Bring Me Home for Christmas (4 page)

After brushing her teeth, washing her face and putting on some warm pajamas, she crawled into bed. She hadn’t bothered with the clean sheets, but she should have. She caught Denny’s scent on the linens and she remembered it far too distinctly. It was that perfect combination from both of them—her flowery scent combined with his masculine musk. It was so long ago she was astonished she could still summon it in her mind, but it came back to her effortlessly.

A tear escaped. They’re going to come after me with a net, she thought. What if she was still in love with him? And he hated her? How the hell was she going to have a life?

This is going to be torture, she thought. Pure torture.

Denny and Rich were all ready at the bar at 4:00 a.m. when Troy and Dirk arrived. Denny had Jack’s decoys and a duck boat in the back of Big Richie’s truck, a couple of thermoses of coffee and a box of sandwiches Preacher had gotten ready the night before.

“Jack’s from Sacramento and did a lot of hunting around there with his dad. He says you’re going to find it even better up here,” he told Troy and Dirk. “Colder, but better. He and Preacher prefer deer hunting, but they go out for a little fowl sometimes, so he showed me a great blind back in Trinity, not too far from here. You can follow us. We’re going to meet one of the neighbors out there—Muriel St. Claire. She’s a big waterfowl hunter and she’s bringing at least one of her dogs. Where’s Becca?”

“Right here,” she said from behind them.

He turned to look at her and grinned. She had high rubber boots over her army-green jeans, wore a brown turtleneck under a camouflage vest and covered her golden hair with a khaki hat. Hah! This was not a last-minute deal! “Where’s your gun?” he asked.

“I left it in Rich’s truck last night,” she said.

“You’re dressed perfect, Becca,” he pointed out to her.

“Why, thank you, Dennis. I looked up what to wear on Google.”

“Very smart,” he said. He knew his girl. Okay, she hadn’t been his girl in a long time, but she couldn’t have changed that much. She was into clothes in a big way; work or school clothes; going out to dinner clothes; club clothes, beach clothes, biking or hiking or skiing clothes. Very girlie things. Did she really expect him to believe she had rubber boots and a camouflage vest lying around waiting for her first duck-hunting excursion? So…she had an agenda. “Let’s go,” he said. “Becca, stick close to your brother. Ride with us.”

“Sure,” she said, jumping in the back of Rich’s extended cab.

Denny took the wheel on Rich’s truck, since he knew the way, and within thirty minutes they arrived at a marshy lake in a designated hunting area in Trinity County. It was still foggy in the predawn hours; there were probably ducks on the lake. They pulled up right behind a big dually truck. Standing beside it with a couple of Labs, one brown and one yellow, was Muriel. A few other trucks pulled off up ahead indicated other hunters.

Denny made the introductions. When Muriel shook Becca’s hand, she said, “Nice to have another woman along. I’m almost always the only one!”

“Well, I’m a novice,” Becca said. “I’ve never been duck hunting before. How long have you been hunting?”

“Since I was a girl,” Muriel said. “I grew up on a farm around here. My dad taught me to hunt when I was about twelve, but I’d been tagging along for a few years before that. This is Luce,” she said, introducing the chocolate Lab. “She’s an expert. Buff is still iffy—sometimes he retrieves, sometimes he just goes for a swim.” Muriel nodded at the rifle, still in the case. “I take it you shoot.”

“Skeet,” Becca said. “I’m not sure how I’ll do with ducks.”

“Ducks are bigger, but you don’t set them off by yelling ‘pull.’ Just stay quiet, pay attention, try to be invisible. Damn fowl have excellent vision, I swear. Coffee? Danish?”

“Sure,” she said. “That would be great.”

Muriel opened the passenger side of her truck and poured Becca a cup. “We have a few minutes before we get in the weeds. Your boys are unloading their boat and setting up their decoys. Are you going in the boat?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Becca said.

“One of the advantages to having a couple of dogs, I can stay on dry land and they’ll do the swimming.”

“Doesn’t look to me like there’s enough room for everyone in that boat,” Becca said. She sipped her coffee.

“I like this area,” Muriel said. “Lots of natural blinds. I get comfy with my thermos and my dogs and wait for the ducks to come to me.” She smiled. “What’s your excuse for doing this?”

Becca gestured toward the men with her coffee cup. “See the big one? My twin, Richard. And the two guys carrying the boat to the water? Friends of Richie’s from the Marine Corps. And the really cute one? Denny. We used to be together. We broke up about three years ago.”

“Really?” Muriel said. “You and Denny?”

“We were just kids.”

“Ah,” she said. “You’re not over him.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Becca said, but she didn’t make eye contact with Muriel. “I think he’s getting real serious, too.”

“So, you’re not over him,” Muriel said again.

“It’s not relevant. He’s over me,” she said.

Muriel sipped her coffee. “Gotcha,” she finally said.

It was an hour before Becca realized who Muriel was—a well-known actress. She just didn’t look the same without makeup, her hair covered with a stocking cap and hood. “I’m sorry, Muriel,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you were that Muriel!”

The woman just laughed softly.

“Is this how a famous actress spends her spare time?” Becca asked.

“I’m just a farm girl who learned to act, sweetheart.”

Becca was so happy to have Muriel to follow. She imitated her behavior, sitting still and silent in the bushes. Thank God there was another woman to cover for her when the time came to go behind a bush to pee; at that moment, she wished she really was one of the guys! And she stood guard while one of the best-known actresses in Hollywood squatted behind a bush. “Talk about something for my Facebook page,” Becca joked.

“Don’t even think about it, darling,” Muriel said with a smile that promised dire consequences and no sense of humor on that suggestion.

It drizzled on and off through the early morning and even though everyone had rain slickers, Becca felt damp to her bones. There were a couple of flushes of birds, a few shots fired, but it wasn’t until 10:00 a.m. that Muriel bagged a mallard. Luce went out for the duck, brought it back to her mistress, and Muriel praised her Lab proudly, tossing the dead bird into the back of her truck.

Becca hoped she didn’t hit anything. Though she was every inch an athlete who could keep up with the boys, she seriously didn’t want to touch a dead duck.

“What are you going to do with that duck?” Becca asked her.

“Eat it, hopefully.”

“You’re a cook, too?”

“Well, no. Not at all. I can barely slice cheese. But I very wisely found myself a guy who loves to cook and he’s brilliant at it.”

“And will you pluck it and gut it?” Becca asked.

“Well, I can, if it comes to that. But I think Walt will take over. He loves thinking he takes care of me.” She smiled. “And I love promoting that idea. I like to train the dogs and shoot a lot more than I like handling the game.”

“It’s a relief to hear that. I was feeling a little out of place with the boys,” Becca said.

Then they went back to sitting, silent and shivering, waiting for game. What about this is fun, exactly? Becca wondered. She heard soft masculine laughter now and then. What could possibly be entertaining them? The cold? The rain?

At a little before noon, Muriel decided she’d had enough, bid everyone goodbye and took her dogs home. A little while later, Becca took refuge in her brother’s truck, drank more hot coffee and ate a sandwich. She turned on the truck to run the heater and within seconds Denny was there, telling her to kill the engine. The noise! She hadn’t gotten even an ounce of heat, but she turned the ignition off. She decided the guys could have as much wet, cold fun as they could stand, she was done for the day. She couldn’t feel her toes; her nose would never again be a normal color. At least it was a little warmer inside the truck, even without the heater. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long she had dozed when the truck’s door on the driver’s side opened and caused her to wake. Smiling, Troy settled behind the wheel. “Just thought I’d grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. You okay?”

“Fine. Just got cold and hungry. Time for a break.”

He reached into the back of the extended cab, into the picnic box Preacher had packed, and pulled out a sandwich. “So, what do you think of duck hunting so far?”

“Honestly?” she asked. “A little on the, uh, boring side. Not to mention cold and wet.”

He laughed and nodded in agreement. “Good weather for ducks, but not for us. I’d rather hunt on a clear day, but the cold doesn’t bother me. And when you actually hit your target, that’s when it’s cool. And we like to eat our kill,” he said, grinning, before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

“How caveman of you,” she said. “Do you also like to pluck your kill?”

“We let our women do that,” he teased. “We go out, club the beasts, drag them home and our women clean them, cook them and make our clothes out of their skins.”

“And what tribe do you come from?” she asked, laughing at him. But he just chewed and his eyes twinkled. “Rich has mentioned you a hundred times, at least, but I don’t know that much about you. Besides being a Marine reservist, how do you earn a living?” she asked him.

“I teach seventh-grade math. Geometry and pre-algebra.”

“No kidding?” she asked, sitting straighter. “I teach!”

“I know. We have a lot in common.”

“I wonder why Rich didn’t tell me that,” she said.

Troy laughed. “Let me guess—maybe it’s not way up there on his list of important conversational topics. I haven’t been teaching long. I did two years in the Corps, finished college, got called for Iraq again and came home to teach. I think I’ll get in a good stretch at home now.”

“But why the Marines? I mean, why still the Marines?”

He shrugged. “I love the Marine Corps.”

“And if you get called again?”

“I’ll go again,” he said easily.

“And Dirk? Did I hear he worked construction…?”

“Heavy equipment operator—a crane. Just like his dad and his brother.”

“No interest in college for him?”

Troy laughed. “I don’t think so, no. It takes about three teachers’ salaries to make one crane operator’s.”

“Now, see, that’s just wrong. What’s more important—the future of your children or the construction of a building?”

“You’re not looking at it the way they do,” he said. “It’s not the building that’s valued above the future of the children, it’s the guys in the hard hats under the crane who count on a really good operator. Their lives depend on it. They would be the fathers.”

“Teachers are underpaid,” she pointed out to him.

“As are cops, firefighters, librarians and just about everyone who is a public servant. I don’t know about you, but most of us don’t teach because it’ll make us rich.”

“You do it for love?”

“I guess. And because I’m having fun!” Then he grinned handsomely. “Those kids just crack me up.”

“Me, too,” she admitted. “Mine are seven—what a hoot. I hear about teacher burnout all the time, but I’m still on the honeymoon. I look forward to every day. Well…I used to.”

“Used to?” he asked.

“My school closed. I’m currently unemployed. When I get home, I’ll see if I can sub while I’m sending around applications. It’s not a great time to be job hunting. Not only is it a holiday season, but education funds have been cut, too.”

“Bummer,” he said. “I don’t know why I’ve been lucky enough to hang on to my job while everyone else seems to be getting laid off or cut back on hours. But as Big Richie tells it, you’ll probably just get married.”

“Wow. That’s pretty sexist. I hope I also get married.”

“I stand corrected. Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked.

“Good question. I’ve been seeing someone for the past year, but we’re not engaged.”

“Which allows you to go duck hunting with your ex?” he asked.

“Which allows me to go hunting with my brother,” she emphasized.

“And Denny,” he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “You must have a very understanding boyfriend.”

“Well, he is, as a matter of fact. Denny and Rich have been friends for years—before and after we dated. It really doesn’t have anything to do with me. And what about you? Girlfriend?”

“Sort of,” he said with a shrug.

“Sort of?” she pushed. “Either you do or don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Troy said before he had time to fully chew and swallow. He finished that task. “I don’t have a steady girl at the moment. I date here and there. I’m talking dinner, movie, clubs sometimes, group things. Lately I’ve been seeing this girl who gives accident-adjustment estimates—I had a fortuitous little fender bender. She’s not quite over the last guy, so we’re taking it very slow. We’ve been out about four times—a couple of softball games with her friends, one Monday-night football at a sports bar with mine and a high school football game to watch her little brother play. I’m not committed and neither is she.”

“And Dirk?” she asked.

“Same girl for about six months now. Diedre. An assistant manager of a bowling alley. Personally, I think Dirk might be down for the count. Diedre seems to be around all the time.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell me more about the guy, Becca,” he said. “Teacher? Like you?”

“Law student.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “Stiff competition,” he said.

“For who?” Becca asked, wondering if her cover had just been blown.

“Well, me, for starters.”

“Are you making a pass?”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t mind hearing you’re open to the possibility.” He touched her nose. Then he smiled and winked.

Contents

Three

Denny watched Troy and Becca in the front seat of the truck for about a half hour, drinking coffee, laughing, talking. He caught a little casual touching—Troy reached toward her face; she put a hand on his shoulder—stealing glances over his shoulder while he crouched in the blind. Dirk and Rich were in the boat, right in the midst of some shoreline reeds.