Drummer Boy (2 page)

The sweep of Candy's hair tickled Jane's cheek, as Candy kissed her forehead. “Of course. And guess what? As an extra treat this year, you'll get to wear that corny old thing twice. We're going to celebrate this Christmas, take two, once you're home safe and sound.”

Candy disappeared into the hall for real this time but left the door open. Jane caught sight of a cute guy in a navy t-shirt, carrying a massive bouquet of yellow roses into the room across from her.

For some reason it filled her with self-pity. Twenty-four years old and who did she have to come to her side? An older sister with a caretaker complex, and a whack of younger siblings. No parents. No husband—not even a man she was seriously dating.

“Ugh, get over yourself,” she growled and started to shake her head, but the action hurt so much she stopped.

 

 

 

 

2

 

The huge evergreens framing the parking lot looked black against the blue-purple sky, and the snow dusting their tips was ridiculously pretty. The fresh, on-the-verge-of-snow scent was such a welcome change after weeks of stuffy, recycled hospital air that Jane wanted to spend a minute or two just breathing. She leaned heavily on her solitary crutch, breathed in, breathed out—

“Jane!” Candy's voice was alarm clock shrill, almost a parody of concern.

Irritation buzzed in the back of Jane's teeth and down her back.

“Are you all right? Are you about to faint? Are you in pain? What can I do?”

Oh, no, heaven help them all. Candy was in caretaker hyper-mode. They'd only made it as far as from the hospital room to here and already Jane was wishing the car crash had killed her.

OK, no, that was going too far even for a joke in her own head. She didn't wish that at all and prayed a quick inner apology. She was one hundred percent grateful to be alive and not injured more seriously, and she'd resolved to take Henricksen's comment as advice and to try to look on the bright side. But Candy, sheesh…

“I'm fine,” Jane said through gritted teeth. “I was just enjoying the fresh air.”

“Oh, oh, of course,” Candy said, but Jane could tell by the way Candy stared at the ground as if it were covered with writhing snakes that her sister had already moved onto a new worry. “There's a lot of ice.
A lot
…Do you want to wait here? You rest. I'll get the car.” Candy flexed and un-flexed her fingers as if physically trying to keep from picking Jane up and carrying her. “Or will you be cold?”

They'd already argued about this.

Candy wanted to butcher Jane's new winter jacket, so it would fit her arm. Jane was adamant she'd be fine in her tank top and zip hoody with the slit sleeve. And she was fine. Hadn't even done it up all the way. Her thermostat was always set at high it seemed.

Jane stared out over the parking lot, or what she knew was parking lot, under the layers of lumpy, despite being scraped and ploughed, ice and snow. What she wanted was to go for a run. “I'll wait here,” she said. Then she added, “Thanks.”

“Good and I'll leave these to load when I bring the car around.” Candy placed the box of floral arrangements from Jane's room on the ground and then touched Jane's good hand. Jane forced herself to not jerk away.

She's just being nice. She's just being nice. She's just being nice
, Jane chanted silently as Candy made her way to her car. Finally, Jane gave up and muttered, “She's going to kill me with kindness.” The grouchy admission cheered her immensely.

Candy's headlights turned on at the far end of the lot, and then she popped out of the vehicle again, window scraper in hand.

Jane breathed in, breathed out.

Candy would calm down once she realized Jane was really all right. Home wouldn't be so bad.

A youngish guy jumped out of a truck and grinned at her on his way toward the emergency doors.

“Nice rack,” he said, checking out her chest.

“You have no idea,” Jane said and raised her damaged arm in a mock salute though it was agony to do so.

The creep stared at the grid of nail-like pins that protruded from her swollen-to-triple-its-usual-size arm, not even trying to hide his revulsion.

Jane smiled with mock sweetness. “I know, right?
Hot
. And by the way, it's extremely inappropriate to comment on a stranger's body.”

At least he had the decency to turn red before he hurried away.

She lowered her arm, sweat springing to her forehead, and gritted her teeth against the pain. But it was so worth it.

“Nicely played,” said a low, rumbling voice behind her.

It made Jane think, of all the strange things, of water rushing over rocks. She turned. It was the man with the flowers she'd seen across the hallway the week before. Like her, he was jacketless against the cold, wearing another navy t-shirt. The front of his shirt sported a white cross—a cross, she suddenly noticed, formed by the silhouettes of two drumsticks. She wondered if he liked drumming or if it was just something comfortable to wear. No flowers this time, but a stack of CDs.

He followed her gaze and shook the discs lightly. “Yeah, they still have CD players in the place, if you can believe it.”

“Sheesh, the nerve. How very last decade of them.”

The guy laughed, and Jane shifted her weight, settling more firmly on one hip. He had warm, kind eyes the color of gingerbread—sort of a honeyed-brown—and she liked that they were about the same height. He didn't tower above her.

“You have a lot of flowers,” he said. “Someone sure loves you.”

Jane looked at the box at her feet, glad this stranger couldn't see the small cards of pretty much identical, generic well-wishes from various guys she'd dated a few times—the one where her name was misspelled as “Jan” was particularly heartwarming.

A horn blipped lightly behind them.

Jane sighed.

“Your ride?”

She nodded.

“Do you need a hand?”

“No, I still have one—two, actually. Thanks, though.”

The guy smiled again. “Right. Good one.”

Jane tried to crane her head in a subtle way to watch him leave. Too bad she hadn't gotten his name.

Candy buzzed around the side of the car, whipped opened the passenger door, and appeared at Jane's side, arms out, ready to steady Jane if she showed any sign of slipping.

“I wish you weren't always so efficient.” Jane turned so her backside faced the car and lowered herself into the seat. “If you'd taken like five minutes longer—”

“Only you would think of flirting at a time like this.”

“A time like
what
?” Jane eased her legs into the car and grinned. “And no, no, I'm definitely not the only one.”

As they pulled up to the house, Jane chuckled. Their little sister Kaylie and their twin brothers Matthew and Michael had their faces pressed up against the glass. And wait, there was another little familiar face. Dean's daughter, Isobel, was there, too.

Jane looked pointedly at Dean's vintage Mustang in the driveway and turned to Candy with raised eyebrows. “Now, Candy, how can you even think of flirting at a time like this?”

Candy blushed bright pink. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she muttered. “He's just been helping while you were out of commission.”

Jane tsk-tsked. “Shocking is all I can say, sister-dear,
shocking
.”

 

****

 

Jane had barely inched through the door, when Kaylie almost bowled her over in an excited hug. “Candy says we can do another Christmas dinner now that you're home.”

Jane leaned a little heavier on her crutches and pulled a face. “It's January. Can't we skip it and have a ‘welcome home, cripple' dinner instead?”

“Jane!” Candy hissed.

“What?” She caught the look on Kaylie's face. “Ah, I'm sorry Kaylie-baylie. I'm just grouchy and out of sorts. A second Christmas dinner…sounds great.”

Kaylie rolled her eyes. “You will actually have fun. I promise, and look what else.”

“Well, as long as
you promise
.” Jane took the elaborate welcome home card Kaylie handed her—a combination of collage and little cartoon figures of each member of the family, cheering.

“Aw, doodle. It's the greatest. Thank you.”

Kaylie smiled modestly, and, wonder of wonders, didn't even scold Jane about using the nickname she hated. “And check this out.” She held up a sheet of poster board so big she looked like a huge piece of green paper with legs and a head.

“Boy, you've been busy with projects galore, hey?”

The poster appeared to be some type of calendar. Jane did a double take. “Kaylie, is that a countdown to next Christmas? That's a whole year away.”

“Yes, isn't it great?”

Great
wouldn't have been Jane's first description, not even close. Kaylie was a sweetheart, but she was showing signs of developing Candy's manic love of all things structured and planned. And if Jane had to go through a countdown ritual every day for the next year, she would go…crazier.

“Hey, what are you doing this weekend?” her twin brothers Michael and Matt asked in unison, appearing around the corner.

“Working” was on the tip of her tongue. But no, of course, she wouldn't be. She was on disability leave for…well, at this point, the timeframe was totally up in the air. She shrugged wordlessly.

“Well, do you care if Matt and I go out?”

“No, of course not—” Behind the boys, Candy was making a cutting motion with her hand, shaking her head, and mouthing
No
. “Um, unless we already have plans to do something?”

The twins looked crushed.

Candy nodded, pleased.

Jane shook her head. “It's great to be home, guys, but I'm totally exhausted.” She tried to ignore the concerned looks that passed between her siblings. “Do you mind if I skip the welcome home activities and sack out?”

“Of course not,” Candy said while the others shook their heads and mumbled similar kind words. “Michael, Matt—can you help Jane upstairs, please?”

“I'm not an invalid,” Jane snapped. “I can manage a few steps.”

Michael held up his hands. “OK, OK.”

Matt laughed. “I told you she wouldn't like Operation Help Jane, Candy.”

Jane hated that she'd been ungrateful. “I'm sorry, Candy. I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic. That's all.”

Candy smiled. “I know, and I'm probably getting on your last nerve. Just holler down if you need anything.”

Jane nodded. She was finally home free. Maneuvering into her room, however, she wished she'd taken Candy up on her offer for help. She sank onto her bed. How could five stairs and a hallway feel like so much work? Her arm throbbed. Her ribs ached. At least she was finally alone though—

“Uh, hey, Jane?”

She closed her eyes. Now Dean had to say hello. Really?

“Hey, Dean. Thanks for helping out and stuff. I know it means the world to Candy. And to me.”

Dean waved away the praise. “Some kid named Sarah called. She'll be at church tomorrow and hopes to catch up with you. I promised to give you the message.”

“Thanks.”

Dean nodded and left as quickly as he'd come, which, now that Jane was breathing easier again, was a bit disappointing. She wanted to pump him for details about him and Candy.

Obviously, something had changed in their relationship—as in, they actually had one now. She smiled to herself. Arguably, trying to “give” her buddy and fellow nurse, Dean, to Candy as a Christmas present hadn't been her best idea, but it looked as if it was working out now, so go her! Candy had opened up and chosen to trust again.

Jane hoped the decision didn't turn around and bite her sister in the rear.

She pushed the negative thought away. Dependable, tenacious Candy, and kind, conscientious Dean would be fine.

People like Jane—and her mother—weren't cut out for long-term relationships.

Maybe if her mom and her mom's latest and last boyfriend, Ray, hadn't died in their rage-fueled car crash, if they'd somehow lived, resolved their issues, and gone on to have a relationship that worked out, maybe then she'd be less jaded.

Jane turned off those thoughts, too. After all, they hadn't lived. They hadn't lasted. They had, in fact, been the worst of the whole string of her mom's unbelievably poor choices.

Jane shifted on the bed and her mind rolled back to Dean's message about Sarah. It was good news and made Jane's decision for her. She'd been on the fence about going back to church right away, thought it might be nice to have a week at home, doing devotions on her own, before running the gauntlet of sympathy her well-meaning church would subject her to, but if Sarah would be there, she would be, too.

“Are you all right?” Candy's concerned voice broke through her thoughts.

“You bet. Brilliant, in fact.” Jane glanced at Candy who stood in her doorway, eyeballing her skeptically. “I'm going to church with you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you're up to it?”

Jane tried to sit upright, but couldn't.

Candy entered the room all the way and gently helped her without saying a word—even when Jane grunted with pain at her ribs' protest to the movement.

“I'm sure,” she said when she could speak again.

 

 

 

 

3

 

It turned out, however, that Jane wasn't up to church on Sunday. Not at all. With the exception of a follow-up doctor's appointment and a trip to start physiotherapy, she spent the whole week at home, most of it in her room. She tried to go on periodic walks about the house and to stretch a bit, so she wouldn't stiffen up completely and her injuries would heal faster, but even the simplest movements caused agony. Once or twice she caught a glimpse of how pathetic she looked in the big hallway mirror, and the sight made everything seem pointless.