Have Yourself a Marine Christmas (Always a Marine) (7 page)

“No, sir. I’m s’posed to stay with you and Miss Torres.” The little girl couldn’t have been more than five-years-old. Noel wouldn’t have lied to him about their not chaperoning the trip. She kept searching the store where Noel disappeared.

“I see. You like Miss Torres?” It was a guess.

“Uh huh. She helped me decorate the tree for my daddy.” The little girl shifted from one foot to the other.

“Did you sneak away from your group?” She wouldn’t be the first kid who did that—he’d given his mother plenty of gray hairs at that age, always sneaking off to find some adventure.

The little girl flushed and shot a furtive glance toward where the others had gone. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”

“I might have to let someone know.” He squinted, but he’d have to be an ogre not to take her crestfallen pout into consideration. “But let’s find Miss Torres and let her decide, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m Reb…Ryan, Ryan Brun. And what’s your name?” He pushed up from the crouch, wavering a fraction before finding stable footing.

“I’m Chrissy Carol—like a Christmas carol.” She giggled. “You’re Sergeant Rebel.”

Chrissy Carol?
Really, would someone actually do that to their child? He slowed his pace, but she kept up with him, practically bouncing over the idea of going into the store. He skimmed his gaze over the shoppers inside, searching for Noel. “Who was your assigned buddy, Chrissy?”

Suspicion tickled at the back of his mind. Call it instinct or simple knowledge, but the group had to have some kind system and no adult would leave someone this young unsupervised.

“Captain Dexter and Mrs. Dexter.” She spotted their quarry at the same time he did. With a squeal, Chrissy darted after Noel. Noel glanced up from a stack of sweaters and barely turned enough to catch the little locomotive steaming straight toward her. Pulling his phone out, Rebel texted Luke and had a response thirty seconds later.

We’re on our way
.

Slanting a look at the pleasure on Noel’s face and the equally bright cheer on Chrissy’s, Rebel shrugged and texted
. She can shop with us, sir. Unless you had other plans.

Just a shopping trip for the kids. Secret Santas and toy selection for the run. Meet at food court 1200 for lunch?

Yes, sir
.

Checking the time, he estimated they had three hours of shopping time before the scheduled rendezvous. Chrissy let out a little shriek and skipped around to dart at a table full of fuzzy pillow pets.

He eyed Noel’s amused expression. “She’s cute,” he said, and took a position where he could watch the door and Chrissy at the same time. The little angel moved like lightning and he had no intention of letting her slip away into the crowded mall unobserved. “Set up, or did she really just want to hang out with you?”

“Now, why would I set you up?” The sly tilt to Noel’s smile didn’t waver.

A lull in the dull roar of conversation let the music piping in rise in volume…and little Chrissy started singing along with Burl Ives.

“Because you fight dirty.” He stroked his finger down her cheek. Chrissy was dancing with one of the brown pillow pets. “What’s her story?”

“Rebel….”

“Shh.” He’d asked the question, he wanted an answer. “What’s her story?”

Folding up the sweater she’d been examining, Noel said in a low voice, “Her father died in the sandbox. Her mom was also deployed while Chrissy lived with an aunt. Mom was injured, and the whole family came down for the holidays while her mother billets here for her recovery.”

A violent tug on his heartstrings if there ever was one. “Mom’s status?”

“She’ll be fine. Lost some nerve function and she had to learn to speak again, but Chrissy reads with her every day.” Casting a glance over her shoulder at the little girl, Noel’s face softened with fondness. “She couldn’t read at all three months ago, but when her mom had to start vocal therapy, one of the exercises was reading out loud—Chrissy learned to read so she could help.”

“She likes you.”

“I like her, too—and we need to rescue those pillows before she starts building a fort out of them.” But her warm laughter decried any real concern she had.

He spent the morning trailing the two from store to store. Noel was a conservative shopper, and she scrutinized every item carefully before she purchased. Chrissy—he noted with amusement—began to mimic her pretty quickly. When they’d been in the toy store for over an hour, Rebel waded in and helped narrow down the toy choices to three top favorites. Since each one had made one of the ladies light up, he bought all three.

A sucker for anything to keep their cheery moods alive, he had only himself to blame when they lined up to see the mall Santa. When it was Chrissy’s turn, Rebel passed a credit card to the elf at the register and watched the moppet skip all the way up to get her picture taken.

Inspired, he gave Noel a nudge. “You should go, too.”

“What?” She blinked.

“Go tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” He motioned to the elf ringing up the cost. “Add a second set, too.”

“I am not going to sit in Santa’s lap.” Her mouth said no, but her eyes danced with merriment. She liked the idea.

“Sure you are.” With it decided, he gave her a nudge again. “Go on. Chrissy will get a kick out of it.” Invoking the little girl had been the right trick. With a delighted huff of exasperation, Noel handed him her shopping bags and, a minute later, switched places with Chrissy. The little one came back and leaned against his leg, holding up the lollipop the elf stationed at Santa’s side had given her.

“Can I have this?”

“We’re supposed to have lunch in a few minutes.” He wondered what Noel asked Santa for—maybe he should have gone with her so he could hear the request.

“So?” Chrissy giggled.

“True.” Sliding a look at her, he grinned. “Go ahead.”

“Do you wanna know what I asked for?” She made short work of the plastic wrap and stuck the green lollipop in her mouth.

“Isn’t it a secret? You know if you tell, then it won’t come true?”

“Nah.” She shrugged. “That’s birthday wishes. Asking Santa isn’t a wish—well, it is kinda—but I’ll tell you if you want.”

Noel laughed at the Santa and when the photographer went to take her picture, her gaze latched onto Rebel’s and her electric smile sent a jolt right to his heart. He might have to frame that picture of her. Chrissy tugged on his arm.

“Can I tell you, Sergeant?”

Yeah, he really couldn’t tell her no. “If you want.”

She tugged his arm and he braced a hand on the rail so he could crouch down. Chrissy whispered, “I asked him for a letter from my dad for my mom. Mommy misses him, but we’re reading and she still has trouble saying words, so I asked him for a letter from my daddy so I can read her the letter on Christmas.”

Aw, hell
. Rebel swallowed the hard lump in his throat. “That’s a great idea, Chrissy.”

She beamed under the praise and when Noel joined them, she gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. He was already trying to figure out how the hell he could make Chrissy’s request come true.

***

Rebel had been a trouper all day, and when they returned Chrissy to the group at lunch, he hadn’t complained about eating with them. In fact, Noel noted with amusement, he’d abandoned her to chat with Mike’s Place founder Luke, and the facility’s lead psychologist, James, for nearly twenty minutes. When she and Rebel set out again, they ended up with another group of kids—all of whom wanted to do pictures with Santa and shopping.

Thankfully, Logan and Zach corralled a group of twelve-year-olds to round up the purchased bags, including hers, and carried their haul out to free them up for more shopping. A fresh surprise came in the form of Rebel inviting more kids to tag along with their shopping—and taking lead in directing the rest of their expedition. Noel hadn’t minded the pair of brothers he’d semi-adopted. She’d already found a half-dozen gifts for her cousins and younger siblings—and she still needed to find something for Joseph and his new wife, as well as her parents.

But Rebel tackled it all systematically, getting lists from all of them, consulting the mall map and then they went to it. By four, they’d found nearly everything they’d been looking for—and she noticed his limp. They’d been on the go and on their feet most of the day. Once they’d loaded the last of the bags into her car and settled in the front seat, she turned to him.

“How bad?”

Thankfully, Rebel didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. “I may have overdone—my right is a hell of a lot more sore than my left.” He rubbed his thigh. “But I can deal.” When she scowled, he stretched toward her and delivered a sweet kiss. “I had fun.”

The three words melted her ire. “Really?”

“Yes.” He chuckled and teased her with another kiss. If the first brush of his lips had been electric, the second cocooned her in a lazy heat she wanted to snuggle deeper in. “Hmm…come to my place tonight?”

Her stomach bottomed out. “We just started dating….” It didn’t mean she wasn’t interested, but weren’t they rushing things?

“I meant to help with me with my legs if I really did overdo it, you dirty, dirty girl. Promise me you’ll be just as dirty when we’re in private?” His playful leer made her laugh, but it also gave her ideas.

“Depends….” she whispered and braced her palm against the passenger seat while she twisted to look behind the car and back out.

He pounced. “On?”

“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“I have an alarm clock.” Undeterred, he ticked off the item on his index finger.

Still laughing, she concentrated on navigating through the heavy traffic exiting the mall. “I’m starving.”

“I actually have groceries.” He mimed a check mark in the air. “And I can make spaghetti.” Her stomach growled agreeably at the suggestion and it was his turn to laugh. “Anything else?”

Her chest locked up and a fresh set of butterflies went crazy in her gut. “I have to make some phone calls.”

“Okay, that’s just boring.” Rebel’s unswerving gaze rubbed along her like a physical caress. The setting sun gave way to evening dark and lights flashing their holiday cheer decorated the landscape.

Fixing her attention ahead, she blew out a long breath and said, “One of the calls is to your mother.”

Silence fell like an icy blanket, extinguishing all the playfulness. She let him chew on the thought—she’d done a hell of a lot of pushing today. While she hadn’t planned for Chrissy to ambush him there at the mall, the little girl’s influence couldn’t be discounted. He’d gone out of his way to make her smile, including standing in the line for Santa and nudging Noel up there, too. She hadn’t missed him slipping one of the wallet photographs into his pocket.

“Why do you have to call Mom?” His question pulled her back to the present. He was quiet, intense, and reflective.

True-confession time. “I talk to her every week. I have since you were admitted to Mike’s Place. It’s standard procedure—particularly when families aren’t able to be here. Everyone is included in the recovery process.”

“I didn’t realize that.” He sighed. “I mean, I know you spoke to her a couple of times in the beginning, but….”

“You wouldn’t talk to her. And yes, I know you called and you gave her progress reports, but they were perfunctory—her words, not mine. She was worried about her baby, so I kept calling her, and I guess we kind of became friends.” It may have sounded odd to Rebel, but Noel developed a fondness for many of the families of her patients. She was often their lifeline to what was happening with their loved ones—especially those too far away to be a part of the day-to-day recovery process. Frustration, desperation, and apathy—she’d seen it all in the families—but she’d also seen determination, hope, and unreserved support.

Sometimes, James had told her once, it was their job to be the bridge between those disparate reactions and help everyone find a happy medium—especially their patients.

“I didn’t mean to
not
talk to her.”

Thoughtful and self-reflective were both good reactions, but she didn’t want him to beat himself up. “She
knows
that. But she’s still your mom and she worries. When I talk to her, I can tell her stories—give her a taste of how your days go, what accomplishments you’ve made, and your mood. I like to think it does help her not to worry too much.” Noel laughed a little. “Your mom adores you and she respects your space, which I think is awesome. Mostly because my mom…you’d need a crowbar to remove her, and she’d drive me out of my mind.”

“I know she was there when I woke up.” He drummed his fingers on one leg. “Did you meet her then?”

“Yes.”

Rebel had undergone at least two surgeries and been in and out of consciousness. During his admission to Mike’s Place, he’d been on high doses of painkillers and not always coherent. She had met both he and his mother during his first few days on campus, and one of Noel’s first jobs with him had been to get him to eat.

“A lot of that time is pretty fuzzy.”

“Probably for the best.” Giving into the impulsive urge to hold his hand, she took a longer route home. They’d passed a lot of lit up buildings and residences during the drive and he hadn’t had any negative reactions. Maybe he was too distracted to notice them, or maybe they weren’t as big of a trigger as they had been. Sometimes—changes in environment helped.

“I kind of wish I remember what our first meeting….”

As if conjured by his wistfulness, she remembered him clearly. Pale and gaunt, with deep shadows cutting grooves beneath his eyes, he’d been so still in his bed. Even with firm muscle tone and determination, he’d seemed so utterly vulnerable then. She’d taken his stats, checked his bandages, then sat down with his mother and held her while she cried.

Nearly three days later, he’d opened his eyes for the first time when she’d been in the room and he’d given her the sweetest look.
And said I looked like a dream
….

“You’re smiling,” Reb murmured.

“I was thinking about the first time I met you and the first time you woke up.”