My Kind of Christmas (19 page)

Angie laughed, but there was a lump in her throat. “See you, then,” she said. But she wasn’t sure she could hold it together with her family. If they felt sorry for her, she might crumble.

When she got to Jack and Mel’s, she let herself in. There was lots of activity in the kitchen and dining room; Emma and Ness were running through the house. Grandpa was tucked away in the recliner in the corner, dozing, the newspaper spread over him like a blanket. Angie’s sisters were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace and they instantly shot to their feet and stared. Tall, lean, nineteen-year-old Jenna had her hands in the back pockets of her jeans; twenty-one-year-old Beth crossed her arms protectively over her chest and hugged herself. Both of them looked as though they’d just witnessed an accident.

“Don’t baby me,” Angie said. She hung her jacket on the coat hanger by the door and pulled off her cowboy boots. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

Her sisters just looked at each other. Then her again.

Donna came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “We doing okay?” she asked Angie.

“Okay.” Then she went to sit on the floor in front of the fire where her sisters had been. They immediately joined her with very expectant looks on their faces. “If you two make me cry, you’re history,” she warned her sisters.

She saw her uncle Jack come out of the kitchen holding a stack of plates for the dining room table. He stopped short when he saw her, lifting his heavy eyebrows. She gave him a smile and a wave.

“Was it horrible?” Jenna asked. “Letting that hunk of burning love go?”

“Jenna, have you ever actually had a boyfriend?” Angie asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Beth asked. “She’s had seventy-two or so. And none as fine as that Irish dude you caught.”

Angie circled her raised knees with her arms and put her head down. “Temporarily caught. He’s on his way back to the East Coast, I’m on my way back to school and that’s that.”

“But what was he like? Really?” Jenna asked.

“He
is
the best man alive,” Angie said with a small smile. “You guys got to know him a little—what did you think?”

“I think I would have followed him all the way to Charleston,” Jenna said.

“That’s the thing—I wasn’t invited. He has other plans....”

Uncle Mike came from the kitchen with three glasses of white wine and some snacks on a tray—torn hunks of bread and a plate of artichoke spinach dip. Jenna took it out of his hands and brought it to the floor in front of the fire. “The help around here is outstanding.”

Mike gave a snort, but he put his big hand on top of Angie’s head. A comforting hand. And she reached up and gave the hand a pat.

When he was gone Jenna asked, “Were you in love with him?”

“Stop it,” Angie said.

“Can’t you talk about it?”

“Maybe next week. Talk to me about something else. What are the family plans?”

“Well, in support of our emotional cripple of a sister, we’re having Christmas here. Are you going to come home with us right after? Or are you still on romantic hiatus?”

“You’re being kind of bitchy,” Beth told Jenna.

“Sorry. I was looking for some details. Didn’t I tell you every detail the night I lost my virginity?”

“And every time after,” Beth put in.

Jenna made a face at that sister, but to Angie she said, “And you had that gorgeous man all to yourself for a month and haven’t said a word.”

“Give her a week,” Beth said. “Where did you come from, really? Are you adopted, Jenna? You shouldn’t be so pushy.”

“I’m not talking,” Angie said. Then in a quiet voice she added, “My heart hurts. And I don’t want to cry in front of everyone. So please, Jenna—stop being such a brat. Just tell me what’s in the news or something.”

“What’s in the news is that we are stuck in Virgin River where the one single guy has officially fled and the big event to look forward to is the Christmas Eve children’s pageant at the church.” She took a gulp of her wine. “That’s the news. Drink up.”

Beth and Angie both laughed in spite of themselves. And once they got off the topic of Angie’s romance, they yammered like girls would. They sipped their wine; Beth and Jenna ate the dip and bread. Angie just wasn’t ready to eat. Someone yelled,
“Dinner in thirty minutes,”
but the girls had formed a tight, protective little circle in front of the fireplace and were somewhat oblivious to the rest of the house.

Angie noticed it was getting dusky outside and she was surprised she’d made it through the day without him. There was a small table between the great room and dining room set for David, Emma and Ness and it brought to mind all those years of setting up the adult table and the kids’ table for the holidays. She remembered being the first of ten grandchildren to graduate to the adult table, an event that filled her sisters with jealousy and loathing.

She abstractly noticed Mel rounding up the kids for their dinner, getting them settled at the table. Mike and Brie were carrying dishes and plates of food to the table. And some fool was honking a horn outside.

Jack went and opened the front door to see who was making the noise. “Holy shit,” he said. He turned and looked into the great room. “Ange. It’s for you.”

She got slowly to her feet, Jenna and Beth scrambling to get up and follow.

When Angie got to the front door, she couldn’t quite take it in. Five cars, all lined up in front of the house, people standing beside them. Not just people. Riordans—the whole family—brothers, wives, their mother, George. A couple of kids—Rosie and Brett. And in the front, Patrick.

“You have to give me another chance, Angie,” he said loudly. Then he spread his arms and said, “I come with a lot of baggage.”

Her hands crossed over her chest. She was afraid to move, to think. Then suddenly she was nudged from behind and she stumbled forward. She looked over her shoulder and Jenna shrugged.

Patrick was walking toward her. She took a couple of steps toward him, standing at the edge of the porch. “Why are you here?” she asked.

He put a foot up on the porch step. “A better question is why did I leave?” He shook his head. “I was just confused. Ange, I was a fool to think I could leave you. And now I’m running out of time—I should have started begging you to take a chance on me at least a week ago. Angie, baby, I love you. I don’t even want to try to make it without you.”

“But, Patrick—there’s Marie!”

“She’s my friend, but I don’t love her. Not that way. And she doesn’t love me. I don’t know what got into me. Listen,” he said, crossing his forearms over his raised thigh and leaning toward her. “I’ll help Marie and Daniel whenever they need help. I’ll be the kind of friend Jake would have expected me to be. But you’ve made me believe that I have much more to offer than just friendship—to the right woman. And if you think I’m worthy, you’re the woman I want a life with.”

“We’ve only known each other a month,” she said. “And I’m supposed to go back to school....”

“I knew how I felt in only a week. I tried to talk myself out of it—it makes no sense, except I can’t stop it. I want you, if you want me, too. I’ll make sure you still get to school—and I’m up for an assignment. Maybe I’ll get to the West Coast. If not, there are awesome med schools on the East Coast and I have to believe any one of them would kill to have you. It’s not like we have to wait until all that’s behind us, we can face this together. There could be challenges, but couples do it all the time—get married, fulfill their ambitions, work as a team. By the time you’re finished with med school and residency, I’ll be retiring from the Navy. We’ll be ready for the next stage—there might even be something we can do together to make a difference. Maybe there are humanitarian organizations that need both doctors and pilots.”

“Married?” she asked weakly. “But there could be separations…”

“Oh, guaranteed! But millions of military couples have weathered that storm successfully. I don’t want to rush you, babe. I’ll wait for you if you need time. Time to be sure of me, of us. It’s not an easy life in the Navy, I know that. But what the hell—there is no easy life.” He smiled at her. “You’ll see—I can be almost as brave and strong as you. The only thing I’m not sure I’m strong enough for is a life without you in it.”

Angie heard a little squeak behind her and turned to see the entire Sheridan clan stuffed into the doorway. Jenna had her hands covering her mouth, tears running down her cheeks. “Wow,” Angie said. “Looks like I come with baggage, too.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I feel your pain.”

“Are you sure about all this, Patrick?” she asked.

“I didn’t even begin the drive to the airport, Ange. My legs wouldn’t go. I started wondering how I was going to leave you over a week ago—and it just isn’t in me. Trust me, I’m sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “If you just say yes, maybe we can ditch the entourage and go find some place alone. We have things to talk about. We could pack you up, make some plans, say some more goodbyes and see if we can get a flight out of California. Before you’re due back at school, we’ll have a good idea where I’m going to end up. Please, Angie—come with me.”

She took another step. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

He took her hand and pulled it, kissing her palm. “I’ll do everything I can to deserve you.” Then he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground and kissing her deep and long. In front of God and everyone.

Jack dropped an arm around his sister’s shoulders and said, “You know, it’s hell being right all the time. The strain is terrible.”

“Right,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Brie,” he yelled. “Throw another potato in the soup—we’ve got company!”

The Riordans began walking up to Jack’s house. Paddy and Angie never broke their lip-lock, not even when Aiden gave Patrick a pat on the back as he passed.

Luke was the last of the brothers to pass them. Jack was holding the door for him. “Check that one off,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Patrick and Angie. “Kid’s got good taste.”

“I’d have to agree on that,” Jack said.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Sunrise Point
by Robyn Carr.

Acknowledgments

Three very special people helped me with necessary research for this story. Ellen
Hedden, MSPA CCC/SLP, walked me through the recovery process for traumatic brain injury,
including the struggles the families of survivors encounter. Ellen has compassion
so rich and deep, her patients are so lucky. And I am lucky to call her friend.

Candace Irvin, a former Naval Officer and currently a romantic suspense writer, helped
me become familiar with Navy terminology.

And Goesel Anson, M.D., a gifted plastic and reconstructive surgeon, walked me through
one possible procedure for reconstructive surgery.

Of course, any mistakes or artistic license for the sake of story and drama would
be all mine, not these experts who were so generous with their time and knowledge.

I would like to also acknowledge the support of a few friends. We share writing victories
and stumbling blocks, laugh together, prop one another up and lend a hand when a hand
is needed. Thank you to Susan Andersen, Kristan Higgins, Colleen Gleason, Deanna Raybourn
and Jill Shalvis.

To my editor, Valerie Gray, and my agent, Liza Dawson, I thank you from the bottom
of my heart. Believe me, I never take for granted one second how lucky I am to have
you on my team.

The Virgin River series by
New York Times
bestselling author Robyn Carr

Virgin River—in the redwood forests and quiet hamlets of northern California, where
the men are handsome and honorable and the women are strong and beautiful, and everyone
has a stake in seeing love thrive. Read them all!

Virgin River
Shelter Mountain
Whispering Rock
A Virgin River Christmas
Second Chance Pass
Temptation Ridge
Paradise Valley
“Under the Christmas Tree”
(novella
)
Forbidden Falls
Angel’s Peak
Moonlight Road
“Midnight Confessions”
(novella)
Promise Canyon
Wild Man Creek
Harvest Moon
Bring Me Home for Christmas
Hidden Summit
Redwood Bend
Sunrise Point

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Chapter One

T
here was a small note on the bulletin
board at the Virgin River Presbyterian Church.
Apple
harvest to begin at Cavanaugh Orchard. Apply in person
.

Virgin River newcomer Nora Crane studied the board regularly
and, when she saw the notice, asked Reverend Kincaid what he knew about the job.
“Very little,” he answered. “It’s a fairly long harvesting season and the
Cavanaughs like to add a few full-time workers to their staff. Not many, though.
I hear they pay pretty well, it’s very demanding work and it’s all over in a
few
months.”

Pay pretty well
stuck. She was holding her
two-year-old daughter’s hand and carried nine-month-old Fay in her backpack.

“Can you give me directions to the orchard?” she asked.

He wrinkled his brow. “Nora, it’s a few miles away. You don’t
have a car.”

“I’ll have to go there, find out what the pay and hours are.
If it’s a good job with good pay, I bet I can afford day care at the new school.
That would be so good for Berry,” she said of her two-year-old. “She’s almost
never with other children and needs socialization. She’s so shy. And I’m not
afraid of walking. I’m not afraid to hitch a ride around here, either—people
are
generous. And a few miles—that’s really nothing. I’ll get some exercise.”

Noah Kincaid’s frown just deepened. “Walking home could be
tough after a long day of physical labor. Picking apples is hard work.”

“So is being broke,” she said with a smile. “I bet Adie would
love a little babysitting money to add to her budget. She barely squeaks by.
And
she’s so wonderful with the girls.” Adie Clemens was Nora’s neighbor and friend.
Although Adie was elderly, she managed the girls very well because two-year-old
Berry was so well behaved and Fay didn’t get around much yet. Fay had just
started crawling. Adie loved taking care of them, even though she couldn’t take
them on full-time.

“What about your job at the clinic?” Noah asked.

“I think Mel gave me that job more out of kindness than
necessity, but of course I’ll talk to her. Noah, there isn’t that much work
available. I have to try anything that comes along. Are you going to tell me
how
to get there?”

“I’m going to drive you,” he said. “We’re going to log the
miles and get an accurate distance reading. I’m not sure this is a good
idea.”

“How long has that notice been up?” Nora asked.

“Tom Cavanaugh put it up this morning.”

“Good! That means not too many people have seen it.”

“Nora, think of the little girls,” he said. “You don’t want to
be too tired to take care of them.”

“Oh, Noah. It’s nice of you to be concerned. I’ll go ask Adie
if she can watch them for a little while so I can go to the orchard to apply.
She always says yes, she loves them so much. I’ll be back in ten minutes. If
you’re sure you don’t mind giving me a lift… I don’t want to take
advantage.”

He just shook his head and chuckled. “Bound and determined,
aren’t you? You remind me of someone….”

“Oh?”

“Someone just as unstoppable as you. I fell in love with her
on the spot, I think.”

“Ellie?” she asked. “Mrs. Kincaid?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kincaid,” he said with a laugh. “You have no idea
how much you two have in common. But we’ll save that for another time. Hurry
up
and check in with Adie and I’ll take you to the Cavanaugh orchard.”

“Thanks!” she said with a wide smile, dashing out of the
church and down the street as quickly as she could.

It would never occur to Nora that she had anything in common
with the pastor’s wife. Ellie Kincaid was so beautiful, so confident and the
kindest person she’d ever known. And by the way Noah looked at his wife, he
adored her. It was kind of fun to see the preacher was a regular man; he gazed
at his wife with hunger in his eyes, as if he couldn’t wait to get her alone.
They weren’t just a handsome couple, but also obviously a man and woman very
deeply in love.

Nora went straight to Adie Clemens’s door.

“Just bring me some diapers and formula,” Adie said. “And good
luck.”

“If I get the job and have to work full-time, do you think you
can help me out a little bit?”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Adie said. “Maybe between me, Martha
Hutchkins and other neighbors, we can get you covered.”

“I hate to ask everyone around here to take care of me….”
But, hate it or not, she didn’t have many choices. She’d landed here with the
girls and hardly any belongings right before last Christmas—just one old couch,
a mattress that sat on the floor and the clothes on their backs. It was Adie
who
alerted Reverend Kincaid that Nora and her family were in need, and the first
gesture of help came in the form of a Christmas food basket. Through the
generosity of her neighbors and the town, a few necessary items had been added
to their household—an old refrigerator, a rug for the floor, sheets and towels,
clothes for the children. The church had regular rummage sales and Mrs. Kincaid
skimmed the used clothing to help dress Nora, as well. Her neighbor three doors
down, Leslie, invited Nora to use her washer and dryer while she was at work
and
Martha offered her laundry, as well. She’d never be able to repay all these
kindnesses, but at least she could work to make her own way.

Picking apples? Well, as she’d told Noah, she’d do just about
anything.

Noah drove a beat-up old pickup truck that Nora thought might
be older than she was, and it definitely didn’t have much in the way of shocks.
As they bounced along the road out to highway 36, Nora had the thought that
walking probably wouldn’t be as hard on her spine. But as they trundled along,
she became increasingly intimidated by the distance, farther than she expected.
She wasn’t sure how long it might take to walk it. She’d have to get the mile
count from Noah once they arrived. If the odometer actually worked in this old
heap of tin.

They turned off 36 and drove down a road, through a gate that
stood open and down a tree-lined lane. Nora became distracted by the sheer
beauty. There was something so pure and homespun about row after row of
perfectly spaced apple trees, the fruit in various stages of ripening hanging
from the boughs, some still small-apple-green while others wore a slight blush
of red. And at the end of what seemed a long driveway through the orchard stood
a big house—a white fairy-tale house with red shutters and a red front door and
a wonderful wraparound porch with chairs separated by small tables. She couldn’t
even imagine the luxury of relaxing on such a porch at the end of a long day.
At
wide spaces in the road there were large bins, probably for collecting apples.
They passed by a forklift tucked into a row of trees and a bit farther down the
road, a tractor.

As the house grew closer Nora noticed that there were two
large buildings behind it—either barns or very large storage sheds or… Ah, the
housing for machinery and farm equipment, she realized, looking into some large
open doors. One of the buildings bore the sign Cavanaugh Apples.

For a girl who grew up in a small house on a busy street in
Berkeley, she looked at this house, land and operation in both fascination and
envy. A person would be very lucky to grow up in such a place.

There was a collection of pickup trucks and four men standing
outside a door at the end of one of the buildings.

“Nora?”

She turned toward Reverend Kincaid’s voice.

“You probably should get going. While you go talk to Tom
Cavanaugh, I’m going to pay a visit to Maxie, the lady of the house. She’s
almost always in the kitchen or on the porch.”

“Where should I go?” she asked, suddenly far less sure of
herself.

He pointed toward the short line of men. “Looks like that’s
the place.”

“Right,” she said. She got out of the truck, jumped down, but
before she closed the door she peered back inside. “Reverend Kincaid, if I need
a recommendation, will you give me one?”

She saw him frown again; she knew he was worried about how in
the world she’d manage a job like this. Then his frown melted into a smile and
he said, “Of course, Nora.”

Noah pulled away from her to park on the drive near the house
and she went to stand with the men. “Are you applying for the picking job?” she
asked.

All four turned toward her. Only one nodded. Feeling a sense
of competition, she assessed them. One was an old guy, and old was relative—he
was balding, what was left of his hair was wispy and thin, but he stood straight
and tall and appeared to have wide, strong shoulders. One was a teenager, around
sixteen years old, good-looking and buff. One was a short Mexican man in his
twenties, healthy and hearty, and the fourth looked as if he could be his
father. “Am I in the right place to apply?”

The older man frowned, the teenager grinned, the older Mexican
man looked her up and down and gave her the impression he was merely judging
her
ability by her size, which was small. And the man who could be his son said,
“This is the place. You ever pick before?”

She shook her head.

“Want some advice? Maybe you should tell him you have.”

“Why? Is it hard to learn?”

The men chuckled together. “Hard to
do,
” the teenager said. “I’ll show you the ropes if you get hired.”
Then he looked her over from her head to her feet, but his appraisal was a
little more personal. “You sure you’re up to it?”

She sucked in a breath. She’d do anything to take care of her
girls. Mel Sheridan and Reverend Kincaid had helped her get some county
assistance—food stamps and Medicaid—but that wasn’t enough to live on. She’d
been getting by on that plus part-time jobs at the clinic and the new school’s
summer program, but it was very part-time, given her small children.

She wanted to earn her own money. There just hadn’t been much
opportunity.

“I’m stronger than I look,” she informed him. “I am. I can’t
lie about my experience, though. I have this…”
This deal I
made with God,
she thought dismally. Nora was trying so hard to
rectify past mistakes, she wasn’t about to make more along the way. “When I make
a commitment, I’m good for it. I’ll take any advice I can get, though. Did you
guys see the notice in the church?”

“We pick every year,” the teenager said. “I’ve been picking
since junior high. Jerome has been picking for a hundred years,” he said,
indicating the older man. “Eduardo and Juan live down in the valley and the
apples here pay better than the vegetables. Juan’s wife has her own little
business—they’re doing pretty good these days, right, Juan?”

The older Mexican gentleman nodded solemnly. Proudly.

“Tom usually works around the grove—it’s usually Mrs.
Cavanaugh and her foreman, Junior, who handle the hiring.” The boy put out his
hand. “I’m Buddy Holson, by the way.”

She took the hand with a smile. “Nora,” she said. “Nice to
meet you.”

The latch to the door finally unlocked; the door opened a
crack. Jerome went in first. He came out just a moment later and then Eduardo
and Juan entered together. They were out in a second.

“We’ve all worked here before,” Buddy explained. “Everything
is on file for the regulars. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Hope to see you around.”

“You bet. Me, too,” he said, giving his hat a little touch.
And Nora realized, he probably thought she was much younger than she was. It
would never occur to him she was actually a single mother. “You must live around
here.”

“Virgin River,” she said.

“I’m in Clear River. I better go in—see you around.” And he
disappeared inside, but was back out in just seconds, slipping a piece of paper
into his pocket. With a handsome parting smile and another touch to his hat,
he
headed for the last pickup parked there.

Nora took a deep breath and pulled open the door. The man
behind the desk looked up at her and she froze momentarily. For no particular
reason, she’d been expecting a much older man—the husband of the Mrs. Cavanaugh
who usually managed the hiring. But this was a young man. And so handsome that
he almost took her breath away. He had wide shoulders, a tanned face, brown
hair, expressive brows and the kind of dark brown eyes that would glitter in
the
sun. His features might be ordinary, but put together so perfectly, he was hot.
A hunk with that dangerous wholesome look about him—the look that had trapped
her in the past. Her face probably flushed before going completely pale. She
had
had bad luck with such men and had no reason to assume her luck had changed.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’m here about the job. The apple-picking job.”

“You have experience with apple harvesting?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m a very fast learner and I’m strong. I
have tons of energy. And I need a job like this.”

“Really? What about this job seems right for you?”

“Reverend Kincaid says it pays pretty well and is kind of
short. I’m a single mother and I can probably get help with the kids for a
while, then I have two part-time jobs in Virgin River to fall back on when the
harvest is over. Sounds perfect for someone like me.”

“Well, it might be longer than you think. The end of August to
almost December, most years. So I guess it wouldn’t be right for—”

“I might be able to do it—there’s a new day care and preschool
in town, if I can afford it.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-three.”

He shook his head. “Already a divorced mother at
twenty-three?” he asked.

The surprise showed on her face for less than a moment. She
stood as straight as possible. “There are some questions you’re not allowed to
ask me,” she informed him. “It’s the law. If they don’t pertain to the job…”

“It’s irrelevant. I’m afraid I’ve already hired my max—all
people with experience. I’m sorry.”