Bring Me Home for Christmas

While she was measured for crutches, she thought hard. It might be best just to take her chances. Or maybe she could tell her mother the truth and have her come to get her. Her mother would want to come and get her—so she could carry on for days about how insane it was to come to Virgin River in search of a solution to the Denny/Doug dilemma.

  Didn’t that make her feel nauseous….

  By the time the tech wheeled her back to her hospital room, Denny had finally returned with a large paper cup filled with coffee.

  “Hey,” he said, standing from his chair. “You’re looking pretty good!”

  “Thanks,” she said somberly.

  The tech put the brakes on the wheelchair. “Want me to send the nurse down to help you get into your clothes?” he asked, looking at her face and Denny’s.

  “Please,” she said.

  When he left the room, Denny sat again so he could be at her eye level. “You in pain, Becca?”

  “Oh, just a little uncomfortable. Not as bad as you’d think it would be.”

  “Are you so upset? It looks like you’ve been crying.”

  “Denny, I’m afraid I’m stuck here for a week at least. The doctor said I shouldn’t travel, especially not a long trip. I have to elevate the leg, I can’t have it dangling during a long car ride or even a long flight. I could get blood clots or other bad things.”

  “Then you’ll keep it elevated,” he said.

  “Denny, it’s going to be real hard to get around, to get cleaned up and dressed and all that. And I appreciate all you’re doing, but no offense, the idea of sitting in that room above the garage without even a TV while you guys hunt and fish and play poker… It sounds awful.”

  He let out a little huff of laughter. “Becca, I won’t do that to you. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. I won’t leave you all alone. I promise. And when you can travel again, I’ll take you home. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?” He reached out and wiped a little tear off her cheek. “How long did the doctor say before you can travel safely?”

  “Ten days or so. He wants to see me again before I go.”

  “So I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, and then I’ll take you home.”

  While the nurse was helping her into the clothes Denny brought her, Becca started to wonder about a few things—like who would help her bathe and dress once she left the hospital? She couldn’t undress in front of Denny. Not now. Not under these circumstances. What a stupid mess.

  “Uh-oh,” the nurse said. “Okay, these jeans won’t work. However, I think I can open the right leg in the seam a little bit, so you can stitch it back up later, when the splint has been taken off. I have a seam-ripper at the nurses’ station for just this thing! Sit tight.”

  This is going to be an interesting challenge, Becca thought. A broken ankle grounding her was about the furthest thing from her plans.

  When the nurse came back, Becca said, “I bet I’m going to need one of those seam-ripper things. All I brought with me was jeans.”

  “You can pick one up anywhere they sell sewing supplies,” she said. “And if you don’t want to sacrifice your jeans, have your boyfriend run by Target or Wal-Mart and grab a couple of loose-fitting sweat suits. After the doctor takes the splint off to remove the stitches, he’ll give you a soft, protective boot or shoe that you can take off for bathing and dressing. No need to rip up all your jeans. Borrow a pair of your boyfriend’s socks—pull one over your splint to cover your toes. It’s winter out there, girl!”

  “Right,” Becca said. “Um, exactly how am I supposed to, you know, shower?”

  “Well, for the rest of this week, I recommend a sink full of water and a washcloth. That’s really the safest method. Put a towel across the toilet cover, sit down on it, wash up.”

  “And my hair?” she asked with a little catch in her voice. She couldn’t believe she was about to cry, but the idea of greasy, flat, smelly hair just about brought her to her knees. She’d always been so fastidious!

  “Stick your head in a deep sink and shampoo. Or, kneel beside the tub and use the tub spigot—just don’t stand on the foot. For today, want me to braid it for you?”

  “I’ll do it,” she said, taking the offered comb and working it through her long hair. Little bits of mud were still coming off. When she got all the tangles out, she began to work her fingers through her hair, putting it in a quick and neat French braid.

  “Wow, you’re good at that,” the nurse said. “You’re going to find that for the next few days, just washing up can wear you out. Some of that’s the effects of anesthesia. You’ve had an injury and your body is spending lots of energy trying to heal. Start with your hair—it doesn’t have to be shampooed every day. Rest a bit, then tackle the sponge bath. Next week, try a bath, hanging your right leg out of the tub. I know you probably prefer a shower but balancing on one leg to keep weight off your injured ankle is not only going to be difficult, it’s risky. Plus, your leg needs to stay completely dry.”

  “And if I want to take a shower?”

  “You can pull a small trash bag over the splint and tape it to your leg with surgical tape. Or you can wrap a bunch of self-adhesive saran around it. It’s amazing stuff—stick’s right to the skin. But my advice is to take a tub bath and hang your leg out. Trust me about not getting it wet.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not a good idea at all. It’ll itch and stink.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. This is going to feel clumsy at first, so just remember to take your time and do it in stages. Your balance is going to get better. But, Becca, if you put weight on that ankle, you could do some serious damage. Go slowly.”

  “I’m used to being very active. I can’t imagine that washing my hair would make me tired,” Becca said.

  “Your body is working on mending that bone. Give it a chance. You need good nutrition and rest. Be nice to yourself.” She smiled.

  “Yes,” she said. “Right.”

  The nurse gave her arm a stroke. “We put splints and casts on in the E.R. and send people right home all the time. You’ll be fine. And let people help. It’s okay.”

  On the drive back to Virgin River from the hospital, Denny said, “I gave Jack and Preacher a call while you were getting your crutches and I think we have a plan. A good plan. I’m taking you to Preacher and Paige’s house—it’s attached to the bar, but a totally private residence. You’ll be comfortable there. You can lie down in their room if you feel like sleeping and I’ll be around to make sure you have anything you need. I know you don’t want to be left all alone all day and you also don’t want to be locked in a room with me all day—but at least you’ll be right next to Jack’s in case you feel like company. You know, like your brother and Troy and Dirk. Plus, at Preacher’s you’ll have a little privacy and a TV for when you feel like being left alone. Chris, their seven-year-old, is in school and Dana, their two-year-old, stays real close to Paige and Preacher. You can put your foot up and I’ll bring you meals from the kitchen. Or, if you want to come to the bar, we can put your right foot up on a chair—your choice.”

  “But, Denny, I don’t even know them!” she said.

  “That doesn’t matter. It was Preacher’s idea. In the evenings, I’ll take you back to my room. Those stairs—you’re not ready to be going up and down those stairs, so I’ll carry you up there. Jack is loaning me a nice big blow-up mattress. I’ll sleep there with you at night so if you need anything, I’ll be right there. Like if you need a drink of water or help getting to the bathroom…”

  “Oh. My. God,” she muttered.

  Denny laughed at her. “I’ll be sure to close the door. Come on, Becca, I’m not going to embarrass you. Would you rather have Big Richie help you to the bathroom?”

  “Really, I want to die right now.”

  He laughed again. “You’ll be fine. It’ll take you about five minutes to feel at home with Paige and Preacher.”

  I want my mother, she thought with an internal cry.

  Her r
elationship with her mother was great, really. Her mother comforted her when she was down, praised her when she did well, laughed with her in happy times…and had an opinion about everything. Like most mothers and daughters, when it was good, it was very good and when it was bad it was horrid. For the past couple of years, Beverly’s opinion was that Denny wasn’t worth the tears and Doug had saved her life. Before that whole breakup with Denny, Beverly had loved him. He was Rich’s best friend and Becca’s boyfriend—double the pleasure. But then…

  “I don’t like that you’re not telling your parents about me being here,” Denny said. “Particularly your mother. I know she’s probably pissed off at me, but you should still be honest with her.”

  Becca’s head snapped around to look at him. Was he now reading her mind?

  “But it’s not up to me,” he said. “We can take care of you.”

  “We?” she asked.

  “Me. Mostly me. But there’s also Jack and his wife, Mel—she’s the local nurse practitioner and town midwife. There’s Paige and Preacher, my boss, Jillian, and her sister, Kelly. Lots of real nice people who want to help out if they can.” He glanced over at her. “These people are my family, Becca.”

  “But you haven’t even been here that long.”

  “About a year. Becca, did they give you some pain pills or something?”

  “Uh-huh, I had one just before we left the hospital. You’d be surprised how much my leg hurts, too, but the doctor said it’s going to let up. Listen, I get that you’re trying real hard but the thing that worries me…if you’re going to be all pissy and angry with me, I’d rather just make Rich stay with me….”

  “Believe me, Becca, I learned my lesson on that. Besides,” he said softly, “I don’t want to fight with you. I just want to help.”

  Five

  To Becca’s surprise, there was a welcoming party at Jack’s. Jack and Preacher were there, of course, but Becca hadn’t expected their wives. She recognized Paige from her first night at the bar and knew the other woman must be Mel, Jack’s wife, because Jack had his arm around her. And Rich, Dirk and Troy were there, too.

  Denny carried her into the bar. Rich immediately separated himself from the group and said, “Here, gimme that fat old load.” Holding his hands out for Becca, he added, “Just one of the guys, huh, Becca?”

  Mel said to Paige, “Isn’t it amazing how you can always pick out the brother?”

  Denny obliged, transferring her into Rich’s capable, if rude, arms. “I’ll go get the crutches.”

  “Thanks a lot, Rich,” she said. “You’re so sensitive and gentle.”

  He hefted her in his arms and said to Jack, “Where do you want this.”

  Becca whacked him in the head.

  Mel came forward and put out her hand. “Hi, Becca, I’m Mel Sheridan. Please don’t worry about a thing—we’ve got you covered. Denny’s a good friend and his friends are our friends. Would you like to sit in the bar for a while, maybe have a sandwich and soda? Or are you ready for a little privacy and rest?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “One thing I should do is make a phone call, and my cell doesn’t seem to work here.”

  “Very few people can get good cell coverage in the mountains,” Paige Middleton said. “But calling home is not a problem—we have unlimited long distance. You can make a call from my house anytime. Want to start right now?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Richard, follow Mrs. Middleton!”

  Paige led them through the kitchen and right into her living room. She patted the sofa. The cordless phone was beside it on the table. Rich put her down. “You all right?” he asked her.

  “You care?”

  “Well, sure, Becca. But you totally screwed up duck hunting.”

  “Bite me.”

  Paige cleared her throat. “I have a boy and a girl—is this what I have to look forward to? Never mind. Can I get you something to drink? A soda? Water?”

  Becca sat on the cushy leather couch in the spacious living room in Paige’s house, her leg propped up on the ottoman. Curled up at the other end of the couch on his very own doggy blanket was a black-and-white border collie, whom Paige introduced as Comet. The dog gave her a wag and a lick and then went to his corner like a good boy.

  Paige brought her a glass of water and told her to take her time on the phone. She thought for a moment before dialing. To her surprise, there was an answer.

  “This is Doug Carey.”

  She jumped in surprise. “Doug?”

  “Becca?” he asked.

  “I didn’t expect you to answer. I was composing a message to leave you. Where are you?”

  “At the airport. I got an earlier flight and, since you’re not around, I’m heading out today. You did get a refund on your ticket, didn’t you?”

  She’d never even bought the ticket out East. Of course, Doug wanted to buy the ticket, but she insisted. “A credit,” she lied. “I have a year to use it on any destination.” She made herself a promise—when this was over and she was home, reassured and waiting for that engagement ring under the tree, she’d tell him everything. “Do you have a second to talk?”

  “We’ll be boarding in about ten,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  “Well, I’ve had a little accident,” she said. “Nothing to worry about, but I broke my ankle and have a splint. I’ll be on crutches for six weeks.”

  “Becca,” he said in a disapproving tone.

  “I jumped out of my brother’s truck and landed wrong. So much for hunting and fishing.”

  “Get a ride to the nearest airport and use that credit. Meet me in Boston, I’ll drive you to Cape Cod….”

  “Well, here’s the thing. I’m stranded. Can’t travel. Can’t even drive home with Rich on Sunday. I have to get the splint taken off and the ankle checked by the doctor.”

  “Why can’t you travel?”

  “Aside from the fact that I can’t manage my luggage on crutches, you mean?”

  “Becca, that’s what five dollar bills are for—skycaps.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Of course.” Doug Carey didn’t schlepp bags. “Well, the main reason is that my leg has to be elevated so it doesn’t swell. And it would be very bad if it swelled under the splint. And I guess the danger of blood clots if I’m on a long flight or drive is a factor. Best to just wait for the all clear.”

  “And then?”

  “Well, I guess then I’ll get a flight home. Me and my five dollar bills…”

  He actually laughed. “Only you, Becca.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “What a klutz, huh?” Only a surfing champion with wicked good balance! “Listen, on the off chance you get some wild, insane urge to speak to my mother, please do not call her and tell her about this.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because she and Dad went to Mexico for the holiday and I don’t want them to worry or come back early. Just don’t.”

  “It never occurred to me, but point taken. Dare I hope you got this out of your system?”

  “This?” she asked.

  “Hunting and fishing,” he said. “Will you be off crutches by Christmas?”

  “Very close, but I’ll be cleared to travel much sooner than that.”

  “Good. Because I just picked up a great Napa package we can use around Christmas—a vineyard tour. It was supposed to be a surprise, but since I won’t see you, I’m telling you now.”

  Right then, Denny came into the room, carrying her crutches. He gave her a smile and pointed at them. She pointed at the floor by the couch.

  And suddenly, even though one of them was in the room and one hundreds of miles away at an airport, she could see both men as if they were standing beside each other. Denny was wearing jeans, boots, a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves and looked like a woodsman, while she knew Doug would be in dress slacks with a cashmere sweater, carrying his leather jacket in preparation for the cold Boston winter. The lumberjack next to the metrosexual.

  “How d
oes that sound, babe?” Doug went on.

  “Great. Nice. Fun.”

  “I have a list of all the tasting rooms—we’ll go over it before we even head that way. Decide exactly which vineyards appeal to us most.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  Denny put down the crutches and began to leave the room, heading back for the bar.

  “There’s my call—we’re boarding. I love you, babe,” he said.

  “Have a safe trip.”

  “Becca. I said, I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she said. But she said it quietly.

  Not quietly enough. Denny paused, stiffened just slightly, then continued on. And she thought, Crap. I’m screwed.

  Becca relaxed on the sofa for a while before she grabbed up her crutches and made her way to the bathroom. She managed just fine. A little slow, maybe, but she never put weight on her foot and didn’t fall, either. Surfing was better than skiing or ballet for balance.

  Suddenly, she realized Doug never asked her where she was staying. Never asked if she needed him. His most immediate concern was whether she’d be able to travel when he wanted to take his Napa tour… She had a premonition of what life was going to be like—it was going to revolve around Doug. Of course. He was the busy one, the important one.

  She sighed. Might be a good idea to cut her losses and shoot for spinsterhood.

  She headed back into the bar. It was more crowded now than it was around the dinner hour. Troy separated himself from his friends and held out a chair at a table near the fire for her. She sat down gratefully and he quickly lifted her leg up onto a second chair, then leaned the crutches against the wall right behind her. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s more work than you’d think.”

  He sat down at the table. A quick glance around told her Denny was not in the room. “Where’s Denny? Did he leave?”

  “Out back,” Troy said, pointing toward the window. “I take it he spends a lot of time helping out around here.”

  She turned and looked out the window. The day was bright and cold and Denny was splitting logs on a tree trunk, stacking up a nice pile of wood for the fireplace. She wondered if he was working off that “I love you” he’d overheard.