A Family for Christmas

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  The dimly lit room had long since seemed to fade away. People came and went, quiet conversation buzzed. There was no sense of urgency. It was as though they had all of the hours they might need or want.

  “I couldn’t believe it when Emily was diagnosed with kidney disease. There’d been no sign. No symptoms. I should have seen, should have known... I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I walked around in a conscious coma for weeks—I couldn’t fathom living without her. Had no idea how to do all of the things she did around the house. And absolutely no clue how to be to Cara what Emily had been.”

  “Did she go right away?” Facing the end of the beautiful story was harder than she’d expected. She’d known it was coming. The hard part was where she came in.

  He shook his head. “We had eighteen months. She went through a transplant. Dialysis. A second transplant. That’s where Cara really started to pull away...” He sounded as though he was only starting to figure out that part.

  “Why do you think that was?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t... I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “I’d found a new doctor. One who gave us a better than ninety percent chance of success if she had a transplant from a live donor with a clean match. Turned out, I was a match and I gave her one of my kidneys. I got out of the hospital long before Emily did, and when I got home Cara was...different. Angry. It’s the first time I can remember her yelling at me. I was shocked.

  “But I knew what she’d been through, poor thing. She was only seventeen. Trying to take care of everything while both of us were recovering. My sister, Betty, was there, of course, but Cara insisted on taking care of her mother herself, as much as she could.

  “Thing was, the disease, it attacked my kidney in her body, too. It was like Cara blamed me for that. I spent more money than I had looking for other things we could try. Brought in everyone I could find who could give us an ounce of hope. Emily went along with all of it willingly, but Cara... She was so kind to her mother. And could barely talk to me with a civil tone.”

  “She was blaming you.”

  He shrugged. “I guess. Because I wasn’t a good enough doctor to save her mother.”

  Lila shook her head. “Who knows what goes on in a hurting child’s mind? But I’d guess it was more because she needed someone to blame and you were safe. You’d love her anyway.”

  His lips started to tremble as he said, “She was right about that. I’d give anything to see my baby girl again. Just to know she’s alive...”

  And then he shook his head. “After that...I was lost,” he said, looking at Lila. “I told myself I moved us out of the house, bought the place on the beach for Cara’s sake. But, looking back, what if I did it for my own? I just couldn’t bear to keep that house. Emily was everywhere. I was failing to function...”

  He stopped, tears in his eyes. “I was selfish, is what I was,” he said. “I took her from the only sense of security and love she had. I ripped her away from everything she had left of her mother. And I worked every hour in the day, telling myself that every life I saved was a tribute to Emily...”

  Leaving Cara to wander the beach alone. Prey to anyone who’d love a vulnerable, grieving, beautiful young lady.

  Lila saw it all so clearly. Maybe she had it wrong. But she didn’t think so.

  “You were in survival mode,” she said aloud. “The situation was out of your control. It sounds like your Emily was an incredible woman. Both you and Cara loved her to distraction. And the two of you managed to share her well, too. Losing her... There was no way either of you were going to come out of that unscathed. You did the best you could, Edward. And that’s all Joy needs from you now. Your best.”

  “She needs me to love her enough to give her what she needs,” he said. And then, expression completely serious, said, “I’ve been thinking about talking to Hunter and Julie about adoption. They both so clearly love her...”

  Lila could think of a few reasons why the idea might be perfect. Life coming together as it should. The best-case scenario. And reasons for concern, too.

  “They’ve only been together a number of weeks.” She went with the concern. “The relationship is so new. Neither of them have been in a committed adult relationship before, and to take on a child so soon, most particularly one who is dealing with emotional trauma...”

  Even as she said the words, believing them, she knew that Julie would take up the challenge in a heartbeat. And had a feeling Hunter would, too.

  Which would leave Edward...where?

  “Would you go back to Florida, then?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I can’t imagine leaving her behind. Not after losing Cara. My practice is there. My home. My whole life, really. I said I was thinking about asking them. I didn’t say I’d definitely made up my mind to do so. Sometimes I think that if I just take her to Florida, get her away from here, away from the horrors...”

  He frowned. “See what I mean by not being good for her, just as I failed my own daughter? I took Cara away from it all and look where it got us...”

  He looked so damned...lost...she couldn’t help the sudden lurch in her heart—coupled with a driving need to help him.

  “There are no easy answers, are there?” he asked, and Lila couldn’t find the will to look away from him.

  “No.” She wanted to break whatever spell this remarkable man had over her. She couldn’t even bear to break eye contact.

  “Come upstairs with me.”

  She heard her worst nightmare coming from his lips.

  She didn’t want to lose his friendship. Didn’t want to lose this moment.

  She wanted, in the worst way, to do as he asked.

  “I can’t.”

  He nodded. Reached over and smoothed a hand over her face. “Dear Lila. I was certain I’d never again feel for a woman...in this way...”

  Surely Edward wasn’t telling her he’d been celibate, too? She shook her head, not trusting her own thought processes at the moment. “What way?”

  “You’re special, Lila.” He shook his head. “Like my Emily was special...”

  Like Emily. Like she could be—even for one minute out of time—a part of a beautiful fairy tale...

  “I’m... I can’t have a relationship with you.”

  His hand held hers now. She couldn’t let go in spite of the mixed messages she was sending. “I know,” he told her. “Your life is The Lemonade Stand. Mine is in Florida.”

  Yes. All of that. But so, so much more, too.

  “You’re a client.”

  “My granddaughter is a client. And you have become more to our family than the director of the facility where she lives. You, with Hunter and Julie, have become part of Joy’s journey.”

  So his feelings for her...maybe they were gratitude. Nothing to be concerned about.

  “I’m not in the habit of begging. Or even of asking twice,” he said now, “but I sense that you feel some of the same things I’m feeling. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll never speak of this again.”

  She had to tell him. She knew it down to her core. The only decent thing was to tell him he was wrong. If she didn’t, she’d be placing him in harm’s way.

  Because, while he searched his heart for things he might have done wrong, Lila didn’t have to search. She’d put both of her children in harm’s way. Left her son there. And then, she’d hurt him herself.

  “Lila?”

  He wanted her to admit she felt something for him.

  She couldn’t look at him and lie. Lila opened her mouth. Said nothing.

  “We’re not kids anymore, Lila. We both know the score. We know better than to build sand castles. So where’s the harm in finding solace—and pleasure—in sharing this night together? One night.”

  Where was the harm? Her mind spun with all of the place
s harm lurked.

  Her lonely body wanted him. Why it had chosen now to come back to life after all these years, she had no idea. Hadn’t expected ever to feel red-hot desire again. Not at her age.

  Sex aside, she wanted to be held. To lie in a man’s arms. To sleep there. Just this once.

  She wouldn’t hurt him that night. She was as certain of that as she was that the sun would rise in the morning.

  “It can only be for one night.” A flood of heat soared through her body as she heard herself say the words. “I mean it, Edward. From the bottom of my soul. It can only be one night.”

  He smiled. Stood. Threw some bills down on the table, took her hand and walked her out of the bar, down the hall and to the elevator.

  They didn’t speak.

  She didn’t want to think.

  The elevator door opened. He stepped inside. Pushed the button for his floor. Held the door. Looked at her.

  And she got on.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Prospector, Nevada

  CARA STOOD IN the waning afternoon light, holding up two tall boards. In the middle of the yard, she remained stock still, making no sound. Simon, with the patch on his good eye, was trying to find her.

  Since she’d found out about his daily exercises, she’d been finding ways to help him exercise his eye muscles without risking running into anything that could do him serious physical damage. He’d told her, just the night before, that he thought he was making a lot more progress, making it more quickly, because he could concentrate fully on what he saw and not on having to be aware of his surroundings.

  With her changing up the things in the yard, he never knew what he was looking for. Or where. He only knew the large radius in which he might find it.

  His hearing was acute, she’d learned, and now she was standing beneath the hot desert sun, sweating in spite of the sixty-degree temperature. She should have shed the new hoodie he’d brought before starting the exercise.

  Even hot, it felt good to have on different clothes. When he’d first suggested picking up some things for her, she’d balked. What possible explanation could there be for a man living like a hermit on a mountain buying things for a woman? Then, the day before, he’d surprised her with a box. She’d been nervous when he’d announced that he was going into town for the second time in a week when he had been there, according to him, only once since he’d gotten to the cabin. Then he’d shown up with the box.

  Three pairs of leggings, brown, blue and black. Two pairs of jeans. A pair of hiking boots. Four pairs of undies—silk and lacy and unlike anything she’d ever worn before. Matching bras. Socks. A couple of shirts. A sweatshirt. A variety of feminine products. And a can of Mace. He’d ordered them online at the kiosk at the shop in town and picked everything up when it arrived.

  It didn’t surprise her that he’d gotten her sizes right. He’d done her laundry. What had surprised her was the Mace. He’d wanted her to know that she was safe. At least long enough to get to the .22 he’d shown her how to use.

  Daily target practice had been added to their agenda six days ago. She was getting to be a pretty good shot.

  Not that she expected to need—or even use—the skill.

  Or the Mace, either, for that matter. Still, she’d slept with it the night before. And had a flash of sleeping with a doll her mom had bought for her that had a storybook with it. The doll was little. She’d been little. She’d held it in her hand every night.

  And then she hadn’t. She had no idea what had happened to the doll...

  Simon, who’d been making his way around the yard, was coming right at her now. She’d told him if he found her to stop two feet in front of her. She waited. Holding her breath.

  He hit the two-foot mark and just kept coming. Slowly. Methodically. A couple of inches from her he stopped. Just as he had by the tree.

  Pulling off his eye patch, Simon stared her right in the eye—so close she could smell the soap they shared on his skin and see the darker line around his irises.

  “So, I have to be up close to see it,” he said, stepping back. “But I’m seeing. That’s the important thing. That and the drops.”

  Cara had the sudden urge to scream at him.

  She held back tears. Handed him the two boards she’d been holding and walked into the cabin.

  “Cara?”

  She heard him calling behind her but didn’t stop. She went to her room. Her sacred space. He hadn’t set foot in the room since her second day with him.

  “Cara!” She heard the concern in his voice. Took a deep breath. Another whole week had passed and she’d come no closer to knowing what she was going to do. What was supposed to happen with her. How her life would end.

  Under the doctor’s—Simon’s—tender care, she was more rested, healthier, physically stronger than she’d been in years. When he’d gone into town the week before he’d stocked up on real food. Fresh food. She’d been eating like a pig.

  Because she’d insisted on using her cooking skills to please him, he’d eaten even more than she had.

  She wasn’t sure, but she had considered that she was slowly losing her mind. The desire to scream at the only man who’d ever truly taken care of her was proof of that theory. Her emotions, usually so...controllable...were completely out of control.

  Memories were returning every day. Snippets of things she’d long forgotten. Hadn’t even known she’d forgotten. Things like that little doll. Until she held the Mace she’d had no recollection of that doll.

  But knew that she’d bought one for Joy. And that her little girl had loved it.

  Joy...

  Shaking her head, Cara picked up the Mace. Squeezed it tight.

  “Cara.”

  She didn’t answer. Didn’t want him to know that she was losing it. Knew she was safe behind the door.

  And then the door moved. His head peeked around. “There you are. You had me worried.”

  “Sorry. I...just got hot...standing in the direct sun.” And she was still sitting there in her hoodie. A normal person would have taken off the jacket.

  “What happened out there?”

  “Nothing. You saw the boards before you ran into them. That’s good!”

  He needed to believe so. What was it to him if she thought differently? Pointless information, that was what.

  He came into the room. If she told him to go, he would. She had no doubt. Instead, she scooted over on the bed, leaving room at the end for him to take a seat if he wished.

  After hesitating a couple of seconds, watching her, he did.

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  It was an odd moment. They’d been living in this small cabin together for more than two weeks—sharing a bar of shower soap, a tube of toothpaste, every meal and a washing machine—and yet, other than the night they’d had wine, they’d never stepped over the clear, yet unspoken, boundaries.

  “You sure you want that?” She gave him a sideways glance. The man was gorgeous, even when he was pigheadedly stubborn. Some woman was going to be very lucky someday.

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “What we’ve got going here...this weird waiting game we’re playing, putting off what’s going to happen to me while you heal...it works because I’ve got nowhere else to go...and because we don’t let it get messy.”

  “Messy?”

  “You know...your stuff is your stuff. Mine is mine. We don’t commingle it.” Except the shower soap, the toothpaste and the food.

  “I want to know what happened out there, Cara.”

  She shrugged. So he was going to push things. So maybe it was time. She couldn’t hang out there sponging off him forever. The healing time he was giving her... It was a waste. She knew it. She was just too weak to put an end to it before he
forced the issue.

  Was this it, then? Him forcing the issue? She’d kind of envisioned more of a standoff at the car—him driving away, either with her or without her, and going to the authorities. He’d told her it was a twenty-minute drive down the mountain into town. So even if he used his burner phone and called the authorities the second she refused to get in his car, she’d still have twenty minutes’ lead on them...

  Yeah, and he’d stay right there in the yard after making the call, too. He’d stay with her until the cops arrived. To keep her safe...

  Another losing venture he’d taken on. Along with his eye, in her opinion. Not that she was a doctor. Or knew a damned thing about eyes.

  Now, if it was his kidney he’d been struggling with, well, she could give him a dozen textbooks on that subject...

  The thought came unbidden. The bitterness attached to it shamed her. How could she possibly, possibly, begrudge one single thing she’d learned while caring for her mother? She’d absorbed it all willingly. Gratefully. So thankful for every second they’d had together...

  “Cara.”

  He’d go if she told him to, she kept reminding herself.

  So, why wasn’t she telling him to go?

  “I came in because I almost hollered at you.”

  He blinked. Pulled back with obvious surprise. “Yelled at me? Why?” And then. “Oh, because I got too close. You should have said something. Next time, do like you’ve been doing and just leave something in the yard. You don’t have to stand there...”

  “I can’t lug anything big enough far enough for you to not figure out what and where it is.”

  “I don’t care.” His voice was gentle. “I’m not having you go backwards for...”

  “Stop.” She couldn’t bring him down with her. “It had nothing to do with how close you were,” she told him. “It could have, if I hadn’t been watching your approach, if I hadn’t known why you were getting closer. If I hadn’t been silently cheering you on...”