Josh put his hands on his hips. “Why can’t we take Boomer with us?”
“He’ll be more comfortable at home.”
Escaping from Dorie’s grasp, Boomer ran in circles and barked at the door.
She raised helpless hands toward her mother. “Mom, do you think the church people would mind if the kids brought him?”
“Not at all. Emma, go get Boomer’s leash. We’ll keep him corralled—somehow.”
Emma hitched into a sob. “Boomer doesn’t have a costume. Mr. Bear has a costume. See?” She held out Mr. Bear, proudly dressed in Emma’s outgrown, polka-dot flannel pajamas.
Dorie wiped Emma’s tears. “All right. Let me see what I can find.”
Taking the steps two at a time, Dorie scurried upstairs, then checked out her bedroom closet. A quick overview revealed nothing but jeans, skirts, tees, and a few dresses.
She slammed the door and climbed into the attic. Amid the sealed packages containing bits and pieces of her life with Devon was a burgundy tea-length maternity evening gown she had worn to the last military ball she and Devon attended. Searching for it, she opened a box at random and found razors, books, and army-green tees—things from Devon’s footlocker. She pulled out his leather Bible. Foolish or not, she drank in his scent as tears filled her eyes. She put the Bible aside. Josh should have it.
Dorie rifled through three more boxes before finding the gown. With it tucked under her arm, she picked up Devon’s Bible and placed it on her dresser before returning downstairs with Boomer’s humiliation.
Raising his head, she rubbed the dress on his nose. “If you want to go with the kids, you’ll have to wear this. What’ll it be?” Boomer dragged it to Dorie’s mother.
“Guess that’s an affirmative,” Mom said. Boomer’s tail shot up as high as nature would allow. Dorie slipped the gown on Boomer, pinning up the excess material. Mom put on his leash, lining him up with the rest of the entourage. “Everybody ready?”
What a scene. “Hold on a minute. I want to get a picture.” Dorie hurried into the kitchen for the camera. When she returned, she posed the group for three shots.
Josh glared. “Mom, can’t we go now?”
Mom? Her baby called her Mom for the first time. Couldn’t he have waited another decade or two before addressing her like a grownup?
She shouldn’t resist. She should savor the moment, document it in Josh’s scrapbook. Why did she feel as if he’d punched her in the stomach?
Instead of choosing a superhero costume, Josh had dressed up in Devon’s fatigues. She’d sewed in an elastic rim so the cap wouldn’t fall over his eyes; yet, even that didn’t detract from his far-too-grownup look. And now he would call her Mom for the rest of his life. Her eyes moistened, and a sob escaped in spite of her fight to squelch it.
Josh’s brows pinched together in furrows of concern. “Mom, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Have a great time. See you in a couple of hours.”
“What are you going to do while we’re gone?”
“I’ll read for a while. I don’t get a chance to do that very often.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun to me, but go ahead if you want to.”
Having given his permission, the midget wannabe patriarch rushed out the door ahead of everyone else, probably to avoid the hug he sensed was coming. Then he darted back inside and threw his arms around Dorie’s neck. “I love you, Mom.”
Did he know how much his mother needed that hug? When he left, she stared at the closed door, listening for the car to leave the driveway. Then she went upstairs to grab an afghan and a book, coming back downstairs just as the doorbell rang. “Now what?”
She opened the door, expecting her mother to say Emma had dropped Mr. Bear in the driveway and he needed a change of clothes. Instead, Gabe, caked in a film of snow, stood on the porch.
“What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I love about you, Dorie. You get right to the question. No, ‘how are you’ or any of that stuff.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“I was visiting my brother who lives a couple of blocks from here. On an impulse I thought I’d check up on Josh.” He leaned against the porch wall.
“He’s doing great. He just left with Emma and his grandmother to go to a costume party at church. Would you like to come in?”
He glanced at her hands. “Looks like you were about to settle in with an interesting book. Are you sure I’m not intruding?”
Dorie tossed the book and afghan onto the recliner. “I can read anytime.”
Gabe took a seat on the couch. Not sure of his intentions, Dorie sat on the recliner. The wind rattled the window and Dorie jumped at its howl, pulling back the curtain. “I almost didn’t let the kids go tonight. It’s only ten degrees out there.”
“Hope you laid in a supply of long johns.”
“Long johns? Now there’s a term I haven’t heard since Little House on the Prairie.”
“I take it you haven’t lived in the North Country long.”
Dorie tired of explaining to everyone how and why she’d come from the South to such a cold climate. She recited the details, this time with only a hint of tears, the recounting not any easier but at least less dramatic. “Devon died in early October of last year. I stayed at Ft. Bragg until spring. Mom practically lived with me. When this house came on the market, Daddy bought it and rented it to me. Moving here seemed the logical thing to do at the time.”
“So this is your first winter in northern New York?”
“I’ve heard it gets pretty cold.”
“I’ve seen it get to thirty below. With the wind chills it feels colder. Last year, it never got above freezing the entire month of January.”
Dorie’s bones creaked from the mere thought. “Thanks for the warning.”
For the next couple of hours, Gabe told her more about North Country weather and Midville’s Community Theater. As she envisioned the bitter cold to come, her anger resurfaced—the anger she’d thought long ago subdued. Why did Devon volunteer for such a dangerous mission? He had no right to sacrifice himself like that. He had a wife and two children depending on him to come home. His thoughtlessness made her a widow and forced her to raise his children alone in a God-forsaken tundra.
To quell the rage, she refocused on Gabe. Easy to do since he seemed content to talk about himself with little prompting. Yet his prattling humor amused her. As tall as Daddy and muscular, his good looks a plus. And he liked children.
Besides their magnetic color, his eyes intrigued her more than anything else—big, like those of a curious third-grader. She’d offer him some coffee if he stopped talking long enough.
Headlights beamed into her driveway. “The kids are home.”
An Arctic wind barged in with a snow-covered grandmother, her charges, a fur-soaked Boomer, and a matted Mr. Bear.
Josh cocked his head to one side as he eyed Gabe. “What’s he doing here?”
“He is Dr. Wellington to you. And he stopped by to see how you were doing.”
Josh tossed his army cap onto the couch. “Hi, Dr. Wellington. I’m fine. How are you?”
Throwing a wink in Dorie’s direction, Gabe gave Josh a manly handshake. “I’m fine too, Josh. Thanks for asking.”
Like Old Faithful, Emma gushed with newfound tears. “Mr. Bear is going to get sick, Mommy. He’s soaking wet.”
Dorie put on a serious face. “Why don’t I wrap him in a blanket, and he can warm up while you get into your pajamas? Okay?”
“’Kay.”
While Dorie wrenched Mr. Bear from Emma’s cold hands, she caught her mother’s questioning look. “Hello, Gabe. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Good to see you, Felicia. I stopped by to check on Josh.”
“I see.” Mom kept her coat on and faced the kitchen. “I probably should have called as you asked. The party ended early because of the nasty weather. I thought you’d be reading, but I see you’re otherwise oc
cupied. I’ll make the hot chocolate.” Mom, the epitome of hospitality, pushed an attitude as cold as the outdoors.
“Mom, you must be tired. Why don’t I make the hot chocolate while you and Gabe talk golf. Gabe, would you like a cup?”
Mom folded her arms.
Gabe cast his eyes downward. “That’s okay. I need to go. I have early rounds at the hospital. So I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, Dorie?”
“Yes. I expect so.”
“Are we still on for donuts after?”
“Yeah, sure. Mom, can the kids stay overnight with you? I’ll be late getting back.”
Against all possibility, Mom’s tone dipped ten more degrees. “Not a problem.”
Gabe smiled as he turned to Dorie. “It’s a date.”
Once Gabe was out the door, Mom reached for her coat. “I’ll be going too, dear, if you can manage without me.”
“No, you don’t! I’ve never seen you be rude to anyone before. You treated Gabe like an intruder. I want to know why.”
Dorie helped the children off with their coats and Mom plopped onto the recliner, gazing toward the window and hugging her purse.
“Josh, Emma. Upstairs and into your pajamas. I’ll make the hot chocolate in a few minutes.”
When the children were out of earshot, Dorie sat on the couch. “Mom, don’t you like Gabe? I thought you golfed with his parents.”
“Liking him has nothing to do with this, dear. Of course I like Gabe Wellington. He’s an excellent physician and an amiable golf companion when he fills in for his father.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t think you should get involved with him.”
Involved? When had she become involved with anyone, let alone Gabe Wellington? “I’m not involved. We talked, that is all.”
“He likes you, Dorie. A mother can tell these things. He looks at you like a kid who eyes a chocolate cake.”
“I thought you wanted me to find male companionship.”
“I wholeheartedly agree with that. But Gabe is …”
“Say it.”
“All right. Gabe is unreliable.”
“Unreliable? He’s a doctor. A surgeon I might add.”
Mom sighed. “I don’t mean he isn’t responsible. He’s unreliable as a husband.”
“Aren’t you jumping ahead a little fast?”
“No, I’m not. His mother says he rarely dates the same girl more than a few times, and he’s had only one serious relationship that she’s aware of. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“And that’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough? Remember prom night with Lenny Michaels? You almost dropped out of school.”
Why did Mom have to bring up that hateful memory? Dorie fumed with the recollection. “I never met a girl yet who had a flawless prom night. So Lenny dumped me for another girl. That doesn’t mean Gabe will. Besides, I was seventeen then. I’m a grown woman now.”
Mom found a tissue and blew her nose. Were those tears, or had the snow begun to melt from her eyebrows? “I hope you know what you’re doing, dear. You’ve had enough pain to last a lifetime. Someday, you’ll understand why mothers butt in where daughters don’t want them to. Yes, you are a grown woman and entitled to your own opinions about men. Now go on upstairs and check on the kids. I’ll make the hot chocolate.”
Sometimes the child senses a mother’s need as much as a mother does the child’s. Like Josh had. Dorie embraced her mother with a child’s enthusiasm. “I love you, Mom.”
Chapter Eight
They squeezed into the last available booth at the West End Café. Dorie scanned the horde of customers. “Is it always this crowded in the middle of the week? I thought this town went to sleep by ten.”
“I told you this place had the best donuts in the state. Of course, let’s not count the amount of cholesterol in them.”
“Well, my cholesterol is fine, so I’ll take my chances. I’ll have an éclair and a mocha latte.”
Gabe laughed. Not a snicker—a deep-from-the-gut guffaw. “Sorry. The coffee here is normal. Only the donuts are world famous.”
“Regular coffee will be fine.”
“Caffeine doesn’t keep you awake?”
“Surprisingly, nothing does. I nod off faster than a narcoleptic. Fortunately, my kids are well-trained. When Mommy’s asleep, they stay in their rooms.”
“You need more excitement in your life, not more caffeine.” Gabe’s eyes worked like pulleys, drawing her in. She couldn’t avoid gazing into those dark-blue oceans.
A stout woman, about fifty, plodded to their table, her face lined from years of hardship. “Youse been waited on yet?”
Gabe held up the menus. “What do you think?”
The woman’s face hinted a smirk. “Look, Doc. None of your jokes tonight. You see we’re busy. Now whaddaya want?”
“Sorry, Helen. By the way, this is Dorie Fitzgerald. Dorie, Helen Ingalls. No relation to the Walnut Grove Ingallses.”
Helen grinned, showing the loss of three upper-middle teeth. “Feel old enough to be, though. Glad ta meet ’cha, Dorie. So what’ll ya two have?”
“I don’t know. So many to choose from.”
Gabe grabbed Dorie’s menu. “I’ll have hot chocolate and a bear claw. Dorie would like an éclair and a decaf.”
“Order’ll be up in a jiff.” Helen spun toward the kitchen.
Gabe reached into his pocket and pulled out his beeper.
“Do you have it with you all the time?”
Of course he does, you ninny. He’s a doctor—he’s important.
“I’ve got an elderly patient in bad shape. He came into the ER this morning with an infected gall bladder. I had to perform emergency surgery and I couldn’t do a laparoscopic.”
“Laparoscopic?”
“That’s the more usual procedure. Much less invasive and requires only a small incision, so healing is faster. I had to make a wider cut. It’s a lot harder on the patient. Given his poor condition going into the surgery …”
On impulse, Dorie reached for Gabe’s hand. “I know you care a lot for your patients.”
“I told the hospital to call me if there were any changes rather than leave it to the on-call physician.”
“I understand.” His obvious worry made him all the more attractive.
Helen returned, wielding a laden tray. “Here you go, Doc. By the way, thanks for helpin’ Dad today. ’Preciate it. Glad you was around.”
“Don’t mention it. All in a day’s work.”
“I know you done your best, Doc. The rest is up to the good Lord.” Helen set the plates down, twirled, and bolted toward another table.
Dorie gulped. “The man you operated on was Helen’s father?”
He rocked his head back and forth, a move Daddy used to do when he didn’t confirm or deny something. “Of course, you can’t say … confidentiality.”
He nodded.
Helen no longer seemed like a caricature, but rather a sister with hurts and bruises Dorie could relate to. “No wonder she feels old. It must be hard to hold down a job and care for a parent.”
The woman shouldn’t be working with her father so ill. If it were Daddy, wild horses couldn’t keep her or Mom from his side. “Why is she here, Gabe? Shouldn’t she be with her father, given his condition?”
“Helen works three jobs, all part-time and no benefits. Her father’s social security is little help.
She wanted to feel sorry for Helen, yet anger reared instead of the compassion. The woman had three jobs and Dorie couldn’t get one. She turned away from Gabe’s glance to hide her shallow sympathy. “From the looks of it, the West End Café could use more waiting staff. There’s too much business for a middle-aged woman and two teenagers to handle by themselves.”
“Those teenagers are the owner’s children. Helen is the only hired help they have besides the cook.” Gabe reached for Dorie’s hand. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy, if you don’t already. Would you m
ind if we did Helen’s job for a few hours, so she can sneak in to see her father?”
“Isn’t it past visiting hours?”
Gabe picked up his phone. “I can fix that.”
No way could she refuse. “What happens if your beeper goes off?”
“We’ll chance it.”
“Well, I could stay here until you come back.”
Gabe squeezed Dorie’s hand. “Now you’re talking! I’ll let the owner know.”
He went over to an older blonde woman. She nodded in Dorie’s direction, then handed him aprons and hairnets. He returned wearing his poster-boy smile. “Well, let’s get to work.”
He thrust himself into his role, welcoming each customer with a “Bon jour! Come wiz me.” Once Gabe seated them, he signaled Dorie to take their orders.
She’d never had a date quite like this one, especially a first date. If she’d been sixteen again, she’d have written every detail into her diary, including the fact that she and Gabe never got around to his bear claw and her éclair.
The crowd thinned around midnight. She counted her tip money with pride. Fifty dollars. Gabe came to the back and hauled a wad of bills from his pocket, then plunked them next to her offering. “These are my tips.”
He wrapped his arm around Dorie’s shoulders, all sportsmanlike, as if he’d bested her in a footrace. “People around here can be generous. I explained what we were doing and they all chipped in a little extra. I’ve got two hundred dollars here, and your fifty will sweeten the pot.”
“Like the folks helped George Bailey.”
“Midville’s a good place, Dorie.”
She said little as Gabe drove her to the Little Red Hen Preschool. He got out and came around to open her door. “Want me to follow you home?”
She could get used to this gentlemanly doting. “It’s late and you’ve got early rounds. Thanks for an unforgettable evening.”
He positioned himself between Dorie and her car door. “When will you be back for rehearsal?”
“Not until Monday. I’m doing cast interviews then.”
“Well, how about dinner Sunday? You can do my interview ahead of schedule. Bring the kids and give your mother a break.”
She wanted to. What held her back? Before she could answer, Gabe brushed his lips against hers. A nice kiss.
It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long Page 5
