My Kind of Christmas
Page 10

“I’m thinking of taking a couple of years off before going back to med school. I’m considering the peace corps. Or something like that.”
He stiffened in shock. “Are you kidding me?”
She shook her head solemnly. “I want to make a difference.”
“Can’t you make a difference as a doctor?”
“Eventually. But right now I want to give something back, to justify the fact that I’m here, that I’m alive.”
“Ange, you don’t have to do that! You have all the time in the world to give back. You’re tough and smart—you’ll live to be a hundred.”
“Yeah, with a shunt in my head and a rod in my femur. But right now instead of studying microbiology I want to dig a well. Or give immunizations. Or mix up gruel with vitamins for children who need food.”
He sat back and put a hand on the top of his head. “Whoa.” She laughed at him.
“Listen,” he said, “they won’t take you right now. It’s too soon after a pretty serious injury—that’s not their style. You have to go through a battery of exams and tests to get in the peace corps.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I don’t, I’m making this up, but I bet I’m right. I’m right a lot—how do you think I test so well? I’m a good guesser. But aside from all that, how long do you think they’ll hold your spot in med school?”
“No telling, but that’s not my biggest concern. If I have to reapply, I can get in. I have a double major with an excellent GPA. I’ve been valedictorian twice and scored high on the MCAT. Even if I have to apply to a different medical school a couple of years from now, I like my chances. And I’ll find a way to pay back my parents and Grandpa.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re a little crazy.”
“Do you think so? Because I make perfect sense to myself.”
“What do you plan to do?” he asked, a little jealous that he didn’t have a plan of his own. “I mean, right now, after your R and R, what will you do?”
“I think I’ll get a job and study humanitarian organizations for a while. The downside is I might have to live with my parents while I work and look for the right organization to apply to—and trust me, my mother is going to turn the heat up. She’s always had a plan that she expects me to follow and I’ve been a dissident. It could be very uncomfortable. I’ve given some thought to staying here in Virgin River just to avoid that. Maybe I can work in the bar.”
“Angie,” he said, serious as a heart attack. “Go back to school. There’s lots of time—don’t rush.”
“Did anyone ever suggest that you put off flying jets for a while? Until you were sure?”
“Of course not.”
“That settles it, in my next life I’m coming back as a guy. I get so bloody sick of people saying, ‘Slow down, little girl, you’re not ready.’ I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. No one’s waiting up for me, but I better get going before you get tired of me.”
He was afraid he never would.
She stood up and he stood. She reached for her jacket and he said, “I think I should drive you. Or at least follow you home.”
“Why?” she said, slipping into her jacket.
“I’m a little nervous about you going out to an isolated cabin in the woods by yourself.”
She laughed a little. “Okay, think about this. I just told you I was planning to go dig wells in India or administer immunizations in Africa and you’re worried about me driving fifteen or twenty minutes across the mountain to a lovely little cabin? Relax, Patrick.”
“What if you miss a couple of turnoffs?” he asked.
“I know where they are now,” she said. “Take it easy.”
She walked to his door and he was right behind her. When she opened the door, they were greeted by a fresh snowfall—just a couple of inches.
She turned back and smiled at him. “I’ll go slow. Try not to act like my uncle Jack.”
“Wait,” he said. “Wait right here.” He went to the desk in the corner and jotted down the phone number at the cabin. He took her a slip of paper. “You’re going to have to call me. If you don’t, I’ll call Jack and track you down.”
“I’d scold you for that, but I don’t mind that you’re a little protective. I’d hate a steady diet of overprotective, but that little bit just now wasn’t too bad.
“Now I’m going to drive slow, then I’m going to build my fire because I haven’t turned the heat on, so it’ll be a while.”
“Just call.”
“You bet.” She started to walk toward her SUV, then turned back. “I liked the chili, Patrick. But that isn’t why I came tonight.”
He smiled at her, watched her leave and thought, I am so screwed.
* * *
While he waited for her phone call, Patrick thought about how awesome she was. He couldn’t get involved, but she was a more than welcome distraction. He opened a beer and his mind began to wander. He thought about her beauty, her sexiness. Then he began to pace because she hadn’t called yet, rehearsing what he would say to Jack, how he was going to explain that he needed directions to that little cabin because he had to go looking for her.
Angela and I had a perfectly nice, platonic evening of Scrabble and chili and I let her drive herself home even though… Yes, Scrabble and chili… No, of course we didn’t have sex.… No, of course I wasn’t tempted, she’s much too young!
The phone rang before he could rehearse any more mental lies. He grabbed it as if it were a lifeline. “Hello?”
“That t-took a little longer than I thought it would,” Angie said.
“Are your teeth chattering?” he asked.
“A l-l-little. The cabin was so dark—I should’ve left on a light. There was a moon when I left but the snow clouds came in. I had to l-leave the car running with the lights on t-till I could get inside and light the p-place up. I gave the horn a toot in case any nocturnal animals were visiting.”
He laughed. “I think you know everything. Did you build your fire?”
“And put on my warmest pajamas, which was torture. It’s no fun getting undressed in the cold. The quilt was still on the couch from last night. It’s finally starting to warm up in here.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. He assumed she would be as adorable in footie pajamas as naked. Okay, not quite, but still… The combination of the warm fire and heavy quilt seemed to be working, since her teeth had stopped chattering. “Are you settled in now?”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll move from this spot before morning. Except maybe to feed the fire a log or two.”
“Angie, there’s heat in the cabin, isn’t there?”
“Sure. But this is fun. Reminds me…when I was in college a bunch of us rented a cabin for skiing and it was so expensive we just assumed we’d have heat, maybe even catering! We managed the puniest fire and had to sleep snuggled up against one another right in front of it.”
He settled onto his own couch, chuckling into the phone. “I lived for nights like that. Did you fall in love?”
“Sadly, no, as I’m straight—it was a girls’ trip.”
“If only I could’ve helped. Who was your first love?”
“I think Dick, my junior year in high school, and he was a dick, as it turns out. We were kind of steady and he asked someone else to the prom. At the last minute. I think he forgot to break up with me first. I should’ve known he was shifty.”
“Who took you to the prom?”
“I never went to one. I was a nerd who always envied the cheerleaders, pom-pom girls and stars in the school musicals. I was president of the debate team, a great chess player and went to the scholastic Olympics. I bet you went to proms.”
“I did.”
“With cheerleaders and pom-pom girls?” she asked.
He was embarrassed to say. “It’s different for guys. They don’t feel the same way about proms that girls do. Girls see it as a chance to feel like a princess. Guys see it as a chance to have sex.”
“Did you? Have sex?”
“No. I clearly wasted my money.... But you should have gone to proms. You’re pretty.”
“Aw, that’s nice of you to say. But a lot has changed in a few years. Lasik surgery for one thing—got rid of the big, thick, black-framed specs that kept sliding down my nose. Back in those days when things like clothes and hairstyles just eluded me, I’m pretty sure no one but my dad and uncle Jack found me pretty. I didn’t have that instinct the other girls had about style, about flirting. But, hey, I had great instincts about things like chemistry and astronomy.”
“Astronomy?”
“I have a kick-ass telescope. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring it this trip. But the boys were never interested in looking at stars—they wanted to look at boobs. Another advantage I didn’t have. Oh, and did I mention the pimples?” She laughed happily at that. “Oh, God, I’m so glad those days are over. Was there ever anything more painful?”
“This is coming from the girl who was in a disastrous car accident? Asking the guy who watched his buddy go down in a hornet…”
“I know, I know, but there was something about the pains we had as kids, the melodrama and agony over things that didn’t really matter but mattered so much just the same.... This other stuff of ours, it’s real. It’s a grown-up challenge and it does mean something and…”
He listened with his eyes closed. He’d known her for a day. A single day. She was everything he avoided—youth, innocence, inexperience. And she had everything he wanted—guts, wisdom and compassion. He’d seen this personality in certain military women. But there was something about Angie that stood out as unique. They’d each been through the wringer, yet she approached her challenges with relentless optimism. The lynchpin was probably that she had not lost her best friend.
He thought he was probably headed for trouble here. He wanted her.
“Angie,” he said. “We have complicated lives....”
“Oh, very. It’s nice, Patrick, to have a friend who relates.”
“Listen, Ange—we have things in common. We get along, have fun. You’re young, but you’re still a woman. Women pull this off without too much trouble, being friends with a guy. Men aren’t as good at it. And now I’m holding one of your secrets—your peace corps secret.”
“Oh, I can fix that,” she mumbled into the phone. He clearly heard her yawn. He could picture her, snuggled under the quilt in her warmest pajamas in front of the fire. They’d spent five hours together and now what were they doing? Talking into the night on the phone, still somehow connected? He hadn’t done this in too many years to remember.
“How?”
“Give me a secret,” she said. “Then we’ll be even.”
“It’s more complicated than just secret sharing,” he informed her.
“Start there,” she said. “I’m good with secrets.”
He was quiet for a moment, breathing into the phone. He could hear her breath, as well, and it felt like high school when he’d call the flavor of the week and romance her into the late night over the phone, a lot of which was just heavy breathing.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Here’s one for you. My best friend’s wife, um, widow, Marie—she’s great. She has it all—she’s pretty and nice and funny. She’s very strong and brave, though losing Jake has really been hard on her, but what else would you expect? When we were on a mission, she hardly ever complained—she missed him but she had a life. Her first priority was always family—she’s a great wife and mother.” He paused. “Was a great wife. And she was a great military spouse because she understood—the work her husband was doing was vital and everyone involved made sacrifices so that work could be done. The men and women who served, the spouses, the kids…