My Kind of Christmas

  “Thus, the hang-ups,” Angie said dryly. “But this whole thing just doesn’t seem like such a big deal to me. Sure, it’s a big change. But isn’t it expected—normal, even—for a person to change their perspective on life after a near-death experience? The accident helped me to see what is really important in this world, and it showed me that I’m strong enough to be a part of it. I thought my mom might understand that.”

  “You and your mom have had a very close, very mutually supportive relationship. We need to get that back for both of you before you spring something like this on her.”

  “I’m not going to pretend to follow her trajectory for me just so we can be on good terms. I want my own life, not the one she outlined for me. And I love her, too. But, Brie—”

  “I completely understand. But can we at least slow down a bit and ease her into the idea that you want something of your own design? That you’re ready and capable of deciding some things for yourself? Can we be more reasonable about this?”

  “When she pushes on me, I just can’t deal with it. I have to hang up.”

  “Or maybe try something like, ‘That’s an interesting suggestion, Mom, let me think about that for a while.’”

  Angie ran a hand through her hair. “That doesn’t slow her down. She can be relentless.”

  “Follow with ‘Let’s talk about this later, Mom. Brie needs me to babysit.’ I’ll cover for you. Let’s just give her time, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “It’s not like I’m shipping out tomorrow. It’s not that easy to get into the peace corps, you know.”

  “I know. And given all you’ve been through, I don’t find it a strange idea,” Brie said. “How about your stay here so far? Almost a week in that little cabin, hanging out around town, helping in the clinic? How’s it going?”

  Angie grinned. “I love it so much. You people really have it made, in a rough sort of way. I know you have lots of challenges here but you have exceptional beauty every day. And the challenges have made all of you closer. Look at me. I just got to town and I’ve already found a project that needs me. I love Mel’s clinic—it’s perfect. The town relies on her—do you know how great that is?”

  “I do,” Brie said.

  “And you were running away to this town to fall in love—and look at what you bring to the whole county. I’m sure it’s not as high dollar as Sacramento County D.A.’s office, but doesn’t it feel good?”

  “Most days,” she agreed with a smile.

  “I do love it here. I always have,” Angie said.

  “And how about that little crush we talked about last weekend?” Brie asked. “What’s up with that?”

  “Brie, it was never little....”

  “Oh, that’s right—you described it as world-class.”

  “Yes. And full-blown.” Then Angie’s cheeks pinkened, though she tried to smile through it.

  “Full-blown?” Brie asked weakly.

  “I’m seeing him. We’re trying to be discreet so Jack doesn’t get…you know, how he gets.”

  “Seeing?” Brie asked. But she shook her head. Did she not want the answer?

  Angie took a deep breath. She closed her eyes as she answered. “He’s wonderful. I adore him. And until I have to give him up, I’m going to love every inch of him.”

  “Oh, God…” Brie’s eyes grew round and her mouth hung open, then she let her head fall to the kitchen table with a thunk, again.

  * * *

  Brie and Angie had always been close. When Brie was a tot, her big brother Jack carted her around, spoiled her, fussed over her. And then he went off to the Marine Corps when she was only five. When Angie was born, twelve-year-old Brie couldn’t be around her enough. She was more a big sister than aunt—her babysitter and confidante.

  While both of them were devoted to Donna, there were also times it felt as though they shared a common enemy. Donna was strong willed; she could be a force of nature. Also, Donna would often be the one to step in during a crisis large or small and take charge, manage the situation, resolve the problem. She seemed to be able to do that effortlessly.

  When Donna and Brie’s mother died, Brie leaned on her big sister heavily, and there was no question she’d have been lost without her. Angie leaned on both her mother and her aunt. Together, they all propped up Angie’s grandfather, Sam.

  Everyone knew Donna was a good, strong woman.

  She could be difficult and hard to satisfy, tough to please.

  She could also be so warm and compassionate.

  Brie remembered too well a time when she was Angie’s age, a law student messing with a professor. Donna had had a hissy. Brie would’ve died before listening to Donna, though. In fact, she wondered if it was Donna’s warnings that might’ve driven her into the professor’s arms. And, still, when her heart was breaking, Brie ran to Donna, who consoled her.

  And here they were, full circle. Brie had learned a few things since she was Angie’s age, things she hoped she could remember when her own daughter was twenty-three. For now, Brie pulled Angie into a hug and said, “Please be careful.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Would you like to have dinner with us tonight? At the bar?”

  Angie laughed. “Not a chance.”

  After saying their goodbyes, Brie made her way to the bar for dinner. Mike was meeting her there, as was Mel with her kids. This time of year the place had an even bigger draw than during deer-hunting season, given the tree and that amazing star on top. It was a crazier place—people came from miles to see the tree and it was only natural to stop into Jack’s for dinner or dessert. And fortunately, Brie’s daughter, Ness, and her cousins Emma and David were big enough now to sit at the table, feed themselves, maybe do a little coloring, sometimes sneaking off to Preacher’s quarters to play with Dana and the toys.

  Even with that advantage, the bar was not conducive to quiet conversation. And yet, Brie really needed to talk.

  “Can you spit it out?” Mel asked, once they’d all settled at a table.

  “Are you psychic or what? Because I don’t recall saying I wanted to talk.”

  “You and Paige have been my best friends for going on five years. Both of you chew on the inside of your cheek when you’ve got a problem. Don’t ask me why both of you do that....”

  “I’m going to stop immediately,” Brie said. “I honestly don’t know if I should be talking about this.”

  “Patrick and Angie?”

  “She told you?”

  Mel shook her head. “I guessed.”

  “And she admitted it?”

  Mel shook her head again. “She got red as a beet when I mentioned him. Dead giveaway. Even if I hadn’t already noticed her bright eyes, distracted behavior and whisker burn.”

  “Shew. You should really be a cop.”

  Mel laughed.

  “What are we going to do?” Brie asked.

  “I think nothing.”

  “Do we tell Jack?”

  “I think definitely not. Angie might see that as a betrayal. Besides, it’s not going to take Jack long to figure it out himself.”

  Brie leaned back and took in the scene of the loud, packed room. Mike was behind the bar, as was Denny Cutler, Jack’s part-time help. Preacher and Paige were serving; every few minutes Denny made a swing through the room with a large tub and bussed and wiped tables. “Maybe not at this time of year,” Brie observed. “He’s awful busy.”

  “He’ll get around to it,” Mel said.

  “Did you talk to Angie about this…this…”

  “Love affair?” Mel asked. She shook her head. “She seems very private about it. Shy. I don’t want to shake her confidence or worry her.”

  “But, Mel!”

  “Are you really surprised?” Mel asked. “Why wo
uld you be? I guess because Angie has always been most impressive in the academic arena, not the social. But, Brie, there are a few things I’ve learned about the women in your family—you’re all so smart and so passionate and so loving. Angie was bound to do something like this eventually. Didn’t she have a serious boyfriend last year?”

  “Alex. But he was a wiener. I don’t know why they were together, anyway, and when he disappeared while she was in the hospital, it didn’t seem to bother her too much. I suspect she was glad to be rid of him.”

  “This one is not a wiener,” Mel said. “He’s a Riordan. If anyone can match the passion of the Sheridans, it’s a Riordan.” She fanned her face.

  “But isn’t this one, Patrick, in a bad place right now?”

  “Isn’t Angie?” Mel asked, lifting a brow. “I’m probably too sentimental, but I think people find each other when they’re supposed to. When they need to. And, no, I don’t fantasize that this will all work out sweet and happy—in fact, I think there might be tears and heartache. But does she need this right now? I don’t know. Maybe. Can we stop it? No way. Brie, that ship has sailed. Listen,” she added, leaning close, “if I could be in charge, I’d work it out so that we always gained our greatest wisdom from the easy, fun stuff. That makes more sense to me. But it doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s usually the roughest waters that teach us the most.”

  Brie thought for a moment about her own heartaches, long ago and far away. The professor, the slimeball; her ex-husband who had an affair with her best friend, the unfaithful turd. And then came Mike, who she would never have found but for the series of catastrophes she’d had to survive first.

  “I don’t want her to hurt,” Brie said.

  “Me, either,” Mel agreed.

  “Donna’s going to flip,” Brie added.

  “She better not. That would be the kiss of death. At some point she’s going to have to give up.”

  “Ninety percent of the time Donna and Angie have a great relationship, but hoo boy, that ten percent! Do all mothers and daughters go through this?” Brie asked.

  “Did you?”

  “My mother passed away quite a while ago, but I went through it with Donna in her place!”

  “Listen, I know you sympathize with Angie,” Mel said. “So do I. I just want to ask that you remember Donna’s burden isn’t light. She wants to protect her daughter just like she probably wanted to protect you. And I bet she takes a lot of heat for trying. Strong women can be so underappreciated unless you’re screaming for their help.”

  * * *

  Angie’s plan was to go home to the cabin, light the fire, grab a shower and call Patrick. They hadn’t made plans but she was willing to bet he was flexible. She had no idea what he did during the day while she was busy at the clinic, but she took great comfort in the fact that his plane ticket home wasn’t until the twenty-third.

  When she pulled into the cabin’s clearing, her heart leaped. His Jeep was parked there. He’d decorated the cabin! The eaves were adorned with colored Christmas lights. There was a wreath on the door. A curl of smoke rose from the chimney and there were lights on inside. When she opened the door her senses were tempted by a wonderful aroma. He sat on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table trunk, and smiled at her.

  “Well, my favorite B and E man,” she said.

  “I didn’t have to break in. The door was unlocked. Come here, you delicious little thing.”

  She dove to the couch, right into his arms. “Cooking?”

  “Sort of. A frozen lasagna, bread, a salad from the deli in Fortuna. Hungry?”

  “I am. It was my plan to get a quick shower and then call you....”

  “I can help with that,” he said.

  “It’s a very small shower.”

  “We aren’t going to need a lot of room for what I have in mind.”

  * * *

  I’m getting too old for this, Jack thought. The stress of this whole tree thing was driving him into the ground. People started arriving at five, about the time the sun was going down. He’d had to light the heaters on the porch because the size of the crowd meant there’d be a long wait for a table. But standing around outside and enjoying the tree didn’t seem to bother anyone. And they stayed late—the bar was busy until after ten.

  This year he and Preacher had to suspend the early breakfast four days a week to compensate for staying open later. Friday through Monday they didn’t open until nine in the morning, even though typically, especially during the fall hunting season, they had the fires lit by six.

  On this particular night, Jack left the bar at nine-thirty even though there were still quite a few people there. Denny offered to take over for him, and the kid was amazing—he could handle anything. Denny was a partner out at Jilly Farms and the month of December was nothing but greenhouse work, snow removal and relatively easy days. But the bar was hopping, so Denny took the opportunity to put in more hours. His young wife, Becca, was busy with the Christmas pageant at the church and the Christmas program at the elementary school (where she was director, teacher, treasurer and custodian), so if he was late getting home, it was no big deal. Besides, all that work at the bar brought in extra cash, and Denny and Becca were saving for a house of their own.

  Jack was anxious to get home to his own wife. By now the kids would be asleep and Mel would probably still be up, reading or something. It was his favorite time of day.

  Even so, he drove out to Angie’s cabin instead. He hadn’t seen her all day—she’d gone to Brie’s for lunch and turned down an invitation to the bar for dinner. Who could blame her, it was a zoo. But to be sure she was eating well, he had Preacher pack up some brisket, some mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and a cherry pie made from preserves from Jilly. To prove he wasn’t such an old stick in the mud, he’d grabbed a bottle of sauvignon blanc, too, her brew of choice as far as he could remember.

  When he pulled up to the cabin he found the lights out, smoke coming from the fireplace and Patrick Riordan’s Jeep parked next to Angie’s SUV.

  I am so an old stick in the mud, he thought.

  He backed out and went home. He left his take-out dinner and the wine in the kitchen, took his boots off by the back door, dropped his shirt and socks on the washer—he smelled like grease and beer—and followed the light to the bedroom.

  Mel was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her laptop balanced on her lap. She looked up at him, smiling as she closed the laptop. “Hi, darling…”

  But he was frowning. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “I took a sack of takeout and bottle of wine out to my niece and guess what? Paddy’s Jeep is parked out there and the lights are out.”

  She studied his face for a moment. A long, stretched-out moment. Finally she asked, “What kind of wine?”

  Nine

  When Angie entered the bar in the morning, it was empty. She went behind the bar, helped herself to a cup of coffee, then went back around to sit up on one of the stools. It was only a couple of minutes before Jack came from the kitchen.

  “Hi,” she said. “Mel said you wanted to have a cup of coffee with me.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  He got out his own mug and filled it. She couldn’t miss the fact that he wore a troubled frown, that he was contemplative.

  “Ange, I went out to the cabin last night. I got off a little early and since I hadn’t seen you all day I wanted to surprise you with some takeout and a nice bottle of wine.”

  “Aww. How sweet.”

  “Well, obviously I didn’t make it inside. I thought it might be awkward, what with the lights out and Patrick’s Jeep there.” He looked at her pointedly.

  “He surprised me. When I got home from the clinic he was there. Did you see the lights? He put up
Christmas lights and a wreath. I’m thinking about a small Christmas tree, but I don’t have ornaments. I could string popcorn or something. We used to do that—”

  “Ange, Patrick was there. It was nine-thirty.”

  She looked at her watch. “He was there at eight-thirty this morning, too.”

  Jack groaned, leaned on the bar and put his head in his hand. “Angie, Angie, Angie.”

  But she held firm, looking him straight in the eyes. “I like him. He’s a great guy.”

  Jack lifted his head. “He’s a Navy pilot from Charleston.”

  “I know this. On leave until the twenty-third. Then back to the base…and probably the ship.”

  “So you know it has no potential? That it won’t last? That you’re having a little…?”

  She leaned toward him. “Jack, he spent the night. I have very high standards, especially since that last boyfriend dumped me before I even remembered who he was. Paddy is a perfect gentleman. Uncle Jack, I’m twenty-three. I’m not a child, and I’m certainly not a nun.”

  “You seem so young to your poor old uncle Jack....”

  She shook her head sadly. “Emma’s going to have a hard time with you. My mother was engaged at twenty-three.”

  “Your mother was engaged twice,” he corrected.

  Angie sat back. “Really? I didn’t know that!”

  “The first one was a mistake. Angie, I worry about Patrick. There are things bothering him.”

  “His best friend was killed right in front of him! Recently. You’re right—of course it bothers him.”

  “I think he has PTSD stuff going on.”

  She laughed. “Jack, I have PTSD!” To his shocked expression she said, “Oh, I get it, you thought PTSD was reserved for the military. Most of my issues are very different from Paddy’s, but it’s amazing how much we have in common. PTSD is something you have to work through—it doesn’t mean you’re permanently damaged goods. And you know what? I thought I dreaded everyone knowing, but I’m glad it’s out—now maybe we can get dinner here or order takeout or be seen together. I’m kind of tired of all this sneaking around.”