A Weaver Holiday Homecoming

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  He grimaced. “No kidding.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “Don’t do that. Don’t disparage what you’ve already given. Sacrificed. You don’t have to give up your own family to make up for not being able to do what nobody else has been able to do, either. If you want to help someone, help yourself first. And then maybe you can find some way to help those families who don’t know where to turn. But please—” her voice lowered again, went husky “—please don’t think that time—hours, days, weeks—can prevent me from seeing who you are. Not just here.” She pressed her lips to his forehead. “But here.” She pressed her palm against his heart.

  “What if there comes a day when I can’t protect Chloe?”

  Mallory smiled shakily. “Welcome to parenthood.”

  The words seeped into him, still enough to make him shake in his boots. “I don’t want to screw it up.”

  “None of us do. So you do the best that you can with what you’ve got. In Chloe’s case, that’s easy. Because who can not love her? She has a heart as wide as an ocean.”

  “She has your heart.”

  Her eyes went damp again. “I think she has more than a little of you as well. And Cassie.”

  This time it was Ryan who closed his hands around hers. They were so delicate. Yet Mallory was not.

  She was strong and smart and independent and indescribably beautiful.

  “So what do we do now, Doc?”

  She inhaled. Let it out. “Now we go home and kiss your daughter good night before it gets any later.”

  It wasn’t quite what he’d meant.

  But for now, he realized, it was more than enough.

  So he slid off the examining table, and she cleaned up the small mess from the antiseptic packets and bandages. When there was no sign whatsoever of all that had transpired in Dr. Yarnell’s office, they went home.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  Mallory glanced at the tall, spare man who’d tapped Ryan on the shoulder.

  It was Saturday. The evening of the Christmas Festival dinner-dance and it was definitely not just an event for couples.

  Even Nina must have come to terms with that, because Mallory had spotted the woman when they’d arrived, though Nina had pretended not to see her. Mallory also saw shy-faced men in boots and cowboy hats dancing with their little girls, and hospital nurses—including Courtney—getting their groove on the dance floor without a single male in sight. Though there were plenty of single ones eyeing them from where they hung out by the refreshment tables. The gymnasium had been decorated with miles of green garland and red ribbons. It wasn’t at all fancy like some of the holiday parties she’d had to attend because of the practice in New York, but it was amazingly lovely.

  And a whole lot more fun.

  She’d danced with Ryan’s father. His cousin Axel. His cousin-in-law, Evan, who’d looked amused when he’d asked how well the puppy was settling in. And even Jake Forrest, who was J. D. Clay’s magazine-handsome fiancé, and one of Jake’s decidedly precocious twin sons, though she still wasn’t sure if it had been Connor or Zach.

  And now, Ryan’s grandfather, Squire Clay, was evidently prepared to interrupt the only dance she’d managed, so far, to actually share with Ryan.

  “I don’t mind as long as you swear you’ll behave yourself,” Ryan told the white-haired man.

  Squire just smiled cannily with a glint in his sharp blue gaze and Mallory could instantly see where all of the Clay men had come by their good looks.

  Ryan wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but he was there and he was trying—he’d danced, once with his mother and once with Chloe—and now, the wry smile he sent Mallory was probably the most natural one she’d seen on his face since he’d walked in the gymnasium doors with her and Chloe and Kathleen. “Watch out for him,” he warned Mallory. “He always flirts with the most beautiful women in the room.”

  Mallory couldn’t help but glance over to the chaotic collection of round tables that had been shoved without ceremony closer together in one corner of the room to accommodate the mass of Ryan’s family. Squire’s wife, Gloria, was watching them, an indulgent, knowing smile on her still-lovely face. She was sitting next to Kathleen and throughout dinner the two women had talked of nothing but puppies and quilting and making predictions about whether the assortment of Clay women who were currently pregnant would be having a boy or a girl.

  “Of course I pick the most beautiful women.” Squire held out his arms. “Shall we?”

  There was something irresistible about the man. And despite her very real interest in spending a little time in Ryan’s arms since that particular treasure had been in short supply since that day in her office, she smiled and placed her hand in Squire’s. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Clay.”

  “Child, I only answer to Squire or Grandpa, so take your pick.” He was smiling as he swept her into an old-fashioned waltz that was disconcertingly graceful considering she’d seen him walking with a cane when they’d arrived. “That little Chloe of yours is a pip,” he said after they’d swirled through the throng of dancers congesting the center of the gymnasium.

  Mallory couldn’t help feeling a tinge of wariness. Now that the news was out that Chloe was Ryan’s daughter, everyone, whether family or not, had been unfailingly—if occasionally carefully—gracious. “She’s certainly enjoying herself here,” she offered. From the moment they’d arrived, Chloe had been a blur of motion in the purple-and-white-lace dress that Kathleen had sewn for her. For every time Mallory had been on the dance floor, Chloe had been there twice.

  No male was safe from her sights. Not little Ben Scalise who was only four, nor the Forrest twins who were a few years older than Chloe, and not even Ryan, himself. And then when she wasn’t dancing, she was happily dividing her time among all of the laps of her newfound relations.

  “My grandson is enjoying himself, too,” Squire said. “We’re mighty grateful to you for that.”

  Mallory shook her head. “Thank Chloe.” Her daughter was the one who’d found the crack in Ryan’s shell.

  “Who wouldn’t be here at all if not for you,” he countered. “There aren’t a lot of secrets that get kept for long in this family. I know it probably wasn’t all that easy a decision to come here the way you did.”

  The decision to find Chloe’s father had been a lot easier than what she faced now.

  She had no illusions about her and Ryan. They would be forever linked because of Chloe. But just because she’d fallen in love with him didn’t mean he felt the same. That he’d ever feel the same.

  When it was time for her to take Chloe and Kathleen with her back to New York, she’d have to find a way to deal with it. It was one of those not-so-fine details that she had no clue how to resolve.

  But that was months away. For now she fully intended to take what she could get.

  “I don’t regret it at all,” she said now. “You have a wonderful family. I couldn’t have wished for anything better for Chloe.”

  “And what about for you?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m happy as long as Chloe is happy,” she finally settled on.

  There was something in the old man’s eyes, though, that told her he wasn’t exactly convinced. But he said no more since the song was ending and the band announced that they were taking a break.

  Mallory returned with Squire to the tables and he sat down next to his wife, closing his hand over hers with such clear devotion that she felt a little knot at the back of her throat. And as she glanced around, wondering where Ryan had gotten to, she realized that all of the couples at the tables seemed to exhibit that very same trait.

  “I’m going to get some punch,” she said to no one in particular. Chloe was now across the room along with a few dozen other children who were exploring the green-and-red wrapped packages that were stacked underneath the largest Christmas tree that Mallory had ever seen indoors. “Can I bring back anything?”

  “I’ll go, too.” Rebecca stood
up from her seat and the hem of her deep blue gown puddled a little on the floor since she’d kicked off her high heels without a speck of apology. Mallory envied her, but her own black dress was cocktail length and what Dr. Rebecca Clay could get away with wasn’t necessarily the behavior that Mallory could.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk with you, actually,” Rebecca said when they were halfway toward the refreshments.

  Mallory finally spotted Ryan, standing near the door talking with a white-haired man she didn’t recognize. She focused with an effort on Ryan’s mother. “About Chloe?”

  They reached the punch table that had at least two dozen punch bowls, guarded by a pinched-faced woman to insure they didn’t end up spiked. “About the hospital.” Rebecca filled a plastic glass and handed it to Mallory.

  “Hello, Dr. Clay.” Nina stopped next to them to fill up her own glass. Her gaze barely grazed over Mallory. “Dr. Keegan.”

  “Nina. You look very nice tonight,” Rebecca offered.

  Nina swiped her hand down her long velvet skirt, obviously self-conscious. “I came with friends.” The look she slanted toward Mallory was almost defiant.

  She wasn’t going to take offense. Not when she was so certain now of the reason behind the other woman’s animosity. “One of the best ways to enjoy a party. I’m glad to see you decided to come.”

  “Janie insisted she and Tom would stay home if I didn’t come.” She filled several glasses and picked them up carefully. “So here I am.” Her smile was bright but there was a desperately sad edge to it as she turned away.

  Mallory couldn’t help feeling for the woman, no matter how difficult she’d been at times.

  “Now. About what I was saying,” Rebecca said, but she broke off again and her smile widened when her gaze traveled past Mallory. “Ryan, would you like some punch?”

  “This’ll do.” He reached his arm around Mallory and slipped the glass out of her hand, drinking from it and sending a lurch through her midsection in the process. “Needs some kick, though.” His voice was dry.

  Mallory felt certain that Rebecca didn’t miss the way his fingers slid through hers, but she was simply incapable of letting it bother her. “Who was the man you were talking to?” She didn’t see him anywhere now.

  “Coleman Black.”

  Rebecca didn’t share Mallory’s shock over the name. She looked surprised and a little pleased. “Cole is here? We haven’t seen him in months.”

  “He’s outside now talking to Tris and Jefferson. Then he’s heading down to see Angel and Brody, though I imagine she’ll be the only one actually pleased to see him. You’d better be quick if you want to catch him before he leaves.”

  Mallory was trying to follow, but was failing miserably. She knew Tristan and Jefferson Clay were Ryan’s uncles. Tristan owned CeeVid. And Jefferson had a horse ranch. But what they, or Ryan’s cousin, had to do with the man from HW Industries escaped her.

  Wondering didn’t seem all that important, though, when Ryan tugged her away from his mother toward the doors that led to the corridor outside the gym. “We’re going to find ten minutes alone somewhere if it’s the last thing I do,” he murmured in her ear. “Ever made love in a coat closet?”

  “For only ten minutes?” Her tone was dry, but her face felt hot.

  His gaze raked down her and it was a wonder it didn’t leave a trail of scorch marks on her dress. “The way you look and the way I feel? Darlin’, it’ll only take five.”

  Her mouth ran dry. “Then that should leave time for seconds.”

  He gave a bark of laughter, and hustled her even faster toward the doors. But a bullet in a purple dress crossed their path before they made it.

  “Come on,” Chloe grabbed their hands and tugged. “Santa’s passing out the presents from under the tree now!”

  Ryan’s gaze met hers. Parenthood, she mouthed.

  He grimaced wryly, and changed course. They followed Chloe to the opposite side of the room, which had become the focus of nearly everyone there. And there was, indeed, a jolly fat man in a Santa suit, doling out the boxes from beneath the tree to every child who, in turn, quickly tore through the wrapping paper and ribbons. Chloe was no exception.

  Mallory whispered toward Ryan behind her. “Who provides the gifts?”

  There were so many people standing around so closely that probably nobody saw the hand he slid around her waist, his fingers moving dangerously close to her breasts. “Santa,” he whispered back.

  She stepped her high heel on his toe and he gave a muffled laugh. “CeeVid,” he said in her ear, nearly soundless. “Tristan’s done it for years now.”

  She surveyed the excited gift recipients. She’d said Chloe had found a wonderful family, and it seemed to be proven out everywhere she looked. “Who’s the Santa?”

  “Don’t know. Not Tris—he’s out talking to Cole.”

  Mallory’s hands settled over Ryan’s, keeping his fingers from straying too far and driving her insane. His chest felt solid and warm against her back. And when Chloe triumphantly showed them the trio of learning video games she’d unwrapped, Mallory felt the evening was about as perfect as it could get.

  Until she heard a high shriek and Nina VanSlyke’s distinctive voice scream, “Dan!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I can’t believe Dr. Yarnell proposed like that to Nina in front of everyone.” Courtney was still shaking her head the next afternoon over the unexpected culmination of that year’s Holiday Festival.

  She looked up from the coloring book that she and Chloe were both coloring in. “What if she’d said no? Seriously. He leaves her for weeks on end and comes back before anyone expects him to, dresses up like Santa and sticks a ring in her face? I think she should at least have made him sweat a little.” She looked across the table that held nothing but the dregs of a very informal Sunday dinner—pizza and buffalo wings—and eyed Mallory. “What do you think?”

  Mallory thought she didn’t want to be part of this conversation at all.

  But it was Sunday dinner at Emily and Jefferson’s place, and of all times, Ryan had finally decided to rejoin the tradition.

  How could Mallory have refused?

  “I think…maybe Nina’s pride wasn’t worth passing up what she really wanted,” she answered. “Which is obviously Dr. Yarnell.” The woman had been clearly overcome when Santa had pulled off his false white beard and the red cap and had presented his last package—a small red box—to her. “It was a little romantic,” she added. “Grand gesture and all that.”

  “Nicely summed up,” Emily said. On her hip, she was holding a cherubic baby boy who belonged to her son, Axel, and his wife, Tara, who owned the Classic Charms shop that Mallory had found so charming. Though Axel and Tara weren’t there because of some other conflict, Emily was obviously delighted to be babysitting.

  Mallory fell quiet again. Her gaze kept slipping to Ryan, who was deep in discussion with Evan Taggart over something.

  It probably wouldn’t be another puppy.

  Not since Dr. Yarnell had returned in such dramatic fashion to Nina, summarily ending his sabbatical. Not to mention Mallory’s means of staying in Weaver.

  She knew Ryan had to understand the consequences of Dan’s return. What she didn’t know was whether or not he cared.

  Because he hadn’t said.

  And she’d realized how afraid she was of learning the answer if she asked.

  That’s what happened when those details she let herself overlook jumped up to stare her in the face.

  The slice of pepperoni pizza that she’d managed to choke down was sitting uncomfortably in her stomach and she rose from the table, gathering up the used paper plates and empty cups. “Can I get you anything, Gram?”

  Kathleen was poring over the photo albums that Gloria had come equipped with and she shook her head. “No thank you, dear.”

  Mallory glanced around the table, but there were no other takers, either, and she carried the stack in her hands into the
kitchen.

  “Trash is here.” Rebecca had followed her. With obvious familiarity, she held open a tall cupboard for her.

  “Thanks.” Mallory stowed the garbage.

  “It was quite the evening last night.”

  Mallory nodded jerkily, moved to the sink and washed her hands. She’d have been quite happy to wash dishes if only to keep herself busy, but there were none. Emily had laughed about the disposable nature of their entire meal, blaming it on her grandchildren’s unquenchable desire for pizza. Her husband, Jefferson, had just looked amused and suggested it had more to do with the fact that her gift-buying frenzy for those grandchildren had left her with no time for anything else.

  When she turned away from the sink, Rebecca handed her a towel. “Would you consider taking a staff position at the hospital?”

  Mallory’s fingers tightened around the towel at the wholly unexpected question. “I wasn’t aware there was one available.”

  Rebecca’s head tilted slightly. “There isn’t, exactly. But that isn’t to say that there wouldn’t be if the board were asked.”

  Mallory exhaled. She folded the towel and set it next to the old-fashioned farmhouse sink. “Rebecca, you don’t have to do that. Just because Dan’s back, I’m not going to disappear with Chloe forever. I’ll make sure she spends plenty of time here in Weaver.”

  “I’m not trying to bribe you,” Rebecca assured. “I was going to mention it last night, but we were interrupted. Yes, it would be wonderful to have Chloe here permanently. That’s purely selfish on my part. But the hospital—the people it serves—can use your skills, Mallory. And I’d like to think that staying in Weaver would suit you, as well. Also selfish on my part, though, because the position wouldn’t be able to pay you anything like what you’ve been earning in New York.”

  The topic of money was almost funny, considering Mallory hadn’t convinced Ryan to take back that check or the trust. Even though she knew what had prompted him, he’d been adamant. And so the envelope containing all of it was still sitting untouched in her office.

  Check that. Dan’s office.