Unforgettable Christmas - Gifts of Love (The Unforgettables Book 3)

by Mimi Barbour

  Now, things were spiraling out of control. Time to actually get something done about it. Swiping at stray tears, she swallowed her regrets, then headed toward her car to drive to the hospital. Ten minutes later, she arrived in the crowded parking lot. Cara called Jean to find out where they were.

  “Still in the room. The others have gone on to keep things normal.” There was a frantic note in Jean's voice. “I made that mistake again- mentioning for him to look at me- and he got extremely agitated. I'm sorry.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Cara asked for the room number, then hung up and made her way.

  Alex's cries could be heard all the way down the hall. And no nurses helped? What about the patient in the room? Cheeks heated, Cara stepped up her pace. Nurses stood outside the door, baffled and unsure what to do.

  “Excuse me, but that's my son in there. I'll get him out. I'm so sorry.” Cara apologized as she blew past them and bumped full force into a body. “I'm-”

  Strong arms held her steady. “Careful there.” Her skin tingled where the man's hands still rested.

  Cara stared up into the blue eyes of a gorgeous man. Oh, this must be his room, or at least a member of his family, as this was the children's ward. There was compassion, curiosity, and a whole lot of torture in those eyes. What a disaster! He continued to study her, and Cara was frozen in place. His bangs drifted across tan skin along his forehead. A tiny mole close to his hairline caught her attention for a moment. Sucking in a breath, Cara realized she'd better move, instead of staring back at this man.

  “I'll have my son out of the bathroom in just a second,” she whispered, regaining her composure and jerking out of his hold. He dropped his hands to his sides. No wedding ring on his left hand. Why did she even look? A shiver rippled through her. Cara briefly searched the room. Her heart ached for the pale young girl in the bed with her eyes closed.

  Could this day get any worse? Failure and worry settled over her shoulder like a heavy weight. She needed to coax Alex out of that bathroom, take him home, and make the necessary calls.

  Cara ignored the stares and walked with rubbery legs to the door and knocked. “Come on out, Alex. I'm here. Please open the door, okay?” Her voice came out weak and squeaky. Ugh. She dared not to look back at the blue eyed man behind her, though she had to really work at that. Who cared what he thought about her? She'd never see him again. After today, Cara could wake up and forget about this encounter. But those eyes, the way they carried so much, really ate at her. He had a story to tell, but she'd never hear it.

  “Mommy?” Alex's voice came out small and uncertain. What was he doing in there? Had he hurt himself? Was he curled up on the floor, trembling and scared? It bugged her to no end how she couldn't understand her son sometimes. What went on in his busy brain? What did he think and feel when hit with these meltdowns? Most people who weren't up to date with signs and symptoms of Asperger's would naturally assume a spoiled brat temper tantrum. Cara knew better, but she didn't feel like explaining herself every single time Alex had a meltdown. And it happened more and more in public. What should she do, not go out any more to avoid it? That wasn't the right answer, but she had no idea how to avoid that type of behavior. It all came down to wishing she could understand, so that making decisions would be easier.

  “Yes, buddy. I'm here. Come on out so we can talk. There's a little girl who needs her rest, and we're in the way.” She kept her voice calm. No loudness, no distractions. Cara hoped for the best.

  For a fraction of a minute, no one said anything. The crying stopped, but no other sounds came from behind the bathroom door. Cara anticipated a wail, a shout, something. Then after the hesitance, the door opened and Alex ran straight into her arms. Cara couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard several sighs of relief.

  Yeah, they did what she felt like doing. Tears formed in her eyes as she held her son. “Will you say sorry to the nice man for barging into his room?”

  Alex's lower lip quivered. Big eyes stared back at her, but her son did just what she asked. He pulled out of Cara's hug and stood before the man. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

  “It's okay,” the man awkwardly replied. “I accept your apology.”

  “Give him the gift bag for the little girl, Alex.” Jean broke her silence, prodding him gently.

  He thrust out his hand, still clutching the bag. “Here you go.”

  Mr. Blue Eyes smiled. Dimples. Oh, he had dimples. “Thank you, Alex.” Not a tone of disdain, not even an irritated scowl. He could have really pitched a fit, but the man took it all in stride. Cara sent him a look of relief and a silent thank you. His gaze lingered on her for a lot longer than she anticipated. Alex hung back behind Cara. She blinked, breaking eye contact with the man so she could focus. Time to get out of here.

  Cara led Alex out of the room. Jean followed, making more apologizes to the man. Nurses had finally scattered away from the door, but the faster Cara got out of here, the better.

  “Cara-” Jean started once they were down the hall. She'd bet Jean had a lot to say right about now.

  “I know, okay? I get it. I'm going to make those calls and look into getting him in the school you guys keep suggesting!” She didn't mean to yell. Her loud voice echoed off the beige walls. Keep calm, keep calm. The last thing she needed was to upset Alex because she got all riled up and defensive.

  Jean blanched. “I wasn't going to say that. It'll be good for him, though. I was going to apologize because I pushed again for eye contact. That's what set him off.”

  Shaking her head, Cara turned away again, keeping her arm on Alex's shoulder. Jean was a good teacher, wonderful and patient, but Cara knew that she wasn't equipped to deal with a child with Asperger's when the rest of the kids were mainstreamed students.

  “Cara.”

  Keeping her tongue in check, she faced the teacher.

  “It's not your fault.”

  The words were meant to be a comfort and a help, but they weren't at this very moment. Giving Jean a curt nod, she walked Alex out of the hospital, attempting to put her emotions in check.

  Lately, she took everything to heart, blaming herself. How could she not understand her son? Why did she feel so helpless? As Alex's mother, Cara should have some sort of idea how to handle these situations, but she didn't.

  And it bothered the heck out of her.

  Chapter Two

  Lance hated leaving the hospital even for a little while, but his brother dropped by to sit with Tamara for a few hours. He always felt better when someone was there with her, in case she woke up scared. She hadn't spoken in the two weeks since the accident, but every day he had hope. When she woke up, Tamara watched everyone with a frightened look. Everyone waited for her to speak. Every day, more worry settled in that maybe she couldn't. Though her brain scans and other tests were coming out okay, she wouldn't talk.

  The day of her accident repeated in his mind all the time. Lance had been busy wrapping up a project when Tamara chased Frenzy down the street. He'd seen her just as the stupid speeding car came flying out of nowhere.

  He should have been paying attention. His sitter, a nineteen year old neighbor, cried as she swore she'd looked away for a mere minute. That minute changed everything. He had no idea where Frenzy went, and not wanting to admit it to anyone else, he didn't care. It wasn't fair to lay blame on an animal, but for some reason that's where Lance pointed the blame. He didn't want to blame Tamara, since she wasn't even in a position to defend herself. He could blame his sitter, but she had always been good with Tamara. Looking away for a minute could be called careless, but how can you keep an eye on a child every waking minute? You couldn't, and Lance knew it. Things happen. He could blame himself- and really, he definitely did that, but most of all it was that darn animal. Tamara had the biggest attachment to him, but Frenzy had a mind of his own and always ran off. When she'd seen him at the store, Tamara had begged and begged. Lance knew he shouldn't have given in, but his daughter deserved a little happiness. She'd be
en through enough in the last few years. He figured what would it hurt to get her a pet?

  Ferrets- or at least this one, proved to be more trouble than he was worth.

  His stomach growled, so Lance decided to stop at the store to pick up something from the deli. He hadn't eaten decent food all day and didn't want take out. The store wasn't out of the way. He could eat, shower, check in with his assistant to see how things were at work, then head back up to the hospital for another long night.

  The store was fairly empty when he headed down to the deli. Lance picked up a couple of containers: macaroni salad, potato salad, and a rotisserie chicken. Plenty for now, and leftovers for later. Perfect. Too bad he couldn't store this in the hospital somewhere, but at least he'd have something for the next few evenings when he took his break for showers and such.

  He was almost at the check out line when a cart slammed in to him from behind. Pain shot up his body from his calves, and Lance nearly dropped his food as a woman's voice muttered a curse behind him.

  “I am so sorry- Oh God, it's you. What a track record.”

  He turned around and faced the woman- the very same woman who'd bolted in his room to get her unhappy son out of his bathroom earlier. Her cheeks were red, eyes watery, and she looked ready to break down at any moment. Forcing a smile, Lance waved it off. “It's okay. Really, it is.” Poor woman. She must be having a rough time of it. Her strawberry blonde hair was all over the place. Half of it was clipped in a bun, and the other half hung over her face and hid her pretty eyes. She was about four inches shorter than his own 6 foot height. Long, black eyelashes framed her eyes, really bringing out the hazel color. Well, the evident tears also brought that out.

  The waterworks began. “It's not, really. Oh geez. Now I'm crying uncontrollably. Okay, I am totally paying for your stuff for all this trouble.” She swiped at her tears, long neon green nails flashing in the light as she did so. The nails struck him as odd. They didn't seem to go with the rest of her outfit, which entailed a pair of blue jeans and a black blouse. The nails stood out.

  “You don't need to do that.” Lance's empathy for the woman grew. She obviously had a lot going on. Judging from their first encounter, he had no doubt. Cheeks red, she looked away and messed with something in her cart. Lance didn't spot her little boy anywhere nearby and wondered about this family. She tried to grab the strap of her purse, missed, and a handful of items spilled from the bag. They fell to the floor and scattered like bugs in the light.

  Lance set down his items on the counter, stooped before the woman and picked up the items for her. He knew the other customers were getting impatient. There were a few groans and muttering. Some even walked away to longer lines, probably figuring they'd still get out of there faster. He made no mention of this to the already frustrated woman. “Here you go,” he said softly as he handed them to her. His fingers brushed over hers gently. She jolted back as if he'd stabbed her and broke the connection. She sure had the jitters. Nervous? Shy? Not sure why, Lance's gaze landed on her left hand. No ring. Not like it mattered, but couldn't deny the curiosity. He'd never expected her to run into him again, let alone in the same day. The woman who'd called her mentioned her name earlier. It started with a C. Callie? Cait? No, those weren't it. Needing a little breathing space, Lance stepped back. Her awkward presence got to him. A frazzled parent, unsure- kinda like him, which made him wonder about her situation even more. He kept his mouth shut. Not his business, but she seemed like she could use a friend, and so did he.

  Too much time at the hospital waiting does that to a mind.

  “Thank you.” She took her things and stuffed them back in her purse. “I'm usually not this disorganized, and I don't lose it like this often.” The woman added that as an afterthought, like she really needed to explain herself.

  “Hey, we all have our bad days,” Lance offered up, thinking of his own life recently. He picked up his containers again, for a while forgetting about the things he wanted to go home and do. This woman was the first adult conversation he'd had in a long time. Lately, he'd been talking to Tamara in hopes she'd talk back. Well, there was his assistant, too, but they really just spoke of work. His mom and brother only made small talk with him lately, too. They held back things they wanted to say. Lance didn't press them on it, but he wondered. “So, do you have a few free minutes? I've got this great dinner planned and there's some chairs right over there. You look like you could use a little break.” Smooth. Great pick up lines. He needed practice. Not that he was picking her up or anything, but wow. Did his voice waver while asking?

  She laughed a little roughly. “That's an understatement, but I don't want to waste any more of your time.” The woman's eyes were cast downward. He fought the urge to tip her chin up and stare directly into her eyes. They were stunning when she actually held eye contact. Total get-lost-in-me eyes.

  “Actually, it would do me some good. I've been spending my days in the hospital room hoping my little girl will fully recover. I could use a little conversation, anything outside of prognoses and work talk. And from the looks of it, you could use it, too.” Now he'd become a broken record. Awkwardness, 1. Lance, 0.

  Those intense blue-green eyes locked on him, traveling up and down, studying intently. She must not be used to offers like his. He got that. Someone hurt her? The father of her son? Maybe that was why the kid acted out. Something sure got to the little guy earlier. Not that it was any of his business, but the situation had been on his mind all day since the whole scene in the room. He needed to quit overanalyzing stuff.

  When she smiled, Lance moved the point in his favor instead of against. And what a smile. He debated on telling her she should do it more often.

  “That's the best offer I've had in a while. Sure. Let me just text my neighbor and let her know I'll be a little late getting home. She's with my kids right now.”

  *****

  Tonight turned out strange after bumping into the man whose room her son had invaded earlier. He seemed like a nice guy, but she wondered what he was thinking when he kept watching her. More than watching- he seemed to study her every move. Why? What was he thinking? Probably wondering why he ever asked her to stay a little longer when she was obviously a basket case.

  You don't know that's what he's thinking. Quit it.

  Lance. His name was Lance. She now had something better to focus on instead of Negative Nelly screaming in her head.

  They were seated at a table in the middle of the deli at Harvest Food, a place she'd never sat to eat at before. She'd always noticed the little area, but who would have thought to sit there and have a bite before?

  “So Cara, what do you do when you're not playing SuperMom?” A smile tugged at Lance's lips.

  “SuperMom?” She laughed. Yeah right. She wasn't about to go into detail of all the ways she felt like Horrible Mom, so she answered his question. “I'm a receptionist at a doctor's office.” As long as she still had a job, that is. If the multiple times a week phone calls about Alex continued, she might be out of a job, and then what? Nope, not going there tonight. Her mind refused to shut up!

  “You can type with those long nails?” Lance quirked up a brow.

  Cara held up her hand, forgetting how much the bright color Shelly painted on her nails stuck out. “They aren't real. I let my twelve year old daughter put on fake nails and paint them. They'll come off soon.”

  “The things we do for our kids.” Lance chuckled. “My daughter loves to put my hair in barrettes, if I give her the chance.”

  “That I would pay to see!” She'd bet the daughter he spoke of was the little girl in the hospital bed. What happened? What a horrible thing to have to deal with so close to Christmas. Any time really, but holidays were supposed to be cheery.

  Warm eyes bore into hers. A hint of a smile played on his lips. She focused on them far too long, because Cara noticed a dark spot right at the corner. Some kind of freckle or something. “No way. I wouldn't share those kind of things on a first enco
unter.”

  “What about second?” she teased. He'd seen enough of her crazy on one encounter, and this one now didn't go any better. Well, it was for the moment. Cara forgot all about how she'd caused a disaster around him twice and enjoyed the laughter and the moment. Warmth spread throughout her, and she wished this feeling would last. Chances to get to laugh and joke with someone, especially a good looking man, came few and far between lately.

  “Nope, not that either.” A sad expression crossed his face. The good mood didn't last long. Darn it.

  “What happened? To your daughter I mean.” When the stretch of silence continued, Cara wished she could retract her question. “Never mind, not my business. Forget I asked.” What a big mouth she had.

  Lance set down his spoon. “She was hit by a car. Tamara chased her pet in the road, and the car came out of nowhere. She didn't wake up for two days, and now she isn't talking.”

  Suddenly queasy, Cara shoved her plate away. “I'm so sorry.” She sounded like a broken record. Sorry, sorry, sorry! But she was. And in situations like his, what else could she say? But having two kids of her own, she had the worst images playing in her head right now.

  “She's all I have left,” Lance replied quietly. “Every day I hope for the best, but she hasn't come out of her silence yet. The doctors say she should make a pretty full recovery, but I worry about things. I lost my wife last year. Being a widower to a little girl hasn't been the easiest. Tamara needs her mother, and we've struggled.”

  “I know how some of that goes.” Cara sympathized with him. The fresh pain still resided around her heart, keeping it closely guarded. She knew the loss all too well, and the aftermath of dealing. “My husband died two years ago. But we were on the brink of divorce. Still, Alex and Shelly have had a rough time of it.”