Christmas, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  Rachel employed great self-control in not rolling her eyes then. “It’s just a few days. Maybe your husband can help you out with that.”

  Judith did the eye-rolling then. “Ha. He already can’t find his backside with two hands, and it’s attached.”

  “Don’t worry, Sister. It won’t kill you if my house gets done first.” Jamie smiled sweetly at Judith, whose face turned an angry red.

  “Over my dead, rotting corpse will that ever happen. I’ll amputate first,” Judith ground out between her teeth.

  Rachel, Nick, and Nurse Georgie all exchanged a look of horror. No one knew what went on between these siblings. Seemed best to step back and stay out of the death race to complete the Dozier-Fremont twins’ Christmas décor.

  Jamie giggled, clearly tasting victory.

  The nurse, Georgie, came back inside holding a pair of crutches. “Dr. Sullivan, someone dropped off a pie for you. I didn’t want you to forget it when your shift was over.” She tried to suppress her grin.

  “Now we have dessert,” Nick said to Rachel with a laugh, leaving Jamie and Judith staring back and forth between the two as if watching a tennis match.

  “Rachel, we can’t thank you enough for dragging us all over town and country today. I know you have better things to do with your Saturday,” Judith said once they were back in the car headed home. Fortunately, they’d all ridden together on the outset of this adventure when Rachel had picked the two women up at Judith’s house around noon.

  “It’s part of the job. Sometimes things go as planned, and well, sometimes they don’t.”

  “So, Nicky said y’all were having dessert ’cause somebody brought him a pie. Does this mean you’re having dinner together?” Jamie asked.

  Rachel knew this was coming. Best to downplay the situation. “Seems you were right about the gifts of food welcoming him to town.”

  “You mean the women in town?” Judith asked.

  “Nick did mention there were phone numbers attached to the dishes,” Rachel said.

  Judith and Jamie both laughed. “Yep. It was only a matter of time. I’m surprised nobody’s taken an ad out in the Ministry Gazette,” Jamie said.

  Judith took up the thought. “It would read, ‘Fresh meat in town, y’all. Send your casseroles and desserts to the hot, single doctor—and best of luck to you.’” Judith cackled at her own cleverness.

  “Well, he has all this food and prefers not to let it go to waste, that’s all.”

  “Uh, huh. Sounds like he chooses to not make a few phone calls and share it with you. That seems a little selfish if you ask me, don’t you think, Sister? I mean, them going to all that trouble to make their most effective man-gettin’ family recipes, and he doesn’t even call to thank them or ask them to share—” Judith indicated her sister should weigh in.

  “Very selfish. Gonna be some seriously pissed off gals around town, especially if he doesn’t return that fancy casserole crockery. You know, returning the dish is a big part of the man-meeting process around here.”

  “I’ll mention that to Nick while we’re enjoying our dinner. Perhaps he should write proper thank yous and send texts.”

  “Oh, girl. He’d better show some manners or they’ll want him even more,” Judith said. “Nothing some women crave more than a challenge. Might only make things worse if he ignores them.”

  She had a point. It might even be worth mentioning to Nick. “I’ll tell him you said so.”

  Chapter Seven

  Nick’s current challenge was convincing Sally Jo Jordan that indeed she did not have skin cancer.

  “But I looked on that medical website online and it showed a mole that looked just like this one.” She unbuttoned her blouse to expose ample cleavage in a very sexy black lace push-up bra. And yes, there was a mole. “Momma says it’s my beauty mark, but I’m worried about skin cancer, you know?”

  “I know the Internet can be a scary place when it comes to researching medical conditions. This mole is what we call a benign neoplasm, which means it shows no signs of being cancerous. It’s perfectly round and symmetrical, with regular borders. It’s not terribly dark in color, and shows no signs of flaking, oozing, or bleeding.”

  Sally Jo blinked at him, showing no real sign of comprehension. “So, I don’t have cancer? Are you sure you don’t want to have a closer look?” She shoved her chest closer. He wore a pair of lighted, magnified glasses, or loupes, to get a good look at the not-at-all suspicious brown mole, which basically put his face in her bosom. Nick now pushed the loupes from his eyes down, and around his neck.

  “You can button your blouse now. If you still have concerns, I can give you a referral to see a dermatologist,” he said. Just then, his eyes met Nurse Georgie’s and she was clearly holding in her hysterical laughter with every ounce of control she possessed—just barely.

  “Have you eaten the casserole I sent?” Sally Jo asked, completely changing the subject.

  “Um, I’m having it for dinner this evening. Thanks for the welcome.” He didn’t mention that he was sharing it with Rachel.

  “I’ve been waiting to hear from you.” She wore a pout on her full lips, her blouse still open.

  He turned away and made a point of noting something in her chart instead of continuing to peer at the woman’s near-naked chest.

  “It’s been pretty busy since I started here, but I do appreciate your kindness. It helps not having to cook.”

  “You’ll let me know how you like it, won’t you? It’s my granny’s recipe,” Sally Jo said.

  “Um, sure. I’ll return your dish as soon as I finish with it.”

  “My number’s on the bottom of the dish. Don’t break it. Granny’s had that dish since she got it with Green Stamps when her and Granddaddy got married. So, it’s special, you know.”

  He did now. “I’ll be careful. Thanks again. Here’s the referral if you want to follow up with the skin specialist.”

  She left the top button undone. “Call me.”

  Georgie followed Sally Jo from the room, but not before she turned and shot him an epic smirk.

  Once Georgie had seen Sally Jo out, she quickly returned to the treatment room as Nick completed the chart. What a waste of healthcare dollars.

  “You’re going to get a lot more of that if you don’t call these gals,” Georgie warned.

  “But I didn’t ask them to send me food,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.

  “They’re coming after you whether you want it or not. Best to go ahead and call to prevent this nonsense.”

  “Don’t you have something to do?” he asked her.

  She just grinned. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Nick stopped on the way home and picked up a nice bottle of wine and flowers. He realized this wasn’t a date, but his mother had taught him to show class no matter the situation. Not that he always followed her high-brow advice, but he knew how. In this instance, it seemed like a good idea.

  Rachel Prudhomme was a down-to-earth kind of sexy he hadn’t been experienced with in a long time, which wasn’t to say his ex, Monica, wasn’t attractive, because she was. But there was something about Rachel that appealed to him from the moment they’d met. Maybe it was her lack of affectation and drama. Toward the end, Monica became all drama all the time.

  Rachel thought the casserole brigade was hilarious. Monica would have likely blamed Nick for leading the women to believe he was interested in their gooey offerings. Not that he and Rachel were in a committed relationship, but the contrast between the two women’s responses was so obvious to Nick.

  He climbed the stairs with flowers, and apple pie, a carton of vanilla ice cream, and a bottle of wine. And a goofy smile on his face. He hadn’t experienced this kind of nervous anxiety about seeing a woman in a long, long time.

  “Hey. I made chicken and dumplings. Do you want some?” Sabine asked Rachel through the phone.

  “Um. No. I’m good for tonight.”

  “You going out?�
��

  “No. I’m staying in.”

  “Did Mom bring you something?”

  “You know I’m perfectly capable of fending for myself, don’t you?”

  “Hmm. I know you eat cereal way too much, and if we don’t feed you, your nutrition suffers.”

  “Well, I’ve got good food coming my way tonight, so don’t you worry.”

  “Really? From what source?” Sabine asked, clearly suspicious.

  Why had she said that? In Rachel’s haste to reassure Sabine that she wouldn’t starve and die without their help, she’d argued herself into a corner. “Uh. My neighbor is sharing a casserole with me.”

  “Handsome Dr. Nick? Do tell.” Sabine wasn’t letting her off the hook, despite the chaos in the background at her house. Rachel could picture her little squishy squealing in her high chair throwing Cheerios to the dog, who nearly trampled the cat to get them.

  Shit. “Well, it seems he’s been the recipient of the town welcome wagon. He didn’t want to waste the food, so we’re eating together.”

  “How did this invitation come to pass?” Sabine was engaged now.

  “I brought Judith to the hospital for a sprained ankle.”

  “Judith hurt her ankle again?” Sabine sounded concerned. She’d known Judith awhile now and they’d become friends, and it was well-known that Judith was a patient of Sabine’s.

  “It was the other one—long story. Anway, we had a minute alone while Judith was having her foot x-rayed, and he suggested we eat casserole together that someone dropped off at the hospital.” Cliffs Notes version.

  Rachel heard another shriek and more barking in the background at Sabine’s. “Hmm. Someone? That sounds interesting. You know casseroles are for funerals and man-getting around here.”

  “Yes. I’ve been reminded of this several times today.”

  “Better be careful eating another girl’s casserole.” Sabine snickered into the phone.

  “Shut up and kiss Janie for me.”

  “Call me tomorrow. Oh, and we’ll need help with the decorating, you know. Takes the whole village—or town—to get the job done.”

  “When does all that start?” This was Rachel’s first year living in Ministry for the annual Christmas festival. She wasn’t sure how all the prep went down.

  “It’s already started, but we’re going to head out for a couple hours to the town square after the kids go to bed to prep for the tree if you’re free after dinner. If not, we’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later. But only if you keep your questions to a minimum.”

  “Fine.”

  Rachel stopped at the store after dropping the twins off and picked up a bouquet of yellow roses, a couple bottles of wine, and a fresh baguette. Who knew what kinds of gastric masterpieces they would be consuming and what the pairing might require? So, to be certain she had the right wine to go with the food, she thought she’d better be safe than sorry.

  Coming from New Orleans, where food and wine were such a deeply ingrained part of everyday culture, Rachel found it second nature to consider such things. Maybe it had been her upbringing as well. Food was comfort and always part of the conversation.

  Rachel wondered if she should turn on the game or music while they ate. It wasn’t as if they were dating. Music created ambiance, and she wanted to avoid that, so she flipped on the TV. Her alma mater, LSU was playing A&M at seven, but the Iron Bowl was still on, and Alabama was making a show of spanking Auburn at the moment.

  The red wine was breathing, and the white was chilled, and the bread was in the oven. She took out a couple dinner plates, dessert plates, and some silverware. Her stomach growled. Now, Rachel was ready for the food to arrive. She refused to admit her anticipation for the appearance of the one bearing the gifts, though she could envision him quite clearly in her mind’s eye. Every hunky inch of him.

  He bothered her. As in, attracted her. And she didn’t need that right now. But she couldn’t come up with a good reason to tell him to keep his distance either. He seemed to be a decent guy, he smelled nice, and he was drop-dead sexy. And he came with life-long cousin references. Who could argue with those? She’d done worse in her life.

  Rachel jumped when she heard the knock at the door. Her stomach was in knots.

  She opened the door to see the reason for her knotty stomach wearing potholders and juggling hot dishes. “Here, let me help you.” She grabbed a bottle of wine from under the crook of one arm and a nosegay of flowers from the other. “Bring that over here.” She pointed for him to place the large crockery on the stovetop.

  “Thanks. Things started slipping by the time I made it over here. I’ve got more in my apartment.” He smelled good again.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Thanks.” She followed him next door inside his place and he handed her a pie.

  He used the pot holders to pick up another hot rounded dish. “Wow. How many of these do you have?” she asked, laughing.

  “There are two more in the fridge, but I figured I would save them for later.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’d better send thank-you notes or there’s gonna be hell to pay.” They walked back to her apartment, and she grabbed the bread out of the oven as soon as she put down the pie.

  “My mother is big on thank-you notes. I’d rather just make a phone call or thank someone in person,” he said, placing the other hot dish on her stove.

  “We’re Southerners; where are your manners?” She affected a strong deep, low-country Georgia accent and drawled out every syllable in her best Scarlett O’Hara impersonation.

  He laughed and rolled his eyes.

  “Looks like we’ve got plenty of wine,” she said.

  “Everything here has cheese in it. I think any kind of wine goes well with cheese.”

  Rachel pulled the foil sheet off the first dish. “I can’t tell what’s under the cheese.”

  “I didn’t have the courage to look.”

  “Well, here goes.” She dug into it with a large serving spoon, scooping out a good-sized helping onto a plate.

  “I see chicken, maybe mushrooms, and that could be water chestnuts and broccoli. Looks edible,” Nick said, thinking about his last patient of the day.

  Rachel nodded. “Let’s check the other one.” She scooped into the next one and a strong fishy odor hit them. “Ooh, this one looks like tuna noodle surprise.”

  Nick grimaced. “None for me, thanks. I don’t do tuna.”

  Rachel laughed. “The smell is enough to put me off. It’s funny; before I broke the cheese seal, I couldn’t smell it.”

  “Cover it back up.”

  “I’ll just put it down the garbage disposal.” Because it was still hot, Nick held the dish with potholders, while Rachel spooned out the tuna noodle surprise into the running disposal until it was gone. But the smell remained.

  They were shoulder-to-shoulder and hip to hip, and Rachel was very physically aware of him, despite the smell of tuna.

  “I’ll light a candle,” Rachel said, moving away and grabbing her favorite half-burned kitchen candle and lighting it.

  “Do these windows open?” Nick asked, obviously working to get some fresh air inside.

  They were both laughing, trying to quickly rid the tiny apartment of the noxious odor.

  “Yes. There’s a crank on the right side at the end. They’re very old, so be careful,” she said.

  He gently cranked the old window open and a cool breeze blew in, lessening the stink almost immediately. “Whew. That was bad. Do you think whoever brought that dish over did it as a prank?”

  Rachel giggled. “I don’t know. Whose name is on it?” She turned over the dish to see if there was a name on the bottom.

  “That one didn’t have a card with it.”

  “Well, the dish has the name, Davis, on back written in Sharpie marker.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “That name is somewhat familiar.”

  “Did you see a pat
ient by that name?”

  “No, but I know who provided the one we’re actually eating today.”

  “The cheesy chicken?”

  “Yes. But I saw her as a patient today, so I can’t give any particulars.”

  “A patient? Did she really have an ailment?” Rachel appeared interested.

  He flattened his hand and tilted it side to side as if to show maybe/maybe not. “It’s questionable, but suffice it to say, I think she was impatient that I hadn’t yet called to thank her. I told her I would be having the dish as tonight’s dinner. I didn’t mention you were sharing it with me.”

  “Well, now you’ll have to report back to her and let her know how you liked it.”

  “At least she didn’t supply the stinky tuna noodle surprise. I don’t think I could keep a straight face and lie about that one.”

  “Keep in mind, people often send food as a thank you around here. So, not all this is necessarily from women who want to find out what’s under your scrubs.” She blushed then.

  His eyes widened at her suggestion regarding his scrubs. “Do you want to know what’s under my scrubs?”

  “We’re not talking about me. I didn’t bring you a casserole,” Rachel assured him.

  He nodded. “Gotcha. Well, now that the smell is gone, I’m still hungry. You?”

  “Starved.”

  They sat down, each tore off a piece of the bread, and decided red would pair best with gooey, cheesy, chicken broccoli casserole, and shared dinner, while keeping one eye on the game in the background.

  “Pie?” Nick suggested once they’d consumed seconds of the surprisingly tasty dish.

  “Not yet. I’m so full I can’t take a deep breath, but I promised my sister I’d go out this evening and help get things ready in the square for the big Christmas tree. It’s supposed to be delivered in a day or two.”

  “It’s a nice night. I’ll come with you,” he said.

  The two of them showing up together couldn’t be a good thing. The gossip would fly, but she couldn’t very well tell him to take a hike after he’d fed her so well.