My Kind of Christmas

  Donna frowned. “Worried?”

  Angie explained about Paddy’s best friend’s death, which precipitated this leave from the Navy. “It took its toll, but he’s going to be all right. We have a lot in common that way.”

  It was not lost on Donna that Angie’s eyes took on a proud shine when she talked about him. No argument from Donna—this was the young man who helped a stranger in a parking lot. “Fate is wonderful sometimes,” she said. “When you decided to come up here, I thought you might be bored.”

  Angie shook her head. “Of course, his leave will be up soon.”

  “Then you should enjoy the time you have,” Donna said.

  “Mom, have you been hypnotized?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You haven’t been yourself. You’re different.”

  How to phrase it? Donna asked herself. “You’re the guinea pig, Ange—getting me in shape for your younger sisters. It’s time for you and I to meet on a new playing field and no one prepared me for this. While you’re growing up, you need someone to raise you, to keep you from falling off the cliff now and then, to herd you, help you make good choices. And now? Now it’s time for you to see me in a different way. I want to be entitled to an opinion now and then without offending you. I want to be there for you when you need me but you don’t have to answer to me. I want to be in your path but not in your way. You’re officially on your own. So how do we do that?”

  “Feels like you’re doing it....”

  “But there’s a fine line. Let’s try looking at it in a role reversal—when you think I’m slipping or sick or hurt and can’t take proper care of myself, will you step in? Will you have a board meeting with your sisters and say, ‘Mom is short of breath and sometimes confused and in denial and Dad is useless with health issues—we have to stage a takeover and do something or we might lose her.’ Will you, Ange? Because I used to talk to my friends about child-raising issues and now we’re talking about looking out for our elderly parents. Things change and yet stay the same. I want to be there for you when you need me, but I also want to be able to rely on you because there’s no question I’m going to need you. We have to make the transition somehow. We have to do it as friends. We have to rebuild our trust.”

  “Mom…”

  “I know—I’m bossy. It’s been pointed out to me for over fifty years now. It wasn’t easy to be the oldest of five kids or be a working mother with three little girls. I might’ve taken on a few controlling issues. But Jenna and Beth will graduate from college before very long and I desperately want this monkey off my back. I want to learn how to be a good partner to my adult daughters.”

  Donna watched Angie as tears came to her eyes.

  “Please don’t cry, Ange. I’ll be banished if you cry.”

  “Oh, Mom, that’s just so sweet! You’re not exactly known for being sweet....”

  Donna rolled her eyes. It was going to be decades before she grew out of that reputation. “Who held you while you cried when that asshole stood you up on prom night? Who fired MCAT questions at you to help you get ready for the test? I’ve worked on countless science projects and checked over more homework than a sane woman can bear. Please, can you cut me some slack?”

  Angie laughed. “Damn Beth and Jenna. I’ll get you all fixed up and they’ll get the benefits.” She wiped at her eyes and that fast Jack was beside their table.

  “Donna, did you make her cry?”

  “No!”

  “No, Jack—we were making up, actually,” Angie said. She took a breath. “I’m going back to the kitchen to get a bowl of soup. Want one, Mom?”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  As soon as Angie was in the kitchen, Jack bore down on Donna. “What was that?”

  “New rules of engagement, Jack. I need my daughter in my life and I’m just arrogant enough to think she still needs me. I threw myself on her mercy. I think she was touched, actually.”

  “Is that right? Will you be leaving now?”

  She shook her head. “I need to stay awhile. And I’m going to do what I can to be supportive without interfering.”

  “Why don’t you get back to the family and leave that to us—me and Mel, Brie and Mike.”

  “Because, Jack. My little girl is in love with a fine young man. It’s going to really sting when he goes. And he has to go, we all know that. I want to be here for her if she needs me.”

  Fourteen

  Angie introduced her mother to the Riordans, including Maureen and George. They all had dinner together in one of those fantastic gang meals hosted by Jilly, cooked by Kelly. And the next night, Jack’s was full of family and friends. On both nights she went home alone, convincing Patrick that if his mother called or dropped by, she wanted him to be there. One more night and she’d be going to Davis, so on this night she was back at the cabin early so she’d be able to get up early. When she pulled into the clearing, she burst into laughter.

  There sat the Jeep. Smoke curled from the chimney and the Christmas lights were turned on. Now one of the smaller pines wore lights and balls—Patrick had been at it again.

  She walked in and found him sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, stocking feet up on the chest, a small glass with some dark amber liquor in it. His travel duffel sat just inside the door.

  “You trimmed my tree,” she said.

  “That’s right. And I’m going to trim you next.” And then he smiled that lopsided smile and his green eyes glowed in the firelight. “Everyone knows we’re going to bed early so we can get up at 4:00 a.m. to drive to Davis. No one is going to call or come over. It’s just you and me. You’re not getting rid of me this time.”

  She shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her boots. “What have you got there?” she asked, indicating the glass.

  “I little brandy to warm your mood and help you snuggle up next to me, which by the way I want to do every night until that black day comes when we have to go back to reality.”

  She saw the brandy and a glass sitting on the counter, waiting for her. She poured herself a small amount and went to sit with him. “What did you do with yourself today? Besides trimming my tree?”

  “I spent plenty of time with Maureen, George and my brothers so we’d be left alone tonight. And I copped a container of Kelly’s duck soup for when we’re hungry later. I borrowed a thermos from Jilly for coffee for the drive.”

  She touched his beautiful face. “You’re doing a very good job of making yourself unforgettable, Paddy.”

  “You’ll forget me in no time, babe.”

  Angie knew better, but she wasn’t going to show her weak side. She opted in this relationship knowing the facts.

  Soup followed brandy and bed followed soup. Patrick undressed her and touched her slowly. Carefully. When he slipped his hand below her waist he smiled. “I wish you could really know what it means to me, that you’re ready for me the second I touch you.”

  She laughed softly. “Patrick, I get ready at the sound of your voice. And it’s not something I do on purpose, either. That line from the movie—‘You had me at hello’—they weren’t talking about what people thought.” And then she laid a deep kiss on him, sliding her hand over the bulge in his pants. “Hello,” she whispered against his lips.

  He moved over her, gently building the tension in her with fingers and lips until she was asking, Please please please, and he laughed low in his throat. Then he satisfied her, leaving both of them panting.

  “God,” she whispered. “How do you do it?”

  “I listen to you,” he whispered. “You tell me what you want. Need.”

  “I never say a word!”

  “You sigh. You moan. Your body lifts to me. You wrap yourself around me when you’re ready. You’re responsive and have a powerful language just for me.” He kissed he
r deeply. “For right now, for this little space in time, you belong to me and I belong to you.”

  “Does a small part of you wish, for just a second, that Christmas wouldn’t come this year?”

  He brushed back her hair. “It’s not a small part of me, honey. And it lasts all day long.”

  * * *

  Deep in the night, Patrick found himself transported to the carrier. It was predawn and the mist was rolling over the deck. He was crouched, preflighting the Hornet, kicking some tires. He’d been here in the middle of the night before but this felt strange—he was alone with the jet. No fuelers, mechanics, techs. Just Paddy and his plane—and it was eerie and quiet.

  Patrick looked up and there he was again, leaning against the jet. Jake. Grinning. He was wearing his flight suit and holding his helmet. “Hey,” he said.

  Paddy stood up to look him in the eye. “What do you have to smile about?”

  “Good to see you, too.”

  “You’re not real,” Paddy pointed out.

  Jake laughed and shook his head. “I’m as real as you want me to be, man. Listen, it’s time for you to cut me loose.”

  “Am I keeping you from something?”

  “No, I’m keeping you from something. Paddy, wake up. Do what you know you have to do.”

  “I can’t wake up.”

  “Paddy, it’s all right. Wake up.”

  “I can’t wake up. I’ll do it—just don’t worry. I’ll do it. I’ll take care of her. Don’t go yet. Tell me what it’s like.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? It’s like heaven, man, which is a miracle in itself. I was not slotted for heaven. Not as exciting as the Hornet, but I get by. Paddy, wake up and do what you have to do. Paddy, wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

  His eyes popped open and he was looking into Angie’s large, brown eyes. She was up on her knees, looking down at him. He took a breath. “Whoa.”

  “Nightmare?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re going to think I’m crazy. It was Jake.”

  She dropped down so she was sitting on her heels. “You were talking to him. What did he say to you?”

  Aw, he didn’t want to tell her that! Jake wanted him to go to Marie and Daniel, to take care of his family since he couldn’t. “He kept telling me to wake up.”

  “Um, that might’ve been me. You were doing some thrashing around and mumbling. Did it look like him? Sound like him?”

  He nodded. “If it’s not weird enough to see your dead best friend in a dream, we were on the deck of a completely deserted aircraft carrier. A ghost ship. Dreams are weird.”

  “You didn’t seem scared, but you were struggling. Was it a good visit?”

  “Angie, it’s not like it really happened.”

  She gave a shrug and snuggled up next to him. “Never know,” she said. “It’s almost time to get up.”

  He pulled her closer. “I’m sorry I woke you. Sometimes I can be a real load to sleep with.”

  She giggled. “Right. Sometimes you’re nothing but trouble.”

  * * *

  They were all at the surgical center by 8:00 a.m. It took only a few minutes for Lorraine to sign all the releases and give her daughter a kiss before sending her off with a nurse to be prepared for surgery. She had barely cleared the waiting room when Dr. Hernandez came through the door. He was wearing scrubs and drying his hands on a towel.

  “I’m sure it’s been explained to you, Mrs. Thickson, that we’re going to give Megan a mild sedative now and within a half hour anesthesia will be administered. The procedure will take an hour, possibly two. It’s not complicated at all, but we don’t hurry where facial nerves are involved. You can wait here or you can go out and come back in a couple of hours. She’ll either be just coming out of surgery or waking up. There will be bandages, but they’re coming off tomorrow.”

  Lorraine nodded.

  Then he looked at Angie and said, “Will you come back with me?”

  She was a little confused. “Sure.” And she followed.

  Dr. Hernandez sat on a stool at a stainless-steel counter in front of a computer. He was typing something in. He turned toward her and gave her a smile. “So, the intel on you is that you’re very smart. So Dr. Temple tells us.”

  Her eyes grew round. “I get by,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Have you ever observed a surgery?”

  “I saw a knee scoped,” she said.

  “Ah, mechanical engineering,” he said with a grin. “Would you like to scrub in with me?”

  “Me? But I don’t know anything about this!”

  He stood up from his stool. “You won’t be asked to do anything. We’re going to keep you out of the way—on the outside of our sterile field with the circulating nurse. But perhaps you’ll be able to catch a glimpse of what’s going on and it may interest you. Unless you don’t think you’re up to it…”

  “I’m up to it!” she said.

  “Even though this is your young friend?”

  “But she’s going to be fine.”

  He gave a nod. “Completely fine. There will be more blood than a knee scope, however....”

  “I’m good,” she said. “Let me run and tell Paddy and Lorraine where I’ll be.” She dashed to the waiting room before he could change his mind.

  She tried to be calm but could feel excitement bubbling over. Sure, she had decided to forgo medical school for at least a couple of years, but for a girl who grew up taking things apart and putting them back together again, this sounded like fun. “And I’ll be right there when Megan wakes up. Why don’t you two go get some breakfast or at least some coffee? We have Paddy’s cell phone number if you’re needed.”

  “I’m not sure I could eat,” Lorraine said.

  “Even more reason—get something in your stomach to keep you calm and alert.”

  “I’ve got this,” Paddy said, taking Lorraine’s elbow. “There’s a Denny’s on the corner. We’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Thank you. Let me get going—I don’t want to hold them up.”

  She no sooner walked through the door when she found herself in the custody of the circulating nurse named Denise. “We’re going to scrub together, Angie. And you’re going to stay close to me during the procedure.” Denise handed her a couple of hair bands. “Can you put up your hair so that none is trailing out of the cap?”

  “Sure,” she said, working it up to the top of her head. “This is so nice of him! How could he have known I’d give anything to watch?”

  She laughed and said, “Great instincts, that one. This way.”

  While they scrubbed hands and forearms, Denise went over a few guidelines and asked some questions. “Does the O.R. make you nervous, Angie? Because I understand you’ve been through some dramatic surgeries of your own.”

  “And so grateful,” she said, running the brush around and over her nails. “Those surgeries saved my life.”

  “Do you get light-headed at the sight of blood?”

  “I haven’t,” she said.

  “No PTSD from your accident?”

  “Not the usual kind,” she said with a laugh. “I’m doing pretty well.”

  Denise smiled. “Good for you. I wouldn’t have thought otherwise. I’ll put a piece of tape on the floor in the O.R.—that’s your marker. Stay behind the tape. I think you’ll be able to see what’s going on. Maybe not everything. A lot of the doctor’s work is so detailed it seems like magic. And he’ll be wearing loupes—glasses with two and a half times magnification lenses, so he’ll have a much better view.”

  “Do you work with Dr. Hernandez often?”

  “Pretty regularly. It’s not easy because everyone likes working with him. You’ll see, he’s a prince in the operating
room. Very professional. And he’s a gifted surgeon. If I ever needed that kind of work done, he would be my first choice.”

  “Flirt,” Dr. Hernandez accused as he walked up to the sink beside them and began his scrub. “When we’re in the O.R., it’s all right to ask questions, Angie. I may not answer immediately or give instruction or long complicated answers, but it’s all right. Denise might also have an answer to a question.”

  “Thank you,” she said

  When they were gowned and masked, they went into the O.R. Megan was asleep, the nurse anesthetist monitoring her vitals. The O.R. tech who would assist the doctor had his gown and instruments ready. Once he was suited up, he drew a couple of lines on Megan’s face. It began so quickly, Angie was shocked.

  “I’ve completely excised the scar down to its base. I’ll raise the flaps on either side. May I have a double hook?” he asked his tech. “In a young healthy patient, we don’t have to worry about ischemia.”

  “Ischemia?” Angie quietly asked the nurse.

  Dr. Hernandez answered her. “Compromised circulation to the tissue.

  “Now the flaps are raised and you can see this allows closure without tension. The key to a good scar is minimizing tension. If it’s tight, the scar will widen.”

  He talked a little about what he was doing, but to no one in particular, not in a tone that lectured. She leaned close, wanting to absorb it, wanting to get her hands in there. “5-0 Monocryl, please. Next I’ll close the deep dermis, which will provide strength to the repair. I’ll close the skin with interrupted 6-0 Prolene. I like to take sutures on the face out early. With a good, deep closure we can take the sutures out in five days and Steri-Strip.” Angie was leaning so far over the tape on the floor that a couple of times Denise grabbed the back of her gown and pulled her.

  The stitching fascinated her—fast, small loops that he slid under and over the excised scar.

  “My aunt Mel suggested you might have to do something to the other side of her face to keep her features proportional....”

  “Not on a patient this young with such healthy skin. Perhaps on an older patient with redundant skin, but Megan will be fine with this repair.”