An Informal Christmas (Informal Romance Book 1)

by Heather Gray

  The death of a child could explain his behavior. Most of the time, though, people talked about it. Whenever she asked what prompted the giving, a person would mention the child, say the gift was in his or her memory, that they wanted to honor the child’s life. Something other than his tight-lipped reticence.

  Zach redefined strong and silent.

  The urge to reach out to him was too great to ignore.

  Is that you, God? Or just my own attraction? Help!

  “Hey, I know lunch was provided, but we put a lot of prep work into this event. I want to go unwind. What do you say to nachos?” She hoped she was doing the right thing. “There’s this great little place that’ll let you order next to nothing and stay for hours. As long as you leave a good tip.”

  His hands disappeared behind his back. The next thing she knew, he was tugging his leather work gloves on. “Saddle up, pardner.”

  Oh dear. She hoped the teenage schoolgirl giggle bubbling up inside wasn’t reflected on her face. She’d never cared for westerns before, but he tempted her to pick one up at the bookstore.

  For the sake of professionalism, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You sure you want to go in costume?” Change your clothes, or I might be incapable of coherent conversation.

  Zach’s eyes twinkled. Within seconds, he removed his gloves, chaps, and lasso. Flames scorched Rylie’s cheeks as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “If you want to strip, at least let us sell tickets. It’d make for a scintillating fundraiser.” Blossom stood in the doorway, inspecting the two of them with raised eyebrows and the sort of appreciative gleam in her eyes that people didn’t generally associate with a chaplain.

  Rylie dropped her gaze. Blossom couldn’t have come thirty seconds later?

  She glanced back up in time to see the chaplain circling Zach. His flannel shirt was gone, and he now sported a perfectly ordinary charcoal grey t-shirt. He’d been wearing it underneath the entire time. So the whole unbuttoning thing… there had been no undressing going on after all. Oy. Logically, she’d recognized that fact, but her reaction at the sight of him reaching for that first button… Well, logic hadn’t quite been in play.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Blossom circled Zach. “Next time, leave the t-shirt at home. We’ll set up a stage in the lobby, and you can take your costume off there. I’m pretty sure we could fund Child Life and the Chaplaincy for at least another year on the donations alone. Social Work, too, if we raffled off the chaps and cowboy hat. Don’t you think so, Rylie?”

  Shaking her head at the glint in her friend’s eyes, Rylie countered. “It being a pediatric hospital and all, the powers-that-be might not approve.” Before the chaplain could say another word, Rylie escaped down the short hallway to collect her purse and jacket. She needed to get Zach out of there before Blossom said something even more embarrassing. She might be a chaplain, but that woman possessed a mile-wide devilish streak.

  Rylie returned to their miniscule foyer to find her cowboy philanthropist alone, a bemused expression on his face. “She’s a chaplain?”

  A chuckle slipped out. “Yeah, and she’s fantastic. Unorthodox, but fantastic.”

  Picking up his cowboy gear, Zach gave another trademark shrug. “Okay then. Lead the way.”

  “Mm, these are good. How’d you ever find this place?” Zach reached for another cheese-and-pepper-laden chip.

  Montecito’s was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant familiar to those, like Rylie, who had lived in Northern Virginia their whole lives. The people who loved the place didn’t want outsiders ruining the atmosphere, so it remained a closely guarded secret.

  “Montecito’s isn’t a place people find.” She took a long draw on her water.

  “No kidding.” For a man who’d eaten a full plate at lunch, he packed away those nachos like nobody’s business. “What? Is it a state secret? Should you have blindfolded me before bringing me here?”

  She snagged a chip of her own. “That might’ve been a little tough since you insisted on driving.”

  “I suppose I should be thankful you didn’t tie me up and make me get into the trunk of my car.”

  Rylie lifted her hands, palm up, in surrender. “Hey, some secrets are worth protecting.”

  His brown eyes, made darker by the dim lighting, flitted away. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “So what’s your secret?” She concentrated on dissecting a chunk of nachos with her fork then moving it to her own little plate.

  “I’m an open book.”

  Rylie reached for the salsa bowl. Zach didn’t seem to mind the jalapenos, but he ate his nachos sans salsa. Lightweight. “Uh-huh. You ever going to tell me why you started donating to Child Life?”

  The shrug should annoy her, but it instead got sexier each time.

  She blinked the thought away. “I’m protective of my kids, and that means I protect the Child Life Department, too. I prefer to know who we’re doing business with.”

  “Is that what this is, then? A business lunch? Should I write it off on my taxes?”

  Zach’s words held a barb, but she couldn’t let it go that easily. “We live in a political environment. Everything we say and do is hyper-analyzed. As we’re constantly reminded, Child Life doesn’t bring money into the hospital. Neither does the chaplaincy. Both departments have suffered budget cuts the last four years running. Soon the hospital won’t even cover the cost of Child Life Specialists, and something I went to college for years to learn will become nothing more than a part-time volunteer gig.”

  His shoulders dropped the slightest bit. “Accepting donations from me shouldn’t get you or your department in trouble.”

  She’d been honest in her explanation… for the most part. She’d been defensive, too, though, and that wouldn’t do. Rylie might not know what he was hiding, but she knew it was something painful. If she could tread carefully on the job, why was it so hard out in the real world?

  What do I do here, God? You taught me to be open with others — transparent even — but this is different.

  No. It wasn’t different. Not really. Rylie realized it as soon as she finished the thought.

  She took another cleansing breath. “Okay, so what if I’m asking because I’m curious? As an individual, not as a hospital employee. And as for Child Life, I don’t think it’ll ever be cut. I was venting. Feel free to ignore what I said.”

  The corner of Zach’s mouth quirked up, and Rylie savored the victory. A smile on his face was a rare sight. This whole transparency thing was paying off.

  “Well, then, as an individual, I should tell you I’m a fairly private person.”

  Rylie blew out a breath. “Huh. Go figure. I don’t think I could have guessed that.”

  She might’ve poured the sarcasm on a little thick. His hand, halfway to another chip, dropped back and fell out of sight.

  Never one to give up, she tried to salvage the situation. “I’m not trying to dive into your inner psyche. I simply want to understand.”

  He waved a hand toward the nacho plate. “I give you credit. You picked a creative way to go about it. You can try to get me to open up anytime you want if this is how you always do it.”

  At least he wasn’t looking at his watch and claiming an early evening meeting elsewhere as a means of escape. “Tell me what you do for a living.”

  The tiny quirk was back at the edge of his mouth. “Construction.”

  She rolled her eyes at his droll voice and single-word response. At last his humor was present and accounted for.

  “Construction has a lot of subspecialties, doesn’t it? What’s your area of expertise?”

  “Mostly building. I build things.”

  Rylie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seatback, ready to give up. She’d been wrong to think he needed someone to talk to, and she’d been even more wrong to think she might be the person to meet that need. This was the last time she let a pair of leather chaps decide her fate for her.

  Laughter cut into h
er internal rant, and she opened one eye to look at her dining companion.

  “You asked for it. I couldn’t help myself.” Mirth danced in his eyes.

  Rylie tugged on her raven hair, a nervous habit. “You win. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

  “Why did you pick Child Life as a career? Isn’t it hard? Emotionally draining? Are you seeing anyone? How do you handle a kid dying? Do you ever let the kids see you hurting, or do you hide it and always put on a smile for them?”

  “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at one time.”

  “I’m a man of few words.”

  “Unless you’re trying to redirect the spotlight.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  She gave in. Arguing wouldn’t get her anywhere. “I majored in early childhood education at the start of college. I wanted to be an elementary school teacher, third grade. I was observing in a classroom one day, and I met this little girl who wore a bright pink bucket hat to hide her baldness. During lunch, all the other kids went to the cafeteria, but she stayed and ate in the classroom. I got the pleasure of keeping her company.”

  The memory was a living thing to Rylie. She could smell the chalk and construction paper, taste the tang of her apple, and hear the slight squeak of the girl’s desk chair as she shifted in her seat.

  “Her name was Luana, and she had leukemia. Chemo had made her bald, and even though the doctor had okayed her return to school, he’d instructed her parents to keep her away from community areas as much as possible. Her immune system was weak, and they tried to minimize the chance of her picking up a cold or other illness.”

  “Wasn’t it dangerous for her to be in a classroom with kids who went to all those same common areas?”

  Rylie couldn’t keep the sad out of her smile. “The other students washed their hands and used antibacterial gel. All the surfaces in the room were wiped off several times a day, too. The teacher even stayed late to scrub everything down with a special soap after school. The kids and adults worked together to make it possible for her to be at school and spend time with others her age. They wanted to keep things normal for her as much as they could.”

  “What about bullies? Kids can be mean, and she didn’t have hair.”

  Rylie tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I was in Luana’s classroom for two weeks, and I shared every lunch with her. We talked about a lot of different things, including bullies. The occasional mean kid at school didn’t bother her. The kids in the hospital, however, broke her heart.”

  “She was one of them, wasn’t she?”

  “Sure, but her mom telecommuted, which meant she could be at the hospital whenever Luana was there. A lot of the kids saw their parents only on the weekend. Their entire world became their illness. Every conversation was with a hospital employee and was centered on their diagnosis. Luana said they had the saddest eyes and that, if she lived long enough to grow up, she wanted to make life better for those kids.”

  Zach sat back. “Those two weeks of observation changed the course of your whole life, didn’t they?”

  Rylie nodded. “And I’ve never regretted it for a minute.”

  “Did she… did she live long enough to do those things?”

  “I met her when she was nine. I exchanged emails with her mom and stayed in touch. I would visit now and then and tell her about my classes and what I was learning. We would talk about programs that hospitals should offer and what sorts of things would cheer the kids up. Nail polish and hair bows were always on her list.”

  “But did she…?”

  Rylie didn’t often tell people about Luana. She couldn’t, not without choking on the memories. “She died a month before my graduation. She was twelve.” Moisture pooled, and she glanced skyward in an attempt to prevent the tears from spilling over.

  “Here.”

  A quick glance told her Zach wasn’t fooled. He held a clean napkin out to her. She took it, dabbed her eyes, and blew her nose. “Sorry. I try not to let it get to me, but…”

  “You care, and that makes you good at your job. Those kids swarmed around you the second we stepped into the cancer unit. That, more than anything else, tells me what a difference you make in their lives.”

  Instead of delving into the deep, dark secrets of his life, she’d managed to bare her soul. Her fate was sealed. She was never going to make it as a spy. Good thing she hadn’t planned on trying.

  “You didn’t answer one of my questions.” His voice held an undertone of teasing.

  She’d missed a whole lot more than one, but if her guess was correct, he was referring to…

  A glint entered his eyes. “So, you seeing anyone?”

  November

  Rylie got home from work and booted up her computer. She’d given Zach her personal email, and he had said he’d be in touch. Reading too much into it would be foolhardy. Just like falling for a guy who wouldn’t open up about himself.

  She wasn’t falling, though.

  She had it under control.

  Zach’s name in her inbox brought a smile to Rylie’s face.

  Okay. Maybe it wasn’t as under control as she thought.

  Hey Rylie,

  Thought I’d drop a note and say hi.

  You told me how you have to accept your own weakness before you can accept God’s strength. You know, to cope with your job. What do you do when His strength isn’t enough? Or when He lets you down?

  Rylie stared at the computer screen for what felt like hours before moving her mouse toward the Reply button.

  Hi Zach,

  I hope you’re doing well and keeping busy with all your constructy stuff. You know, building and whatnot.

  As for your question, that’s a hard one.

  I can give you the pretty answer, or the honest one. I’m opting for honesty. I hope that’s okay.

  Yeah, there are times when I’ve felt like God has let me down. That’s kind of what led to my own struggle with stepping aside and letting God be strong for me. It’s not easy seeing kids you’ve grown to love fight so hard to live — and sometimes lose that fight.

  I guess the difference is that even if I feel like God has let me down, in reality I know he hasn’t. When what I feel doesn’t match up with what the Bible says, I tend to trust the Bible more than my own feelings. At least, I try to. I don’t always succeed. But that’s what it comes down to for me. I might feel like God has let me down now and then, but what I feel isn’t always what’s true or right.

  I hope that makes sense.

  And I hope you’re having a fantastic day full of building stuff. Or not building stuff. Whatever you think of as fantastic.

  Yours,

  Rylie

  A couple days later, another email came. Then another. Most of Zach’s questions had nothing to do with God. He asked about where she grew up, her favorite foods, where she liked to vacation. Each time, in his questions, Rylie got to see more of who the man was. He opened up and talked about why he preferred the mountains to the beach — readily available lumber in case it was ever needed — and why he would never again eat soup in public — three clumsy waiters in three weeks soured him on the whole soup thing — but he gave no hint about what caused the shadows in his eyes and prompted him to wonder how people got past feeling like God had disappointed them. Somehow, with each passing day, Rylie was more okay with that.

  Zach would share when he was ready, and if he didn’t, she still enjoyed getting to know him. She wasn’t willing to give that up in order to pry for information.

  Not yet, anyway.

  York’s here to see you.

  Rylie had agreed to let Makayla give her a manicure, which meant she could read the message, but typing out a response wasn’t a good idea at the moment.

  “What do you think?” The teen’s dare was not lost on her.

  A glance down at her hands showed nails decorated with neon blue and green in an alternating pattern. No one would be able to accuse her of being dull, tha
t was for sure.

  “I love it.”

  Makayla grinned. “Sure. And I have a head full of red hair.”

  Today’s wig was cotton candy pink. Yesterday’s had been lemon yellow. Red would show up eventually.

  Rylie had asked once about the teen’s penchant for bright colors. The answer had surprised her.

  “Sometimes life is dark. So I splash color around wherever I can. It makes other people smile, and that makes me happy.”

  Makayla had been battling her cancer off and on for most of her life. She’d celebrated remissions… and lamented recurrences. Her entire family hunted for colors on her behalf. From bright wigs to socks and everything in between. They filled her hospital room with color at every opportunity. Rylie still remembered the day Makayla’s grandmother had shown up with a shopping bag full of bras. Every stripe of the rainbow and then some, and not a single pastel in the bunch.

  The poor teen had blushed furiously as her grandmother, all smiles and grace, had suggested she model them.

  The silver-haired fox had known exactly what she was doing.

  Yes, Makayla was a girl blessed with a family that went out of its way to bring joy into her life, even if it was occasionally at their own expense. Or hers.

  Rylie’s attention went from her nails back to the pager.

  “Someone’s waiting in the Child Life offices for me.”

  “Hot cowboy?”

  Rylie’s eyebrow shot up. “What makes you think that?”

  “You blush every time I ask about him, and you’re blushing now. Has to be the hot cowboy.”

  “I haven’t even seen him since last month.” And she hadn’t, technically. She wouldn’t mention the emails. Nor would she remind the teen that November was still new enough that last month wasn’t very far in the past.

  “Oh come on. It’s not like I think you’re running upstairs to go have office sex or anything.”

  “Makayla!”

  Rylie and Makayla swung toward the voice and found Mrs. Maskey standing in the doorway, her eyebrows attempting to take flight above her wide eyes.

  “You will apologize this instant. That is no way to talk to someone.”