She shrugs. “Why else did you think I was dragging my feet getting over here? I didn’t want to ruin your meal.”
Right. She hates to cook. And that’s the truth. But I thought she’d probably figured it out since she’s married. “You’re not that bad. I haven’t heard Mark complain.”
“That’s just because he has all the takeout numbers memorized. But I’m trying to do better. We’re eating out of our own kitchen at least one night a week.”
“That’s great.” I pull the apple pie from the oven and set it on the counter. “What did you cook this week?”
She snags a loose corner of crust. “Cereal and milk.”
I slap at her hand. “That’s not a real meal.”
She shrugs. “It’s not takeout.”
“Help me pack these sandwiches in the basket.”
She picks one up and inhales. “They smell delicious.”
“If Mark likes them, next week I’ll teach you how to make them.”
“Better yet, you can teach him how to make them, too.”
A newlywed cooking class. Why didn’t I think of that? “Did you call Mark and tell him we were coming?”
“Yes, but I told him not to tell Garrett. So at noon they’re going to be at Dock Two.”
I glance up at the clock. 11:40. Perfect. “Help me get this stuff in the car. We’ll have to hurry.”
On the way, I tell her about the dream. “But don’t overanalyze it,” I add.
She purses her lips. “How did green velvet look on me? Did it clash with my eyes?”
I laugh at her “shallow girl” impression. “Horribly. People shrieked when you walked in.”
She grins. “So you made it to the front of the church and it was still a nightmare.”
I don’t say anything. But the part of the dream where I saw Garrett waiting for me was anything but a nightmare.
We pull into the Crystal Lake parking lot at exactly three minutes until noon. Just time enough to grab the things and set up at the picnic table closest to Dock Two. When the boys putter up in Mark’s bass boat, I see the surprise on Garrett’s face.
Ami and I walk to the dock to meet them. I’m just glad Garrett doesn’t cut and run. He looks like he might want to.
“Did y’all catch anything?” Ami asks.
“Nothing worth cooking,” Mark answers and tucks her into a hug.
I wave at Garrett on Mark’s other side and smile, maybe a tad facetiously. “Hi.” Avoid this, buddy.
He nods. “Hi.”
Now there’s a promising start. I glance over at Ami and Mark who have their heads together and have forgotten we exist. I pull my phone and type in a message. I said Please Stop to save you money. I hit send. Then I walk on over to the picnic table and sit down.
A moment later he sits down beside me with his phone in front of him. I get a new message icon and hit Read. I got your message. Loud and clear.
I type in – No I don’t think you did. But if you’d returned my calls, maybe you would have.
I don’t look at him, but just hit Send.
In a second a new message comes back. It was obvious that you wanted to eat lunch with Shawn.
I don’t think that was obvious at all. I made you the same lunch today. For free. Oops. Too much. I backspace and start over. You’re mistaken. I send it to him before I change my mind and delete that too.
He gives me a measured look and types in I don’t think so.
As I read his words, I growl under my breath and notice that the table is really quiet. I look up to see Ami and Mark watching us with bemused expressions on their faces. “Did you bring your cell?” Mark whispers to Ami.
She shakes her head. “It’s in the car.”
“Then I guess we don’t get to have secret conversations.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Garrett drawls. “You two have secret conversations all the time, with us right here.”
I nod. “Definitely.”
Ami grins. “You’ve got a point.”
“You hungry?” Garrett asks me.
“Not really.” Extremely irritated? Yes. Slightly happy that he’s jealous? Yes. Hungry? Last thing on my mind.
He looks over at Mark and Ami. “You honeymooners go ahead and eat. We’re going to go for a walk.”
“Have fun,” Mark calls, as we start down the tree-lined path.
When we’re out of sight, Garrett pulls me to a bench.
“I thought we were walking,” I blurt out.
“We walked. Now we sit. And talk.” His face is grim. Maybe I was wrong about his feelings for me. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he gave me the “let’s be friends” talk in the same park I broke the news to Shawn? Ironic, maybe. Incredibly painful, definitely.
The water laps against the shore. A bird chirps in the tree above us and another one answers. I stare at my hands clenched nervously in my lap.
“Why did you tell me to stop bidding unless you wanted to be with Shawn?” Garrett blurts.
I sigh. “It had to be pretty obvious I wanted to save you money. Why did you ignore my calls and messages when I tried to explain?”
His face reddens. “I didn’t want to hear pity in your voice.”
Pity? This man who has driven me crazy the past few months thinks I love him out of pity.
He’s looking at the water. Is he saying what I think he is? Or is he just repeating what I know—that he loves me as a friend? “What do you mean?” I ask quietly.
“Mean?” He looks at me now, his eyes wide. “What do you think I mean? Don’t you know the whole town pitied me when you came home from law school sporting that diamond? Everyone but you knew how I felt.”
“Garrett—”
“I had to leave. I knew better than to think I could stand by and watch you breeze in here on holidays with your husband and kids expecting us to hang out together.” He gives a bitter laugh. “A man has to know his limits.”
The pain in his voice is palpable. I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand. “Just for the record, we didn’t ‘lose touch.’ I lost touch. I even gave up my friendship with Ami so I wouldn’t have to hear about you.”
The scenery around me is blurry and I realize my eyes are filled with tears.
“Then Mom told me she read in the paper about your broken engagement.”
I’d have to be blind not to see what comes next. “Then you found out I was engaged to Nathan.” Why did I allow that to happen? In my heart, I knew that engagement was a mistake from the beginning. And look at the heartache it caused me.
“Happy again. Without me.”
His words chill me. Everything I’ve feared is true. I am a runaway bride. Hearing him spell it out like this makes me know. Dream or no dream, I’ll never walk happily down the aisle to meet the man I love. “It was a mistake.”
He shrugs. “I’m not one to cast stones. I’ve made my own share of mistakes, just trying to do what I thought was right.”
“So where does this leave us?”
He doesn’t speak and my cell phone, still in my hand, blares through the silence.
I glance down at the screen. “It’s the shop,” I murmur. Of all the times. But Sarah never calls.
“You’d better answer it,” Garrett says softly.
“Hello?”
“Kristianna,” Sarah says. “Did your dad get in touch with you?”
“My dad?” I repeat dumbly. “No. Why?”
“He called here about twenty minutes ago. Said he’d tried your cell phone and it went to voice mail.”
“Ok. I’ll call him.”
“I hated to bother you.”
“No, Sarah, thanks for calling. Something must be wrong.”
I hang up and look helplessly at Garrett. “I have to call my dad.”
I punch in his number, but it goes to voice mail. I hang up without leaving a message and call my own voice mail. No messages. “I need to go home,” I say. “Maybe he left me a message on my home phone. Or maybe I’ll ge
t in touch with him on the way.” I force a laugh. “I’ll feel silly if he just wants to plan a surprise birthday party for Mother or something, but it isn’t like him to call at all, much less persistently.”
“I understand. Go,” he says. “Mark and Ami can ride home with me.”
“Are you sure? I know we were in the middle—”
“Go. We’ll finish this later.”
That sounds ominous. But I give him a weak smile and hurry down the path to my car.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I barely get out of the lake parking lot when my dad answers his phone. “Hi, Dad, what’s up?”
“First let me tell you. She’s going to be fine.”
She? “Mother?” I can’t even imagine anything wrong with my mother. She’s always seemed indestructible. “What happened?”
“Her appendix ruptured. They did surgery.”
“Surgery? When?” I’m praying silently even while I’m waiting for his answer.
“Last night.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” I know I’m yelling. And I know I shouldn’t be. But real families don’t wait to tell until afternoon the next day if someone has emergency surgery the night before.
“She didn’t want you to worry.”
I can’t imagine why. I figured she’d be glad if I was worried. But I don’t say this. Instead I say, “She’s conscious?” I head the car toward Little Rock.
“Yes. But she’s in CCU. We can only see her every four hours.”
“She’s in Critical Care.” I feel like a parrot, but this is so sudden.
“Yes.” He gives me the hospital details, then repeats, “But she’s going to be fine.”
“I’ll be there in forty minutes.”
“You don’t have to come.”
Just try and stop me. I’m part of a family even if my parents don’t want to think so.
When I walk into the CCU waiting room, I look twice at the man sitting in the chair in the corner, a rumpled blanket half across him. A half empty cup of coffee is beside him on the table. It takes my brain a minute to process the fact that this is my dad. His face is drawn and he looks like he’s been doing without sleep for weeks.
I hug him and he pats my arm. “Were you up all night?”
He nods.
I plunk down into the chair next to him. “You should have called me,” I murmur.
“Probably. But when I was afraid she wouldn’t make it, I couldn’t bear to tell you. Then when I found out she would, we hated to bother you.”
“You’re my parents. How could it bother me to know one of you was fighting for your life?” Well, that didn’t come out right. “I mean you could never bother me by calling to tell me.”
He draws his brows together. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
He’s obviously been worried sick and he didn’t call me. Because she didn’t want me to worry? Or because he didn’t think I’d care?
For a few minutes, he tells me about the symptoms leading up to her attack, then he grows silent. His eyelids look heavy.
I touch his shoulder.
“After we see her at five, you’re going to go home and get some sleep. I can stay with her tonight.”
He agrees without protest and I know he must be exhausted. He dozes for a few minutes while I stare at the big white clock on the wall. Is it my imagination or do the hands on this clock move much slower than most? I’m sure I’m not the first person to think that. I call Sarah so she knows to close up for me, then use the quiet time to pray earnestly. For my mom’s health. But also for our battered relationship.
Finally, the hands swing around to five p.m. I shake Dad gently. “We can go see Mother now.”
He’s instantly alert. “Okay. Let’s go.”
When we enter the unit, the beds are just separated by curtains, and many patients have a nurse sitting at the end of their bed. Dad holds back one panel for me to go in.
Mother looks up, her blue eyes sunken in her face. “Kristianna.”
Her voice is stronger than I expect, but slightly slurred. I hug her gently and drop an actual kiss on her cheek. I have no patience for elbow hugs and air kisses just now. And she’s too weak to protest. I even smooth her hair down. “How you doing?”
She shrugs and rolls her eyes. “I’ve been better.”
I force a smile. “I can see that. But by tomorrow, you’ll be trying to figure out how Dad can smuggle some work in here to you.”
The barest hint of a smile tilts her lips. “You know me too well.”
Not really. But I just look up at Dad. “You heard that. So don’t let her talk you into any contraband briefs.”
He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He moves over to Mother’s other side and drops a kiss on her forehead. “We’re going to go let you rest before they kick us out.”
She grabs his hand. “You look awful. Go home and relax before you end up in here beside me.” Her words are slow and measured.
“I’m here to make sure he does. Hope you can put up with me coming in every four hours to see you instead of him.”
“I guess I can if I have to.” Another little smile.
She’s almost cheerful. Must be the lingering effects of the sedative.
“You don’t either one have to stay.”
I shake my head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
She relaxes, seeming satisfied that she asserted her independence, but I think she’s glad I’m here. And that fact makes me feel better than it should, probably.
I touch her arm. “I’ll be praying for you.” It always feels awkward when I say that to either of them, but it’s true and she might as well know it. What’s she going to do? Demand I not pray for her?
Her gaze meets mine. “You do that.”
Dad slips his arm in mine and pats my hand as we walk back into the empty CCU waiting room. “I hate to leave you here alone.”
I slide my other hand over his. “I’ll be fine.”
The doorknob wiggles and we both look up. No one has been in here since we got here, but the waiting room is for all family and friends of CCU patients. “I’ll be fine,” I reiterate, because I’m sure Dad’s wondering about leaving me with strangers.
The door opens and Garrett walks in, clutching a white paper bag and two drinks.
“Hey,” he says and pulls me into a loose hug.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sarah told me you were here. How’s your mother?” Although Ami calls my mother “my mom,” Garrett never does. I think he understands that our relationship is more formal, more rigid. Semantics, I know. But it makes a difference.
“She’s better, but they’ll keep her in CCU overnight.”
He sets the food down, reaches behind me, and shakes my dad’s hand. “Mr. Harrington.”
“Garrett. Good to see you.”
“Dad’s going home to get some sleep.” I give Dad a kiss on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”
He nods and looks at Garrett. “You going to stay with her for a while?”
“I’m here for the duration unless she kicks me out.”
“You be sure and behave so she doesn’t have to.”
Garrett chuckles. “Yes, sir.”
I cringe. Does Dad think we’re going to make out in the CCU waiting room? I guess he’s just being fatherly.
When he’s gone, Garrett holds up the sack. “Did you ever eat?”
“No.” I haven’t even thought of food. But something smells delicious.
A few minutes later, we’re chowing down on Chicken Florentine sandwiches.
“After I heard about your mom, I was going to try to make you the sandwiches you missed out on at lunch and bring them to you.” He grins. “I asked Ami to help me.”
I smile. “Talk about the blind leading the blind.”
“Yep, you got it. Thankfully Mark mentioned that San Francisco Bread Company had them. So I
just picked some up before I came over.”
“Thanks. They’re delicious.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. When we’re almost done, Garrett looks at me. “Pretty scary situation with your mother?”
I nod. “It’s still touch and go really. They think the infection is under control now, but it was bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. But I’m thankful she’s doing as well as she is.” I wad up my wrapper. “I’m thankful you’re here, too.”
He takes my wrapper and makes two points in the trashcan, then follows with his own two points. “I’m glad I could come.”
“You don’t have to stay all night, though.”
“You did hear me promise your dad I’d behave, right?”
I feel my face redden. “I know my virtue is safe with you. But these couches aren’t the softest beds in the world. And at nine, I’m going in to see Mother. And again at one and five. So it won’t be a restful night.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You’ll have to do better than that if you’re going to scare me off.”
He’s so stubborn. I know better than to argue. I shrug and stare up at the tiny TV in the corner.
“You gonna pout?” he teases. “You look like you used to when I got tired of playing Masters of the Universe.”
I blow my straw wrapper at him. “Your He-Man always ran out of energy before my Sheera.”
“You’ve always been impossible to keep up with.” He picks up the wrapper and shoots it in the garbage can.
“Maybe you just haven’t tried hard enough.”
He shrugs. “That’s a possibility I guess, but not very likely.”
I tuck my foot up under me, unsure what to say to that.
He squeezes the cushion. “These couches shouldn’t be bad to sleep on.”
I guess he really is here for the duration. The thought should irritate me. But it comforts me instead.
When the six o’clock news comes on, I use the remote to turn the volume up. The anchorwoman runs through the news headlines quickly and then says, “And now live from Jingle Bells, Jason Ragsdale, reporting on the division in the little town where, according to the sign, the spirit of Christmas lives in their hearts all year long.”
I sit up straight and give Garrett a wide-eyed look. Most of the time, the television stations act like Jingle Bells doesn’t exist. But there is Jason Ragsdale standing right in front of Jingle Bells Elementary School. “Teachers report an increased level of tension even among the young children here in Jingle Bells as the moment of reckoning approaches. Now that the name change decision is on the ballot, tempers are even higher.”
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