Christmas Comes to Dickens

by Nancy Fraser

  The befuddled look on his face warmed her heart and reminded her of the boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. She much preferred this Keith to the arrogant, rude, and snapping one she’d dealt with earlier in the day.

  “Well, your instincts were spot on. Give me your coat.”

  “I won’t stay. Promise.” He shook his head. “I realize I’m imposing on your personal time—”

  She waved her hand at him again. “It’s fine, Keith. Really. I’m perpetually on call. The concept of personal time isn’t even in my dictionary. Come back to the kitchen. I was about to heat up something for dinner. Have you eaten?”

  He followed her, his gaze darting everywhere.

  “This place is a time capsule. It looks exactly like it did when we were kids,” he said, shucking out of his coat.

  “I know.” She sighed. “I keep meaning to go through stuff, get rid of the outdated furniture, maybe update some of the rooms, but I haven’t had time to do anything. I’ve been too busy getting acclimated to the practice.” She pulled a tin foil packet from the refrigerator. “I’ve got some leftover pizza I can offer you. Still consider pepperoni a food group?”

  The flash of his quick grin knocked her back a step. For a moment, the boy she’d spent endless summer days working with in his grandparents’ store, and hot summer nights wrapped in his arms, appeared in front of her.

  “Top of the food pyramid.”

  Turning so he wouldn’t see her hands shaking at the memories flooding through her, she plated two slices and put them in the microwave.

  “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  Pointing to the kitchen chair, she said, “So? What questions can I answer?”

  While he settled and rested his elbows on top of the aging Formica table, she grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and poured it into another goblet.

  “You’re drinking water from a wine glass?”

  “I finally unpacked these—literally—twenty minutes ago and figured I’d put them to use. I don’t have any beer or wine to offer you. Sorry.”

  He stared at the chalice. “There’s something about bad luck and drinking water from glasses like this, isn’t there? Your grandmother would know. Too bad we can’t ask her. And I’m sorry for that. Sorry about your mom, too. I should have reached out when Corrine told me they’d died. You have my sincere sympathies, Sage.”

  Grief shot through her. “Thank you.” She swallowed the still raw pain and asked, “I assume you’re here about Corrine?”

  If he thought the way she’d waved off his words as dismissive, he didn’t show it. “They finished the MRI right before I left the hospital. The technician said you’d be notified as soon as someone read it.”

  “Yeah. I should have the results by morning. Maybe even tonight if the radiologist isn’t busy.”

  “If a stroke caused her to pass out, you’ll know by this scan?”

  “I should.”

  He blew out a breath. “Okay, the most important question I have, then, is she going to be her normal self when she wakes up? I have to admit I don’t know a helluva lot about stokes. Granddad died of a heart attack. Struck him dead where he stood.”

  She’d been asked the question innumerable times over the course of her career and it tore at her heart every time she heard it.

  “I can’t answer without knowing a few things first, the most important of which is if it was a stroke, what was the extent, what areas of the brain were involved, how much damage—if any—was done. I’m still going on the theory some kind of hypertensive event caused her to faint. The evening nurse told me when I called a few minutes ago Corrine’s latest blood pressure was back down to normal.”

  “That’s a good sign, right?”

  “It is.”

  A deep, cavernous, and weary sigh broke from between his lips.

  “Keith, I know you’re worried about any long-lasting deficits if she’s had a stroke, like her inability to care for herself or get around unaided.” She handed him the plate after retrieving it from the microwave. “But in this case, we truly need to wait for her to wake up to see what, if any, damage there is.”

  “How did you know that was exactly what I was thinking?”

  “I’ve been doing this a while now.” One corner of her mouth pulled up. “Trust me when I tell you your concern is something I’ve heard hundreds of times from families.”

  His left eyebrow rose in a recognizable quirk. Once upon a time she would have leaned in and kissed his forehead smooth in an attempt to calm him. She couldn’t imagine his reaction if she did so now.

  Why she wanted to do so was another thought entirely.

  “She’s ridiculously independent,” he said. “She’s gonna be royally pissed when she realizes a broken hip is going to hamper her lifestyle. No more weekly lunches with her cronies for a while. She won’t be able to drive herself anywhere. Not to mention she’ll probably need a stint in rehab when she’s discharged from Dickens Memorial.” He rolled his eyes and blew out another breath. “She’s not gonna be happy about that at all. And the house. It’s huge. She won’t be able to get around in it as easily.”

  The sadness crossing his face tore at her. Without thinking she shouldn’t, she laid her hand over the fisted one he’d placed on the table. Surprise replaced the worry when he lifted his gaze to hers.

  “She’s a formidable woman,” Sage said, squeezing his hand. “One of the strongest in both personality and will I’ve every known. She’ll face whatever needs to be faced with her characteristic Yankee resolve and backbone. You know that.”

  After a few beats his features relaxed and the tension eased from his shoulders.

  “You’re right, of course. She’s got a backbone of steel.” His gaze slid down to the hand she still held, then back up to her eyes. There was a question in them and she didn’t think it had anything to do with his grandmother.

  Sage willed herself to pull her hand back without jerking it or giving any indication of how nervous she was, then shot it to the back of her neck. The tension underneath her fingers wasn’t only from her busy day, but from the man sitting across from her.

  “How’s the pizza?” she asked, after taking a mental breath.

  Good girl. Use your professional voice.

  She should have remembered how dogged Keith was. When a notion crossed his mind or he had a point to make, he’d never been one to hold back or be diverted, no matter how hard she’d tried to do so.

  His gaze took a stroll around the room for a bit, then did a quick dip down to his watch.

  “It’s almost seven thirty.”

  “That late already? Geez, this day has flown by.” She gave herself a mental slap and winced at the edgy pitch in her voice.

  Keith cocked his head. “The family all out for the evening?”

  “Family?” She squeezed her neck again, digging in so deep that her nails were just shy of piercing the delicate skin covering her tight muscles.

  “Husband? Kids? You know: family.”

  She swallowed before saying, “I don’t have any kids.”

  The words cut through her heart like a stiletto.

  She called up a smile and tried to banish any trace of sadness from her voice, though, when she added, “But Corrine told me you have a son. Quinn, right? He’s fourteen?”

  He nodded. “A freshman in high school. And, Jesus, that makes me feel old.”

  “She brags about him almost as much as she does you,” she teased. “To hear her tell it, he’s the most handsome boy in the world.”

  “I tend to think she’s a little biased.” He rolled his eyes.

  “He sounds like a great kid.”

  “He is, but you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Yes I did.” She blinked a few times. “I don’t have any children.”

  She should have known better than to ever attempt to verbally spar with him. It had been a fruitless endeavor when
they were younger and, apparently, now too, evidenced when he asked, “Where’s your husband, Sage?”

  SHE SWALLOWED AGAIN. When her chest lifted a hair with the quick breath she hauled in (and Jesus, was she braless?) he knew her nerves were swarming and she was stalling for time in order to think of a response.

  Old habits and tactics he remembered her using a lifetime ago.

  “Husband?”

  “Yeah. You know? Mr. Hamilton?”

  “It’s doctor, actually,” she mumbled.

  Of course it is. His first name’s probably Alexander.

  “And we’re not married anymore.”

  His heart rate quickened at the disclosure. “How long?”

  “A little less than a year.”

  Curiosity compelled him to ask, “Is that the reason why you moved back to Dickens?”

  She nodded.

  “What happened?”

  Sage lifted the pizza to her lips, took a small bite and simultaneously shrugged. “Simple and clichéd story. We got married before I finished residency. I thought we were, well suited is the best word, and that we shared common goals we wanted for our futures. I was wrong, though, because it turned out we wanted very different things and neither of us was prepared to compromise. You’re divorced, according to Corrine,” she added. “You know how it is.”

  Nodding, he took his own bite of the delicious pizza and wondered if his ex sounded as bitter when she talked about their failed marriage as Sage did. Barbara had no cause to be, but he didn’t think it would stop her from badmouthing him if given the opportunity.

  “What didn’t you agree on?” he asked.

  She sighed again and he did a quick eye-dip to her chest.

  Yup, no bra.

  “Family. I wanted to start one. After a few years when it just wasn’t happening, I thought something might be wrong with me.”

  Her eyes drifted down to her plate and the tips of her ears went pink. He didn’t need to be a mind doctor to know why she thought as she did.”

  “I went to a doctor who assured me I was fine, but wanted to examine Leland to see if he was the problem.”

  “Was he?”

  “He would go in, saying there was nothing wrong with him and we just needed to be patient. He kept telling me how much he wanted kids but, in reality, he didn’t. Unfortunately, I didn’t find that out until we were married almost seven years. He’d neglected to tell me he had a vasectomy in medical school.”

  “What a dick.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I figured you had a houseful of kids by now,” he said. “You’re a born nurturer. Remember when my grandparents’ cat had kittens? You took care of the mamma and her babies for over a month. Every day before we’d start working, you’d make sure mamma was comfortable in the store’s back room, had enough to eat. and that the kittens were thriving.”

  The smile he’d loved the very first time he’d ever seen it cross her lips lit up her face at the memory. “I think that’s when I knew I wanted to be a doctor.”

  “It’s a wonder you didn’t become a Vet with the amount of animals you took care of back then. Mrs. Barclay’s chickens, old man Paley’s dog.”

  “People are easier. They can tell you where it hurts.”

  “Truth.” He took another bite of pizza, his gaze staying on her. “So. What did Doctor Hamilton want that you didn’t?”

  When she nailed him with a look so filled with hurt and yet so drowning in anger, he knew it was something big.

  “Other women.”

  His hand stopped its assent to his mouth, the point of the pizza wedge dipping down toward the plate. “He cheated on you?”

  “Chronically and for most of our marriage. It was his favorite hobby. Most doctors play golf on their days off. Leland played the role of happy bachelor. When I found out and confronted him, he actually told me I didn’t need to worry about any of the other women. They meant nothing to him. It was just sex. His libido was strong and he needed...more, than I could give him.” A rapid flush flew up her neck and face. “But he came home to me every night and I had his name, proof, he told me, that he loved me and me, alone. Seems we differed on the definition of the word. Another thing about us I didn’t learn until several years after we married.”

  “Again. Dick.”

  The sound that shot from her sounded more like a dog’s bark than a laugh but, when she leaned forward and grabbed her napkin, he realized she’d snorted out the water she’d sipped just as hilarity overcame her.

  His favorite sound as a teenager had been Sage’s laughter. It took a lot to get her to laugh, to really let loose with a belly-shaker. She’d been serious and cautious most of the time around people. But when it was just the two of them, all her inhibitions flew and he was able to draw the real Sage out of her shell.

  The thought he’d missed her more than he’d allowed himself to admit over the years sailed through him.

  “Sorry.” She swiped at the tears falling from her eyes with one hand, the other patting her chest when she coughed a few times. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long while.”

  “Yeah, I can see why having a serial cheater for a husband wouldn’t be a laugh riot. I hope you took him for every penny he had in the divorce.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s not the kind of statement I’d expect another man to make about one of their own gender.”

  “You’ve obviously been hanging around the wrong men, because from where I’m sitting, Leland—and he even has a dick name—deserved to be taken to the proverbial cleaners. Cheating is unforgivable.”

  “That sounds like experience talking,” she said after a moment. “Was infidelity why your marriage ended?”

  “Corrine didn’t tell you? I’m shocked. I hadn’t seen her so happy in years as the day I told her I was filing.”

  “You filed?” Heat flew up her neck and cheeks again, coloring her skin in the most delicious looking apple red. He yearned for a taste.

  “Like you, I wasn’t the one at fault in the failure of my marriage. I had to file or I’d have wound up declaring bankruptcy.”

  Her mouth fell open. Just as quick she slammed it back shut.

  “You’re being nice not asking, but it’s no secret, especially in this small, gossipy town. Barbara had a gambling problem I found out about almost too late.”

  “What do you mean, too late?”

  “She’d already emptied our joint bank account, withdrawn everything in Quinn’s college fund, and had somehow accessed my business account. She drained that of about fifty thousand before the bank finally notified me.”

  “Oh, God, Keith, I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged and lifted the goblet to his lips. “It is what it is. Your husband cheated on you with other women, my wife cheated on me with gambling. She loved the thrill of it more than she loved me and our son.”

  “I know it’s no consolation, but gambling is a treatable addiction.”

  “Maybe. But once the trust is gone in a marriage, it’s over. When I confronted her after the bank called me, she actually begged me to stake her one-hundred-grand because she knew her luck was about to change. She had a sure bet that couldn’t lose. We’d quadruple our money in one shot.” He shook his head again. “I filed the next day and was granted sole custody of Quinn. She didn’t even fight me on the custody.”

  “That must have been hard on your son.”

  “Believe it or not, he told me he was relieved she hadn’t fought for him. Seems he knew about her addiction way before I ever did.”

  “Seems we both made poor choices in spouses.” She took a sip of water. “At least you got the gift of your son out of your marriage.”

  She stood and brought her empty plate to the sink. Rising as well, he had a question he wanted to ask but her beeper went off before he could. She grabbed her cell phone from the counter and said, “Excuse me.”

  He gave her some privacy and walked into the hallway that ran the length of the old co
lonial. Almost daily from the age of thirteen until he’d gone off to college, he’d been in Sage’s house. Every morning he’d walked her to, and then later back home from, school until his grandparents gave him a car for his seventeenth birthday. Then, he’d driven her. When she’d begun working at the store, they’d gone from school straight there every afternoon.

  Sage had returned after her divorce to the place she’d felt safe and loved as a kid, despite running away from it when she was eighteen. He didn’t need to be a shrink to realize it, didn’t need to hear her admit it. When life kicked her in the ass and destroyed her world, she’d come home to heal.

  Why, he wanted to know, had his grandmother kept her return a secret from him? When he’d been back for Thanksgiving, she’d made no mention the woman he’d loved for the first half of his life was back in town. Nor had she told him during any of their phone calls when he checked in to make sure all was well.

  Was she purposefully keeping Sage’s return a secret, and if so, why? Dickens was a small town and Corrine had to know he’d hear about it, eventually, from someone.

  “That was the radiologist,” she said, finding him staring at a painting in the hallway he remembered hanging in the exact spot when he was a kid.

  “And?”

  “No evidence of a bleed. It looks as if I was correct and this was an isolated hypertensive event.”

  Relief surged through him like a river raging. “That means she shouldn’t have any problems other than a healing hip to deal with, right? No mental deficits?”

  “She’s not out of the woods yet, Keith.” She placed a hand on his arm. Her natural warmth penetrated through his shirtsleeve and he felt a jolt all the way down his spine. “We need to find out why her pressure spiked in the first place to prevent it from happening again. Corrine was lucky to avoid a stroke. She might not be so lucky the next time if we don’t get whatever the issue is under control.”

  When she removed her hand, the desire to tug it—and her—into the living room and sit on the couch where they’d shared their first kiss a lifetime ago, was strong.

  Too strong.