Christmas in Kings Grove: Kings Grove, Book 5

by Stewart, Delancey

  "Johnny, I . . ." I searched for words to tell him how worried we’d been, how worried I still was.

  "Well it's getting dark now. Let's go inside and talk, and I'll leave in the morning if you want."

  I sighed. This was why there was no one in my life. This was why I stayed here in Kings Grove and tried to keep things simple. I thought briefly of Tuck as I looked out at the meadow beyond the house, thought of the way I'd convinced myself maybe things could change.

  * * *

  At ten the next morning, there was a knock on the door, and Johnny pulled it open before I could reach it.

  "Oh, hi there, mate. I, uh . . . I'm looking for Annie." Tuck's friendly voice lowered in confusion.

  "Sure," Johnny said. He sounded inappropriately suspicious. "Annie, door!"

  He stepped back, and I rushed to the door to find Tuck standing in the morning sun with his two little dogs bouncing around his feet. "Hey, Tuck," I said.

  "Is this a bad time?" he asked, looking over my shoulder at Johnny, who was leaning in the doorway looking menacing.

  "No," I said hurrying outside. "Johnny, I'll be back in a bit."

  Tuck said nothing as we walked to the road, his dogs nearly tripping us both as they zipped back and forth on their leashes.

  "Hey, girls," I said, laughing as I knelt to greet them properly. "You're enthusiastic this morning, aren't you?"

  "They're always enthusiastic," Tuck said. "That's part of the problem."

  I laughed, happy to be outside in the sunlight, happy to be next to Tuck again. The evening with my brother had been strained, especially after I'd insisted we call Dad and the treatment center Johnny was supposed to be reporting to. I was fairly certain he was sober, but he was mean and suspicious, asking me lots of questions about my life and anything I'd changed in the house.

  "Well, let's work a bit on the basic commands first," I suggested. I led the dogs through the commands we'd gone over the day before. "You try," I told Tuck after a few minutes.

  The dogs responded well, and Tuck smiled at his success. "That's not so hard," he said, looking pleased.

  "See?" I said. "Now—"

  "Annie!" Johnny's voice came from the house, and I turned, looking back as my heart sank.

  "I'm sorry," I said to Tuck. "I need . . . I need to go."

  Tuck nodded, his face stony. "Sure."

  He didn't ask for an explanation, and I was too flustered and overwhelmed to offer one. It wasn't until hours later, after I'd explained at great length to my brother who Tuck was and how we knew one another, that I realized how Johnny's presence must have looked to Tuck.

  7

  Tuck

  I'd known that pursuing Annie in any kind of romantic way was a risk. I'd argued with myself about it. And then I'd decided maybe it would be worth it, maybe a sweet, uncomplicated woman like Annie would be exactly the right thing for me.

  Relationships in Los Angeles had always come with layers of difficulty—other people, other entanglements, other priorities. And I'd watched my mother struggle through more complicated relationships than I could count, though I think she was the one who usually threw a wrench in things with her obsessive nature and nagging insecurities.

  But it seemed the universe was pretty darned committed to keeping me as a party of one.

  When a tall, handsome man answered the door at Annie's house, I realized how little I actually knew about the pretty doctor. Had I ever even asked if she was single? Clearly she was not, and this "Johnny" fellow didn't seem too pleased to see me on her doorstep at ten o'clock on a Sunday morning.

  It had been something of a slap in the face, but I felt like I'd done a decent job swallowing my surprise. I was there for dog training, after all. Not for . . . whatever else my overeager heart thought might be possible.

  In short? I was a moron.

  I'd tried to focus on my dogs during the fifteen minutes Annie had actually spent with me that morning. Not on the way her soft sweater wrapped her curvy frame. Not on the way her face glowed in the cool morning sun. Not on the fact that she hadn't said a word about the man who'd answered her door. And not on the disappointment that sat like a rock in my gut.

  After she’d left, I'd closed myself up inside the little house I rented from Cam and decided that eleven o'clock in the morning was not too early to have a beer. After all, I was a freewheeling bachelor, living the wild and crazy single life, right? I didn't answer to anyone. No one cared what I did.

  No one cared.

  At all.

  So I might have been a little bit drunk and miserable and in a generally self-pitying state when the knock came at my door some time after one.

  I pulled myself off the couch, snapping at the crazy dogs who were in a mad barking whirlwind in front of the closed door. "Settle down, ladies."

  I rubbed a hand over the two-day growth on my chin, deciding maybe I should just let it grow, let all my hair grow and turn into a full-on Grizzly Adams mountain man. At one with the wilderness and all that crap. And then I opened the front door to find her standing there on my porch.

  Looking beautiful as ever.

  "Tuck," she said, those brown eyes meeting mine, warm and honeyed. God, she was pretty.

  "Hey, doc." I leaned against the door. Maybe the two shots of whiskey I'd had after the third beer had been a bad choice.

  "Are you . . . ?" She seemed to think better of the question, glancing behind herself and then down at the ground before meeting my eyes again. "I just wanted to apologize, for earlier. For my brother. I—"

  "That was your brother?" I stood up straight, suddenly feeling much more sober.

  "Yes, he, uh . . ."

  I laughed, relief bubbling through me and making me feel ten pounds lighter. "Your brother," I repeated.

  "Yeah. Johnny is my brother. I should have introduced you, I just . . . he's kind of—”

  "He's your brother!"

  "Tuck, are you okay?"

  I nodded, pushing my messy hair back off my face. Suddenly I didn't want to become Grizzly Adams. I wished I'd showered before answering the door. Though, of course, I'd had no idea Annie was going to drop by. And I wouldn't have gotten drunk. Drinking was not really my thing. I was happy to share a beer socially, I'd just never really liked the feeling of being less than totally in control. "Yeah, I . . . sorry, I had a couple beers."

  Annie pressed her lips into a thin line and looked suddenly worried. "Oh."

  "I just . . . " How could I explain that I'd been drowning my sorrows over her? Over a misunderstanding. "I don't drink often," I said.

  "No?" Annie didn't look like she believed me.

  We stood there for a long moment, awkward silence floating between us as we looked at one another. I noticed then that she looked sad and tired. Dark circles lingered faintly beneath her eyes, and her shoulders sagged slightly. "Do you want to come in for a minute?"

  She glanced behind her again, as if she expected someone to follow her. "Sure," she said suddenly, and I waved her inside.

  "Can I get you anything? Water?"

  "A beer, actually." Annie said it confidently, like she'd decided something.

  "Sure." Something odd was going on, and I couldn't figure out what. I retrieved a beer and handed it to her, sitting down in the leather armchair across from her.

  "Listen, Tuck. Here's the thing." She took a long swallow from the beer and then set it down. "My brother's an addict. He has trouble with alcohol and drugs. He has some mental issues too, and he comes in and out of my life all the time. It's very complicated."

  I nodded. Finding me inebriated on the heels of her brother popping in was probably not ideal. "Were you planning a visit with him, or was this spontaneous?"

  "Everything Johnny does is spontaneous," she said. "He can't keep a job, or an apartment. He's unreliable and difficult, and when he's sober, he's paranoid and suspicious. He's supposed to be on medication, but he never takes it for long, and honestly . . ." a tear rolled down Annie's cheek, and I
resisted the urge to reach out and wipe it away.

  "I'm so sorry, Annie," I said.

  "I just didn't want you to think"—she shook her head—"whatever you might have thought."

  "Okay," I said, taking this in. "I did wonder," I admitted. "And I hope you won't think less of me if I tell you that my getting a little drunk might've had something to do with seeing him at your place this morning. I think I maybe got a bit ahead of myself."

  She smiled broadly, but the smile faded just as quickly as it came. She shook her head. "You didn't," she whispered. "But the drinking . . ."

  There was a question there, and now I understood why the answer was important. "It's pretty atypical," I said. "I know we don't know each other well, but that's not my style. You can ask Cam—he knew me when we were both in LA."

  She closed her eyes and looked relieved. "Things are just complicated," she said, looking at me again.

  "I get it." I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. It felt good to have Annie here, the apple blossom scent of her filling my house.

  She looked at me for a long minute, then stood. "I should go."

  "You're welcome to stay as long as you like," I said on a hunch, hoping she might see my house—and me—as a safe haven.

  She sat back down. "Maybe just a little while," she said quietly. "He makes it hard to be there, you know?"

  I didn't know, not really. But if just sitting quietly in my little house could help, I was happy for it.

  "Do you have plans for the holidays?" She asked, taking another sip of her beer.

  I shook my head. "Nah. My mother's back in Australia, and my little brother's there with her. It's a long way to go for a visit."

  "It is," she agreed. "Do you get to see them much?"

  I sighed, thinking of the last visit, which hadn't ended especially well. My mother had basically kicked my brother and me out of her newest house after we'd questioned the way she'd come to live there. Her boyfriend rented it for her, and he was married. "Not for a couple years," I said.

  "Miss them?"

  I knew it would be right to tell her I did, that most people missed their family when they were apart. "I should say yes, right?"

  "Not necessarily; not if you don't feel that way."

  I shook my head, wishing I could be so many things that I just wasn't. "I'll be honest with you, Annie. I'm a bit of a loner, I guess. I'm happier here than I was there. I'm on my own, and that's okay with me. I want to tell you what a wonderful family I've got—because I think women like to hear that. I want to tell you about what a great guy I am and how I take care of my mum and how much we all love each other.” I sighed again. "But that's not how it is. My life is simple and calm now, and I like it better this way."

  She seemed to think about that for a minute, then said carefully, "Not all families are wonderful. Some are screwed up and crazy and impossible. And sometimes it's hard to love your family, even though you're supposed to." She paused for a moment. "Sometimes it can be a relief to be alone."

  "Exactly."

  “Your life is simple. Uncomplicated. And you like it that way.”

  “Right.”

  She made to stand again, apologizing. "I'm sorry for invading your space, I just—"

  "Annie, stay. Even the most devoted loner likes a visitor now and then."

  Annie leaned back into the deep leather chair and tucked her jean-clad legs up beneath her. "If you're sure," she said uncertainly. She took another sip of her beer. "My family was great once," she said. "When we lived up here. When I was little."

  I loved the wistful, serene look on her face. "Tell me," I said, hoping she'd go on.

  "My mom took care of everyone—not just us, but the whole village. She cooked and baked and helped out any way she could. And she was our glue. My brother and I ran around up here, getting into trouble and finding our way out. We were best friends. Partners."

  "What happened?"

  "My Grandma got sick, and Mom went down to the valley to take care of her. She was supposed to come back, but after Grandma died, Mom got sick. And she never came back up. We moved down to take care of her. And when she died, Dad had already found work in the valley, so we stayed down there. And my brother stopped being my partner. He started looking for trouble, going out late, breaking curfew. By the end of high school, he'd already run away twice and been arrested for possession."

  "I'm sorry," I said, thinking that I shouldn't have complained about my own family. My brother wasn't my favorite person, but at least he hadn’t run away or been arrested.

  She shook her head. "He's sick. It’s his brain, you know? With boys, sometimes mental issues don't manifest until they're eighteen or so. And without my mom there . . ." Annie trailed off and stared out the window for a long minute. She untucked her legs and slipped down to sit on the floor with the little dogs that had curled up at her feet, dropping a hand to each of them.

  I wanted to pull her into my arms, to figure out some way to tell her it would be okay. But I didn't know how to do it, didn't know if she'd want me to.

  When she didn't speak again, I leaned forward, dropping my forearms to my knees. "So, Wednesday. Cookies, yeah?"

  She smiled up at me, the brilliance of it nearly knocking me over. "Cookies," she confirmed. "Can you meet me at the clubhouse at five?"

  "Absolutely," I said. "Will there be cookies in the deal for me?"

  "You'll have to decorate them yourself, but sure."

  "I'll bring the camera."

  She stood, brushing dog hair off her legs. "Thanks, Tuck. For everything."

  I walked behind her to the door, wondering if I should touch her. Could I hug her? I wanted to kiss her, especially when she turned and looked up at me with that warm, open smile. But I opened the door for her and wished her goodbye instead. And then I watched as she walked up the driveway and out of sight.

  "I'm in trouble, girls," I told the dogs.

  8

  Annie

  "I think I'll stay through the holidays," Johnny told me the next morning. "It's been a long time since we spent Christmas together, sis."

  It hadn't been. Johnny had come up last year for Christmas. Dad had been here too, and the entire week had revolved around both of us watching my brother like a hawk. Johnny had sneaked away whenever he could and came home drunk or worse. He'd helped take down the tree in the village when it was all over, and I'm using the word “help” pretty loosely here. Which is why the lights were a disaster when we got them out again.

  "Okay," I said, my heart feeling torn. I wanted to be excited to see my brother, and part of me was. But he'd broken my trust—and my heart—so many times, it was hard to be anything but guarded when he was around. "Are you . . ." I couldn't maintain eye contact with him as I tried to ask about his health.

  "I'm better, I swear to God, Ann." He leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as I fried some eggs, his coffee cup grasped between his hands. He'd stayed home the night before and had been here when I'd returned from Tuck's.

  I eyed him, dropping my gaze back to the eggs quickly. "Are you taking your meds?" I had to know what to expect. The anger and paranoia he'd already displayed made me think he wasn't.

  "I don't always take them, but I will, if it makes you happy."

  I sighed. "Not because it makes me happy," I told him. "Because you need them, Johnny."

  "Am I really that bad without them?"

  I put down the spatula and looked right at him. The handsome, familiar face pulled at my heart, made me want to cry. "Do I really have to answer? Don't you know?"

  He put his mug on the counter and dropped his head. "Yeah," he said, his voice defeated and tired.

  "We could have a nice holiday, Johnny. We could have fun and actually enjoy each other's company. But I have to know that you're stable."

  He nodded, still not meeting my eye. "Yeah."

  It wasn't exactly a promise, but it wasn't straight defiance either. "And maybe you should talk to your doctor
on the phone. Can you do sessions that way?" I glanced at him, watched his expression darken.

  "No." I could see him struggling as he turned from the counter and paced through the kitchen, then turned back toward me. "Don't you understand, Annie? For once, I just want to feel normal. Have a normal week. A normal holiday with my family. For once I want to feel like I'm not the screw-up everyone has to take care of and worry about all the time."

  I flipped the eggs onto two plates and handed him one. "Good. Let's do that then."

  We sat down and ate quietly. I felt a little better, this was more open conversation than we usually had. Johnny had acknowledged his illness and even agreed to take his meds. Maybe this time would be different.

  An hour later, I was at the office, my thoughts wandering sometimes to worry over my brother, but more often to the time I'd spent over the weekend with Tuck. Being near him—forget talking to him or touching him—had my heart racing and my mind spinning. It was heady and confusing and a little overwhelming, the way my body seemed to speed up around him, but it also felt right.

  I'd been instantly attracted to Tuck when we'd met a few months ago at Cam's, right after Cam’s dog Matilda had adopted him, but I'd fought with myself a lot about acting on it. I’d settled for what I thought was harmless flirting, but now I found myself wishing for more.

  "I know that far-off look," Dot said when I joined her for a cup of coffee in the little office at the stables. "That's a hot-Aussie-daydream look."

  I smiled. "You caught me," I admitted.

  "So are the two of you dating?" She ducked her head and pressed her lips together in a smile. "Forgive an old woman for being nosy, but I've been dying to ask you about him since I saw the way he looked at you this weekend."

  My spine straightened at that. "How did he look at me, Dot?"