A Very Special Christmas

by Jessica Matthews

"She didn't, did she?" he mused. When he'd first mentioned the task, he'd expected Claire to grumble and groan—who wouldn't when the stakes were high and her schedule was full?—but she'd seemed to accept her lot. Now, when he added her response to the angel in the box, that reluctance took on greater significance than simply being too busy. Perhaps if he hadn't been so eager to be with her, he would have been more attuned to the signals she'd been sending.

  Jennie shook her head. "She doesn't have one at her house either."

  "Some people don't." In his circle of friends, he didn't know of a single person who didn't set up a tree—even a small one—but there were bound to be a few in the world who didn't bother. Claire didn't seem the type of person who shunned the holidays, but with her husband gone she probably found this to be a difficult time of year.

  "She used to have one. Now she says it's too much work. I don't think it's work, do you?"

  "It does take time and effort," he said, "so you could call it work."

  "But, Dad, it's fun."

  Alex lightly chucked Jennie's chin. "It is, at that. Speaking of work, I have my own waiting for me and you, young lady, need to finish your school assignments."

  "But, Dad, I have four whole days to do my math."

  "Those four days will go fast, and if you don't have homework hanging over your head, you'll enjoy your vacation that much more. No arguments."

  Jennie rolled her eyes and slumped her shoulders. "OK," she said in her most long-suffering voice. "You will hurry so we can leave early, won't you?"

  "I'll do my best," he promised. As he returned to his office and the reports awaiting him, he wondered what he could do to help Claire survive the season. She was too young and too full of vitality to be a Christmas Scrooge.

  Claire took refuge in their medical records room, thankful that the holiday spirit hadn't entered this domain. Filing patient records was the sort of mindless activity she needed while she recovered from the strain of pretending that all was well. Although it was their receptionist's job to file the records, she'd been desperate for something to do and a harried office clerk had gratefully accepted her offer.

  "Roberta said I'd find you in here." Nora sauntered down Claire's aisle. "How did it go?"

  "How did what go?"

  Nora chortled. "You know what I mean. Come on, tell me how the decorating went."

  Claire pretended nonchalance. "Fine. Jennie and Alex hung the ornaments while I served as technical advisor and person in charge of clean-up. The tree in the waiting room is officially decked out in Christmas cheer."

  "No bad moments?''

  She glanced at Nora fondly. Her friend had a heart as big as Texas, from where she hailed, and nosiness to match. Although her birthday was a week before Claire's, on occasion she acted like the bossy older sister Claire had never had. Claire tried not to mind because she knew Nora meant well.

  "A few, but I lived to tell the tale."

  "And how was spending time with Alex?" Nora asked with a sly wink.

  "How was it supposed to be? We were in a medical office waiting room with his daughter."

  Nora sighed. "Too bad."

  "You shouldn't be matchmaking," Claire said offhandedly. If Nora even suspected that it took all of Claire's concentration to act like a responsible mother when a single glance from him made her want to revert to her carefree single days, she'd never let up.

  "What else can a married gal do for her single friends?''

  "I don't know, but I'll think of something."

  Nora crossed her arms and leaned against the shelving unit. "You've worked with Alex for nearly two months. What do you think of our good doctor?"

  "He's a fantastic physician."

  "I wasn't referring to his medical skills."

  Claire grinned. "I know."

  "He's quite a hunk, isn't he?"

  "You're not supposed to notice things like that," Claire chided gently. "What would Carter think?"

  "I'm only enjoying Mother Nature's handiwork," Nora protested. "There's nothing wrong with that. But you still haven't answered my question."

  "He's very..." Claire couldn't think of the right word to describe him. She only knew that a spark of awareness vibrated in the air when he was nearby—a spark that she found strangely disconcerting. He certainly wasn't the first male she'd come in contact with since Ray's death. She'd worked with physicians, dealt with patients and been introduced to prospective dates by well-meaning friends, but none of those fellows had caused her pulse to hum or charge the air with static electricity. None of their glances made her feel as if she were surrounded by flames either.

  "Powerful," she finally decided.

  "Does he make your toes tingle when he smiles at you?"

  Heaven help her, but he did. His small courtesies had also reminded her of how much she missed the intimate companionship she'd grown accustomed to in her marriage.

  "I'm sure he makes everyone's toes tingle," she evaded as she moved down the aisle to slip another folder into its proper place.

  "Not mine. Maybe one or two," Nora corrected. "But it's nice to know that he affects all ten of yours."

  "I didn't say that."

  "Oh, Claire, you didn't have to. I can see it on your face."

  "You're imagining things."

  "Am I? Say, what job "have you decided to tackle for the Christmas party?''

  Claire was grateful that Nora had let the subject of her tingling toes drop. Alex may have managed to make her feel like a desirable woman instead of a sexless colleague, but for now she was content to hug that knowledge to herself. Heaven only knew what her friend would do with that information in her matchmaking arsenal.

  As for the clinic's holiday bash, if other people wanted to observe the season in the usual bright and carefree manner they could, but she wouldn't tarnish Ray's memory in such a way. Her deceased husband and the holiday were too intertwined for her to separate so easily.

  "I haven't given it much thought," she said. "Being on the clean-up crew might work. I could drop in after the festivities wind down. Or, since the party's on Saturday night, we could do the clean-up on Sunday. Then I wouldn't have to worry about finding a sitter for Joshua at one a.m."

  "You'll have to pop in at some point in the evening."

  "Hundreds of people are attending. No one will notice if I don't."

  "Dr Grieg will and so will everyone else in our group. It'll be good for you."

  "Spinach and liver are good for me, too, but I've managed to live without both quite nicely for nearly thirty years."

  "You're putting the past behind you and looking forward, remember?"

  Claire sighed. "I am, but I wasn't referring to parties when I said that."

  "Doesn't matter. It's all part of the process."

  "If you're going to use my own words against me every time you want me to do something..." Claire finished On a warning note.

  "Hey, you gave me the weapon and I intend to use it." Nora sobered. "I also recall you asking me to keep you from changing your mind. I'm only honoring my part of our bargain. If it makes you feel better, though, don't think of it as a party. Think of it as a medical in-service with expensive refreshments."

  "Yeah, right."

  "You attend functions during the other eleven months of the year. Why not in December?"

  "Because I can't," she answered flatly. Those gatherings didn't make her feel as if she were celebrating Ray's death. In her head, she knew she wasn't doing that, but in her heart, it felt that way.

  "Ray's parents aren't here to pass judgment on you. Just because they turn into hermits for the entire holiday season doesn't mean you have to, too. You can't live your life to please them."

  Claire managed a smile under Nora's sharp-eyed gaze. "I know, and I'm not. Granted, Marion wouldn't be happy if she thought I was traipsing from party to party, but I'm not staying at home because of her. I'm simply not ready to go."

  "The longer you put this off, the harder it will be," Nora
warned.

  Claire shrugged. "Some things can't be rushed."

  Roberta appeared at the end of their aisle. Her graying hair was in its perpetual state of dishevelment, although Claire suspected that if she constantly answered the phone and dealt with a myriad of details at once, she'd look frazzled, too.

  "Speaking of being rushed, do you two realize that I have a room full of patients waiting to see a doctor? Some of us would like to go home before dark."

  "Sorry." Claire slotted in the last folder. "We're on our way."

  A few minutes later, she ushered a fifty-nine-year-old woman into an exam room. "What can we do for you today, Mrs O'Brien?"

  Doris O'Brien was a well-dressed woman who looked twenty years younger than she was, thanks to plastic surgery. As a real-estate agent, she'd helped Claire find the house she'd eventually bought.

  "Something is terribly wrong with me," she confessed. "Ever since I've been taking those pills to lower my cholesterol, I've been feeling poorly."

  "How so?"

  "My joints ache. I can't sleep at night. I'm absolutely exhausted. I simply can't function and I don't like it."

  "Are you under any unusual stress?"

  "Who isn't at this time of year?"

  "More than the ordinary," Claire corrected.

  "No. What's giving me stress is the fact that I'm not able to do what I normally do."

  Claire jotted down a few notes. "In that case, I'll take a few readings and send the doctor in."

  Doris's blood pressure, pulse and temperature were all normal, so after Claire had recorded those figures she summoned their next patient.

  "Eddie!" she exclaimed when she saw the woman's familiar face. "You haven't had that baby yet?" Edwina Butler was a brunette who at thirty-five was having her first child. Actually, it wasn't her first because she'd miscarried at four months on two previous occasions, but this time she'd made it to thirty-six weeks, and everyone was collectively holding their breaths.

  Eddie, as she preferred to be called, grinned. "I'm getting close. Last week Dr Ridgeway said 'any day', so I'm hoping I won't go past my due date."

  Her husband, Joe, helped her step onto the scale. He'd accompanied his wife on every prenatal visit so far, which made him special in Claire's eyes. She'd never seen a man more solicitous of his pregnant wife but, then, he had reason to be. He wanted this baby as much as Eddie did.

  "That makes two of us," he said. "The anticipation is about to kill me." His grin suggested otherwise.

  "Good news," Claire said as she read the display. "You haven't gained any weight. You must have cut out the ice cream."

  "She has," Joe said.

  "Only because he made me," Eddie groused. "I'm living on lettuce and water. Joe's under strict orders to bring a five-pound box of chocolates after the baby comes."

  "What? No red roses?" Claire teased as she led them into the room they reserved for expectant mothers.

  "No." Eddie was adamant. "It's chocolate or he'd better stay at home."

  "Did you hear that, Joe?" Claire asked.

  Joe grinned. "I heard."

  Claire quickly took Eddie's blood pressure. "Everything looks good from where I'm standing. Is the baby moving a lot?"

  Eddie rubbed her tummy. "All the time. She's a regular wiggle worm."

  "He's a track star," Joe corrected.

  "You don't know the baby's sex?"

  Eddie shook her head. "We don't want to know either. If something goes wrong..."

  "We're going to do our best to avoid that," Claire reassured her. "Now, lie down and I'll send the doctor in."

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Doris O'Brien left with a different drug prescription, Eddie was sent home with admonitions to rest, and a variety of people who were all suffering from the latest round of chest colds, bronchitis and pneumonia were treated. By four o'clock, the waiting room was clear and Claire was straightening the exam rooms in preparation for Monday's patients.

  In the meantime, she had four days at home to spoil Joshua.

  She walked past Alex's office and saw Jennie seated behind his desk, her tongue peeking out of her mouth as she diligently wrote on a piece of paper.

  Claire stopped in the doorway. "Is your dad around?"

  "He went to talk to Dr Rehman."

  "I see."

  "Are you going home now?" Jennie asked.

  "Yes. Have a happy Thanksgiving."

  "Before you go, could you help me spell a word?"

  "Sure. What is it?"

  "Siamese. I want a Siamese kitten for Christmas, like those on your shirt."

  Claire remembered Alex's comment about Jennie's lengthy wish list and wondered if Santa would be bringing kitty litter to the Ridgeway household. "Does your dad know you want a cat in your stocking?"

  "He will after I write it down."

  Claire crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. Alex had been right—Jennie's list had at least two dozen items on it, although several had been crossed off. "Are you ready?" At Jennie's nod, Claire spelt the word.

  "Thanks," Jennie said as she replaced the cap on her pen. "I hope I get a kitty like the yellow one on your shirt, but I like the brown and black ones, too."

  "They are cute, aren't they?"

  Jennie nodded. "I haven't seen anyone with a shirt like yours before. Where did you get it?"

  "I made it."

  Her eyes widened. "You did? Wow."

  "Thanks." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex enter.

  "Are you two ready to call it a day?" he asked.

  "Definitely," Claire answered.

  "Guess what, Dad?" Jennie asked. "Did you know that Claire sews her own clothes?"

  His appreciative gaze rolled down her body, making her feel self-conscious. "I'm impressed," he drawled.

  "Thanks." She hoped the surge of heat she felt wasn't obvious to anyone but her.

  Jennie turned a hopeful gaze on Claire. "We've been wanting to hire someone to make my angel outfit for the school's Winter pageant. Could you?"

  "I'm not a professional," Claire began, intending to refuse.

  "If you can sew that..." Alex pointed to her tunic "...you're an expert in my books. The question is, would you have time? I know how busy everyone is right now."

  Finding the few hours to take on this project wasn't the problem. Her own Christmas to-do list was painfully short and could be completed in an afternoon.

  "Please?" Jennie begged. "We've asked and asked, and haven't found anyone. I need it in three weeks."

  "What about the other mothers?"

  Alex shook his head. "Most of them are in the same boat we are. I've already asked Nora, but she's swamped. My only other option is to borrow a white uniform from Hattie."

  They were in dire straits if he was desperate enough to consider Hattie's old dress, circa the 1970s. Indecision gnawed at her.

  What harm would sewing a costume do? her little voice asked.

  What harm, indeed?

  The real problem was that she felt like a bug trapped in a web with no way out, but she'd be a real Scrooge if she refused to spend a few hours stitching a couple of measly seams. The pageant was too important an event in Jennie's young life for her to look like a child playing dress-up in an outdated garment. Claire might not enjoy the holiday, but she couldn't spoil the season for someone else.

  "I'll do it," she said simply.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On .Friday morning, Claire sat on the floor in one corner of her spare bedroom/sewing room and stacked blocks with Joshua while she kept one eye on the clock. It was nearly ten—the hour she'd agreed to meet with Alex and his daughter to work on Jennie's costume—and Claire had been playing with Joshua for the last thirty minutes. When her two guests arrived, she hoped he'd be content to watch one of his videos rather than demand to be the center of attention.

  "Take your time," she told him as he placed one block on top of their pile in concentration so fierce that the tip of his tongue peek
ed out of his mouth. He didn't have the control he needed in his small fingers to set the block on straight, so the tower wobbled and wiggled before it finally toppled.

  Joshua laughed aloud and clapped. "Uh-oh."

  Claire leaned over to impulsively hug him and ruffle his baby-fine reddish-blond hair. "Uh-oh," she sing-songed with him. "It fell over. Are you tired of this or shall we play another game?"

  He shook his head and wrinkled his brow in a manner very reminiscent of his father. "Again."

  Claire glanced at the clock and decided she could indulge him. "Once more."

  "More," Joshua demanded as he stacked two blocks on top of each other.

  Claire obliged with" her own contribution and allowed her mind to wander while he carefully engineered his tower. As reluctant as she'd been to sew Jennie's costume initially, she'd started thinking of it as simply a sewing project. A few seams, a bit of trim and, presto, it would be ready. For what it was worth, she was almost excited because she wanted to transform Jennie into the most fabulous angel on stage.

  No, Jennie's project wasn't a concern. Alex's presence in her home was. The clinic, with its hustle, bustle and professional atmosphere, insulated her from his forceful personality to a certain degree, but here the lines separating them would vanish. She'd see a completely different side to him.

  It would be the side she'd caught glimpses of when he shared a spur-of-the-moment lunch-break. A side that made her see him more as a handsome man than a skilled physician.

  A side that made her wish things she shouldn't.

  The fact was, she'd enjoyed being married. She'd liked seeing trousers hanging in the closet next to her skirts and dresses. She didn't mind extra-large undershirts mingling with her undies in the washing machine and she'd looked forward to preparing meals for someone with more refined taste than Joshua.

  Ray's death had left her adrift in more ways than one, but she'd slowly found her footing. While she would like to share her life with someone again, she refused to rush into anything. After enjoying one wonderful marriage, she wasn't going to settle for anything less, although she doubted if fate granted a person two such experiences in one's span of years.

  By the time their tower had grown to the height of six blocks, the doorbell rang its melodious chorus of Westminster chimes.