My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(69)

“And I really care about you,” she said. “Listen, Patrick, it’s too soon for me to think about the next man. Probably years too soon. Right now I feel like there can never be another man for me. As much as I love you, you’re my best friend, Paddy. I don’t want to go back to Charleston with you. The memories there…”

“It’s too soon, I know. You need time. But think, Marie—this is sensible. Practical. Logical. We’re in sync, you and I. I want to do the right thing for us. That’s all.”

“Sometimes I forget,” she said quietly. “You suffered a grave loss, as well. But that doesn’t make us destined to be together, Paddy. Listen, will you do something for me? Will you text me when the little girl is out of post-op, when the doctor says the surgery was successful?”

“I’ll call you,” he said.

“Sure, just let me know.”

“I’ll call you,” he repeated.

“Then we’ll talk soon. You’re wonderful to help with the surgery. You’re almost the most wonderful man in the world.”

“Almost?” he asked with a laugh.

“It’s good if you keep trying for perfection! Goodbye, Paddy.”

Chapter Fifteen

By just after lunch Megan was settled in a queen-size bed in a Marriott in Davis. Her nurse was with her, as was her mother, but it was Angie she wanted to speak to. “You saw it?” she asked. “All of it?”

“I did,” Angie said. “It was amazing. Once the swelling and bruising is gone it’s going to look wonderful. I think you’re going to be very happy.”

Later that day, Angie sat cross-legged on her hotel bed with Patrick’s cell phone in her hand. He had gone out for sandwiches while she used his phone to give Mel an update. She told her all about the surgery and her front-row view.

“How did you like that?” Mel asked.

“I loved it,” she said, her voice quiet. “It got me thinking…”

“About?”

“What it must feel like to have the power of healing in your hand.”

“I imagine it’s incredibly humbling,” Mel said. “Knowing where to use it, spend it, exercise it.”

Patrick returned shortly after her phone call. They both sat on the bed, eating their sandwiches and sipping their sodas quietly. When they were finished and the wrappers tossed, Patrick laid down on the bed, hands laced together behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Angie was looking off at nothing in particular.

“Tired, babe?” he asked her.

She focused on him for a moment. “Did I ever tell you that I love jigsaw puzzles?” He just shook his head. “Do you?” she asked.

He gave a shrug. “I think I could find something a little more exciting to do.”

She flopped down on her stomach, her chin braced on her hands. “We don’t have all that much in common, do we?”

“Scrabble,” he said with a small smile.

“And maybe one or two other things. But I love jigsaw puzzles. I put one together once that was the size of the dining room table. My mother stopped me before I tried one as big as the family room floor. My family would try a few pieces now and then but it was mainly all mine.”

He ran a hand over her hair. “Got a little OCD going on there, honey?”

“Oh, yeah, piles of it, I’m sure. But I don’t do the kind of fun things you do—I don’t want to speed or jump out of planes or take tight turns. Patrick, have you ever felt your life changed by a few words?”

He was still stroking her hair. And he was thinking, Do what you have to do. Jake’s instructions. “Like what?” he asked her.

“Dr. Hernandez put me in that O.R., let me watch him take apart a face and put it back together. Then he talked to me. He belongs to a small group of medical professionals who donate time and energy to people all over the place. I asked if they could use someone like me and he said, ‘They need doctors.’” She frowned. “I guess I was wrong. I’m going to have to finish school, after all. If I could ever do what he does…”

They were both silent for a while, looking into each other’s eyes. “USC?” he finally asked.

“I guess so. If they haven’t given up on me.”

“You’ll find the best place,” he said. “I have to admit, I like this idea better. You have a lot to offer, Ange.”

“So do you, Paddy. What do you suppose becomes of us now?”

“It sounds like we have a good few days, then begin new lives.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Going to be a doctor! A surgeon! How am I not surprised?”

“Patrick, do you think we’ll… Will we stay in touch?”

He couldn’t stop stroking her hair. “Would that be a good idea?”

“I hate the thought of not ever knowing where you are,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“Ange, I made a commitment to a man who’s dead. I gave my word. I don’t think there’s anything to do but carry on. I should have fought this thing harder, this thing we have. I never wanted to hurt you, to disappoint you.”

“Just tell me this—are you going to be hurt or disappointed?” she asked.

“I’m going to be grateful,” he whispered. Then he pulled her down beside him. “Come here. Let me hold you. It’s all I’ve got.”