My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(34)

Once that was finished, groceries safe in the car in cold weather, he drove out to Jilly Farms to visit with Colin. As luck would have it, Luke was there. Colin, who had a titanium rod in one femur, was holding the ladder steady while Luke used a staple gun to affix multicolored lights to the eaves. This was a brilliant stroke of luck and Patrick had a strategy here—if he spent a little time with them, declined any offers of dinner, his evening would be his own. And he had plans for the evening.

“Great timing, Paddy,” Luke yelled from the top of the ladder. “We’re done.”

“I pride myself in good timing,” he said with a laugh.

Luke made his way down the ladder and once his feet were on the ground, Colin lowered the extension and picked it up to put away. Teamwork. The interesting part was that until this past year, these two brothers, eldest and second-born, were fiercely competitive and often battled. Now they were Mutt and Jeff. Frick and Frack. Ozzie and Harriet.

Luke looked at his watch. “Lunch,” he said.

“It’s ten-thirty!” Patrick said.

“I had breakfast five hours ago.”

“I had breakfast one hour ago,” Patrick said. “But I can watch you eat.”

“What have you been up to, kid?” Luke asked as he crossed the porch and went into the house.

Thirty-three years old, flown a hundred missions in war zones on at least ten deployments to sea and he was still the kid. The youngest. The one who should be taken care of. “Reading,” he said with a little attitude.

“Reading what?” Luke asked.

“You taking a survey?” Paddy returned.

Colin had leaned the ladder against the porch and was right behind them, following them into the house. “Sometimes if you just let him take your temperature, it satisfies him and he stops asking questions.”

“War and Peace,” Paddy said.

“My ass,” Luke shot back.

“Actually, I have been reading, but not War and Peace. I’m catching up on the DeMille books. That’s what we do at sea—read. Watch DVDs. We play video games and work out a lot. And fly. I haven’t had any significant downtime when the ground isn’t rolling under me in about ten years now.”

“How’s it working out for you?” Colin asked.

“All right, as a matter of fact. This was a good idea. For a few weeks, anyway.”

“Come to San Diego with us,” Colin invited for at least the tenth time.

Paddy shook his head. “I have commitments.”

“Yeah?” Luke asked. He opened the refrigerator. Though Colin lived in this big old Victorian with Jill, Luke apparently put himself in charge. He pulled out bread, lunch meat, cheese, lettuce, mayo, mustard, pickles and tomatoes. “What commitments?”

“I told you, but you never listen. I have to be back in Charleston right after Christmas and I promised to check on Marie on my way. I’m going to spend Christmas with her and little Daniel.”

“Is that carved in granite?” Colin asked, putting a couple of plates on the work island. “Because maybe you can wrangle a few more days out of the Navy, come with the family to San Diego…”

He shook his head. “I told her I’d be sure she was all right at Christmastime. It’s Jake’s wife,” he said.

“Widow. Did she ask you to come?” Colin wanted to know.

Patrick shook his head. “In fact, she said I didn’t have to. But I have to. You guys didn’t really know him—Jake. And you never knew him with Marie.” His shoulders lifted slightly in sentimental memory. “They were so crazy for each other, sometimes it got ridiculous.” He laughed. “They could finish each other’s sentences. When we got back to base after a deployment, they couldn’t be disturbed for days. While we were home, they had date night, alone, every week. I know a hundred couples that wouldn’t be as wounded by separation as Marie and Jake—they were like a blended person. She’s doing well right now, but it’s been brutal. So I’m going to see Marie. Besides, if it wasn’t for the crash, I’d be at sea over Christmas, anyway, and you’d never think twice about me missing it.”

“You seem a little better,” Colin observed.

“I said this was a good idea. I had to get the hell away from that boatyard. A little distance, you know? I remember when the smell of jet fuel got my heart pumping and all of a sudden…” He shook his head. “Probably just some PTSD.”

“Even after my Black Hawk went down, I was ready to climb right back into one,” Colin said.

“Yeah, because it was yours, not one of your boys. That changes everything. But I’m working through it.”

While Patrick talked, Luke spread out bread and dealt cold cuts and cheese onto the slices. He slathered them with mayo and mustard, then sliced a tomato. The tomato slices went on two of the four sandwiches, lettuce on all four.

“Missed a couple,” Patrick told Luke.

“I don’t want tomato. That’s Colin’s—since his woman grows ’em, he has to eat ’em.”

Patrick couldn’t help it, he laughed. “You two,” he said. “For about forty years we couldn’t keep you two from fighting, day and night, and now look at you. Like two little old ladies taking care of each other. You’re totally mellowed. It’s the girls, that’s what it is.”