My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(63)

“Oh, I heard about this. Jack’s niece…”

“The men in this family are worse than a bunch of old women. Listen, call Mom and tell her you need her. Cough or something. Tell her you’re waiting for test results to see if you’re dying. I’m begging you.”

“Sorry, Paddy—I’ve got a full plate. I’m pulling a lot of OB call so I can take Christmas off.”

“Do something! I’m sure you owe me!”

“What exactly is the problem? Don’t want your girlfriend to get to know your mother? Because women tend to like Maureen.”

“It’s worse than that. I told you—she won’t spend the night with me while Maureen is here! She’s afraid Maureen might somehow know what we’re doing! It’s absurd—I’m sending Maureen and George to Luke’s first thing in the morning but meanwhile, according to Angie, the lid is not coming off the cookie jar. Aiden, I have less than two weeks with this girl and I really like her. She’s taken a lot of the ache out of me, she’s so special. Get our mother out of here!”

But all Paddy got for an answer was laughter.

* * *

Donna sat at a table in the corner near the fireplace. She nursed a cup of coffee while she waited for Angie for their lunch date. When she walked in looking so fresh and happy, Donna just marveled that she’d had anything to do with the creation of this amazing human being. She said a silent prayer—Please, God, let me be wise and kind for once in my life, please.

“Something has made you very happy,” Donna observed.

“Sometimes things just come together. We’re all set—surgery is Friday morning and it’s all paid for.”

Donna shook her head in wonder. “How did you do it, Ange?”

“Dr. Temple helped me find a willing surgeon and many things were discounted. Then I just rounded up the donations. The big boost was an anonymous donor who gave us a thousand dollars—boy, would I love to meet that guy.”

“Could it have been Patrick?”

She shook her head. “No, but Patrick gave at least as much. He’s the one who said to book it, and he’d pick up the tab for whatever was left on the bill. Every day that I went to the coast towns and hit up the public servants and business owners for donations, Patrick went to the grocery store—he cooked dinner or we met here and I gave him a rundown of my day. And you know the miraculous part? I don’t even dread it anymore—putting myself out there to strangers. I’m growing out of that, at last.” She laughed and said, “How did a daughter of Donna Sheridan LaCroix come out so timid?”

“Anything can be overcome, I guess. So, what’s next?”

“Well, this place is not without work to do. We’re going to start getting together the Christmas boxes for people who need a hand. Jack usually does it here in the bar, but the project has grown. Patrick’s brother lives in a great big Victorian with tons of room. His girlfriend’s sister is a chef and a bunch of women have been baking and freezing things. People have been leaving nonperishables here and at the church for weeks already. Preacher and Jack like to get those food boxes out before Christmas—there are needy people here and there.”

“You didn’t come up here to relax, I guess,” Donna said.

“I get plenty of rest, so don’t—”

“That wasn’t a criticism, Ange. Far from it. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Angie sat back in her chair as if surprised. “Thanks.”

“Even though I protested, your uncle Jack and aunt Brie were right—we needed a little distance, some perspective. Plus, you look wonderful. Healthy and strong and effervescent. I suspect a certain young man might be responsible for the effervescence.”

“Well, that may have stalled just temporarily—Patrick’s mother surprised him with a visit last evening. She and her partner, George, have an RV and they travel around, visiting and vacationing. They’re retired.”

“Please don’t tell your father! He has aspirations toward an RV and I can’t even think of actually living in a cramped space like that.”

“But you love traveling with Dad!”

“I do, but I’m not one for roughing it.”

“You should meet Maureen. You have things in common. She’s here because she was worried about Patrick. Couple of nosy, in-your-business mothers.”

Donna frowned. “Worried?”

Angie explained about Paddy’s best friend’s death, which precipitated this leave from the Navy. “It took its toll, but he’s going to be all right. We have a lot in common that way.”

It was not lost on Donna that Angie’s eyes took on a proud shine when she talked about him. No argument from Donna—this was the young man who helped a stranger in a parking lot. “Fate is wonderful sometimes,” she said. “When you decided to come up here, I thought you might be bored.”

Angie shook her head. “Of course, his leave will be up soon.”

“Then you should enjoy the time you have,” Donna said.

“Mom, have you been hypnotized?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You haven’t been yourself. You’re different.”

How to phrase it? Donna asked herself. “You’re the guinea pig, Ange—getting me in shape for your younger sisters. It’s time for you and I to meet on a new playing field and no one prepared me for this. While you’re growing up, you need someone to raise you, to keep you from falling off the cliff now and then, to herd you, help you make good choices. And now? Now it’s time for you to see me in a different way. I want to be entitled to an opinion now and then without offending you. I want to be there for you when you need me but you don’t have to answer to me. I want to be in your path but not in your way. You’re officially on your own. So how do we do that?”