Bring Me Home for Christmas

  “She’s my ex-girlfriend, all right?” Denny said by way of explanation.

  “We got that,” Preacher said, his hands on his hips, his bushy black eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. “And your excuse for acting like an ass is…?”

  “It was complicated,” he said. “My mom died, I closed up and wouldn’t talk, shut Becca out when she wanted to help. Then, I rejoined the Corps and told her after the fact. About which she was very pissed. So I broke up with her before I deployed so she could date other guys while I was gone.”

  As he was finishing that tale, Jack entered the kitchen and got the last of it, but he didn’t need the details. He’d actually heard the story before. Now Jack wore his upside-down, contemplative smile, nodding. “Makes perfect sense,” he said.

  “It does?” Denny asked.

  “Of course. You can’t stand to even see her shake hands with another guy in a public bar, so you cut her loose to date someone else. Oh, yeah. Brilliant.”

  “It was not a smart time in my life,” he admitted. “After my two-year commitment, I went straight to her and apologized, asked if maybe we could try again.”

  “And she said?” Jack asked.

  “I believe the direct quote was ‘Dream on.’ We argued a little bit and she told me I’d been replaced, that she’d probably be engaged in a year. That’s when I decided to come up here. Start over.”

  “Well, don’t look now, Denny, but your past has followed you. You have to go out there and apologize. Again.”

  “Wait a sec, she shouldn’t have just dropped in like this, right on my—my—my whatever this is. She should’ve called. Or Big should’ve called!”

  “You seem to be the only one put out by her appearance,” Jack pointed out.

  “Rich didn’t look all that happy. And the other two? The only time they’re not on the prowl looking for chicks is when they’re asleep. I’m sure they’re thrilled to meet Becca.”

  “Then if it bothers you, I suggest you keep an eye on things,” Jack said.

  Denny stole a glance at Preacher, who gave a nod.

  “Starting with you having a word with Becca, see if you can sort things out enough to have a good week,” Jack said. “You can’t make everyone else miserable just because you have a bug up your ass about a girl. Call a truce or something. Whatever it takes.” And with that, Jack returned to the bar.

  What Denny really wanted to do was take off, out the back door.

  No, not true, he thought. What he’d rather do was walk back into the bar, grab her and kiss the hell out of her. And beat the crap out of anyone who tried to get between him and her.

  But he heard someone say Dream on inside his head. And the voice was hers.

  “That went well,” Becca said as soon as Denny stepped through the swinging door into the kitchen with Preacher. Jack quickly served Rich a beer and Becca a glass of wine before following Denny and Preacher.

  Becca took a breath and said to Troy and Dirk, “In case you missed the weird, shocked look on Denny’s face, we used to date.”

  “They know, Becca,” Rich said. “We were all in Iraq together, remember?”

  Troy was still leaning on his hand, elbow on the bar, gazing at her. “Believe me, I wasn’t looking at Denny,” he said.

  “I’m probably the last person he expected to show up….”

  “No,” Rich said, irritably. “Luke Skywalker was the last person. You were second to last.” He hefted his beer and took a long drink.

  “We didn’t part on the best of terms,” she explained. “But that was a while ago and we both told Rich there were no hard feelings.”

  “Because that’s what people say, Becca,” Rich explained impatiently. “I told you we should’ve called him first.”

  “Well, gee, it was last minute. Rich had been talking about this for weeks, I didn’t have anything to do.” She grinned. “I thought maybe some cold drizzle and the acrid smell of gunpowder might shake things up a little, be a nice change.”

  “Just so you know,” Dirk said. “We have a pretty strong rule about another guy’s girl. As in, no touching. Unless we’re given a pass by the guy. You know?”

  “Are you kidding me? Permission?” she asked. “Because that borders on icky.”

  Dirk just shrugged. “That’s how it is with friends.”

  “Well, it’s not an issue. He broke up with me. Over three years ago.” Actually, she could easily figure out the number of days….

  “That’s probably a pass,” Troy said. “Wouldn’t you say, Dirk?”

  “God,” Rich said. “I’m going to need another beer! This is my sister! Even if she is a pain in my—”

  Luke coughed. Colin laughed. “You starting to feel old?” Luke asked his brother.

  “Elderly,” Colin answered. “Much as I’d love to stay and watch this, I think I’d better hit the road. Happy hunting.” He winked.

  “Cabin number four, boys,” Luke said. “It’s unlocked. Jack or Denny will give you directions.”

  “Oh, are you Mr. Riordan?” Becca asked. To his nod, she asked, “Any chance there’s another cabin out at your place that I could rent? Otherwise I have to stay with Rich, and God knows…” She shook her head and shuddered as if in revulsion.

  “You bet,” Luke said. “Try number two—also unlocked.”

  “Cool,” she said.

  “Very cool,” Dirk said. “Thanks, man. See you around.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Troy said. “Nice meeting you guys. See you later.”

  And then Denny was back. The expression on his face wasn’t much improved. It was starting to irritate her that he couldn’t at least fake being happy to see her. Maybe being finally finished with him would be easier than she’d thought.

  He walked around the bar and stood right in front of Becca. “I need to talk to you for a minute, Becca. All right?”

  That made her a little nervous; it sounded like he might be getting ready to tell her when her bus was leaving for San Diego. She hoped her emotions didn’t show. She tilted her head to one side, smiled into his brown eyes and said, “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Privately.” He stepped back. “Come outside with me. It’ll just take a second.”

  He turned and she followed. It wasn’t even five-thirty, yet it was almost completely dark outside. Though she could see there were space heaters on the porch, they weren’t lit. She faced him, waited, shivering in the cold.

  “I apologize,” he said. “If I’d known you were coming, if I’d had time to get used to the idea, I would’ve been a lot more…”

  “Civil?” she added for him, lifting both tawny eyebrows.

  “Becca, this is a hunting trip!”

  “I know that, Denny. Rich hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She took a breath. “It was very last minute. I packed last night. When I showed up at his condo at three this morning to go with, Rich pitched a fit. I told him I needed a change, a break. He said it was a bad idea, because it was all guys, and I said I’d skip the getting drunk and smoking cigars part, that I’d get my own place to stay and, you know… I just wanted to get out of town. Too early to ski, too cold to surf without a wet suit.”

  “What about work?”

  “Well…I got laid off. The private school where I’ve been teaching shut down. We’d seen it coming but it was still a shock. I’m going to substitute until I can land something permanent. But for right now, it’s a holiday week, my parents are going out of town and I wanted something fun to do, to kind of offset being so bummed about losing my job.”

  He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then slowly reached for her left hand, pulling it out of her jacket pocket. “I don’t see a ring,” he said. “What about the boyfriend? He can’t like the idea of you going on a guys’ hunting trip?”

  “He’s tied up with finals and stuff,” she said. “And he’s going home to Cape Cod for Thanksgiving with his family.”

&nbs
p; “Finals?” Denny asked. “You’re marrying a college kid?”

  “Law student,” she said. “And we’re not engaged. Yet.”

  “But you’re going to be engaged?”

  “Probably. We’ve talked about it. We looked at rings. And stuff.”

  “Right,” Denny said. “And he’s okay with you going on a hunting trip with a bunch of guys, including your ex?”

  “He trusts me,” she said. And there was the little fact that she hadn’t told him all the details. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, but she might’ve overestimated his casualness about this event. She’d probably keep the fact that her ex was also present to herself. After all, that was the whole point of the trip. She had to figure this thing out before Christmas.

  She told Doug she was with her brother. Doug liked her brother.

  “Okay, okay,” Denny said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “All right, listen. If you insist you’re going to do this stupid thing—”

  “Careful,” she warned, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Are you here to hunt, really?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why else would I be here?”

  “Do you even have a gun with you?”

  She leaned toward him. “Yes,” she hissed.

  “Stick close to me. Or maybe Rich. We’ll make sure you’re safe and know what to do. With the gun, that is.”

  “I know what to do with the gun,” she said indignantly. “I’ve never killed anything but skeet, but I know what to do. I’m in danger of getting hooked in the ear trying to fly-fish, but I’m a good shot.”

  “You’ve been shooting skeet?” he asked. Denny was a Marine marksman. He had a sniper ribbon. “Since when?”

  Her dad had taught her, but she said, “The boyfriend.” She wasn’t really sure why she’d lied. So he wouldn’t think she was just a loser who still wasn’t over him? She’d have to think about that.

  “Great. But there’s a lot more to know than that. You staying with Rich? Out at Jack’s?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Mr. Riordan has another cabin. I’ll go out there. I don’t share space with Rich—he’s a slob.”

  “No,” Denny said. “You can take my place—it’s just an efficiency, but it’s right in town, just down the street. The landlord and landlady will look out for you if you need anything. You’ll be safe there.”

  “It’s not your job to keep me safe, Denny. And where will you be, if I’m in your place?”

  “With the slob.”

  Two

  When Becca was a nineteen-year-old college student at the University of Southern California, she began dating Denny, a Marine. He was at Camp Pendleton with her brother at the time. For a few blissful months, they saw each other every time Becca came home from USC for a weekend. She fell in love with him immediately. She spent the summer at home and every time Denny could get away from the base, they went to the beach and surfed or played volleyball, hiked into the mountains or biked along the coast, spending every possible minute together.

  Rich and Denny went to Iraq together for a year and her emails to Denny were long, gushy and frequent—several a day. Her care packages were stuffed with lovingly collected treats. Then he came home from Iraq, exited the Corps, and for almost a year, life was heaven. When Becca was home from USC, they were inseparable. They had so much fun together. They could laugh for hours; they could make love for hours. They talked about getting married after Becca graduated with her teaching degree.

  Then things got crazy. Denny’s mom, Sue, who had been battling breast cancer for years, became very sick, very suddenly. At least Denny was home with her through her final battle. He was there for her when she died and Becca did everything she could think of to show her support, though because she was at school most of the time, she was limited to weekend visits and daily phone calls.

  But Denny shut down. He grew distant, detached. Instead of leaning on her and accepting her comfort, he reenlisted in the Marine Corps without saying a word to her, knowing he’d be sent back to the war. And sure enough, he got orders for Afghanistan almost right away. Before he deployed, he said, “It’s a hard world, Becca, and I don’t want to worry about how you’ll get by if something happens to me. Until I can get back home and get my head straight, let’s just take a breather. We’ll take another look at this in a year or so….”

  “Are you crazy?” she asked him, choking on her tears. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And it’s kind of heavy on me right now.”

  “But we’ve been together three years. We talked about getting married!”

  “Yeah, I shouldn’t have gotten so far ahead of myself,” he said. “Go on, get to know other guys. Have a good time. You deserve it.”

  So he left—left the country and the relationship. She reached out a couple of times through Rich, whose friendship apparently wasn’t too heavy for Denny, since they kept in touch. But Denny didn’t respond to her.

  It was a painful, lonely year. She’d never forget those late nights of sitting up until two, three, four in the morning to watch news coverage of the war because Afghanistan was twelve hours ahead of L.A. She didn’t know a person could cry so much.

  She lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had no sense of humor and grew more lethargic by the day. Her grades dropped significantly, though she hung on so she could graduate. Her mother was beside herself with worry, and with anger toward Denny.

  The painful truth was that Becca’s life had been pretty easy until then, when she lost the man she’d thought was the love of her life. It was a horrible experience. If they’d been in touch so she could occasionally have that reassurance that he was all right, that he loved her, she would have gotten through it much better.

  By the time Becca learned that Denny was safely returned to the U.S., she was a newly minted second-grade teacher, and she’d managed to do a lot of thinking. The way he’d acted was irrational; she’d expected their relationship to be a team effort, a true partnership in which he could count on her in hard times and she could count on him.

  She heard through Rich that Denny finished his two-year commitment at Camp Lejeune, but even though he was stateside again, he didn’t get in touch with her. During that time, Becca came to some conclusions about the kind of relationship she needed. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get to share her thoughts with Denny, but in fact she did. When Denny exited the Corps for the second time. Rich gave him the address for Becca’s apartment and he went to see her.

  “Okay,” he said, “it was a stupid move, breaking up with you. But I was all torn up over my mom’s death. If you’re game, I’d like to try again.”

  “Game?” she repeated, stunned. Outraged. He’d dumped her and ignored her for two painful years and that’s how he came back around? “Game?”

  “Look, Becca, I can admit to being screwed up, all right?”

  “There’s no question about that, Denny,” she said. “I’m teaching school now, you know. Second grade. Seven-year-olds. I love them—they’re precious. One of my kids has Tourette’s syndrome and some days are real hard for him. One of my little girls is recovering from six months of chemo after being diagnosed with leukemia. If we try again, fall in love again, get married and have a family, and one of our kids gets sick, will you bail? Will it be too heavy for you?”

  “I admit, I was wrong…”

  “Will you be wrong again? Leave to deal with whatever heartache it is alone? Leave me behind while you try to figure out your head?”

  “I hope not,” he had said.

  She lifted her chin, blinked away her tears and said, “I haven’t heard from you in two years. I have a guy in my life now who isn’t going to bolt on me if times get hard.”

  “Really?” he asked. “Rich didn’t say anything…”

  “Rich hasn’t met him yet. I’ll probably be engaged in a year. I guess that means I’m not game. You might have to come up w
ith something more compelling if you want a second chance.”

  She had been vindicated by the expression of shock and disbelief on his face. Did he really think he could screw up that bad, walk back into her life with some lame apology and wipe out the pain and loneliness she’d suffered for two whole years?

  He did. He said, “Well, I really blew that one. I’m sorry, Becca. I’m an idiot and I’m sorry.”

  And then he had left. Again. Left her, left San Diego. Rich said he’d gone to some little town in Northern California in search of his biological father and a new beginning.

  She had lied about the other guy, about the imminent engagement, out of hurt and anger. So Becca, who hadn’t been dating because she’d been grieving, said yes to a date with a guy she met on the beach—Doug Carey, down from UCLA Law School. And what she found was a guy who wasn’t very complicated. He had a list of commendable qualities—brains, education, money, confidence and looks. The thought of being with him forever should have lit up Becca’s world. Her mother, Beverly, was thrilled.

  But it was as if Denny had left a hole in her heart. She knew she should dive at the chance to marry Doug, but instead, it scared her to death. She needed to get over that if she was ever to be happy again.

  Now here they were, Denny and Becca, both twenty-five, six years older than the day they met. The past few years had been really rough. Then Rich started talking about a guys’ hunting trip with Denny coming up, and she began to wonder—is this a chance to face him and figure out why I can’t let go?

  Then she was suddenly jobless. Doug was tied up at UCLA with finals and study and was flying home for a quick Thanksgiving with his family. He had invited her along, but her mind was made up—she wanted to go hunting with Rich. She didn’t exactly lie to her mother, but she did say “Don’t worry about me for Thanksgiving. Doug invited me to Cape Cod with him.” So her parents had planned a last-minute trip to Cabo, since their kids would be away. Becca went to a sportsman’s store for clothes and gear, packed a big suitcase, showed up on Rich’s doorstep in the predawn and insisted on going along. Once and for all, I’m confronting this!