Christmas Comes to Dickens

by Nancy Fraser

  He needed to put some distance between them because he could tell, just from spending an hour in Sage’s company, none of the feelings he’d had for her had died with time.

  She’d thrown his heart at his feet when he’d offered it all those years ago and it had taken him a long time to get over the pain. Distance and maturity had convinced him she’d been right to act as she had. They were too young, too selfish in what they each wanted to make a go of a life together. They were still kids, still finding their way. But even realizing it now, the sting of her rejection lurked deep within him.

  It didn’t stop him from wondering, though, if she would still fit perfectly in his arms, or if her mouth still tasted like sugar mixed with spice.

  “I’m sure you’ve got a plan for her care,” he said while taking a step—physically and emotionally—back from her. He slung his hands into his pants pockets.

  “I do. I’ll check on her first thing in the morning and when she’s awake I can discuss where we go from here. It would be good if you could be there, too, so she knows she’s got support.”

  “I already informed my assistant that I’m out until after the holidays. I’d planned on coming back for Christmas, bringing Quinn with me, and spending a few days, anyway. Since I’m already here, I might just as well stay.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re going to be here for her.” A warm smile played at the corners of her mouth.

  What did it say about him that he wanted her to be glad for herself that he was sticking around?

  Don’t go there.

  “I assume you’re staying at the house.”

  “It’s easiest.” He shrugged. “Corrine redid some of the place a few years back. It needed it, too. Modernized the plumbing; upgraded the kitchen. She even let Quinn decorate his own room so he’d be comfortable when he visited.”

  Her grin hit him square in his belly.

  “Did she redo yours?”

  He closed his eyes and rolled them under his lids. “Mine, for some reason, she left alone. It’s like a shrine. Nothing’s been changed since I was fifteen.”

  Her smile had felt like a punch but her giggle threatened to bring him to his knees.

  “So, the bathing suit posters of Heidi Klum and Adrianna Lima are still up on your wall next to the life-sized one of Eminem?”

  He groaned. “The man was, and still is, a poet.” He pointed his index finger at her. “Don’t forget that.”

  “I never have.”

  Mirth danced in her eyes and the urge to kiss her bounded through him again.

  He cleared his throat and said, “I should go. I want to stop by the hospital one more time for the night, make sure she’s okay. She hadn’t woken yet from the anesthesia when I left. The evening nurse said that’s not uncommon, especially in elderly patients.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then I’ve got to get some stuff settled at the house.”

  He walked back to the kitchen and retrieved his coat from where he’d tossed it over a chair. Shrugging into it he asked, “What time will you be there in the morning?”

  She followed him to the front door. “Seven thirty. I do rounds and then head to the office to see patients.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for the pizza.”

  He quickly debated whether or not to peck her cheek. They had, after all, known one another for most of their lives. It wouldn’t seem odd or out of character to do so. Uncertainty about her reaction, though, paralyzed him in the doorway.

  Sage took the decision out of his hands when she stepped back, said, “See you in the morning,” then closed the door.

  Keith stared at the wood for a moment and fought the urge to knock so she’d open it again.

  “You’re a jerk, Mills,” he muttered before turning and stomping through the snow back to his car.

  Chapter 4

  SAGE LEANED BACK AGAINST the closed door and rubbed a hand across her stomach.

  Jesus.

  It was a darn good thing the man didn’t live in town any longer, because he was a serious threat to her emotional sanity.

  Seeing him in the hospital was one thing. She could deal with a worried family member by keeping her professional distance and concentrating on her job.

  But having him in her home, in the space where they’d shared so much of their young lives together, was too much. Standing a few feet from the room where they’d had their first kiss and yards away from the bed they’d lost their virginity together in, had made her start to stress-sweat under her flannel shirt.

  Memories came flooding through, from the way he’d take a breath right before pressing his lips to hers, to the feel of his skin when he ran his fingers over her naked flesh.

  Her own hand flew to her heated cheeks at the thoughts. The fact she’d almost stretched up to kiss him goodbye had her banging her head against the door.

  No kissing. Not goodbye, not hello, not on the cheek, or the forehead, or anywhere else. It was too dangerous.

  Once she’d made the decision to return to Dickens, she’d never looked back. Needing to heal from the pain of her divorce and her ex’s betrayal, Sage knew being in the home and town she’d grown up in would help re-center and comfort her, give her back the sense of self worth and confidence Leland had stripped from her. So far, it had. She was stronger, more sure of herself, and had even started sleeping through the night again. The insomnia she’d been plagued with since she’d discovered her ex-husband’s betrayal had finally retreated.

  But then Keith Mills came back to town and her emotions were caught in a whirlwind.

  It was so easy to talk to him at the table where they’d shared innumerable meals, talked about every subject under the sun, done their homework. From the very first time he’d spoken to her in sixth grade, they’d simply clicked. The effortless camaraderie between then had gone a long way in curing Sage of her childhood anxiety.

  Apparently, being with him still had the same effect.

  She shook her head as her gaze fell on the Trim-A-Tree shopping bag she’d left on the foyer table. Grabbing it, she took it upstairs to her bedroom and gingerly removed the ornaments one by one, placing them on her bed as she unwrapped them. She’d bought a full dozen of shiny generic ones for her office tree, including an angel that had caught her eye.

  Solid silver with a trumpet held to its lips, the angel was about three inches from side to side, and heavy. A thick silver colored string was attached to the middle of the wings. Sage could imagine the sound of the trumpet ushering in the holiday as it blared triumphantly.

  Holding it in her palm, heat radiated from the surface into her hand. Knowing silver as a cold metal, Sage grew intrigued. She peeked into the box looking for some kind of pamphlet about the material, but found nothing.

  Once Brianna’s gift was wrapped, she put it and the other tree trimmings back into the shopping bag, then got ready for bed. While reading a medical journal she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  The next morning Sage found Keith seated beside his grandmother’s bed, holding her hand. The way his mouth dipped down toward his chin, and the groove resting between his brows as he stared at the old woman, told her he was concerned.

  “She hasn’t woken yet,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “The nurse said Corrine slept straight through the night. She tried several times to rouse her, but couldn’t.” He stood and as he came toward her Sage could feel his body vibrating with tension the closer he got. “Something’s wrong, Sage. She should be awake by now and complaining about being stuck in bed. Do you think she really did have a stroke and the scan is wrong?”

  “Unlikely.” She glanced down at the clipboard at the bottom of the bed. “Her vitals are, and have been, fine all night, her blood pressure is back to normal.” She tugged her stethoscope from her lab coat pocket and leaned over the bed.

  “Her lungs are clear,” she told him, then, when she moved the bell over Corrine’s stomach said, “and she’s got great bowels
sounds.” Her eyes flicked to the cardiac monitor over the bed, which showed a normal heart rhythm. Since she was breathing on her own, the oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose was merely a precaution due to her age.

  “Then why isn’t she awake?”

  “I don’t know. Let me go review her chart and read the official MRI report.”

  “Sage—”

  The pain in his voice shot straight to her heart. She closed the distance between them, lifted his hand and pressed it with hers. “Let me do my job, Keith. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

  With his lips clamped together so tight they blanched, he gave her a perfunctory nod.

  Hours later, her clinic schedule once again readjusted to allow her to stay at the hospital, Sage told him, “The EEG shows perfect brain function. She responds to deep pain which is also a good indicator of brain activity and her CAT scan is fine.”

  She took a deep breath and cupped the back of her neck. “The cardiologist’s exam shows nothing’s wrong with her EKG, her cardiac enzymes are all good, and the rest of her blood work and levels are stable.”

  “Then why isn’t she awake?”

  His voice shook with the question.

  “It could be as simple as her body needs to rest from the surgery and everything that’s been done to her, medically, over the past twenty-four hours. She is, after all, well into her eighties. It could even be an idiosyncratic reaction to anesthesia. When I did my surgical rotation, there were several cases of patients who took longer to wake from a routine operation, due to anesthesia issues.”

  “So you’re saying she’s sleeping? She’s not in”—he flipped a hand in the air—“a coma or something else?”

  “For all appearances, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” As much as she didn’t like the explanation, she could tell it bothered him more. “Look, Keith, Corrine probably just needs a little more time.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “You should go home and get some rest. Sitting here staring at her isn’t going to force her to wake up.”

  “I feel so useless.” He folded his arms across his chest, his entire body going into a slouch. Her heart went out to him.

  “Useless is the last thing you are. But you can’t will her to do something she’s not ready to do yet. Now,” she glanced down at her watch, “I’ve got to get to the clinic to see some patients I couldn’t reschedule. I’ll come back as soon as I’m finished, okay?”

  He dragged in a tortuous breath and nodded. “I’m not leaving. I’ve got my laptop, so I can do some work while I...wait.”

  She patted his arm and left.

  “ANY CHANGE?”

  He glanced up from the proposal he’d read twice, unable to concentrate on the words, to find Sage at his grandmother’s bedside. Standing, he shoved his laptop onto the chair. “The nurse who took her blood pressure a while ago said she seemed more aware when they changed her sheets and repositioned her off her back.”

  Sage nodded then put up a finger, signaling him to stop talking, so she could listen to his grandmother’s heart.

  “Steady and strong.” Her gaze raked over his face. “Have you eaten anything or been out of this room at all today?”

  “Only when they come in every hour to change her position. I stay right outside the door. And I’m not hungry.”

  An expression he took for pity played itself across her face.

  “Come on. Grab your coat.”

  “I don’t think I should leave—”

  “The staff has my pager. They’ll notify me if anything changes. But you, sitting here, watching her like you’re waiting for water to boil, isn’t helping her. Or you. Let’s go.” She lifted his coat from the windowsill ledge and shoved it at him.

  “You never used to be so bossy,” he mumbled as he slipped it on.

  “I never used to be a lot of things. Change, like wisdom, comes with age.”

  It seemed her superpower hearing hadn’t changed in all these years, though.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a walk.”

  “But it’s freezing out.”

  Stop whining, you idiot. You sound like a two-year old, not a grown-ass man.

  Fifteen minutes later, after they walked up the steps of the town’s gazebo, a cup of hot chocolate in each of their hands, they sat opposite one another on the benches running along the inside of the structure. Holiday wreaths were strung from each white column, complete with Christmas-red bows and attached twinkling lights. Stands of lit colored holiday lights wound around the roof and ledge as well.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since I got back to town this past fall, but I’ve been too busy.” She sipped the hot drink as she stared off at the cars moving around the town common.

  He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I haven’t been here since...in years.”

  Not since the last time I saw you.

  “How many times did we come here on a free Saturday or Sunday and just sit?” she asked, one corner of her mouth tipping upward. “People watch? Ride the carousel when it was open? Talk about nothing and everything?”

  Hold hands? Sit close enough we could hear the other’s heart beating?

  He opened his eyes before his thoughts ran away with him and turned to her. “Is that why you brought me here? To reminisce about old times? ‘Cuz we could have done that at the hospital where it’s, oh I don’t know? Warm, perhaps?”

  She grinned at his sarcasm, laughter dancing in her eyes. “You were never a fan of the cold.”

  He gulped the warm cocoa. “Unlike you who’d wear a bathing suit and march down Main Street during a snowstorm if you could.” He shivered.

  “The beauty of youth. I feel the cold more nowadays.” After taking her own sip, she added, “I brought you here because you needed a break from sitting vigil at your grandmother’s bedside, and I knew this was the perfect place to take a breath and just...be, for a bit.

  He cocked his head. “When did you get so Zen?”

  Her free and open laugh was infectious and he found his mood lightening.

  “Zen is a term with no relation to me.” She smiled at him over the rim of her cup. Steam rose and caressed her cheeks as a hot bullet of jealousy shot through him.

  Jealous of a wisp of steam. Get a grip, man.

  “But it’s a good practice to walk away from a situation sometimes to recharge and reboot,” she said.

  “Experience talking?”

  She nodded, the humor gracing her eyes moments ago now ebbed.

  There were so many things he wanted to talk to her about, so much he hadn’t even realized he needed to get off his chest until he’d seen her again yesterday. Two decades of questions he’d never gotten the opportunity to ask clogged his throat.

  Would she answer him? And if she did, would her words heal the wound that had been festering in his heart all these years?

  Only one way to know.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Did you ever think about me?”

  Her cheeks were already pink from the chilly air, but the color deepened at his query.

  She probably thought I was going to ask something about my grandmother and not a personal question.

  “After you left, I mean.”

  Sage didn’t even hesitate. “Every single day.”

  He lowered his hand slowly, the cup still grasped in it, as his gaze stayed on her.

  “Why do you look surprised?” she asked.

  “So many reasons.” He shook his head. “But mostly because I figured when you left you never gave me another thought. You certainly never spoke or wrote to me again.”

  The afternoon light sifting through the gazebo’s columns played with the colors in her hair as she looked down at the cup in her hand. “I thought about you, about...everything that happened. Constantly. There were so many times I wanted to run back here because I didn’t know how I could make it through another day without seeing you, ta
lking to you. Having you hold me and tell me you loved me. Kiss all my tears and sadness away.”

  “Why didn’t you, then? Why did you stay away?”

  She sighed, then took a sip from the cup. “My mother and grandmother convinced me I needed a clean break. Needed to leave Dickens and not look back.” Her gaze drifted down to her ungloved hands. “Leave you. They were afraid there were too many sad memories to tie me here, hold me bound. My father’s death, for one. What happened with us, for another. They said I needed to put what happened behind me and get on with the life I’d been preparing for. I was given a second chance by God and had a responsibility to take it.”

  All the anger he’d held on to for years screamed to be released. He took a deep breath but couldn’t calm his quickening heart rate. “They actually told you God was giving you an out of a bad situation?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you ever think, for one second, Sage, they were wrong?”

  “I was so...destroyed, Keith, after it happened. I couldn’t eat; I couldn’t focus. My mom and grandmother did what they thought was the right thing for me, what they thought would help me.”

  “It never occurred to you that I could help you? That we could help each other? The baby was mine, too, Sage. And I was going through the same things you were.”

  As if it had happened just yesterday, those horrible days eighteen years ago flew back into his head. Finding out Sage was pregnant; the fear of not knowing what to do, who to confide in; then the loss. The horrible loss.

  “It was different for you. Your body was still the same, while mine, well...” Her voice was tinged with sorrow. “It took me a long while to feel whole again. To...heal, physically.”

  “I get that, I really do, but despite the miscarriage we still could have been together. We didn’t need to be yanked apart. We could have helped one another through the grief and loss. I needed you, Sage. And I know you needed me.”

  She hung her head; shook it.

  “I know you were shattered by losing the baby,” he continued. “That your body and mind were going through a whole host of changes and issues. But even though I never carried the baby physically, I was going through the loss as well. You had your mother and grandmother’s support. I never even got a chance to tell my grandparents. I was such a mess.” He swiped his free hand across his temple. “First, you lost the baby, and then I lost you. It was unfair on so many levels. To both of us.”