by Mary Manners
“At the apples?” He snatched her hand, clasped it in his. “My cheeks have apples?”
“You could say that.” Brynn nodded appreciatively. “Yes, it’s official—you have very nice bone structure. It must be genetic.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“I’m doing my best here. Will my unabashed brown-nosing persuade you to wear the blush?”
“No.”
“You’re a tough sell. You know, back in the eighteen hundreds, before blush came into general use, women used to pinch their cheeks or, better yet,”—she grabbed her purse and shuffled through the contents—“prick their fingers with a needle and dab the blood on their cheeks to give that rosy appearance. I think I have a safety pin somewhere in here. We can try it out, see if that technique works on you. Give me your finger.”
“No way. I don’t think that practice of self-mutilation applied to the male gender.” He grimaced. “Besides, you’re joking right?”
“Am I?” Brynn winked and held up a jumbo-sized pin. Silver glinted beneath the restaurant lights. “Are you feeling lucky?”
“Not particularly.” Dillon twined his fingers with those of her free hand while he reached across the table and wrestled the pin from her.
“I need your help, Dillon.” She fluttered those impossibly-long, dusky lashes. “Please.”
“OK, depending on where this Santa suit thing is leading I just might be persuaded to save my skin from becoming a human pin cushion and bow to the brush-on blush.”
“In that case…it’s leading to Janie.”
“Janie?”
“Yes. If she’s going to spend Christmas in the hospital, she can’t have Santa at home. So, Santa will just have to go to her.”
“Well…when you put it that way I suppose it merits a beard and a red felt hat, along with a super-stuffed pillow duct-taped over my gut. We’ll debate more about the merits of blush later.”
“Fair enough.”
“In the meantime, here come Mom and Anthony. My bet is they’ll want to join us for dessert.”
Brynn turned toward the aisle way and Dillon nodded as the two headed over. They made a handsome pair—Anthony with his wide, easy grin and shock of grizzled hair and Mom with her twinkling deep-brown eyes. She looked genuinely happy and once the shock of seeing her with someone beside dad wore off, Dillon was happy for her, too.
“Hi there Dillon, Brynn.” Mom waggled her fingers in greeting as she approached. “Did I overhear you say Dillon’s going to play Santa for little Janie Mitchell?”
Brynn nodded. “We’re discussing it.”
“What’s to discuss? Why, that’s a marvelous idea.” She settled into the seat beside Brynn while Anthony propped one hip against the booth. “That child is precious, and now that she appears to be out of the woods, Sarah’s been beside herself worrying over the holidays. It’s a special time for a six-year-old, especially one who came so close to losing her life. We’ve been discussing the situation at church, but it appears you’ve already taken the bull by the horns. I should have known.”
“Sarah can use all the help she can get. The medical bills, even with insurance, are sure to be staggering. And she hasn’t been able to work in over a week…most likely won’t be able to again for another month, at least.”
“Yes.” Mom grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and drew a pen from her purse. “We’ve been brainstorming a few ideas to help in that department. Anthony’s hosting a fundraiser here at the pizzeria next Saturday night and an account in Janie’s name has been set up at the bank.”
“That’s great news.”
“What about gifts for Janie? Do you need help with those, Brynn?”
“I’ve got that part covered, but Sarah mentioned how much she likes Mr. Moretto’s fettuccini.” She turned her attention to Anthony. “Do you think you could whip up a batch for me to run by the hospital tomorrow?”
“I’ll whip up anything you’d like. Just name it.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” Brynn leaned forward and the silver heart pendant slipped from the collar of her sweater.
Mom gasped and caught it between two fingers as it glimmered beneath the restaurant lights. “Is this the necklace…?”
“Yes. The one you and Mr. Cutler gave me that Christmas Gramps was so sick.”
“You kept it all these years?”
“Of course. It’s lovely. I treasure it and rarely take it off.”
“That’s the sweetest thing. That was a very special night.” Mom’s eyes suddenly glazed over with tears. She loosed the pendant and swiped at her cheeks as the moisture spilled over. “Oh, my word…I don’t know why I’m so weepy all of a sudden.”
“There, there, Hattie my dear.” Anthony took her hand, sheltering it in his. Though closing in on sixty, his eyes were still a piercing blue while waves of peppered hair spilled over his brow. “It’s OK, just memories swirling around. My eyes get leaky sometimes, too.”
“I’d better go.” Mom pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. She slipped from the booth and Anthony took her by the elbow, drawing her near.
“There, there.” He repeated as he patted her between the shoulder blades. “Sometimes a good cry helps clear the path. Come on, my dear.”
“Thank you, Tony.” Mom smiled through her tears as she allowed herself to be led away. She glanced back over her shoulder. “You two enjoy your meal and come by soon, Brynn, so we can catch up.”
“I’ll walk you back to the nursery.” Anthony murmured to Hattie before he offered Brynn and Dillon a slight wave with his free hand. “See you both again soon.”
Brynn and Dillon watched them go. He felt as if the world had just shifted into a new chapter. His mom was in love again. He only hoped, for her sake, that Anthony Moretto shared the sentiment. By all accounts, it seemed so.
“Is your mom going to be OK?” Brynn finally broke the silence as the door closed behind the couple. She watched as they meandered, side by side, across the boulevard. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“She’ll be fine. Mom’s strong. I think she’d just coming to terms with her…with some stuff.”
“She still misses your dad, doesn’t she?”
“I suppose so. But she knows it’s time to move on. And I believe she has.”
“Anthony?”
“I’d put my money on it.”
“It was hard when my dad…I mean, after my mom died.” She bunched her napkin and commenced to shredding the edges. “When Dad started to date, and then he remarried. It was odd, at first. Are you OK?”
“I’m OK.” Dillon felt the spaghetti tumble in his belly. “Yeah, it’s a good thing…Mom and Anthony. He’s a stand-up guy. It’s obvious he makes her happy, and he’ll never break her heart.”
Brynn smoothed the napkin and draped it across her plate. “About the blush…you don’t have to wear it.” Brynn sighed and leveled Dillon a gaze. “I was just teasing about that. A hat and beard will be fine—and the pillow.” Her gaze drifted to his ribs. “You’ll definitely need the pillow.”
“You know what I’m wishing right now?”
“No. What?” Brynn’s brown eyes danced beneath the light.
“I’m wishing that mistletoe wreath was hanging right”—He pointed to the ceiling directly above them—“there.”
“Who says we need mistletoe?”
“Well, since you put it that way…” He leaned in for an encore of the night before. “We can pluck the berries when I take you home.”
7
Brynn watched as, that Friday, Dillon pulled a chair close to Janie’s hospital bed and leaned into the edge. He’d insisted on accompanying her to the pediatric ward again today, and since Gran was nicely on the mend, Brynn felt comfortable leaving her and Gramps alone for the afternoon. Tonight they’d all attend the fundraiser at the pizzeria.
Best of all, Sarah had actually ventured home for the afternoon; trusting Brynn and Dillon to keep watch, along with the nurses,
over her daughter. Brynn hoped Sarah was indulging in a much-needed nap followed by a soothing, hot shower and a meal that didn’t come slopped on a tray. The poor woman had barely seen the inside of her home in two weeks.
In the meantime, a coloring book was splayed across the crisp, white sheet and Janie, swathed in heart-monitor wires and IV tubes, looked on while Dillon shaded in a chunky Christmas stocking filled with toys. His technique for staying within the lines was surely the envy of every preschooler on the planet.
“Color the lollipop purple for grape.” Janie caught her bottom lip between gapped front teeth and tugged. Curls the color of cinnamon spilled over the pillow beneath her propped head. Freckles dotted her pale cheeks, but Brynn was pleased to see clarity had returned to her denim-blue eyes while her sweet, tiny voice seemed stronger and clearer. The worries over complications from infection following surgery on her spleen had all but passed. Vitals displayed on the monitors looked good. “I like grape suckers.”
“I do, too.” Dillon tore the finished page from the book and handed it to Brynn to tack onto the bulletin board on the wall at the foot of the bed. “What else do you like, Janie? What do you want from Santa?”
“Baby Cries A Lot.” She yawned and scratched her arm where the tape that held her IV line in place was stuck to her skin. “She’s a doll.”
“I’ve seen the commercials.” Dillon nodded.
“Yeah. She can sleep in the bed here with me while Mama rests in the chair.”
“That sounds like a good choice.”
“Uh huh. Becca got Baby Cries A Lot for her birthday and she brought her to school for show-and-tell. I got to hold her and give her a bottle when we went to the playground so she would stop cryin’.”
“I see.”
“I told Mama all about it, and she said I did a good job being a little mommy. But how will Santa know I want Baby Cries A Lot if I don’t sit on his lap to tell him?”
“We can write a letter.”
“A letter? Will it get to the North Pole in time?” Janie reached for her water glass, and Dillon offered her a sip through a straw. “Maybe the elves have already made all the toys.”
“Oh, no they haven’t. They work straight through Christmas Eve to get Santa’s sleigh loaded.” Dillon placed the cup back on the table beside the bed and reached for a notebook that sat beside it. “And they take last-minute orders. Tell you what; you say what you want, and I’ll write it down. Brynn and I will mail it to Santa at the North Pole on our way home from here, OK?”
Brynn and I. That sounded so…right, Brynn thought. She sipped lukewarm coffee from her go-cup as Dillon, strong as a fortress, seemed to melt at Janie’s adorable eagerness.
“OK.” Color rushed to Janie’s cheeks at the excitement of sharing her wishes with the white-bearded, jolly old man. Brynn’s insides turned to liquid, too. By all accounts, Dillon had fallen hard for sweet little Janie. He was the best medicine yet for the child.
Over the course of the week, Dillon had transformed the stark hospital room into a colorful haven. He’d thought to bring a tiny, tabletop tree from the nursery and asked the nurses’ permission to place it near the window overlooking the parking lot, where Janie could easily see sunlight capture the star atop tiny branches. Decorated with miniature, colorful balls and a strand of flashing lights unearthed from a storage crate, the tree added a welcome touch of Christmas cheer to the room, and its fresh pine scent chased away the sting of disinfectant.
The paper dolls strung together like garland along the walls also added to the holiday cheer. They were Dillon’s idea, as well. He’d started a campaign at the nursery, along with Hattie and Mattie’s help, to ask the children of their customers to color a doll and add their name to its T-shirt. In this way, Janie and Sarah learned of all the people in the Clover Cove community who held them close in prayer. Seeing the army of dolls grow daily by leaps and bounds had moved Sarah to tears while bringing a smile to Janie’s angelic face.
“OK, I’m ready for your list.”
Dillon’s voice broke into Brynn’s thoughts.
“The sky’s the limit when it comes to Santa.”
“Can he bring some toys for Sassy, too?”
Dillon glanced at Brynn, his eyes questioning.
“Sassy’s Janie’s cat,” Brynn murmured.
“Oh, right.” Dillon jotted a note on the pad. “Sure, honey, toys for Sassy. Got it. Next?”
“Flowers for Mama.” She rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. She’d overdone things today, and the strain was catching up and closing in. “She likes those yellow ones with the brown eyes.”
“Brown-eyed Susan’s?”
“Umm…uh huh. Sometimes I pick them from the yard and bring them to her. She smiles real big and hugs me.”
“OK, then…flowers for your mom.” Dillon noted the request. “Next?”
Sleepily, Janie crooked a finger at him and Dillon leaned in, pressing his ear close to her mouth. Janie peeked at Brynn as she cupped one hand at Dillon’s cheek and whispered in an urgent tone.
“Well…yes.” Dillon nodded slightly as he listened. “Um…I think Santa can manage that.”
“Manage what?” Brynn inched forward in her chair. Janie and Dillon, the little mischief-mongers, simply grinned in reply.
“It’s a secret.” Janie’s eyes fluttered closed on a yawn as Dillon settled back into his seat. In the wink of an eye, she drifted off as the monitors continued their cacophonous symphony.
“Dillon?” Brynn rose from the chair to cross over to the bed, tugging Janie’s blankets to her chin. “What are the two of you up to?”
“You’ll just have to wait.” He pressed a finger to her lips to shush her. “Like Janie said…it’s a secret.”
Brynn’s breath caught as Dillon replaced his finger with a kiss.
“Oh, my…” Sarah paused in her tracks as she entered the room. “I’m…interrupting.”
“No.” Brynn sat back, her cheeks flaming. “Dillon was just…kissing me.”
“Well, I hope you kissed him back.” She continued into the room, heading straight to Janie’s bed. “She did OK?”
“She did fine. Dillon wore her out coloring and writing a list for Santa.”
“Anything on there I need to know about?”
“Not at all.” Dillon winked. “Santa’s got it covered.”
“Thank you for staying.” Sarah settled into the last empty chair in the room. “I feel so much better after a nap and a shower. I suppose you two should be heading out to Pappy’s Pizzeria.”
“Soon.” Brynn nodded. “What’s that in your hand?”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Sarah handed over the flyer. “I saw this on the board near the service elevator. It wasn’t there when I left, so it must have just posted.” Her voice held a touch of pleading. “I know you’ve mentioned you’re not planning to stick around Clover Cove permanently, but you’ve been so good with Janie and helping out around here with the nurses. I thought you might be interested...and perhaps have a change of heart.”
A change of heart?
Brynn scanned the flyer. It was for a job opening in the trauma unit—for a pediatric nurse.
****
Later that evening, Dillon filled his plate with a variety of pizza slices from the buffet Anthony had prepared. He weaved through the crowd, making his way back to tables that had been wedged together to accommodate the entire Cutler clan.
Brynn engaged in conversation with his mom and wisps of their conversation told him she delighted in sharing the tremendous progress Janie had made over the past week.
“If she continues to improve, she might actually make it home by Christmas Day. The doctor said it’s a miracle, and I believe the sudden positive turn is largely due to Dillon.”
“How’s that?” Dillon squeezed through the crowd to reclaim his seat beside her.
“You have a way with little girls.” Brynn grinned at him. “See what I mean?” She laughed as she jostled little
Nancy on her lap, who now had her arms outstretched to Dillon. The child’s puckered lips were smeared with marinara sauce. “I’m tossed to the curb like the morning newspaper when you’re around.”
“I’ll swap you.” Dillon offered Brynn the plate of pizza. “I’ll share if you will. Come on over, Nan.”
Brynn carefully handed over the child. “Wyatt and Kami sure do make pretty babies. This little one’s gonna be a heart breaker.”
“Don’t I know it.” Nancy giggled as Dillon wiped the sauce from her face. She pressed a rosy cheek to the cotton fabric of his polo, her skin warm against his chest. Dillon bent to nuzzle her crown of chestnut curls, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo.
Mom leaned in with Nate on her lap. His arms and legs pumped like pistons in the pursuit of his sister. “Three generations of Cutlers all at one table. It’s a wonderful thing.”
Indeed, Dillon watched his brothers chat with their wives while Maddie and Gunnar shared a plate of pizza and relayed nephew Kyle’s latest accomplishment—passing the test for his driving permit. It was a milestone, for sure, and a testament to the strides he’d made since Gunnar took him in three years ago. Word was Kyle’s mother—Gunnar’s sister—lived somewhere out west. No one could say for sure, since she hadn’t been heard from in nearly a year.
“Dillon mentioned Sarah gave you a flyer for a job opening in the trauma unit at the hospital.” Kami deposited a large basket of garlic knots onto the table. Steam wafted, carrying the rich aroma of butter and parmesan. “Are you considering applying?”
Dillon’s pulse kicked up a notch as he zeroed in on Brynn’s response.
****
“I don’t know if that’s even an option.” Brynn shifted in her seat and glanced across the table to Gran and Gramps, settled near the far end. Gran looked a bit peaked, the exertion of the evening obviously wearing on her. She’d not spent much time out of the house over the past three weeks, except for visits to the doctor. “I’m expected back in Jacksonville.”
