My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(7)

The phone rang again, but Angie zipped her jacket and headed out the door. She stopped on the porch to indulge in a moment of remorse. Sadness. There was bound to be friction between a firstborn daughter and her strong-willed mother. Angie had always known how to please her parents and, in fact, usually had. Her mother proclaimed her a handful to raise, and yet, she’d managed to be Donna’s pride and joy. Angie had never rebelled so thoroughly before.

Donna didn’t seem to push back on Angie’s younger sisters with the same kind of determination. When Jenna or Beth resisted their mother’s plans, Donna seemed to let go faster. Easier.

“Dr. Temple, do you think my personality has changed?”

“It’s possible. And there’s always PTSD. Catastrophic accidents and long recoveries can have that effect.”

“Do I have a disorder?”

“Disorder? I’m no expert, but I don’t get the sense of a disorder. Do you think you have a disorder?”

“You know, I just feel like I finally woke up. I feel as if I should change things. It’s filling me with a sense of relief, of second chances, but it’s upsetting my family. They’re worried and angry, especially my mother. I’m battling with her over things like school. Battling like never before.”

“Hmm. Well, have you asked yourself—do you like the new you?”

“I do. I want to be more independent. But I hate disappointing my mother. She’s had it in her head I should be a doctor for a long time.”

“I think, Angie, that you have to act on what’s in your head, not your mother’s. You’re an adult, not her little girl anymore. Maybe you two need a little space to figure things out.”

Not long after Angie had that conversation with Dr. Temple, Uncle Jack and Brie had stepped in. Jack called Donna and said, “The two of you are fighting like a couple of cats in a sack. You’re not going to get better this way. Send Angie up here for a while. A few weeks. Let her get some perspective and take a breather. This is ridiculous.”

It took a follow-up phone call from Brie, but Donna finally came around. She was persuaded to put off the head butting at least until after the first of the year.

Angie could almost hear her father breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

When Angie arrived in town, she saw that even though the hour was early, the place was already a circus. The big flatbed with an enormous tree strapped to it blocked the street and mounted on another truck was a giant winch. The ground had been plowed free of snow right between the bar and the church, back off the road a bit in the area where, in milder weather, there were picnic tables. That’s where the tree would stand. The sound of a hydraulic post digger assaulted the morning air as meanly as a jackhammer, and a lot of people stood around watching while the tree was being attached to the lift. Cables trailed off the tree—likely to be anchored to stakes in the ground to steady it.

It was so big.

Someone pressed a cup of coffee into her hands and she turned to see Mike V, Brie’s husband, her uncle Mike. She had forgotten her desire for caffeine. “Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“How’s that little cabin working out?” he asked.

“It’s perfect. I’m going to get some candles from the bar—I sat on the porch last night and just watched the snow. If I’d had some candles…”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, chica,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulders.

As they stood together in the street, watching, chains were tightened, the motor on the lift was pumping away and more and more people who had been forced to park down the street were walking toward the tree-raising. Jack and General Booth stood near Paul Haggerty, talking and pointing and gesturing, but Paul seemed to completely ignore them as he directed his team.

It took long enough that Angie’s coffee was gone by the time the tree was finally lifted off the bed of the truck. Four men holding four cables maneuvered the airborne tree so that the trunk slipped into the hole that had been dug right in the ground. Then the cables were pulled tight, straightening the tree. There was a loud, collective “Ahh” in the crowd of people gathered around to watch. There was a bit of muffled applause thanks to the gloves and mittens worn by most of the spectators.

Finally Jack and the general had major roles—they were standing across the street from the tree to judge the straightness of it before the cables were secured to the ground. They were gesturing right, then left, then right....

And Angie saw him. He was standing on the porch of the bar, leaning a shoulder against a post. He was most definitely watching her. When their eyes met he did that smile thing again—half his mouth lifted. His eyes got just a little bit sleepy, but the glittering green was still overwhelming. She wanted a close-up of those eyes.

Real close.

Patrick lifted a coffee cup to his lips, but he never took his eyes off her, peering at her over the rim of the cup.

“You okay, chica?” Mike asked.

“That guy,” she said, just taking him in. “Do you know him?”

Mike followed her eyes. “Patrick? I know his brothers. I’ve only met him once or twice.”

“How long has he lived around here?”

“Just visiting, I hear. You okay?”

“He’s staring at me,” she said in a low voice, trying not to move her lips.