My Kind of Christmas by Robyn Carr
“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
Patrick 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
“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.”
She was scary! “Your childhood,” he said. “Come on.”
“I’m the oldest, a completely different dynamic. I had slaves—two younger sisters who did whatever I told them to. And apparently I was a real load to raise, but I like to think I was only curious. I liked to take things apart. You know.”
“Toys?”
“Well…when I was two. When I was ten I took apart a VCR, an old jukebox, a pool table and a computer.”
“A pool table?”
“At my grandpa’s house. I got the legs to fall off. It took my dad and grand
“Jesus,” he said. “You’re not planning to reproduce, are you?”
“Actually, I hope to one day.” Then she smiled and said, “You know what cilia is.”
“It’s a commonly known word.”
“It isn’t,” she argued. “Do you have a Scrabble game around here?”
“I hope not. Why?”
“You could actually give me some trouble.” Then she laughed.
Something told Patrick he’d be wise to spoon some chili into her and get her out of here, but that was far from what happened. Instead, they took their time with lots of talking and laughing before they even got to the chili. They went through the teenage and college years, jobs they’d had, trouble they’d been in, glorious moments, disappointments, dates—the good and the terrible. He’d had many more dates than she. Instead of sitting at the table, they finally ate in front of the fire and, afterward, Angie found them a Scrabble game online to play on his laptop.
And she beat him.
It was getting very late when he asked her, “Where are you spending Christmas? With your uncle Jack?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll probably go home to Sacramento. I just needed a break from Mom and Dad. My mom and I have really been at each other and Jack suggested I come up here for a while. Dropping out of school really took its toll.”