My Kind of Christmas
Page 18

“We did a little decorating around the clinic and I borrowed this string of lights with the battery pack. I’m sure Mel thinks I’m going to use them in the cabin. If I had an ounce of courage, I’d have come naked, strung with lights.”
“Thank God you didn’t. You might’ve found yourself making love on the front step. What else did you do today?”
“Talked to my mom, for once a nice talk, had lunch with Mel and Jack, asked my aunt Brie what I should do to set up a foundation with a bank to start to fund Megan’s surgery—Brie’s a lawyer. And I went on a house call with Mel—an elderly woman back in the mountains seems to have bronchitis. It was a wonderful day. I felt so…useful.”
“Angie, I hate to put a damper on such a great day but…there’s something you have to know.” He hesitated. “We’ve been outted. My brothers guessed we’re having a— What is it we’re having?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I guess we settled on ‘fling’?”
“It’s more than that. All day long I’ve been thinking that it would be smart, maybe even kind, to stop this thing before it goes any further.”
She ran her fingers through the hair at his temples for just a moment before she grabbed his head in her hands and went after his mouth like it might be the last kiss of her life. When she finally broke free she said, “You talk too much and you think too much.”
“I don’t want you to be hurt,” he said.
“Then try not to take off too early! I know you have a plane ticket. I wrote the date in my calendar. Until we get to that date, I’d like to enjoy myself. You know, Paddy, I’m not some naive little girl. I know this isn’t a happily-ever-after sort of thing—and I’m okay with that.” She shook her head. “Leave it to me to pick a guy as controlling as my mother. Here’s a good rule of thumb, Paddy. Don’t do anything ‘for my own good’!”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Are you sure you want me to employ that rule, my little hussy?”
“Not entirely,” she said softly.
“My brothers are afraid I’m going to hurt you by leaving. After our little ‘interlude.’”
“Interlude. I like that. Is that what usually happens? You love the girls and break their hearts?”
He gave a short laugh. “No, not so much.”
“Oh?” she probed. “Care to share?”
He laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Seems like it was either a mutual decision that things weren’t going anywhere or…” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Or I was dumped.”
“Oh, Patrick. If we’d met under different circumstances, I’d hold on to you until you begged me to let go.”
“Would you now?” he asked, smiling.
“If I’d met you last year, if you lived and worked nearby, if there weren’t so many weird complications and— Listen, Paddy, things change when you almost die. In fact, I suspect I did die, if briefly. This little time we’re here together in Virgin River—it feels like it could be a watershed experience. Hmm? I’ll go with it if you will.”
“You suspect you died?” he asked. “What’s that about?”
She cringed. “Listen, I haven’t told anyone except Dr. Temple…”
“We’re telling each other a lot of things never told before,” he said.
“I saw myself,” she said. “From above. I was looking down at myself while a whole bunch of people were working on me, around me. I saw my grandmother, who died years ago. She looked wonderful. I don’t know if it was a dream, something I was programmed to imagine under the circumstances or if it was the real deal. She was in a halo of light and she lifted her hand and said, ‘It’s okay, Angie. Everything is going to be all right.’ When I woke up, three days had passed and I was on the vent.”
His lips were parted in either disbelief or awe. He finally closed his mouth and swallowed. “You were close to her?” he asked.
“Very close. My mother was her eldest—I’m the oldest grandchild. We were together a lot when I was little.”
“Do you ever…see her in your dreams? Get messages from her in dreams?”
“I think she’s been in a dream or two, but not like that night. That night there was all that light.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but—”
“I don’t,” he whispered. Then he seemed to shake himself. “So, I’m not opting out. Tell me how you’d like to spend this interlude. When you’re not working or researching this gift of surgery, of course. When you can fit me in.”
She smiled devilishly. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time right now…and I have a pretty good idea of how I’d like to spend it....”
And his smile widened. “Yeah, my kind of girl.” He lifted her in his arms. “Do you need food first?”
“I can eat anytime,” she said. “Right now I’m just craving you.”
* * *
Patrick nuzzled Angie’s neck in the early morning. “You had sex on the first date. And the second.”
“When you’re me, you’re a little more afraid of not living than of living too much.”
He brushed the hair away from her brow and placed a kiss there. “I’m starting to understand what has your family a little freaked out. Might be your ‘commitment to living,’ as it were.”
“I have no intention of being reckless,” she said. “I just don’t want to waste away in a lab or library while life goes on around me. You know why I haven’t had boyfriends? Real boyfriends? Because I’ve been so focused on school. Because the only place I could compete in life was with grades, with scores. I always had to be the best in my class. It felt like the only way I could measure my success, my self-worth. If you knew the time I put into preparing for the MCAT you wouldn’t believe it—it verged on OCD. It’s that insane.”
“And did that get you the highest possible score?”
Her gaze shifted away as if it was something to be ashamed of when, in truth, her fellow students had envied her. “Forty.”
“Is that good?”
“Ninety-ninth percentile.” She looked into his beautiful eyes. “But I’m tired of living my life behind a textbook, of being awkward as soon as I venture out into the real world. And…I’m sick of being lonely. Sometimes I have no one to talk to.”
He laughed at her. “You? Shy? You came on to me. You let me undress you. You wrapped yourself in lights for me!”
“For some reason, I’m comfortable with you. You make it easy. Well, it was easy to let you undress me. Special circumstances…”
“Oh?” he asked.
She rolled over so she was on top of him. “Do you know the scariest part about this interlude? It’s not the fact that we’ll part ways soon, going off to do what we have to do. It’s the thought that I might never find another man like you. I don’t know much about getting myself a good boyfriend, but you might have raised the bar.” She shook her head. “What if I’m alone forever because of you?”
* * *
Angie did research and made phone calls from the clinic so she could be on hand if Mel needed her help—even if it was just for sweeping up or sterilizing instruments. For someone who wanted to do more living, she had trouble managing idle time.
Her first order of business was finding a surgeon but getting through to one proved impossible. She was reduced to leaving her number and the subject of her business. She was thrilled when Dr. Temple called to check on her progress—he’d left messages with a dozen plastic surgeons he knew who he thought might help if their time permitted. He offered to email her the information.
“Have you made a decision about your next move, Angie? Peace corps? VISTA? Anything?”
“I’ve read a few websites, but my goal is to get this little girl set up before I pursue my own next move. What about you? Doing anything exciting?”
“I’m taking two weeks in March to go with a team to Honduras. There are a lot of patients who’ve been waiting a long time for medical and surgical aid. It’s a private foundation operated by a senator’s wife who happens to be a surgical nurse. She does all the front work, selection, scheduling, purchasing, acquisition and facilities. We’ll load up a C-130 transport aircraft, see patients and operate ten hours a day.”
Angie actually gasped. “I would love to do that!”
He laughed at her excitement. “You will one day, Angie. I have no doubt.”
Brie was working out of her home office that day so Angie drove out there for lunch, and in a fever of excitement told her about Dr. Temple’s philanthropic project. Then she described her own progress, or the lack thereof. Getting a doctor to even call her back would be a dream come true and having one sign on to donate his services—well, that was something she realized she was going to have to work very hard for.
“I’m so proud of you. But what I want to know is what you’re going to do next. Any chance you’re going back to school? You must realize your mom calls Jack and me every day.”
“Even though she doesn’t admit that to me, I assumed as much. What does she want to know?”
Brie leaned across her small kitchen table and took Angie’s hands in hers. “Ange, she says you hang up on her.”
Angie pulled back her hands. “When she puts on the pressure, I do. When she says she’s made an appointment with a psychiatrist because I haven’t made arrangements to go back to med school. When she asks me—daily—if I’ve had a chance to think things over and come to my senses. It’s insane! She’s so convinced that there’s something wrong with my brain—simply because I’m not interested in doing exactly what she wants me to do. The truth is that she’s the one who seems to have a problem, not me. Oh, Brie, how am I going to go home? Ever?”
Brie’s brows furrowed in empathy. She shook her head. “Has anything changed? Have you made any possible plans? I mean, besides helping Megan get her operation?”
Now Angie grabbed Brie’s hands. Her voice was soft. “I haven’t said anything to my mom yet, but…yes. I think I’d like to do a couple of years in the peace corps or a similar organization, and maybe while I’m there I’ll think about med school.”
Brie’s eyes got large, and she leaned back, startled. Then she groaned and let her head drop to the kitchen table. “Oh, man.”
“You don’t approve? Brie, I thought you might find it exciting!”
Brie lifted her head. “It’s definitely dramatic.”
“It’s honorable! It’s positive! People do it all the time! Why wouldn’t you—?”
“I’m going to go ahead and suggest you not hit Donna with that one right now and I’ll tell you why. It’s not a bad thing in any way, Ange. You’re right—it’s honorable and positive. And it’s a dramatic change in course—change being the operative word. You went from being a student with very specific goals to a dropout with a whole new plan. And all this follows you being in a catastrophic accident—it smells like a paradigm shift. That worries people who love you.”
“You?”
Brie shrugged. “Not so much. You don’t seem too out of character. You’ve always been a generous person with a big heart. But if you start freeing zoo animals or chaining yourself to trees…”
“Oh, please—I’m not even getting slightly radical.”
“Plowing fields in Africa versus attending classes at USC is something of a radical shift. Listen. Your mother is wonderful and I love her and she’s helped me through more than one crisis in my life, but she is rigid. She doesn’t like change. She doesn’t adjust well—it takes her a long time. She’s very comfortable being in control—not so much when the people she’s controlling step out of line.”