Bring Me Home for Christmas (8 page)

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 does 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.

“He said these people are his family,” Becca remarked, watching Denny heft that ax and bring it down. He didn’t wear a jacket and the broadness of his shoulders made her long to be in his arms again. For just a little while. But the best view by far was that perfect butt. She believed he had a better butt than she did.

“So I hear,” Troy said. “How’s it feeling? The ankle?”

She looked back at him and gave him a thin smile. “Not so bad. You know what feels worst of all? I haven’t put any makeup on in about twenty-four hours. And I think there might still be mud in my hair.”

“You don’t need makeup, Becca,” he said. “You look great for someone who took a dive out of Big Richie’s truck.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I guess I was in a hurry….”

Rich and Dirk wandered over to the table and pulled out chairs. “If you’re feeling all right, we’re going to get in a little hunting after lunch,” Rich said.

She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “By all means,” she said.

Denny came in the side door with an armload of split logs for the fire. “Don’t worry, Becca, I’ll stick around.” He crouched beside the hearth to stack the wood, ready for the fire.

“No, you should go. I’ll be fine. Especially if Mrs. Middleton doesn’t mind if I sit in her living room and watch TV.”

“She’s already offered full use of her house, so I’m sure she won’t mind, but I’ll ask. She’s making up sandwiches right now. What would you like to drink?”

“How hard is it to get hot chocolate?” Becca asked.

“It is not hard,” Jack called from behind the bar. “Anything we can do for the infirm!”

“Your friend Jack is a comedian,” Becca said. When she glanced at Jack, he was smiling appreciatively.

Within minutes the table was served, family style. A platter of sandwiches, a bowl of chips, a pitcher of cola and mugs, and Becca’s hot chocolate, along with Paige’s assurance that Becca was more than welcome to her couch and ottoman. They all crowded in; with Becca needing that extra chair to elevate her leg, it was a tight squeeze. And of course the ribbing began, starting with the lengths Becca would go to to get out of hunting, followed by the fact that she’d have to stay in Virgin River for over a week before being cleared to travel back home.

But soon, they were all pushing back chairs and standing to leave. All except Denny.

“For real, Denny, you can go. I can get around on my crutches.”

“I don’t know,” he said, frowning, shaking his head. “I told you I’d be around if you needed anything.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m ready to take on a flight of stairs, but otherwise I can manage, certainly for a few hours. I’m going to go back to the Middletons’ living room and zone out to Oprah or something.”

“Well…” he said, thinking. “We’ll go out in two trucks and I can come back early. You wouldn’t be on your own that long.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t want to be a drag. This is your hunting party and I ruined it.”

“No, you didn’t, Becca. It was an accident.”

“Just go,” she said.

“If you’re sure?”

“Go,” she said again.

He gave her a little smile, then stacked up the plates on the table and walked them back to the kitchen. As he passed back through the bar, he said, “Paige said help yourself to the sofa, or if you’re tired and you want to lie down, their bedroom is on the ground floor and you’re welcome to it.”

Tired? She might die of boredom, but she wasn’t tired at all. She just smiled and nodded, waving him out the door. Becca was used to a very active lifestyle—chasing seven-year-olds combined with lots of sports from surfing to skiing. The last time she watched Oprah, she was home sick with the flu. The time before that, she was home sick with a broken heart.

She pulled herself up and with her crutches, hobbled through the kitchen door. Inside, busy with lunch and cleanup, was the Middleton family—Paige rolling out dough for pies, Preacher—or John, as Paige called him—scraping plates and filling the dishwasher, and little Dana in her high chair, messing around with Play-Doh.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Becca asked when Paige smiled at her.

“Absolutely. There are some DVDs if there’s nothing on TV that interests you. Check out the bookcase—you might not be interested in John’s military history but I have some fun stuff there. And please don’t hesitate to use the phone or our bed, for that matter, if you want to lie down for a proper nap. When I’m done here, I’m going to put Dana down for her nap. She needs a good two hours to be pleasant for dinner!”

“Will the TV bother her?” Becca asked.

“Not in the least. She’s a great little napper.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate this. Denny doesn’t have a TV or anything in his little apartment. He probably doesn’t spend too much time there.”

Paige laughed. “He’s a very busy guy. Not only does he work for the farm and around here, he’s always offering to help anyone who needs something.”

This time when Becca walked into the Middleton house from the kitchen entrance, she noticed how perfect it was designed. She walked through a spacious laundry room that undoubtedly serviced the bar and the family. To her left was a kitchen that was more of a serving center, complete with cupboards, dishwasher, refrigerator, sink, countertops and a pass-through to a dining room. But there were no stoves or ovens because the bar kitchen was just steps away. Just opposite the serving station and dining room was the master bedroom and bath, and beyond that the great room, complete with entertainment center, fireplace, locked gun rack and open staircase that led to a loft. The kids’ rooms must be up there—she could see a few toys scattered around. There was a door to the backyard from the great room. She peeked outside and saw a wooden jungle gym, slide and sandbox. To the far right, more behind the bar than the house, was a big brick barbecue and some picnic tables.

She paused in front of the bookcase in the entertainment center and found some old friends—Jill Shalvis, Kristan Higgins, Deanna Raybourn, Toni Blake. She pulled one out, tossed it across the room and followed it, causing the sleepy Comet to jump in surprise. “Sorry,” she said to the dog. The remote was easier—it was right on the side table. She got her leg propped up on the ottoman, gave Comet an apologetic pat on the head, turned on the TV to an afternoon talk show with the volume down, book in her lap, and thought again about what Paige had said. Denny’s a pretty busy guy. He helps anyone who asks….

He had a full-time job, even if he did say the farm wasn’t too busy this time of year. And he helped Jack around the bar all the time—that was probably a part-time job. And that was the Denny she had known and missed—the guy who was the friend you could depend on if you needed something.

He wasn’t going to be available to entertain her all the time, to keep her busy and her mind off the fact that she was bored out of her skull. She leaned back against the leather couch cushions and thought yet again, Oh, man, this is going to be so tedious! What was she supposed to do for two weeks? Watch daytime TV and reread her favorite romances? Nap? How in the world was she supposed to nap? She wasn’t the least bit tired. All she’d done for twenty-four hours was sit around with her foot up!

And that was the last conscious thought she had for a while. When she opened her eyes again, she blinked a couple of times. It was a different talk show and she had slumped down on the couch. There was a kid sitting on the sofa next to her. His backpack was on the floor and he was petting his dog.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked. “Because my mom said to be quiet.”

“No. No, not at all,” she said, pushing herself upright a little.

“I think you got a little drool there on your mouth.”

“Oh, Jesus,” she said, wiping her mouth. Sure enough.

“Oh, that’s okay. My mom does that all the time.”

“Does she? I bet you’re Chris.”

“Yup. And you’re Becca. What kind of name is Becca?”

“Short for Rebecca,” she said. “Are you just getting home from school?”

“Yup. And I have chores and homework. I’m not allowed to have TV on after school till the chores and homework are done.”

Becca fished around the couch until she came up with the remote and flicked off the TV. “That’s very smart of your mom. Mind if I ask about the chores? Like what kind?”