Sweet Noel

by Jeanette Lewis

  “How’s yours going, Jordan?” Gina looked over to where Jordan was piping a shaky line of white frosting onto a gingerbread bell.

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  “Do you want some help?”

  “I can do it,” Jordan insisted.

  “Well, a broken bumper’s not so bad,” her mother said, returning the conversation to the car. “It could have been a lot worse for you three and for that poor man.”

  The image of Noel rose in Gina’s mind, first lying on the asphalt, then lying in a hospital bed. She’d put him there. Not on purpose, but the fact remained.

  Her mother looked up from her cookie. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess,” Gina sighed. She took a quick look at her sons. “Everything seems to be … tricky lately.”

  Understanding lit her mother’s eyes. “I know. But hang in there; it’ll get better.”

  “Not likely,” Gina muttered. “The guy in the accident thinks it’s my fault. He’s probably going to—”

  Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. “Going to what, Mom?” he demanded.

  “Probably going to hate me,” Gina said quickly. The idea of a lawsuit churned in her gut, slimy and dark. She clung to Ben’s opinion that Noel would be liable.

  They were quiet for a minute and Gina tried to refocus on the cookies, but the joy was gone. Worry pounded in the back of her mind. What if the accident turned out to be her fault? It would mean financial ruin just when she’d started to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” Arthur’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  Gina looked down to see that she’d been mindlessly shaking sprinkles, and now their cookie had turned into a sprinkle mountain over his gloppy red icing. “Oops, sorry,” Gina said. “My mind was wandering.”

  “Yeah, big surprise there,” Jordan grumbled.

  “What does that mean?” Gina asked.

  “Jordan, take care how you talk to your mother,” Gina’s mom admonished quietly.

  “What? She never tells us the truth anymore, and she’s always busy,” Jordan grumbled. “I’m sick of it.” He shoved a bowl of sprinkles, tipping it over, and stomped out the French doors to the backyard. The red, green, and white sprinkles rolled all over the counter and pinged onto the floor.

  Gina sighed. “Sorry, Mom. He’s been like this ever since the divorce.”

  “I know, and it’s understandable,” her mom replied. “He’s trying to be strong, but he’s still a little boy. I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you go after him?”

  The doors led to the back porch, then a strip of grass. Beyond that were the dunes. Gina followed the well-worn trail, weaving through the sandy hills until she reached the beach. The Atlantic Ocean always took her breath away. She’d lived in this house her entire childhood, and it wasn’t until she’d moved away and then back again that she’d realized how much she’d missed the ocean.

  Jordan sat on the sand, staring at the water.

  “Hey.” Gina took a seat by his side.

  “Hey.” He didn’t look at her, just kept his gaze on the breaking waves.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen in there,” Gina said. “You’re right. I do let my mind wander too much. Mostly because I’m under a lot of stress right now—and so are you.”

  He let a handful of sand trickle through his fingers. “I want to go home.”

  Home was Cinnamon Hills, two hours inland. When they were married, Gina and Lee had bought a condo there, across town from Lee’s parents. He’d kept it in the divorce settlement.

  Property in Indigo Bay was too expensive for the newlyweds, but it had always been Gina’s dream to move here someday. And now she was here, but not quite in the way she’d planned. “I know, buddy,” she told Jordan.

  He swiped at a tear on his cheek. “I miss Dad.”

  “You saw him at Thanksgiving,” Gina said. “That was only a couple of days ago.”

  “Yeah, days,” Jordan said. “I used to see him every day.”

  Gina worked her fingers into the sand, burying her hands up to her wrists. Of all the terrible things to come from a divorce, this was the worst. The kids constantly pulled between them, their loyalties questioned, never knowing when they’d see the other parent again. Yeah, there were some things that could happen in a marriage to justify divorce. But to simply get tired of being married? Lee’s excuse cut all the deeper, because it implied that Gina was lacking. She’d failed to keep his attention or his affection, so the split was her fault.

  “Will you and Dad get back together?” Jordan squinted up at her.

  Gina took a deep breath. Of all the things she hoped, this was number one—that Lee would decide his family was the most important thing and living without them was not worth whatever freedom he’d gained from the split. But she didn’t want to raise false hope in her boys. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I think we need to find a way to be happy no matter what happens.”

  She felt like a hypocrite, spouting words she didn’t believe. She didn’t want to move on, didn’t want to live this fractured life. But Jordan needed her to be strong.

  Gina forced a smile. “How about we go finish the cookies? Then we need to make some dinner. What are you hungry for?”

  “McDonald’s!” Jordan said immediately.

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “Something healthy, kiddo. How about some homemade chicken nuggets with the sweet pepper dipping sauce?” It would be a lot of work, much more of a hassle than simply running to the drive-thru, but Gina resisted the temptation to give in. She gave in too easily sometimes, and the boys knew it.

  “Okay.” Jordan nodded, satisfied with the compromise. He loved sweet peppers.

  They walked together back to the house, and Gina took it as a win. When the boys were with Lee, their time was filled with fast food, movie nights, candy, and video games. Time with her meant homework, chores, and healthy food. It wasn’t fair. There was so much about life that wasn’t fair right now.

  Back inside, Gina’s mother had cleaned up the sprinkles and Arthur was eating a cookie while Bing Crosby sang “I’ll be Home for Christmas” in the background. Gina started collecting the dirty dishes and stacking them in the sink. “I promised him homemade nuggets,” she told her mom. “Why don’t you go rest and I’ll make dinner?”

  “I can help,” her mother said.

  “You’ve already watched them today,” Gina said. “Why don’t you go rest and I’ll make dinner?” Of all the things that weighed on her conscience, one of the worst was seeing her mom and dad have to parent her children. They claimed not to mind, but Gina had her doubts. They should be enjoying their grandchildren, spoiling them and doting on them, not parenting them.

  “I’ve been thinking about something,” Gina’s mother said, taking a seat at the counter. “The man in your accident—what’s his name?”

  “Noel,” Gina said. The name sprang easily to her lips, bringing a confusing sense of foreboding, mixed with a bit of … was that enticement? Curiosity? The air between them had felt almost charged at the hospital. Even though he was injured and obviously medicated, he’d met her eyes, challenged her.

  Her mother smiled. “Noel. How appropriate for the season. You said his family is in Singapore?”

  “His parents,” Gina clarified. “I don’t know about any other family.”

  “So does that mean he doesn’t have anyone to take care of him?”

  “I guess not,” Gina said. “I offered to call someone, but he refused.” She realized that the look she’d interpreted as stubborn defiance had probably been an effort to mask his vulnerability.

  “We can’t have that,” Gina’s mother said. “What if he came to stay here?”

  The silverware Gina was holding clattered into the sink as she spun around to stare at her mother. “Are you kidding? He’s a total stranger. He was drunk.”

  Her mother flicked stray gingerbread crumbs off the counter. “Gina, where�
��s your Christian spirit? For whatever reason, this man is in our lives now. Maybe he needs somewhere to stay. Maybe he needs a kind word. Maybe more. I’m telling you, I feel like we should reach out to him.”

  Gina pressed her lips together. That was her mother, going off feelings instead of logic. She had always been guided by her intuition, and normally it was a good thing. But when it came to offering shelter to a mysterious stranger with a giant chip on his shoulder … She had to draw the line somewhere.

  The image of Noel rose in her mind: he’d been scowling from the hospital bed, his hair lying tangled on the pillow and several days’ worth of scruff growing on his jaw. His hair was a few shades lighter than hers, shot through with the sun-bleached strands earned naturally through spending a lot of time outdoors. She hadn’t noted the color of his eyes, but they were … piercing, as if he could see right through her flimsy excuses and veiled threats about having a police officer for a brother.

  “I am not spending Christmas with the guy who wants to ruin my life,” Gina protested.

  “Well, think it through,” her mother said. “Maybe if you show him a little kindness, he’ll change his mind. Besides, if Ben is right and the accident isn’t your fault, Noel will not be able to ruin your life. In fact, you may have ruined his.”

  “Not on purpose,” Gina protested.

  “Of course not,” Her mother nodded. “But he’s in for a rough couple of weeks. We should help if we can.”

  5

  Cold. An overwhelming cold. Noel groaned and felt his fingers clench into fists. He thought maybe he was sitting up, but he wasn’t sure.

  “Noel? What’s going on?”

  His mother’s voice? No, she was on the other side of the world, and besides, she had no idea where he was. He hadn’t called to tell her about the accident.

  The wave of cold came again, making his body seize and forcing a fresh groan from his lips.

  “Noel, honey. What’s the matter?”

  “Cold,” he murmured. “It’s cold.”

  “Hang on one minute. I’ll get you a blanket.”

  The voice seemed familiar, but his mind was fuzzy. He couldn’t place it. He tried to sort through the names of women he knew who would be at his side willing to help him. The list was pitifully short.

  A moment later, warmth enveloped him, bringing a comforting weight. He reached out to clutch at the soft fabric, relaxing and taking a deep breath for the first time since waking up.

  Wait … waking up? His mind clicked into gear. He was in recovery, waking up from the surgery to stabilize his busted knee. Noel tried to wiggle his toes, but nothing happened.

  “Noel? Are you awake?”

  That soft voice spoke again, and the image of a woman rose in his mind. Dark hair, olive skin scattered with freckles across the nose. Rich brown eyes. He knew her. What was her name?

  “Gina?” he guessed.

  “No. I’m Michelle, your nurse,” the voice said. “Can you open your eyes?”

  Frustration crashed through him, along with a dart of longing to see Gina and a flash of disappointment that she wasn’t there. But she was the one who’d put him in the hospital. It made no sense that he wanted to see her.

  “Noel? Open your eyes,” Michelle urged.

  He took several deep breaths, trying to drive the anesthesia from his body. His head cleared slightly, and suddenly, his eyelids didn’t seem so heavy. He forced his eyes open.

  Michelle leaned over the bed, her face lighting up with a smile. “There you are! I knew you could do it.”

  “Hey,” he rasped. He probably looked like death and had dragon breath to boot. “How long was I under?”

  “Little over two hours. The surgery went very well, and we should have you up and walking soon.”

  Noel waved one hand vaguely toward her as a protest. This was too fast. He didn’t want to be up and walking soon; he wanted to sleep.

  “We’ll move you back to your room in a little while,” Michelle said. Her fingers were cool and confident as she checked his IV line and situated his pillows. “Can I get you anything?”

  He wanted to see Gina. The desire wasn’t gone, even though he realized how stupid it would sound. He shook his head slightly. “I’m good.”

  “Hang in there,” the nurse said. “I’ve got to check on a few other patients, but I’ll be back.”

  She left and Noel let himself drift back into the haze of not quite sleep, but not quite wakefulness either. When the meds wore off, the pain would be back. He wasn’t ready for it.

  Several hours later, the orderlies wheeled him into his room. Noel winced at the pain radiating from his leg with the jostling of the bed. He’d refused another dose of morphine, a decision he now regretted. But he needed to keep his wits about him. There was no one to speak on his behalf. He needed to get off the hard drugs and start planning his rehab.

  But dang, this one hurt. He lifted the blanket and looked down at the leg. It was packed in bandages again, but he could imagine the cut snaking over his skin where they’d had to open him up and screw his ligament to the bone. Amazing that such a stupid accident could result in such a big injury. Gina’s car must be built like a tank.

  Noel dropped the blankets back onto his leg and reached for the TV remote. He flicked through the channels and found nothing but daytime talk shows, a couple of soaps, and infomercials. With a sigh, he turned the TV off and stared out the window. It was going to be a long recovery.

  Several minutes of staring later, there was a knock at the door. Noel groaned inwardly. It was probably another nurse with more effervescent cheerfulness, and, frankly, he was not in the mood.

  “Noel?”

  His eyes flew open. Gina stood in the doorway with an older woman he didn’t know. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, and he took a deep, calming breath. Nothing like being hooked up to a bunch of heart rate monitors to narc on his efforts to stay cool.

  “Hey.” His voice caught on the word. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey, Gina. Come in.”

  She wore her long hair pulled back today, and she was even prettier than he’d remembered. Pretty in a real way, not like some untouchable model on Instagram with airbrushed features and overly pouty lips. Gina was … approachable. Like the head cheerleader of a small-town squad, or an airline hostess welcoming him on board. But as he looked closer, he saw that her eyes were flat, holding no warmth for him.

  So much for the approachable vibe.

  “You look different,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah.” He scrubbed one hand over his newly shaven jaw. “The nurses thought my street-bum look was taking it too far, so they cleaned me up. Trimmed my hair and everything.” In fact, they’d cut about three inches off his hair, and he had to admit that even though he was stuck in a hospital bed, he felt better with the cut and the shave.

  “You look … nice,” Gina murmured. She blushed, then flicked one hand toward the woman at her side. “This is my mother, Marjorie Andrews.”

  Marjorie was slightly taller than Gina, and her brown hair was graying at the temples. She had crow’s feet and smile lines, and her eyes held all the warmth Gina’s lacked. She hurried forward and clasped his hand in both of hers. Her touch was gentle, soothing. “Hello, Noel. It’s very nice to meet you,” Marjorie said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  He shot a quick look at Gina. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Well, hopefully you won’t hold it against me.”

  Marjorie laughed, and suddenly he felt like the Grinch, his heart swelling to three times its size at this woman’s warmth. “I was very sorry to hear about the accident, and even sorrier to learn you’d been so badly hurt,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I’ll bet you have.” Marjorie nodded. “I understand your family is overseas?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is anyone coming to be with you? Your mother or a sibling? Perhaps a girlfriend or partner?” Marjorie asked. Her gentle
Southern accent dripped like honey and somehow made the intrusive questions feel homey and comfortable.

  Noel shook his head. “None of the above.”

  “So surgery went well, but I assume you’ll need several weeks of rehab?” Marjorie said quickly, smoothing over the awkwardness of his missing family.

  “That’s what the doctor said. But I opted out.”

  “You can’t skip rehab,” Marjorie insisted, her eyebrows coming together. “My husband Peter threw out his back a few years ago, and without the rehab, he would never have fully recovered.”

  “I guess I’ll have to chance it,” Noel said.

  Marjorie eyed him like a concerned mother. “And why would you take that kind of risk?”

  Noel glanced toward Gina. She stayed on the other side of the room, hovering near the whiteboard with his information written in bold black letters. He’d bet she was only here because Marjorie had insisted she come along and make proper introductions. There were probably a million places she’d rather be than standing here in his room.

  “I’ll do much better rehabbing on my own than with a therapist,” he told Marjorie. Even to him, the excuse sounded lame.

  Marjorie wasn’t buying it. “Young man, don’t think your excuses can fool me. Now, it’s got to be either money or time.” She nailed him to the mattress with a hard stare. “Or maybe you’re afraid of the hard work in rehab?”

  “I’m not afraid,” he grumbled.

  “So it’s money and time?”

  Noel had been raised to respect his elders, but he rarely dealt with this level of pushiness. That could explain why Gina had come across so strong. Yet he couldn’t help but like Marjorie. She was blunt, but underneath, he sensed a genuine concern.

  “Okay,” Marjorie said after a pause. “Here’s what we’re going to do … when do you get released from the hospital?”

  “If you know I refused rehab, you probably know my release date,” Noel said.

  Marjorie smiled, a twinkle in her eye. “Well, yes, I do. But I wanted you to feel like you had news for me.”

  Noel locked eyes with Gina and she gave him a helpless shrug.