The Homespun Holiday
By Sarah O’Rourke
Table of Contents
One: It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
Two: Do You Hear What I Hear?
Three: You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch
Four: Little St. Nick
Five: Angels from the Realms of Glory
Six: Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree
Seven: Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer
Eight: What Child is This?
Nine: Please Christmas, Don’t Be Late
Ten: Santa Claus is Watching You
Eleven: Kissin’ by the Mistletoe
Twelve: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
Thirteen: Away in a Manger
The Homespun Holiday by Sarah O’Rourke
Copyright © 2015 by Sarah O’Rourke
All rights reserved. No part of this publication or cover design artwork may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods in current use or to be developed in the future, without the prior express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law (US. Copyright Act of 1976).
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious, and are the sole property of Sarah O’Rourke. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any real setting, person, or situation is used in a fictitious manner with literary license.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences.
If you steal our work, we’ll sic our Mommas on you. Crazy One’s Momma will hunt you down and make you pay in blood. Crazy Two’s Momma will pray “for” you. And trust us...you won’t win when she goes to the Almighty. And if that doesn’t scare you, please be advised that we have an attorney on retainer who will sue you. Don’t risk it. This is us, being there for you.
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Dedication
We dedicate this book to Santa Claus ...
who is the reason we believe in the magic of Christmas!
Crazy One and Crazy Two
One: It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
Friday, December 13
People here were crazy, damn it.
As Dr. Mackenzie Daniels, resident small town OB-GYN and self-admitted all-around grouch, walked into the only decent sit-down restaurant within a hundred miles, he growled to himself. Damn this Christmas-y country wasteland where he now reluctantly lived! Festive holiday lights twinkled from the fully decorated, towering Douglas fir tree that stood majestically in the front corner of the busy café. Offering the fir a hard frown, he couldn’t help feeling like that damn tree was mocking him. Because if there was one thing he hated more than the actual town of Paradise, it was celebrating the frickin’ holidays in the town of Paradise.
People here weren’t the usual, everyday crazy that he’d been dealing with on a daily basis for the past year. That insanity he’d managed to get mildly accustomed to enduring.
No, this newest brand of wackiness all seemed to revolve around the current date.
December 13.
It was officially the twelve days preceding Christmas and the residents of the town of Paradise took that shit seriously.
God, how he craved the anonymity of the cities he’d lived in all his life up until now. Seattle. New York. Philadelphia. Hell, even in Houston, he had managed to be able to lose himself in the obscurity of the city. People didn’t chase you down while you ambled through the aisles of the grocery store just to say a quick hello. Nobody invited him to visit their church on a weekly basis there. And certainly no one had brought him a pie or cake to say thanks for his help with their kid’s birth.
Hell, he’d gone up two sizes in his slacks since moving here. Evidently, the good people of Paradise had never heard of a low-fat diet. In these parts, the secret ingredient to any recipe was obviously full-fat lard.
But fat cells aside, he was here to stay. After his divorce, he’d made a rash decision to put as much distance between him and the she-devil as he could. When the medical headhunter had reached out to him, his confused brain had somehow convinced him that Podunk Paradise, Tennessee, was the Promised Land. Damn, had that been a freaking bad decision! Between the apparently iron-clad deal he’d made with the hospital board and his desire to escape his ex-wife and ex-life, he would be living in the oh-so-lovely town of Paradise for many years to come. But he didn’t have to be happy about it, now did he?
Sidestepping the gathered crowd clamoring to buy one of the many freshly baked pies on the counter where Honor McKinnon stood, Mack offered the young woman a terse nod and tried not to wrinkle his nose as the tantalizing aroma of those dessert treats competed with the overpowering smell of fresh pine emanating from the Christmas tree.
If he were anywhere else, he’d bitch about the smell, but here...here, he kept his mouth shut. He did this for a couple of different reasons. First, he liked Honor McKinnon and the three other McKinnon sisters that ran the food joint. Insulting any of them was out of the question. Not just because all four ladies were his patients, but also because they were exceptionally nice women that had been dealt some seriously crappy hands in life. Thankfully, three of the four women had found men that had made the battles they’d faced worth the effort. For Honor McKinnon, however ... finding a happy ending was a work in progress. But if the Sheriff sitting on that stool in front of her counter had anything to say about it, Mack knew she’d get one, too. Sheriff Zeke Monroe would find a way to bring her the moon if she asked him to do it.
The second reason he kept his trap closed about the warring odors inside the café was because it wasn’t anybody else’s fault that he hated Christmas with a deep-seated passion that had settled into his bones over the years. Mack’s sister Aubree would say that his dislike of the holidays was a classic case of transference. Since his own marriage had dissolved to dust over the Yuletide season over a decade ago, his baby sister theorized that with the demise of his marriage went his love of all things Christmas.
He thought her questionable expert analysis was utter bullshit (after all, it had been his unilateral decision to divorce his unfaithful wife during what was supposed to be the happiest time of the year), but he’d be damned if he argued with his sibling about it. The stubborn loon had graduated (with honors no less!) and gotten her degree from the Harvard Medical School (the one he hadn’t gotten into himself, the fuckers!) with a specialty in psychiatry. Needless to say, Aubree wasn’t exactly shy about waving that degree underneath his nose and making mental health diagnoses on their entire family. According to her, there was more than one successful doctor in the family now, and she insisted that she be heard. His sister could be a real pain in the ass like that.
At any rate, he kept his mouth shut and headed toward his usual booth in the back, passing Patience McKinnon Turner on the way to his seat. He couldn’t help but grin when he noted that she had not one, but two, infants attached to her body, one in the front and one in the back. Anyone that had known Patience pre-motherhood would have said this day would never happen. They’d have even placed money on her taking her happily empty womb to the grave with her. He knew this because approximately a month ago he’d lost a hundred buck
s to Ice Monroe on the day he’d helped her deliver three tiny, little Turners into the world. He wasn’t ashamed of his loss; a lot of people lost money that day.
“I see you have Larry and Moe. Where’s Curly?” Mack asked gruffly, reaching out to lightly stroke the foot on the baby held in the harness at Patience’s chest.
“Very funny, Big Mac. I think I already told you to quit calling my babies by the Three Stooges’ names, didn’t I? You really wanna tick off the woman that’s gonna bring you your food?” his former patient asked him dryly.
“I do,” Mack confirmed, straight-faced. “Especially since despite my best efforts, you’re still calling me by that horrible nickname yourself. Big Mac,” he sneered with a shudder. “I could forgive you for it when you were still on your back in a hospital bed, but now that you’re back in prime health, I don’t think I should be expected to overlook it.”
“Suck it up, Big Mac. According to my niece, Heaven, and her friend, Paisley, whiners are wieners. Haven’t you heard?” Patience retorted as Mack slid into the vinyl seat of the booth, his back to the wall so that he could see the rest of the café.
Mack’s lips twitched at the mention of the two cute little girls, one of which he’d gotten to know fairly well over the past several months. Paisley Robbins was the daughter of his right-hand woman, Millicent Robbins. He’d hired the talented nurse just as she’d graduated college back in May, and while the single mom’s mouth might be a trial to put up with at times, her skill and way with patients made her well worth every penny he paid her. It didn’t hurt that her body was sex on a stick and that she possessed a face that would make most grown men willing to kill for her. Those attributes were just icing on the cake. The cincher, however, had been her adorably precocious five year old little girl, Paisley. That kid had sealed the deal for him.
Because while he might not like most kids, Paisley Robbins was a rule unto herself.
The sweet little girl had spent most of July and August coloring at a little table in his office and keeping him company. And since school started, he’d spent most afternoons seeing the little cutie between patients while she waited – not always patiently – for her mother to get off work.
It had all began as a good deed he’d been willing to do for a down-on-her-luck single mom. At the time, Millie Robbins had been his newest employee, up to her gorgeous eyeballs in debt because of student loans and a long departed ex-husband that had left her with a crapload of his bills. Affording quality childcare on her budget had been impossible, even in their backwater town. Millie’s mom had usually babysat while Millie worked, but the grandma had unfortunately come down with a nasty case of shingles earlier in the summer just as Millie had gotten the job with him. He’d almost decided against hiring her when he’d learned that she’d need to bring her daughter to work for a month until a spot opened up in one of the better daycare centers in town. But after he listened to his physician colleague Cain Turner and his wife Faith (one of the infamous McKinnon sisters) sing Millie’s praises, Mack had reevaluated his decision and allowed the little imp to come hang out in his office while her mom worked.
It was the best decision he’d ever made – mostly because seeing that little girl and her momma around his office comprised the best part of his day.
Not that he’d be sharing that information with them. Knowledge was power, and he didn’t believe in handing that kind of control over to anybody willingly.
“You want your usual today, Doc?” Patience asked, her pencil poised above the notepad she used to take orders as she pulled him from his thoughts.
“Yeah. My regular sounds good, Patience,” he agreed with a nod before looking up at the woman. This week, she’d dyed the hair framing her face a bright indigo blue, and he idly wondered if she was trying to give her silky tresses a holiday pick-me-up. “You been feeling okay since the wreck?” he asked. It had been a car wreck that had brought on the pre-term labor of her triplets. Both she and her sister, Honor, had nearly been killed when Honor’s car had sailed over the embankment and into a creek just outside of town. Patience and all three babies had recovered, relatively unscathed by the experience. But, he still liked to check up on his patients every now and then.
“Right as rain. You know Abel barely lets any of us out of his sight anymore. He’s in the kitchen right now giving Harri her bottle. I got custody of the other two until it’s their turn,” she explained with a grin, mentioning her new husband as she patted one of her babies’ backs where it rested against her chest.
“Abel is still on paternity leave, I take it?” Mack asked, his interest suddenly waning as he spotted his nurse and her daughter entering through the glass door at the front of the restaurant. His heart sped up as he watched them wave at Honor behind the counter. Millie looked a little pained, but Paisley seemed her usual energetic self.
“Well, he owns the business, so I’m not sure you can call it paternity leave. Every day he thinks of a new reason why it isn’t the right time to go back to work, but I know the truth. He can’t stand the thought of leaving The Trifecta,” she declared with a grin, using the nickname the NICU nurses had christened the triplets during their stay in the hospital. “Thankfully, Maggie is keeping things running for him though. I don’t know what Abel or I would do without her. We have hope that he’ll start back next week.”
“That’s good. Be grateful that you’ve got a man that wants to spend time with his progeny. I see it the other way around all too often.”
“Don’t worry, I am. I’ll just put this order in. It won’t take but a couple of minutes. I’ll get one of the girls to bring your coffee on over to you,” Patience said, grimacing as the baby attached to her back began to squirm. “I think Grange just decided that it’s his turn to eat,” she laughed while peering over her shoulder.
Mack nodded, settling back in his seat as he watched Millicent guide Paisley over to a table up front where an older version of Millie waited for them. He supposed it was her mother. He wasn’t sure since he’d never met either of Millicent’s parents. When he thought about it, there was very little he knew about his lead nurse beyond the fact that she was a hard worker that possessed a killer rack and she had a kickass kid.
Maybe he should make an effort to get to know his favorite employee a little better. As he continued to watch them covertly, he couldn’t help pondering the idea.
~~**~~
Several minutes later while he sat quietly nursing his coffee (which he incidentally wished he could spike heavily with a good shot of premium bourbon) in the very last booth in the absolute farthest corner of the I Don’t Care Café, Mack silently came to the conclusion that living in a small town was a lot like living in a tiny, decorative fishbowl. Sure, the bowl was pretty to look at and kept your fish alive, but after a while, those fish got tired of being confined. It sucked when everybody could see every single movement that got made. It was enough to make a fish yearn for the big blue freedom of the ocean.
He ought to know since he felt like the fuckin’ fish in this scenario.
In the thirty minutes he’d been in the café, he’d noticed no less than fifteen watchful gazes leveled on him while he’d eaten, their intrusive eyeballs cataloguing his every movement. Then, to add salt in the very raw wound, he’d been interrupted from his meal a half-dozen times. Three of the interlopers paused by his table to ask if he had holiday plans and try to include him in theirs. Two uninvited parties stopped by his booth to invite him to Christmas dinner because “nobody should be alone at the holidays.” And the last intruder on his peaceful lunch had sought a date for her very own daughter. The lucky, lucky daughter had a company Christmas party coming up and “it would just be the greatest if her date was a bona fide doctor.”
Why couldn’t people understand that he was happy to be a hermit? He wasn’t looking for company. He didn’t need companionship. And even if he did… he wouldn’t seek it out with these people that he barely knew. Hell, no.
If he was in the
market to develop a relationship, it would be with the woman and her child that, so far, hadn’t spared him a glance since they’d walked through the door. What the hell was with that, anyway?
Shaking his head as he tossed his crumpled and used napkin down on his half-eaten food, he sighed. This shit would never happen in a big city. Nobody there ever gave a crap if the local OB-GYN was happy and well fed, holidays or not! And he’d liked it that way, damn it!
Distracted from his internal monologue when his cell phone rang, Mack searched the pockets of his nearby coat for the device, determined to silence the irritating ringtone. Really, when he’d asked Millie to program his cell phone a month ago with a ringtone that would suit a doctor, he’d never expected her to choose the Bee Gees’ hit, ‘Stayin’ Alive’. When he’d complained, however, she’d threatened to change it to ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ if he continued to rant about her poor song selection.
He’d quickly learned to pick his battles with his pretty, headstrong nurse and chosen to shut the hell up about it.
Finally locating his phone, he scowled at the display when he saw who was calling, but swept his thumb across the screen and pressed the device to his ear all the same. “Dr. Daniels,” he greeted the caller tersely.
“Well, hello Dr. Daniels. This is your sister – you know, the other Dr. Daniels in your life. How’s it hangin’, bro? Is Little Mack seeing any action yet?” he heard his sister’s clear voice reply sweetly.
“Bree, what have I told you about asking me that? You’re my sister, for crying out loud. I’m not gonna share details about my sex life with you!” he hissed into the phone while his eyes darted around the café to make sure his sister’s comments hadn’t been overheard by some passerby. Even on the phone, the woman had a voice that carried.
“So, that’s a ‘no’, huh? A very repressed ‘no’, too. I’m sad for you, Mackenzie. A man of your advanced years should really be able to open himself up to new experiences. Sexually speaking, that is,” Bree clucked.
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