by Sarah Morgan
“Now? It’s already almost four in the morning.”
“My place is closer. And I can make you breakfast.”
“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He pulled her into his arms. “Thanks for coming tonight. I’m glad you did.”
“Me too.”
SUSAN MADE A remarkably swift recovery.
Three days after her surgery she was dressed and walking around her room.
“Are you sure you’re supposed to be expending so much energy?” Harriet watched her doubtfully. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I can rest when I’m dead. Which I almost was, so I guess I already rested. Is that chicken soup?” She gazed hopefully at the container Harriet was lifting carefully out of the bag.
“It is. I added a touch of cream to give you extra calories. You’ll probably lecture me about the health of your arteries.”
“My arteries have never been happier, thank you.” Susan took the container from her, sat down and started to eat. “I never knew food could even taste this good. If Ethan doesn’t marry you, I will.”
Harriet almost dropped the rest of the food. She was relieved Ethan wasn’t here. “Ethan isn’t going to marry anyone ever again.”
“That’s what he says.”
“And you don’t believe him.” She probably should have stayed silent but the temptation to talk about him was too great.
“I don’t think he knows what’s good for him. I think working here has screwed him up some. It happens. And he’s divorced. Ethan is big on responsibility. If you’ve been hanging around with him, you probably already know that. It’s the reason he says yes to looking after his sister’s dog even though it totally disrupts his life. It’s the reason he steps in front of a crazy drunk with a knife and sits half the night in a drafty corridor waiting for news about a colleague. He holds himself to high standards. And he likes to take care of everybody. From what I’ve heard, it’s in the genes. Rock solid family. Community people who would give you the shirt from their back. Remember that and you’ll understand why he thinks he failed at marriage. Blames himself, although I can tell you now that Alison would say she was more than half to blame and if ever two people were wrong for each other, it’s those two. Now you—that’s a different ball game.”
Harriet was about to ask how she knew Alison when she remembered that it was Ethan’s ex-wife who had been part of the live “fly on the wall” documentary set in the ER.
“How is it a different ball game?”
“He’s been different since he met you.”
Harriet’s heart bumped a little harder. She wasn’t going to read anything into that. “Different in what way?”
“More approachable. More human.”
“If Alison wasn’t right for him, why did he marry her?”
“Now that’s a question I can’t answer, but if I had to guess I’d say he didn’t think about it too deeply. She rocked up here one day with her blond hair and there’s Ethan, all shoulders and muscle in his scrubs, saving a kid. She was gone. I saw it happen. What they should have done was screwed each other’s brains out and then waved each other goodbye, but for some reason he put a ring on her finger.” She stared sadly into the empty soup container. “Is this hard to make? Could an idiot cook make it? When they send me home, I want to be able to make this.”
“I’ll fill your freezer,” Harriet promised, topping up her soup. “When are they sending you out?”
“Tomorrow if I get my way.” Susan finished the soup and sat back.
“Do you like chocolate chip cookies?”
“What sort of a question is that? Who the hell doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies?”
Harriet grinned and handed over a small box tied with a bow. “They’re my specialty.”
Susan took a bite and closed her eyes. “Man, how are you ever single?”
“I ask myself that question regularly but haven’t yet come up with an answer.”
“Obviously all the men in your life are batshit crazy. You ever make those fancy cupcake things? Covered in swirly icing that’s basically all sugar and calories?”
“I make great cupcakes. I’ll add a batch to the list of things I’m leaving in your apartment.”
“I’ve got a better idea—” Susan brushed crumbs from her mouth “—come and live, then you can cook for me on-site. You are too good at this to be living alone.”
Harriet put the empty soup container back in her bag. An idea had been growing in her mind. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
Susan slumped back against the pillows. “I was working, but now I guess I’m not. Damn. And I wanted to be at work. This place is one big party over the holidays. I hate to miss it.” Her tone was sarcastic, but Harriet knew she was speaking the truth. She would rather have been at work, presumably because being at work stopped her thinking about family. The family she’d lost. It must be the worst time of year for her.
“Will you join me? I’m having a few people over.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not my best time of year.” Susan’s voice was rough. “Ethan told you my sad tale?”
“Yes. And I’m so sorry.” The words felt woefully inadequate, but what was the right thing to say to someone who had lost everything that mattered to them? There were no right words.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not good company.”
“You don’t have to sing and dance. Come and sit on the sofa and let me feed you.”
Susan eyed her. “Christmas is family time. Why aren’t you going home to spend it with your mom and dad?”
“They divorced years ago. My mom is traveling and my dad—we’re not in touch.” She was surprised by how easily she said it. “He doesn’t speak to me. I’m close to my sister and brother, but this year I decided I wanted to spend Christmas by myself.” She paused and then on impulse told Susan about Challenge Harriet, starting from the beginning and not stopping until she’d reached the end.
“So you’re doing something you find hard every day? Jeez, that’s—” Susan stared at her and Harriet shrugged.
“Stupid?”
“I was going to say inspirational. Maybe I will join you. Not staying in bed on Christmas Day could be my first Challenge Susan.”
“If you have other friends you’d rather go to, don’t worry,” Harriet said quickly, “don’t feel pressure.”
“Most of my friends gave up on me a long time ago. My fault, not theirs. Work was my therapy. I didn’t want sympathy or pitying glances. Eventually they gave up.”
What sort of person gave up on a friend who’d suffered such an extreme blow? “In that case, I hope you’ll come to me.”
Susan stared at her for a moment and then grinned. “Hey, I’m going to be godmother to your children. That makes me as good as family, so maybe I will.”
Harriet gave a start, remembering what Ethan had said. “Godmother?”
“Sure. He made me a deathbed promise.”
“You’re alive.”
“Barely. I’d love to spend Christmas with you. All I need is your address. And I’ll wear my loose trousers because if you’re going to cook like this I’m going to need room for expansion.”
ETHAN LAY SPRAWLED on Harriet’s sofa, watching as she bottle-fed kittens.
“I hate to break this to you, but your badass credentials are taking a serious blow.”
She nestled the kitten closer. “Just because I can bottle-feed a kitten, doesn’t mean I can’t be a bad girl.”
“Not convinced. You’d better take me back to bed and prove it.”
Instead, she carefully placed one of the kittens in his lap and handed him a bottle. “Stop talking and get to work.”
Ethan felt the warmth of the tiny kitten through his jeans. “I don’t know anything about feeding kittens.”
“You didn’t know anything about dogs, either, but Madi was pretty fond of you by the end.”
“Because you were supervising.” He pushed the
bottle toward the kitten, who immediately latched on.
“Tilt it a little more.” Harriet’s hand covered his, moving it into position. “She’s swallowing air.”
She returned to the other kitten, scooping it up with the ease of experience and settling it carefully in her lap.
She was gentle, kind and attentive and Ethan couldn’t work out for the life of him how her father could possibly not have loved her.
What sort of guy couldn’t love a woman like Harriet? She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Whatever had been wrong with his marriage, there was no reason at all to take it out on his daughter.
Another person might have grown up bitter. Might have spent their lives protecting themselves.
Not Harriet. She was the most generous, giving person he’d ever met.
She sat cross-legged on the floor in a position he was pretty sure he couldn’t have achieved without requiring emergency assistance afterward.
“You do yoga or something?”
“For the past fifteen years. It started as a way to relax.”
Because having a stammer had been stressful. Living with her father had been stressful.
He didn’t like thinking about it because thinking about it made him understand why she valued home and family so strongly and that, in turn, made him worry about what she was doing with him. Maybe she made a point of being with lost causes. “So you can do lots of fancy poses?”
“I’m pretty flexible, if that’s what you mean.” She glanced up, challenge in her eyes. “I can wrap my legs around my neck.”
Heat and desire shot through him.
He forgot that he wasn’t the right man for her.
He forgot that they wanted different things. Right then at that moment there was only one thing he wanted.
In the grip of an attack of pure lust, Ethan felt sweat sheen his brow. “No kidding.”
“I’d prove it, Dr. Black, but I’m holding a kitten.”
“I guess I can manage to hold two if you’d like to show me.”
“Why don’t I start with something less provocative?” She finished feeding the kitten, placed it on Ethan’s lap and then put her hands flat on the floor. She paused for a moment, breathed and then kicked her legs into a perfect handstand, narrowly missing the tree that took pride of place in the living room.
She was poised, ramrod straight, her balance perfect. Her hair slid down and the ends brushed the floor.
He was just wondering how anyone could hold such a perfectly straight handstand for that length of time, when she lowered her legs to the floor with as much grace as she’d used to kick them up in the first place.
He was surprised all the needles were still attached to the Christmas tree.
Ethan tried to speak but had to clear his throat before any words would emerge.
“Okay, I’m impressed. Now move on to the provocative.”
She arched her back and did something with her body that made him want to strip her naked and take her right there and then. He would have done it if it weren’t for the kittens in his lap. They were definitely too young to witness what he had in mind.
“Enough.” He shifted on the sofa and she raised an eyebrow.
“Are those kittens making you uncomfortable?”
“Nothing to do with the kittens, sweetheart.” And then he saw the sparkle in her eyes and realized she knew exactly why he was feeling uncomfortable.
“I take it back. You’re a bad girl. Does your twin do yoga too?”
“No.” She stood up gracefully. “Yoga is too slow and calm for Fliss. She prefers kickboxing and karate.” She leaned forward to take the kittens from him and her hair brushed against his cheek.
For a moment he forgot how to breathe, but then she stepped back and placed the kittens in a basket.
“I forgot to tell you—” She straightened, her cheeks flushed. “Susan is spending Christmas with me.”
“You invited her? That was kind of you. Not working over Christmas would have been her kind of hell.” And the fact that she’d invited her confirmed what he already knew. That Harriet Knight was the kindest person he’d ever met. “It’s a tough time of year for her.”
“I did it for me too. I like her. I want my friends around me.”
It almost made him wish he wasn’t working at Christmas.
It was two days until his vacation. Two days. Usually by this stage he couldn’t wait. Usually there wasn’t one single thing about New York City that he’d miss. But this time—“What are you doing next week?”
“The usual. Walking dogs. Why?”
He wouldn’t see her for over a week and then it would be Christmas and he wouldn’t see her then, either. An emotion stirred to life inside him. An emotion he decided not to examine too closely.
“Come with me to Vermont. I’ll teach you to ski.” He knew that by inviting her he’d crossed an invisible line. A line neither of them talked about, but which both of them knew was there. Casual dating in New York City was one thing. Inviting her to share his vacation was something else entirely.
He knew it. She knew it. And it was difficult to know which of them was most surprised by the suggestion.
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Maybe she was the more surprised, given that she needed confirmation of his question.
“I’m asking you to join me. When did you last take a vacation?” As if that had any bearing at all on his reason for asking.
“I don’t know. It’s been a while. I had a few days in the Hamptons in the summer.”
“Staying with your grandmother. Checking on your sister.” She’d told him about the struggle she had persuading her twin to open up to her. “When did you last have a week that was all about you?”
“But this week is all about you. You’ve told me that.” She held his gaze. “You look forward to it all year. You catch up with friends—family—it’s your godmother’s wedding! You can’t invite me to your godmother’s wedding.”
“I can.” He decided not to tell her how pleased his friends and family would be if he showed up with Harriet as his guest. “My invitation says plus one. You’re my plus one. I’d love you to join me. Could you make some calls? Delegate some of your walks?”
“I’m not walking that many myself right now. Only Harvey, because I like to keep an eye on Glenys, but I can ask Judy to call in.”
“Good. Then that’s settled.”
“Wait! This is—are you sure?” She sounded breathless and flustered. “This is a ski vacation and I don’t know how to ski.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“I might be terrible at it.”
He pulled her into the circle of his arms. “Even if you hate it there is plenty to enjoy at Snow Crystal. Trust me on that. You’ll have a great time. Luxury cabin by a frozen lake. Snowy forest. Log fire. Shelves of books, extra large bed—”
“Stop! You’re making sure I can’t possibly say no.”
“Why would you say no?”
“Because it isn’t something I’ve ever done before.”
“Isn’t that what Challenge Harriet is all about?”
“Good point. And what would I wear to a winter wedding?”
“Something warm, because knowing the O’Neil family at least part of it will be outdoors.” He stayed silent, letting her chew it over, surprised by how badly he wanted her there. “Well? What do you think?”
She smiled. “I think it sounds like one big challenge. Which makes it perfect. What do I need to pack?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE GENEROUS FALL of snow had turned Vermont into a winter wonderland. They drove over covered bridges white with snow and through villages decked for the holidays. They passed storefronts decorated with fresh green wreaths and windows strung with sparkling lights. Harriet saw pretty clapboard homesteads and people overloaded with parcels struggling home through the snow. And then there were the mountains, their snowy peaks and forested slopes cradling the villages be
low.
“I never believed in love at first sight until now. It’s magical,” she breathed. “Like something from a Christmas fairy tale.” The words caught in her throat. This was Christmas as she’d imagined it should be when she was a child and trying to escape the reality of her own.
Of course reality had been nothing like this.
In their house, Christmas had been another day to be endured. Worse, if anything, than other days because of the pressure to spend it together. Oh, they’d gone through the motions, opening presents, eating food. Sadly, her father’s temper didn’t take a holiday. If anything it was exacerbated when he was caged with his family. A wife he loved, but who didn’t love him back. Children who understood none of it.
Would things have been different, Harriet wondered, if they’d known the truth?
Ethan was driving, his hands steady on the wheel as he tackled the increasingly challenging road conditions.
“This fall of snow is lucky for them. Good start to the winter. Are you cold?” He glanced at her briefly. “You haven’t taken your hat off.”
“I’m good.” And she had a reason for not removing her hat. A road sign flashed past and she squinted at it. “Moose Crossing?”
“They have to cross exactly there or they get a ticket.” Ethan kept a straight face and she laughed.
“I may be a city girl, but I’m not stupid.”
He slowed his speed as they approached a bend in the road. “It’s a warning to motorists. If there’s one thing you don’t want to hit around here it’s a moose.”
“I’m sure the moose would agree. Can’t be a happy experience for him, either.”
He glanced at her with a smile and a shake of his head. “Only you would think about the emotional impact on the moose.”
“What were you thinking of?”
“The probable injuries incurred by the driver. I’m assuming you’ve never had a collision with a moose. They have long legs. If you hit one at night the likely scenario is that they come shooting through your windshield and that’s one hell of a lot of animal landing on you. The result isn’t pretty.”
“Have you ever seen that happen?”