My Kind of Christmas

“I was exploring a little bit,” she said. “Is it my turn?”

“Awww, I don’t know, Ange.…”

“Come on.”

“I might need a note from your doctor.”

She laughed at him, nudged him to one side and inserted herself in the bucket. “Explain the controls, please,” she said. “I’ll be very careful.”

He sighed, defeated. Sometimes he got so tired of headstrong women. He explained the levers in the control box, though with the diagrams right beside the controls, it was pretty self-explanatory. “Now, listen, I don’t want you over ten feet off the ground,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Do you doubt I’ll climb up this boom and bring you down?” he asked.

“This is getting really old,” Angie said, and with that, she rose to the task. She went up ten feet, then left, then right, then up a few feet more, left and right, then higher.

“Angela,” he warned.

She went up a bit farther. “I’m fine,” she said. “I love this. I think I might decorate the whole tree for you. At least the top part.”

“Angela LaCroix,” he called. “Lower, please.”

She leaned out of the box and grinned at him. “Are you going to ground me?”

Mel was standing beside him, looking up. “Angie, see that red streamer to your left? Pull that one a little right please, it’s all wonkie.”

She reached out of the bucket and Jack flinched. “Got it,” she said. “Tell me when it’s straight.”

“Better,” Mel said. “Now move around and pull the white one over.”

“Mel,” Jack said. “She’s just having a ride. I want her down!”

“Jack, take it easy, she’s twenty-three, not three. Better, Ange. If I give you some balls, want to hang them up there?”

She leaned out of the bucket and stared down. “If I come down there to get them, your husband is going to grab me.”

“No, he won’t,” she said. “I’ll hold him down. Come on.”

Jack growled and began to pace. He spoke softly to Mel. “What if she gets dizzy?”

“Then she’ll come down. She’s better off in the bucket than on a ladder. Angie, are you dizzy?”

“Of course not,” she said, lowering herself. She leaned over and accepted a box of shiny gold balls from Mel. Then she quickly went up again to avoid Jack.

“Leave plenty of room for the unit badges we’ll also use as ornaments.”

“Will do,” she said, raising the cherry picker while holding on to the ornaments.

Jack watched her some, paced some, grumbled some. The number of people in the street and around the bar grew, but Jack was focused on Angie. No one paid any attention to his worries; Mel continued to yell up at Angie to move a ball or fix some garland. Angie laughed happily as she ran the cherry picker down to the ground, then up again with more ornaments. Or possibly she was laughing at her uncle Jack.

Jack had been oblivious to what was going on around him until he noticed that Angie stopped in midair and looked across the street. Jack followed her line of vision to see Patrick Riordan leaning against his Jeep, watching her. As Jack glanced between the two of them, Angie gave a wave and Patrick waved back.

Crap, he thought.

Well, he should’ve known—it was written all over her face that she was smitten with Patrick’s good looks. Jack stopped pacing because Angie was all done playing around in the cherry picker now that Patrick had appeared. She brought it down, stepped out and brushed off her jeans. Her tight jeans.

“Thanks, I’ll take over,” Mel said, as though there wasn’t a thing in the world to be worried about.

“That was fun,” Angie said to her uncle.

Jack glowered.

“What?” she asked.

Jack tilted his head and glanced to the right, across the street, where Patrick patiently waited for her to be finished.

“Oh, excuse me,” Angie said. And she walked casually across the street as though this was perfectly fine.

It was not perfectly fine in Jack’s opinion.

Mel was raising the bucket with her box of ornaments while Jack was following Angie with his eyes. But Angie didn’t look back. She had Patrick in her crosshairs.

So Jack looked around until he spotted Luke Riordan with young Brett on his hip. He walked over to him and said, “Luke.”

“Looking good, Jack.”

“Look over there, Luke,” he said, again with the head tilt. “Your brother.”

“Yeah, he made it to town for the tree. That’s good. I think he spends too much time alone these days.”

“What’s up with Patrick, anyway?” Jack asked.

“Flying stuff,” Luke said with a shrug. “You know. Threw him for a while, made him rethink the Navy. He just needs some decompression time. He’ll be fine.”

“What kind of flying stuff?”

Luke turned his head to meet eyes with Jack. “His wingman went down.”

Jack just whistled.

“He got some leave,” Luke went on. “He has a decision to make. He always planned on a Navy career, but I guess he’s rethinking it. He has until Christmas to figure it out. Who’s the girl?”

Right about then Patrick put a hand on Angie’s shoulder. She looked up at him, he looked down at her. Jack shivered. “My niece, up for a visit.”

“Nice,” Luke said.

“She’s been valedictorian twice in her life already—for her high school class and for her college class. She’s a medical student, but she was in a car accident and had to take some time off. We’re all hoping she plans to go back to med school after the holidays. That’s what everyone in the family wants. Listen, Luke—see this?” he said, looking across the street to where Patrick and Angie stood talking. “This is Patrick’s second trip into town today. He’s interested in Angie. I don’t think this should happen.”

“What?”

“My niece and your brother,” Jack said irritably.

“Aw, lighten up. Patrick’s a good kid.”

“He’s no kid,” Jack said. “How old is Patrick?”

Luke shrugged. “I guess about thirty. Thirty-two. Or three.”

“Angie is twenty-three. And she needs to go back to school.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Talk to him. Tell him the girl is barely out of high school and he needs to move on.”

“Aw, Jack…” Luke shook his head. “She’s out of college. And she’s smart. I mean—valedictorian? I’m lucky I graduated high school.”

“He’s been in the bar, and I hate to say it about one of your brothers, but he’s got attitude, Luke. Doesn’t talk, isn’t friendly, acts all fucked up and miserable. And you say his wingman went down? Angie can’t take on stuff like that. She’s just a girl. A girl with her own issues.”

Luke started to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Jack asked.

“He looks pretty friendly to me,” Luke said.

And sure enough, Patrick was smiling. Laughing. Touching her with familiarity.

Jack cringed. “Ah, dammit, he’s playing around with her hair!”

Luke laughed a little harder. “I’ve played with hair…you’ve played with hair....”

“She’s too young! She’s barely recovered from a bad car accident!” He grumbled something and then said, “I’m responsible for her.”

“Well, she’s over twenty-one so I bet she doesn’t let you stand responsible for too much.”

“You got that right,” he muttered. “Her mother is my older sister. I really don’t want to go a round with her. She’s a pain in my ass.”

“Then don’t. You better ease up, Jack. I don’t think you’re going to have much influence here. And I could talk to him, but it wouldn’t do any good.”

“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

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 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.”