh, Paddy, if only you could give me what I need. I love you, and you’re my dearest friend, but we have to find a way to move on.” She sniffed loudly. “It’s hard right now, but we’ll do it. We’ll find a way to do it.”
“I’m coming,” he said. “My family has other plans.”
“Patrick,” she said. “You are pure gold.”
“No, I’m not—I already have my ticket. I’m reserved at the motel.”
“I’m just not sure this would be good for either one of us. I don’t want to depend on you too much.”
“It’ll be good,” he said. “I guarantee it.”
After a little more chat, they said goodbye and Patrick sat in his small living room and thought about her pain and loneliness. He had to be there for her and he would be. Maybe with a little more time he could convince her that together they could keep Jake alive and have a good life.
For the second time in twenty-four hours he made up his mind—the best thing would be to set Angie free to pursue her dreams while he went to Charleston by way of Oklahoma City and on to the next part of his life. He’d propose the idea to Marie—that they could do it together. Best friends forever. An excellent concept.
And then there was a light tapping at the cabin door. He opened it and there stood Angie, Christmas lights wrapped around her, twinkling. Her eyes were alive, her smile infectious.
“Oh, God,” he said. “What’s this?”
“I’m your Christmas present!” she said on a laugh. “Do you have any idea how big the battery pack has to be to do this?”
How do you turn down a Christmas present? He snatched her against him and went after her mouth with every ounce of passion he felt inside. He didn’t stop until they were both almost freezing from standing in the open doorway.
Eight
Patrick pulled Angie inside and held her on his lap in front of the fire, lights and all. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart. It’s bound to lead up to the lights.”
“I had a good, productive day. It started off with a conversation with Mel about Megan’s scar. Mel isn’t sure, but she thinks it could be a fairly simple correction. Still costly, still out of their reach, but… Well, let me start with this—I mentioned Dr. Temple, my neurosurgeon, didn’t I?”
“I think so.”
“I had a lot of doctors, techs, nurses and therapists after my accident. It was pretty easy to get close to some of them, but he was the one I loved. I think my shunt has his initials on it.” She smiled and absently touched that place on her head. “He spent much more time with me than seemed necessary. He was the one practitioner who was never in a hurry. I’ve even stayed in touch with him a little—emailed him a few times, called him twice or so. The most wonderful man.”
“You crushed on him,” Patrick said.
With an impish grin, she kissed him quick on the lips. Then she said, “I would have married him in a second. He was around sixty, however. But I loved him and today I learned something about him I didn’t know. I called him for advice about how I might help Megan and I found out he gives an average of a day of every week providing neurosurgery for people who couldn’t otherwise have it—that would include the underinsured, the poor who can’t get help from Medicaid, the people who make too much money to qualify for Medicaid but can’t afford both medical benefits and food. Megan and her family fall into the underinsured category. Dr. Temple said he’d be happy to work with me on that if I would be the point man. He’s not the guy to do it, but he offered to reach out to some plastic surgeons. He gave me a list of things he thought I should look into to get this process started.
“And guess what else? I told him about the peace corps or a similar organization and he thought it was a great idea. He said I’d learn more in humanitarian relief than anywhere else. He also said he didn’t think they’d resist my application because of a titanium rod or a shunt, as long as I’m in good health. And I’m in excellent health.”
“I can see that,” he said with a bright smile. “You’re all lit up.”
“Will you help me out of these lights? And my jacket? This fire is getting hot....”
“I’d be glad to help you out of all your clothes. Stand up,” he said. He pulled on the end of the string of lights, she twirled around in front of him and, in just a minute, the lights were off. She shrugged out of her jacket and he pulled her back down on his lap.
“We did a little decorating around the clinic and I borrowed this string of lights with the battery pack. I’m sure Mel thinks I’m going to use them in the cabin. If I had an ounce of courage, I’d have come naked, strung with lights.”
“Thank God you didn’t. You might’ve found yourself making love on the front step. What else did you do today?”
“Talked to my mom, for once a nice talk, had lunch with Mel and Jack, asked my aunt Brie what I should do to set up a foundation with a bank to start to fund Megan’s surgery—Brie’s a lawyer. And I went on a house call with Mel—an elderly woman back in the mountains seems to have bronchitis. It was a wonderful day. I felt so…useful.”
“Angie, I hate to put a damper on such a great day but…there’s something you have to know.” He hesitated. “We’ve been outted. My brothers guessed we’re having a— What is it we’re having?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I guess we settled on ‘fling’?”
“It’s more than that. All day long I’ve been thinking that it would be smart, maybe even kind, to stop this thing before it goes any further.”
She ran her fingers through the hair at his temples for just a moment before she grabbed his head in her hands and went after his mouth like it might be the last kiss of her life. When she finally broke free she said, “You talk too much and you think too much.”
“I don’t want you to be hurt,” he said.
“Then try not to take off too early! I know you have a plane ticket. I wrote the date in my calendar. Until we get to that date, I’d like to enjoy myself. You know, Paddy, I’m not some naive little girl. I know this isn’t a happily-ever-after sort of thing—and I’m okay with that.” She shook her head. “Leave it to me to pick a guy
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Are you sure you want me to employ that rule, my little hussy?”
“Not entirely,” she said softly.
“My brothers are afraid I’m going to hurt you by leaving. After our little ‘interlude.’”
“Interlude. I like that. Is that what usually happens? You love the girls and break their hearts?”
He gave a short laugh. “No, not so much.”
“Oh?” she probed. “Care to share?”
He laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Seems like it was either a mutual decision that things weren’t going anywhere or…” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Or I was dumped.”
“Oh, Patrick. If we’d met under different circumstances, I’d hold on to you until you begged me to let go.”
“Would you now?” he asked, smiling.
“If I’d met you last year, if you lived and worked nearby, if there weren’t so many weird complications and— Listen, Paddy, things change when you almost die. In fact, I suspect I did die, if briefly. This little time we’re here together in Virgin River—it feels like it could be a watershed experience. Hmm? I’ll go with it if you will.”
“You suspect you died?” he asked. “What’s that about?”
She cringed. “Listen, I haven’t told anyone except Dr. Temple…”
“We’re telling each other a lot of things never told before,” he said.
“I saw myself,” she said. “From above. I was looking down at myself while a whole bunch of people were working on me, around me. I saw my grandmother, who died years ago. She looked wonderful. I don’t know if it was a dream, something I was programmed to imagine under the circumstances or if it was the real deal. She was in a halo of light and she lifted her hand and said, ‘It’s okay, Angie. Everything is going to be all right.’ When I woke up, three days had passed and I was on the vent.”
His lips were parted in either disbelief or awe. He finally closed his mouth and swallowed. “You were close to her?” he asked.
“Very close. My mother was her eldest—I’m the oldest grandchild. We were together a lot when I was little.”
“Do you ever…see her in your dreams? Get messages from her in dreams?”
“I think she’s been in a dream or two, but not like that night. That night there was all that light.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but—”
“I don’t,” he whispered. Then he seemed to shake himself. “So, I’m not opting out. Tell me how you’d like to spend this interlude. When you’re not working or researching this gift of surgery, of course. When you can fit me in.”
She smiled devilishly. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time right now…and I have a pretty good idea of how I’d like to spend it....”
And his smile widened. “Yeah, my kind of girl.” He lifted her in his arms. “Do you need food first?”
“I can eat anytime,” she said. “Right now I’m just craving you.”
* * *
Patrick nuzzled Angie’s neck in the early morning. “You had sex on the first date. And the second.”
“When you’re me, you’re a little more afraid of not living than of living too much.”
He brushed the hair away from her brow and placed a kiss there. “I’m starting to understand what has your family a little freaked out. Might be your ‘commitment to living,’ as it were.”
“I have no intention of being reckless,” she said. “I just don’t want to waste away in a lab or library while life goes on around me. You know why I haven’t had boyfriends? Real boyfriends? Because I’ve been so focused on school. Because the only place I could compete in life was with grades, with scores. I always had to be the best in my class. It felt like the only way I could measure my success, my self-worth. If you knew the time I put into preparing for the MCAT you wouldn’t believe it—it verged on OCD. It’s that insane.”
“And did that get you the highest possible score?”
Her gaze shifted away as if it was something to be ashamed of when, in truth, her fellow students had envied her. “Forty.”
“Is that good?”
“Ninety-ninth percentile.” She looked into his beautiful eyes. “But I’m tired of living my life behind a textbook, of being awkward as soon as I venture out into the real world. And…I’m sick of being lonely. Sometimes I have no one to talk to.”
He laughed at her. “You? Shy? You came on to me. You let me undress you. You wrapped yourself in lights for me!”
“For some reason, I’m comfortable with you. You make it easy. Well, it was easy to let you undress me. Special circumstances…”
“Oh?” he asked.
She rolled over so she was on top of him. “Do you know the scariest part about this interlude? It’s not the fact that we’ll part ways soon, going off to do what we have to do. It’s the thought that I might never find another man like you. I don’t know much about getting myself a good boyfriend, but you might have raised the bar.” She shook her head. “What if I’m alone forever because of you?”
* * *
Angie did research and made phone calls from the clinic so she could be on hand if Mel needed her help—even if it was just for sweeping up or sterilizing instruments. For someone who wanted to do more living, she had trouble managing idle time.
Her first order of business was finding a surgeon but getting through to one proved impossible. She was reduced to leaving her number and the subject of her business. She was thrilled when Dr. Temple called to check on her progress—he’d left messages with a dozen plastic surgeons he knew who he thought might help if their time permitted. He offered to email her the information.
“Have you made a decision about your next move, Angie? Peace corps? VISTA? Anything?”
“I’ve read a few websites, but my goal is to get this little girl set up before I pursue my own next move. What about you? Doing anything exciting?”
“I’m taking two weeks in March to go with a team to Honduras. There are a lot of patients who’ve been waiting a long time for medical and surgical aid. It’s a private foundation operated by a senator’s wife who happens to be a surgical nurse. She does all the front work, selection, scheduling, purchasing, acquisition and facilities. We’ll load up a C-130 transport aircraft, see patients and operate ten hours a day.”
Angie actually gasped. “I would love to do that!”
He laughed at her excitement. “You will one day, Angie. I have no doubt.”
Brie was working out of her home office that day so Angie drove out there for lunch, and in a fever of excitement told her about Dr. Temple’s philanthropic project. Then she described her own progress, or the lack thereof. Getting a doctor to even call her back would be a dream come true and having one sign on to donate his services—well, that was something she realized she was going to have to work very hard for.
“I’m so proud of you. But what I want to know is what you’re going to do next. Any chance you’re going back to school? You must realize your mom calls Jack and me every day.”
“Even though she doesn’t admit that to me, I assumed as much. What does she want to know?”
Brie leaned across her small kitchen table and took Angie’s hands in hers. “Ange, she says you hang up on her.”
Angie pulled back her hands. “When she puts on the pressure, I do. When she says she’s made an appointment with a psychiatrist because I haven’t made arrangements to go back to med school. When she asks me—daily—if I’ve had a chance to think things over and come to my senses. It’s insane! She’s so convinced that there’s something wrong with my brain—simply because I’m not interested in doing exactly what she wants me to do. The truth is that she’s
Brie’s brows furrowed in empathy. She shook her head. “Has anything changed? Have you made any possible plans? I mean, besides helping Megan get her operation?”
Now Angie grabbed Brie’s hands. Her voice was soft. “I haven’t said anything to my mom yet, but…yes. I think I’d like to do a couple of years in the peace corps or a similar organization, and maybe while I’m there I’ll think about med school.”
Brie’s eyes got large, and she leaned back, startled. Then she groaned and let her head drop to the kitchen table. “Oh, man.”
“You don’t approve? Brie, I thought you might find it exciting!”
Brie lifted her head. “It’s definitely dramatic.”
“It’s honorable! It’s positive! People do it all the time! Why wouldn’t you—?”
“I’m going to go ahead and suggest you not hit Donna with that one right now and I’ll tell you why. It’s not a bad thing in any way, Ange. You’re right—it’s honorable and positive. And it’s a dramatic change in course—change being the operative word. You went from being a student with very specific goals to a dropout with a whole new plan. And all this follows you being in a catastrophic accident—it smells like a paradigm shift. That worries people who love you.”
“You?”
Brie shrugged. “Not so much. You don’t seem too out of character. You’ve always been a generous person with a big heart. But if you start freeing zoo animals or chaining yourself to trees…”
“Oh, please—I’m not even getting slightly radical.”
“Plowing fields in Africa versus attending classes at USC is something of a radical shift. Listen. Your mother is wonderful and I love her and she’s helped me through more than one crisis in my life, but she is rigid. She doesn’t like change. She doesn’t adjust well—it takes her a long time. She’s very comfortable being in control—not so much when the people she’s controlling step out of line.”