Christmas, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  “Maureen and Rosie, I’d like to introduce you to our new doctor, Nick Sullivan. He’s come bearing gifts.” Sabine took the wine and flowers from him and placed them on the counter.

  The older women turned and smiled warmly at him. “I’m Maureen, and this is my oldest and dearest friend, Rose. It’s lovely to meet you, Dr. Sullivan. We are simply thrilled you could join us today.” She pulled off the potholders, moved toward him and took his hands in hers as a dear friend might.

  He nodded to Rose and Maureen. He was instantly charmed. “Call me Nick, please. Thank you for opening your amazing home to me. It’s wonderful to meet you, Rose. It seems I don’t have enough flowers.”

  Rose laughed. “Nonsense, honey. Maureen’s the flower-lover around here. This boy’s a charmer, Mo. We’d better keep him a secret in this town or those gals will be all over him.”

  “Well, it’s certainly an honor to be here.”

  “Nonsense. You’re likely going to want to go running, screaming down the street right back where you came after you see what you’ve gotten yourself into around here.”

  Maureen circled her hand in the air to demonstrate her point.

  He laughed.

  “Thank you for the wine and flowers, my boy. Now, you go on and make yourself a cocktail to calm your nerves before they find out you’re here. You’re gonna need it.” She winked.

  “Before who finds out I’m here?” he asked, but Maureen and Rose had already moved away.

  Sabine laughed. “She’s talking about her family. They’re not shy, and they have various ailments. And you’re new to the area, so, you’ll be asked questions. Lots of questions.”

  “I’ll get that drink now. Excuse me.” He couldn’t help but smile. These people were absolutely fascinating. Nick had thought he would be bored, and maybe he would be very soon. But not yet. He wasn’t bored yet.

  By the time Rachel had buckled Mrs. Wiggins into the car, gathered several tins of freshly baked goods Mrs. W insisted they carry with them (because showing up to Thanksgiving empty-handed would just be rude), and made the drive over to The Evangeline House, it was closing in on dinnertime.

  Rachel hated to display any impatience where her guest was concerned, seeing how the lovely woman had offered her a place to live in the heart of town with such reasonable rent, but molasses moved faster in the dead of a Northern winter, Rachel was certain.

  “Let’s get you up the steps and I’ll come back for the goodies, okay?” Rachel suggested as she helped Mrs. Wiggins from the car.

  “Looks like a real humdinger of a party.”

  There were numerous cars parked in front of the house, in the side parking area, and down the street. Rachel couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s obvious enthusiasm for the social gathering. “Yes, well, they’re going to be happy to see you.”

  Rachel didn’t bother knocking, knowing she’d not be heard over the noise.

  “Hey, Rach. Oh, hi, Mrs. Wiggins. Happy Thanksgiving! So glad you could join us,” Ben said, and then helped the woman inside toward a comfortable chair in the heart of the action. Everyone in town knew Mrs. W. She’d been here since pretty much the birth of them all. “I’ll let Mom know you’re here.”

  Once Mrs. Wiggins was settled, Rachel said to Ben, “Thanks for the help. I need to get my camera and some other things from the car.”

  Ben nodded, and then tapped his sixteen-year-old nephew, Dirk, on the shoulder, and said, “Hey, buddy, can you help Rachel carry some stuff?”

  “Sure, Uncle Ben.” The young man, just having morphed from his awkward years turned to Rachel. “Oh, hey, Rachel. You need some help?”

  “Thanks, Dirk. Mrs. W baked some desserts and they’re outside.” Dirk followed her, and together they managed everything in one trip.

  “This stuff smells awesome.” Dirk inhaled as he came through the kitchen door with the tins.

  “I know. Nobody bakes like Mrs. Wiggins,” Rachel agreed. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Is there anything I can help you carry?” a deep, and somewhat familiar voice asked once they were back inside.

  Rachel turned to see Nick Sullivan, a drink in hand, standing at the corner of the kitchen island. “Oh, hi. No, that was everything. I brought my landlady to dinner at the last minute since her granddaughter’s car wasn’t working and she would have been alone today,” Rachel over-explained.

  “Seems everyone in your family can’t stand for anyone to be alone on Thanksgiving,” he said and smiled.

  Rachel nearly dropped her camera bag. His face entirely transformed when his smile reached his eyes. A very warm and druggish sensation quite literally made her knees want to buckle. How foolish was that? Like a romance novel description or movie with accompanying music in the background for production value.

  “Whoa, you okay?” He came over and took the bag from her.

  “Huh? I’m fine. Just a little hungry, I guess. I’ve been rushing around trying to get us both here before dinner was served. I guess I forgot to eat breakfast.”

  “As a doctor, I can tell you that’s not a good idea,” he admonished, but smiled again, causing a similar response, though this time she was more prepared for it.

  “Oh, hi, Rachel. I’m so glad you brought Mrs. Wiggins with you to celebrate Thanksgiving with us. So sad about her last-minute change in family plans.” Miss Maureen had entered the kitchen. Clearly Rachel hadn’t noticed.

  “Can I help you do anything in here?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m just about ready to start bringing food to the table. I’m going to round up my children and have them help. And Rose is here too. She refuses to behave like a guest.”

  Rachel smiled and nodded. “I saw Anna and Derek out there in the fray. I figured Rosie must be around here someplace. Let me know how I can help,” Rachel said. Rachel had been introduced to Rosie and her family soon after she’d moved to Ministry. Anna, Rosie’s youngest daughter, had recently met and married her husband, Derek. They were expecting their first child soon.

  “Oh, Rachel, did you notice if Ivy and Mason Monroe had arrived?”

  “No. I spoke with Ivy yesterday, and she said they may not make it because of some problem with work at the inn.” Ivy was a friend of Rachel’s who lived with her father. They were renovating the Ministry Inn, the historic inn on Main Street that had been in their family for generations.

  “Oh. I had so hoped they could come and meet everyone. Mason and I grew up together.” Then she smiled at Rachel. “Why don’t you go around and introduce Nick to everyone while we bring in the food?” she suggested.

  “O-okay. Sure.” Rachel didn’t think that would be her answer. Now they would all assume he was her date.

  “Thank you. It might be awkward to show up as a stranger at the dinner table,” Nick said.

  “Nonsense. Everyone at my table is used to it,” Maureen said, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Well, no time like the present.” Rachel led Nick out of the kitchen into the main family living area where most of the guests were gathered.

  She said hello to her mom and her boyfriend, Norman, and introduced them to Nick. “Well, hello there, Nick. It’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for quieting any fears we had yesterday regarding Sabine’s intestinal distress. You can’t be too careful, as you know.” She patted Nick’s hand.

  “No, ma’am, and you’re so welcome. It was a pleasure meeting both your daughters.”

  He smiled at Mom, and her mother cut her the look. The look that said, Oh, he seems nice, Rachel; better grab this one.

  Yep, exactly why she hadn’t wanted to do this introduction thing. And, so it went as she brought him around to meet the others. Ben’s sisters were the worst about matchmaking, because they were all happy in their marriages, and wanted everyone else to find that same contentment. Helping things along, for them, was acceptable and expected behavior. And they believed themselves experts.

  As the introductions continued, the gleam in their collective eyes mea
nt trouble, Rachel knew.

  As the food was carried into the dining room and placed on sideboards, and on the table, Rachel’s stomach growled audibly. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, and perhaps her response to Dr. Nick was simply a low blood sugar issue, which explained a lot, and was a relief.

  The last thing she needed was a childish crush on a cute doctor whose past she knew nothing about and had no plans of staying beyond New Years. And she could admit that her choices in men thus far hadn’t been stellar.

  Chapter Five

  Nick realize at some point during Thanksgiving dinner with the Laroux family that this was how families were supposed to be. These people weren’t perfect. They laughed with and at one another. They were loud. They were fun. They interrupted. And yet, the setting was pretty-darn picture-perfect, something his mother had always strived for, but in a different way. Her idea of perfection was everyone speaking quietly, eating with perfect manners, and no chaos of any sort.

  His mother was miffed that he was currently missing their family’s Thanksgiving feast. Missing holiday dinners the last several years wasn’t unusual for Nick, as he’d been at the mercy of a rotating hospital schedule. Only administrators and the most senior staffers had first pick to take off on holidays. It had been hit or miss for quite a while now.

  “So, Dr. Nick, did they have to twist your arm to get you to come up here to our little town?” Howard, Miss Maureen’s husband, whom he’d met at the diner last night asked.

  If they only knew. “Well, it seems I drew the short straw,” Nick said honestly, and everyone at their table laughed. “I was at the end of my contract, so there was some bargaining. But so far, I’m impressed with the facilities and staff. And, of course, with the hospitality.”

  “Well, if you need anything while you’re here, don’t hesitate to call on us,” Miss Maureen said.

  “I can’t thank you all enough for welcoming me to your lovely home today. I might have been eating a leftover sandwich from the diner in my motel room if you hadn’t.”

  “Nonsense. We don’t believe in anyone being alone during the holidays,” a tall blonde, who looked to be about nine months pregnant, said from a ways down the table. “I’m Emma, by the way.” She waved and looked down at her belly. “Twins. And there’s no way you can remember us all.”

  “Congratulations. And I definitely need a reminder—or for everyone to wear name tags,” Nick said.

  “Name tags wouldn’t be enough. We’d have to wear a family tree attached,” another youngish woman said from the other side of the table, obviously a sister to the pregnant blonde. This one looked a few years older, but was still very attractive, with shorter, darker hair. “Name’s Maeve.” She pointed to the next table. “My daughter Lucy is over there.” Lucy, who looked to be around twelve, heard her name and waved.

  “Clearly, I’m not worth mentioning, but we met earlier in the living room. I’m Junior, and I’m married to Maeve, father to Lucy.” Junior waved. “I can handle all your taxidermy needs.”

  Nick tried to hide his smile. “I guess you’re pretty busy this time of year.”

  Junior rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe what people want to preserve for perpetuity. I’ve got pictures.”

  “Not over Thanksgiving dinner, please, Junior,” the one named Cammie, who Nick recognized as the Southern celebrity television chef said to her brother-in-law.

  “Party-pooper.” Junior made a face at her.

  “Junior did a fine job on my kitties,” Mrs. Wiggins piped up. “They are still so life-like, you’d never know they passed three and four years ago. I still carry them into my bedroom at night so it feels like I’ve got everyone with me when I fall asleep.” The old woman’s smile showed no comprehension of anything amiss in her words.

  “Well, lovely lady, I’m thrilled I could make your loved ones continue to bring such happiness,” Junior said.

  Nick’s mother would have fallen face-first into her gumbo by now from the shocking conversation. And by the lack of tradition in the food. Nick tried not to laugh at the absurdity of what he’d just heard. The faces all around the table were a mixed bag of amusement and slight distaste, but no one seemed particularly shocked or horrified at the idea of stuffing a domesticated animal to prolong an old woman’s joy.

  “Now, y’all need to behave. We have guests who may not quite understand our peculiarities discussed at the dinner table,” Miss Maureen said, but she grinned as she said it.

  “Not on my account,” Mrs. Wiggins, the other lonely soul said. “Y’all are more fun than a barrel of monkeys.” She giggled. “And Dr. Nick, did I hear you’re staying at the motel? Do you have more permanent plans for a place to stay while you’re here?”

  “I have a phone number to call someone about an apartment to rent.” Wait. He pulled out the crumpled paper from his pocket, having intended to make the call this morning. “Are you Dolly Wiggins?”

  Rachel might have groaned out loud. Mrs. Wiggins was going to ask Nick Sullivan to move in next door. To be her neighbor and share a wall and a hallway. A house.

  “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am. And I do have an apartment to rent. How long will you be staying here in Ministry?”

  “Not long. Just over a month, until New Year’s, most likely,” Nick said. But he paused, perhaps at the idea of dead cat’s eyes, staring at him.

  “Well, the place is fully furnished, and I guess I don’t have a problem with a short-term lease, so long as you have references,” Mrs. Wiggins turned to Rachel and beamed. “Rachel, here, rents the apartment next door. If you decided to move in, you’ll already know your neighbor.”

  Rachel forced her mouth to make a smile shape. This was not something she wanted—this gorgeous single doctor moving in next door. Sleeping next door. She wondered if he slept naked.

  Her face was likely bright red, because it felt super hot, and she now noticed that everyone at the table was staring at her. She should say something pleasant. “It’s a really nice place. And Mrs. Wiggins is a fantastic landlady.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Nick said. He was giving her a funny look. Almost like he could tell what she was thinking. Well, there was no way he could know she’d been thinking that. Or, it could still pertain to the stuffed cats. Who knew?

  “Why don’t you gather your things after dinner and come on over this evening? I’ve just had the place cleaned, and it’s ready to go,” Mrs. Wiggins suggested. “You can sign a month-to-month rental agreement. Electricity, cable and water are included in the rent.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” he said to the woman. Rachel couldn’t say she blamed him. She wouldn’t want to stay at a cramped motel more than a night or two if it wasn’t necessary.

  “Well, that worked out splendidly. My two guests making a wonderful connection—what providence.” Miss Maureen raised her glass, and others followed suit.

  A strong sense of foreboding swept through Rachel then. A tingle, sort of. A flush, maybe. As she lowered her glass and took a sip, she glanced over at Nick. He was staring directly at her, an odd gleam in his eyes.

  She would bet money he slept naked.

  Relief spread through Nick like a wave. Part of his not wanting to come here had been the suddenness of it, and not having a plan, especially for a place to live. He’d left Atlanta so abruptly, there’d not been time to do anything. He wasn’t exactly a fly-by-night kind of person. He’d been taught from a young age to make a solid plan and keep to it.

  “Nick, you like football? We’re big SEC fans around here, but we’re split in half about our teams for both college and the NFL,” Ben said.

  Beau, JoJo’s husband chimed in. “Football game’s already started, but we’re recording. The Iron Bowl is Saturday, and we always get together and watch that. About half here went to Alabama, and the other half Auburn. Cammie makes snacks.” He grinned at Cammie, who smiled back.

  “Roll Tide!” somebody yelled, and then several whoops!

  In reply were a coup
le, “War Damn Eagle!” Glasses clinked all around at all three tables. The babies squealed and children chattered.

  Nick laughed then. “I’m a Dawgs and Dirty Bird fan. Big time.”

  “Boo!” The jeer came from Rachel’s mother, who then smiled at him to soften the insult. “We’re all hardcore Saints fans, Rachel especially. My former husband had season tickets for twenty years. You know the Falcons and the Saints play each other on December eighth in Atlanta, which is two weeks from today, right?”

  Nick nodded. “I’ve got tickets to the game. I’ve had them since before I knew I was coming here.”

  “Are you still going to the game?” Mrs. Prudhomme asked.

  Nick shrugged. “I haven’t even thought about it. I’ll have to check the schedule at work.”

  “Be a shame to miss it,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am. I was looking forward to it,” Nick said. And he was. One more reason to be annoyed at the powers that be for manipulating him into this move.

  Rachel had excused herself from the table before the football conversation and just now returned with her camera. She was snapping candid photos of everyone. They were all smiling and relaxed. There’d always been tension at his house. Either Dad had had a cocktail more than Mom approved, or someone had shown up ten minutes late—the important stuff.

  Nick doubted anyone would notice if someone showed up late around here.

  “Dears, as much as we’d all like to talk football stats, we should give some thought to this year’s Christmas celebration,” Miss Maureen called out.

  “Who’s in charge of the parade this year?” someone asked.

  A list was produced. “That would be Ben and Sabine,” one of the sisters answered. He wasn’t sure which one.

  “Of course, he’s in charge of the parade. He gets to ride on the back of the convertible as the mayor and wave at everyone,” Emma said and rolled her eyes.