Send the Snowplow (4 page)

Marilyn took the outfit and padded to the bathroom. “The movie he’s working on is behind. They’re on set tomorrow. He’s a Hollywood producer, you know.”

That made a lot of sense. “Following in Mom’s footsteps?”

Marilyn wafted a hand through the air. “He does high-brow dramas. Pooh-poohs the stuff I did. Says it’s
beneath him
.” She pointed to a poster that read,
My Bloody Heart-Shaped Box.
A man’s hands held out a candy box, but inside was Marilyn’s severed, bloody head. “That one had some first-rate drama.” She pointed to another poster, this one a Christmas tree with bloody body parts for ornaments. The title read,
Serial Santa.
“I did a Christmas film, too. Maybe we can watch it later.”

Jaycee gave a noncommittal shrug as her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. “You got this? It’s my daughter.”

Marilyn waved her off in grand fashion.

Jaycee retreated to the hallway and answered the call. Clarissa’s voice yelled so loud she thought for a moment she’d left her phone in speaker mode. “Mom! He won’t stay out of my room.”

***

Clarissa leaned up the stairwell. From the sound of the loud bangs coming from above her, she suspected drywall repair might be required. She made a half-hearted attempt to cover the phone receiver as she yelled up at Jake. “Mom can hear you, she’s going to take back your presents.”

His voice bellowed from the second floor. “Tell her to give me back the remote!”

Mom’s yell over the cell phone nearly sent it flying from her hands. “Both of you, knock it off!” It was the tone of voice she got when they’d pushed her too far.

It was going to be ugly when she got home tomorrow. On Christmas. The possibility of her taking back the presents became all too real. More bangs and muffled yells came from upstairs. “You need to come home. Miranda wants to leave, and Dad’s called three times.”

“The road’s still closed. Tell Miranda I’ll double her pay for the holiday. Your dad can take a number.”

Yup, she was in all-business mode now. Clarissa stole a glance at the presents under the tree. If they wanted to keep any of them, that was probably a good thing, too.

Chapter 8

Jaycee glanced around at her fellow staff members as they served a makeshift lunch of cold sandwiches, chips, and fruit cocktail to the trio of patients well enough to make it to the commons room to partake with them. She’s already sent Diana around with trays for those who weren’t well enough to join the group, and the family member stranded with their loved ones. It wasn’t much of a holiday meal, but no one would starve, either. She’d think of something better for dinner.

If she looked as tired and frazzled as Chris and Diana, she probably looked more like someone out of one of Marilyn’s horror movies than a bearer of Christmas cheer. If she was lucky, she’d find a moment to grab a shower and at least brush her teeth and comb her hair. There were extra scrubs. It might help make the situation a little more palatable even if the food wasn’t so great.

Jaycee grabbed a plate and joined her fellow staff members at a corner table. Diana waved a sandwich at her as she approached. “There’s plenty of food, but I can’t boil water.”

Well, of course she couldn’t. Or, wouldn’t. Same difference. Chris raised both hands into the air. “Don’t look at me.”

For the love of God, really? There were men who knew how to cook. Enjoyed it. They even got all the good cooking shows on television. Why couldn’t she have gotten stranded with Guy Fieri? “So it looks like it’s all about me for dinner.”

Chris shook his head and grinned. “Unless Pizza Hut has a delivery snowmobile, I’m saying yes.”

Well, what did she expect? She was in charge and she was also the only parent in the group. Jaycee took a bite of sandwich and glanced around at the Walter, Harold, and Marilyn. “How about we plan a Christmas party? We can raid the activity room.”

“Great idea. I can scrounge in the kitchen for some snacks while you’re scoping out dinner.” Chris gave her a pointed glance.

Marilyn yelled from across the room. “I’ve got my entire film collection on DVD, we’ve got plenty of entertainment!”

Walter groaned and shoved his empty plate away. “Not again, we’ve all seen them all about a dozen times. That’s a Christmas nightmare.”

Jaycee sighed and stood up. “Kids fighting at home, those two fighting here. Cooking dinner seemed a lot more appealing.” She nodded at Chris and Diana. “Have fun.” She turned to Chris. “Keep an eye on Brad. He’s in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.”

But, Chris rose and followed her down the hall. “I’ve got to find the snacks for the party. Microwave popcorn or something.”

Her keys gained them entrance to the pristine industrial kitchen. As she surveyed the polished aluminum surfaces, Jaycee had another wistful moment of wishing about being stranded with Guy Fieri, or heck, even Gordon Ramsay. She’d take care of the patients and send Diana down to help him manage things. 

Jaycee dug through the well-appointed storage cupboards and pantries. They wouldn’t starve even if they were stranded for a good month or more. She shuddered at the thought though. From the sounds behind her, Chris was doing the same. There was an occasional clunk as one of them sat something on the counter. Jaycee glanced at his pile. Cookies, chips, and soda. Well, he was planning a party, so she supposed it made sense. On her counter were more actual food selections. Industrial sized cans of vegetables, bags of pasta, and marinara sauce. Easy to cook, and not too horrible of a mess to clean up, which was her real goal.

Chris moved closer to her, right as her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. “I’ve got to take this.” And not in front of Chris, either, so Jaycee stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. “Merry Christmas.” Yeah, there was a huge note of sarcasm in her voice, and she didn’t care.

***

Derek stared out at the snow-packed stretch of interstate highway. Not a lot of traffic, which was good, but also not a lot of evidence road crews had been out, either. The huge snowflakes illuminated in the headlights reminded him of the scene in
Star Wars
where the Millennium Falcon went to warp speed. Christmas packages, boxes, and luggage, filled the back seat. He spoke loud enough for his hands-free to transmit his voice. “You make it home yet?”

“Still snowed in. It’s nasty here.” Her reply came through his car speakers. 

He gave a nervous glance over his shoulder at the bags of presents in the back seat. This wasn’t going according to plan at all. “You’re making the kids spend Christmas alone?”

“Yeah, I put getting stranded at work, and working a twenty-four hour shift on my Christmas list. You know, for fun.”

He swore there was enough ice in her tone to frost the windows a little more. That’s not what he’d meant. You’d think after all these years, he would have figured out how to communicate with his own wife, but he’d still found a way to push her buttons. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry you’re still at work, but I hate it that the kids are alone.”

Jaycee’s sigh came over the speakers. “I can’t help it, and I can’t fix it. You could have come to town for the holiday, like you promised them, too.”

Derek pulled the wrapped wedding ring box out of his pocket and glanced at it, then put it back. “My timing seems to always be a little off.”

She snorted. “Ya think?” The call disconnected.

Derek shook his head. Over the years, they’d developed the habit of never saying goodbye. Something Jaycee started, and he supposed it made sense in her line of work. She dealt with the kind of goodbyes you couldn’t come back from to fix later. Life and death goodbyes. Some habits never changed, and in this case, he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

***

Jaycee wandered back into the kitchen to find Chris with a rolling metal cart filled with cafeteria junk food and candy. “This stuff is supposed to go in the vending machines.”

Chris gave her a sheepish shrug. “We’re stranded in a blizzard. It’s like the zombie apocalypse. Normal rule don’t apply.”

Jaycee laughed, then headed to the huge industrial refrigerator along the far wall. She opened the door and rummaged through the labeled contents. The kitchen staff wouldn’t be thrilled when they had to clean up and figure out what they’d used out of their planned menu supplies, but Chris was right about at least a bit of his statement about normal rules not applying.

The next thing she knew a pair of strong male arms wrapped around her. Chris, yes, but it still startled her enough she jumped and spun around, knocking the heavy refrigerator door shut. Worse yet, she lost her balance and fell—into him.

He steadied her, then pressed her against the cold steel door and kissed her. Really kissed her. Hands roving over flesh kissed her. A musky tang of his cologne filled her nostrils and Jaycee’s body responded to his touch without asking her mind for permission. 

The overhead lights flickered, and they both jumped. The distraction gave Jaycee a much needed moment to regain control of herself. She took a step toward Chris’s cart. “You’ve got enough junk food to feed the National Guard unit they might need to send to get us out of here.” The few steps away from him helped her racing pulse to slow.

Why does he get to me like that?
She already knew the answer to the question though. It had been over nine months. She wasn’t like Diana, acting on all of them, but she was still a woman, and still had desires. Now wasn’t the best time in the world to have this revelation, either. It would take some time to process this new information. She cleared her throat. “We should go check on our patients and make sure we have flashlights.”

Chris grabbed a basket of mixed fresh fruit from a shelf and put it on the cart. He tossed a sign that read, “50 cents each,” onto a nearby lunch counter. “See, I picked something nutritious.” He grinned and headed for the door. Halfway there, he turned, rushed back to Jaycee, and kissed her again. His voice dropped to a husky rumble in her ear. “This is killing me. I don’t think I can stand it if we’re stuck here another night.” 

Warning bells went off in Jaycee’s mind. She took a quick step away from him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t you think you’re making some assumptions here?”

Chris moved closer and cradled her face in his hands. “I’ll take you to dinner, bring you flowers, take you dancing. Anything. But you’re lying if you say you don’t want me too. Just tell me you’ll consider it.”

Jaycee sucked in a deep breath. He was right about that much. Would it be such a horrible thing to think about dating again? The warm tingle in her pelvis told her in no uncertain terms she was already considering the possibilities. “Okay.”

Chris’s face lit up brighter than the giant Christmas tree in the commons room. “Okay?”

Jaycee nodded. She’d consider it. See what happened. Even though the prospect terrified her almost as much as reliving the nightmare of Derek leaving her for the rest of her life. “Okay.”

The lights flickered again as they headed to the door. Chris gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m coming up with a backup plan, in case we’re stranded here again tonight. How about the Physical Therapy room? It locks.”

She raised an eyebrow and tried to appear stern. In return, he gave her one of those puppy dog stares designed to melt a woman’s heart. It worked, much as she suspected he already knew it would, and she laughed. He gestured to his groin. “They’re going to match my scrubs if we keep this up.”

Jaycee couldn’t help but look. His scrub pants? Navy blue. They might end up that color even if they were stranded a bunch of nights. She’d take things at her speed. He’d said it right, what she did now was her decision. The realization sent a sense of empowerment through her. Chris made a series of mock-painful faces to accompany his gestures. She broke into laughter.

Chapter 9

Brad tried to suppress it, but he winced as another wave of pain enveloped his body. Valerie already scanned his face constantly, he knew she worried about him hurting. She didn’t understand why he resisted so much, and thought he was trying to be tough like when he’d played through the pain in college. This was different. It wasn’t about being macho, he’d given those notions up when he couldn’t deny the inevitability of his own death any longer. Yeah, he was tough, but not invincible. He looked into his wife’s eyes, her brows furrowed. He knew the look. She worried about him. Always had.

“Take the pain medicine.” His nurse had a similar expression on her face.

He liked Jaycee Roberts. Reminded him a lot of Valerie, even down to the perpetual sadness in her eyes. She didn’t talk much about her private life, but he wondered what had happened to her. Divorce? Death? It wasn’t his place to ask, but you didn’t get that haunted emptiness without some kind of trauma.

What hurt worse than the cancer ravaging his body was watching his beloved Valerie develop the same appearance. She was about to bring a new life into the world. Not even nine months ago, her blue eyes sparkled like stars in a night sky when they’d first seen the first tiny bean that would grow into the son he hoped he might get to hold before the cancer defeated him. It was supposed to be the happiest time in her life, but his body had betrayed them both. He shook his head.

“Brad, it’s going to be our last Christmas together.” She hid a tear as she ran her other hand over her belly. “I want to have some memories. Stories I can share with our son.”

Jaycee’s soft voice chimed in, “We can wheel your whole bed down to the commons room. Just a change of scenery.”

They were both right, he knew they were. He met his wife’s gaze and gave a weak nod. He’d do it, for them. “No pain meds. Memories, right? Not sleeping through them.”

Jaycee relaxed. “It’ll take me at least an hour to get dinner around. You’ve got time for pain meds.”

Brad shifted in the bed, and gasped, even though he fought to suppress it. Valerie gave him a pleading glance. The pain in her eyes broke his resolve. Finally, he nodded his assent to Jaycee. His wife choked back a sob and kissed his forehead. “I love you.”