My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(49)

And other stuff, Patrick thought. Like a near-death experience, a swelling brain, a possibility of permanent disability and brain damage…

Patrick had spent the past few hours understanding and feeling Angie’s vulnerability and it made him want to protect her in a way he’d never wanted to protect a woman before. Not even Marie. Yet despite her vulnerability, she fought to be strong and independent and his admiration for her only grew.

“Me and Frank, we talked about what we could sell. We have the land—his father was a homesteader, so we have land. But it’s not great farming or ranching land and most of the maximum allowed lumber was sold off before it came to us—and no one’s buying mountain land without a view these days. We talked to some real estate people—in a good economy, we could clear and sell parcels for houses, but not right now....”

“You won’t have to sell off your land,” Angie said.

And Patrick wondered, What has she got up her sleeve?

“Ladies, I’d like to take you out for a nice lunch, my treat. I’m hungry and I know you are.”

Looking in the rearview mirror, he noticed Megan get a startled look and then tug on her mother’s sleeve before whispering in her ear.

“Oh, we can’t let you do that, Patrick. You’ve already done so much, what with the driving and gas and all. I brought along enough money to buy us something we can just eat in the car. If you’ll accept that, I’d like to treat. Please.”

It was early afternoon and they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, if they’d even had that. He understood the nerves prior to the doctor’s visit, but now it was time to have a reward. And he thought he understood the problem. He pulled into the parking lot of a Red Lobster restaurant. The lunch crowd had already vanished and even the earliest dinner crowd had not arrived. He parked near the entrance and turned around to face Megan and Lorraine in the backseat.

“I’d like to do this for you,” he said. “Megan, you’ve been very brave today and I think we should celebrate. If you’ll stick with me, I promise no one is going to stare at you or ask you questions about your scar. I’ll find you a place to sit, in a booth, so no one can even look at you. Not even the waitress. Trust me?”

It was a moment before she nodded.

“Good,” Patrick said. “We’re going to have a nice lunch. We’ve earned it!”

He got out and opened the door to the backseat. Patrick pulled Megan out, positioned her at his side so that the scarred part of her face was next to him, put an arm around her to pull her close and led her into the restaurant. Angie and Lorraine were left to follow and once Paddy was inside with Megan he looked around a sparsely populated restaurant. The hostess approached and asked, “How many?”

“Four,” Patrick answered. Then he pointed to a row of booths and asked, “Can we have one of those booths, please?”

“No problem,” she said, gathering up four menus. “This way.”

When they got to the booth, Patrick slid Megan in. The flawed side of her face was next to the wall, her back to the room.

He stood in wait for Angie and Lorraine, allowed Lorraine to slide in next to her daughter and Angie on the opposite side. When they were all seated, menus in hand, he looked at Megan and winked. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you.”

* * *

“I’m completely exhausted,” Angie told Patrick right after they dropped off Lorraine and Megan.

“I know,” he said. “Hungry?”

“Not really—I had so much pasta for lunch. I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine by the fire, though.”

“I have some of your favorite at the cabin. How are you fixed for adult beverages at yours?”

“Cleaned out.”

“My place, it is,” he said. “Need anything from home first?”

She shook her head. “I’m good. I’ll run home in the morning to change clothes.”

When they got to Patrick’s cabin she pulled off her boots, sank into the leather chair by the hearth and leaned back while Patrick built the fire. “Aren’t you exhausted, too?”

“Not really. It was a good day. I learned a lot.”

“Then if you’re not totally shot, I’m going to let you serve me. After you’ve built my fire, that is.”

He laughed at her and continued his assigned chores. With the fire going strong, he handed her a glass of wine. With his boots off, as well, beer in hand, he slid behind her into the big leather chair, his long legs stretched out on the ottoman alongside hers. She sat in the vee his legs made.

“This isn’t really a two-person chair,” she pointed out to him.

“And yet…” he said.

“Why aren’t you as whipped as I am?”

“Because I’m not an introvert. I watched you struggle. I hope you don’t mind that I noticed—I think you did great. But I could tell that wasn’t easy for you.”

“Never is,” she said with a shrug. “I’m much happier alone with a book. I’m trying to grow out of that.”

“I’ll help you search for funds when you have to get out there and thump for money.”

“No! No, I’m going to do it. It’s sometimes not easy for me, but I’m going to do it.”