Читать книгу Home To Family - Ann Evans - Страница 9

One Year Later

WHEN DOC HAYWARD threw his annual Christmas party, always two weeks before the holidays, nearly everyone in Broken Yoke, Colorado, came. It was considered the best of the season, held in one of the last great houses still standing from the days when silver had been king. And since Doc always packed his bags and headed off to California to visit his only daughter immediately afterward, the party presented the perfect opportunity for everyone to wish him Merry Christmas and give him a proper send-off.

Leslie Meadows, the doctor’s office nurse and good friend, surveyed the buffet table as she took a sip of white wine. Doc’s idea of a Christmas party consisted of watery dip and crackers and a silver Christmas tree that revolved and changed colors. She and Moira Thompson, the clinic’s receptionist, had taken on the added responsibility of decorating the old Victorian from top to bottom, as well as handling the caterers. If all the compliments tonight were genuine, the two women could be very proud of themselves. The place looked elegant and festive.

Leslie signaled to one of the circulating waiters to bring in another tray of peeled shrimp. For five minutes she’d been watching Tom Faraday from Faraday’s Plumbing Service scarf down handfuls of them like popcorn. It was clear that the diet Doc Hayward had put Tom on wasn’t working.

“I thought you were off-duty,” a voice said behind her.

She turned to find her date for the evening, Perry Jamison, at her elbow. He looked slightly peeved, and Leslie suspected that he felt neglected.

“Sorry,” she said, picking up her wineglass from the table. “Force of habit. I’m used to looking out for Doc, even when we’re not in the clinic.”

“How about looking out for me?” he asked, reaching out to run the back of his hand along her arm.

“I think you’re pretty self-sufficient.”

“Not when it comes to you, angel.”

He gave her a hot, meaningful look that told her exactly what he was thinking. She smiled at him. In addition to being worth a small fortune, Perry was quite a catch. They’d been dating off and on since last spring, and though he lived and worked in Denver, he’d been coming to Broken Yoke with increasing frequency.

He’d made no secret of the fact that he’d cut her out of the herd of eager, young women who’d been after him since his divorce two years ago. Leslie—he’d once jokingly informed her—should consider herself lucky.

She supposed that, in some ways, she did.

She knew that by no stretch of anyone’s imagination could she be considered a beauty. Shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes didn’t create much of a statement, but at thirty she was long past feeling the need to make one. As a nurse she earned a decent living, but she certainly didn’t travel in Perry Jamison’s social circle. That he’d decided to pursue her was both flattering and unexpected.

“Having fun?” she asked.

He made a noncommittal shrug. “The natives seem friendly enough. What time does the guest of honor get here?”

Leslie gave him a puzzled frown. “Guest of honor?”

“The mysterious Matt D’Angelo. I keep hearing his name, so I figure the guy must be someone special.”

“Oh, Matt. Yes, I think I did hear that he was coming.”

She had to take a quick swallow of wine to stem the flood of color she felt steal up her neck.

You think he’s coming? she chided herself. That was a rather bold-faced lie.

She’d known for days that Matt planned to come home for Christmas. His father, Sam, had told her that. And he felt sure his son would make a special effort to say goodbye to Doc, who had been his mentor, the driving force behind Matt becoming a doctor. Hadn’t she picked out this dress exactly with his presence in mind, knowing blue was his favorite color?

“So what should I expect?” Perry asked. “Can the guy walk on water, or should I count on nothing more than a little fancy sleight-of-hand? I know Broken Yoke is easily impressed.”

She frowned at that slap to her hometown. True, Broken Yoke was small and provincial. It had let her down significantly in her youth, but she’d made her peace with the place. She counted a lot of its citizens as her friends, had made a life here, and now felt almost a protective annoyance toward anyone who maligned it.

But tonight was too pretty, too special to pick a fight with Perry, who measured every town by its ability not to bore him.

She shrugged. “Matt’s a town favorite. He was our high-school valedictorian, the captain of more teams than I can remember, teacher’s pet, the guy all the boys wanted for a buddy…”

“And all the girls wanted to go to bed with?” Perry supplied.

Leslie couldn’t help a smile. “Oh, yeah. Definitely the one every girl in class lusted after. He caught a few of them, too.”

“Including you?”

“No. Not me,” Leslie said with a thoughtful little pause. “We’ve been friends for years, but that’s all.”

She thought about what those words meant. Friends for years. The simplistic description didn’t do justice to the relationship she had shared with Matt. How could you accurately describe your feelings for someone who had, quite possibly saved your life?

“Good,” Perry said. “I don’t like the idea of someone poaching on my turf.”

“Thank you. Always nice to feel like hunted game.”

She gave him a look of mock severity, though inwardly she felt a stirring of annoyance with him again. His tendency to make assumptions regarding their relationship grated on her nerves and reminded her unpleasantly of her father’s possessive treatment of her mother.

He laughed and put his arm around her waist. “How soon can we get out of here? I want to go someplace private. I’ve yet to give you your Christmas present, you know?”

She hid a frown. There was no way she wanted to leave this party until the D’Angelo family made their appearance. Considering the hell Matt had been through last year, she felt it imperative that she see him again. See with her own eyes that he’d recovered.

“It may be a while,” she told Perry, hoping she sounded less irked than she felt. “Now that the clinic’s closed for the holidays, I don’t want to miss wishing some of our patients Merry Christmas.”

Perry looked sulky, but probably knew her well enough by now to guess that she couldn’t be talked out of staying. She snatched up a paper plate and began slipping finger foods onto it. Perry liked to eat, and the caterers had done such a wonderful job that everything looked inviting.

There was a slight swell of chatter near the front door as someone new arrived. Leslie watched as the D’Angelo clan entered, dispensing coats and jackets to the hired help and calling out Christmas greetings to friends nearby.

Leslie’s heart took a leap. For as long as she could remember she had thought them the handsomest family in the Lightning River area. As a teenager, she’d spent many nights in her narrow single bed wishing she could somehow be magically granted membership to their inner circle. With her mother weeping in her bedroom and her father passed out in the living room from too much drink, Leslie—through her friendship with Matt—had seen the D’Angelos as warmer, grander, more fun than any family she had ever come in contact with.

She was long beyond that kind of fantasizing now, but she couldn’t help thinking that they were still a force to be reckoned with. With the exception of Rafe, Matt’s younger brother who had left home to seek his own place in the world years ago, this family could weather any storm—together.

They’d certainly had to weather one last year with Matt.

Sam, the patriarch of the family, who had suffered a stroke a few years ago and was still confined to a wheelchair, led the way with his wife, Rose, at his side. Rose’s two Italian sisters, Renata and Sofia followed, looking almost like twins in straight skirts and bulky Christmas sweaters. Behind them stood Matt’s only sister, Adriana. She had on a swirling red dress that set off her hair in dramatic prettiness, and she laughed as Tessa, her niece, said something in her ear.

Behind them Leslie caught sight of a tall man in the doorway, a glimpse of shining dark hair. She felt a momentary constriction in her chest and realized she’d been holding her breath.

Matt. At last.

A moment later, she saw that it wasn’t Matt at all, but his older brother Nick, his arm around the waist of his wife, Kari, who looked surprisingly graceful and thin in spite of her advanced pregnancy.

In the last year, Leslie and Kari had become friends, and as the baby’s due date drew near, Kari had relied more and more on Leslie for advice, friendship, and occasionally—when her hormones got the best of her—a shoulder to cry on. She had married Nick after a whirlwind courtship last year and was thrilled about the baby, but scared to death.

For a handful of heartbeats after Kari entered the foyer, Leslie waited expectantly for Matt to follow. But suddenly the door swung closed, locking out the cold, night air. Clearly, no one else had come.

“Is that him?” Perry said close to her ear, indicating Nick, who was scanning the room for friendly faces. She caught a whiff of the bourbon he’d been drinking.

“No, that’s his older brother.”

As though sensing her disappointment, Perry caught her close suddenly and nuzzled her ear. “My sweet angel. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Leslie nailed on a soft smile, determined not to let her disappointment show. So Matt had not come after all. Not surprising, really.

The Matt D’Angelo she’d grown up with had always enjoyed being the center of attention—expected it, almost. But with the exception of the quick trip back he’d made last year for Kari and Nick’s wedding, he hadn’t come home very often. There were bound to be questions, and people here tonight would be filled with curiosity.

Rosa, his mother, had hinted that Matt seemed different now, and though Leslie hadn’t had the opportunity to question exactly what that meant, she could imagine how such a tragedy could change a person. How could it not?

The evening wore on. Leslie headed for the kitchen to make sure the catering company brought extra plates to the buffet table. She ran into Doc Hayward and Kari D’Angelo talking in the back hallway.

Doc, who looked younger than his sixty-six years in a bright red sweater that set off his white hair handsomely, motioned her over. “Leslie, you’re just who I’m looking for. Do you know if we have any more of that cream at the clinic? The one I prescribed for Kari last week.”

“I think so,” Leslie told him, then smiled at Kari. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone through an entire tube already.”

The woman grimaced. “I’ve lost it. I don’t seem to be able to keep track of anything lately.”

“That’s really not unusual,” Doc said. “You do have a lot on your mind right about now.”

“I’m driving Nick crazy. He’s posted sticky notes everywhere. I used to kid him about being overly structured, but these days, having his organized mind running interference is the only thing saving me from looking like an idiot.”

“You’re doing fine,” Doc said. He patted Kari’s shoulder, and Leslie thought that, with his kind smile and gentle, faded-blue eyes, the old man had a bedside manner that could make any patient feel safe. “Another two months and this will all be behind you.”

“It can’t come soon enough.”

“Any decisions on a name yet?”

“Not yet. And since we don’t want to know the baby’s sex, the names haven’t even been narrowed down to a boy or girl. Everyone in the family has an opinion.”

Leslie grinned. “With the D’Angelos, that’s no surprise.”

“It’s just a good thing I love them so much,” Kari said, taking a sip from her glass of ginger ale. “Last week I found a note pinned to the front door of the cabin that said, “Do you like Mercedes?” I spent ten minutes trying to figure out why Aunt Renata wanted my opinion about cars before she told me that was her latest suggestion if the baby was a girl.”

The three of them laughed.

Perry was suddenly at Leslie’s side. He draped a proprietary arm around her shoulder. “What’s so amusing?”

They filled him in, but it must have lost something in the translation because he looked as if he didn’t really understand. Obviously he didn’t see the humor in living in a large Italian clan that could make you feel like the single most beloved person in the world and drive you to distraction all at the same time.

It occurred to Leslie that she didn’t know much about what Perry’s own family life was like. Or even if he was close to them. Why had she never bothered to ask?

Conversation, light and inconsequential, continued to ebb and flow among the four of them for a few more minutes.

Then Perry said to Kari, “So where’s this brother-in-law of yours? The infamous Matt.”

Leslie felt her stomach lurch. With that one, bald question, the innocence and fun of the conversation evaporated. Yet a part of her felt no regret. It was an inquiry she’d been dying to make herself.

Kari’s smile wavered a bit, but she responded easily enough. “He called from Denver. His plane got in late, so he suggested we come without him.” She looked at Doc Hayward. “He’ll be sorry he missed you, Doc.”

It was Perry who answered with an impolite snort. “I suppose it’s easier to hide out for a while than deal with a bunch of nosy questions right off the bat.”

Leslie wondered if she was the only one who noticed Kari’s posture stiffen. “I’m not sure that’s what he’s doing,” the woman said. “I think he’s a lot like Nick and meets any problem head-on.”

“Still…” Perry went on. “I can’t say that I’d blame him very much if he chose not to come. Who wants to be a freak in the sideshow?”

Leslie frowned and cut a glance at Perry. He had his moments, but he was seldom rude. She knew he’d been drinking steadily through most of the evening—so had she, for that matter—but the comment was uncalled-for. She wondered just how many details of last year’s tragedy he’d picked up while circulating among Doc’s guests.

“Matt’s hardly a freak,” she heard herself say. She sounded ridiculously defensive and toned her attitude down a notch. “He’s always loved to be around people, and everyone in this house is his friend.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t be curious as hell,” Perry said over the top of his glass. He raised a speculative brow toward Kari. “So what happened exactly? I heard he walked in on a robbery and got shot.”

Kari nodded. “A year ago. He was bringing his girlfriend up here to spend the holidays with the family. She was killed, and so were a couple of others at the diner where they stopped. Matt was shot twice. Once in the back, which I understand he’s recovered well from. The second came at close range and did considerable damage to his left hand. And since he’s a surgeon…”

“It’s been a year,” Perry remarked. “Surely he’s well on the way to recovery by now.”

Kari gave Perry a vague, distancing smile. “I’m sure he’s doing quite well.”

“Life is full of tough breaks,” Perry added. “If you can’t change things, then you need to stop cursing your bad luck and move on.”

Leslie looked at him sharply. He sounded so pompous that she wanted to drive the point of her high-heel into his instep. She felt his fingers tighten imperceptively along her shoulder. It occurred to her suddenly that he might be jealous of Matt. Ridiculous, of course. There was no reason to be.

Luckily, Kari seemed disinclined to take offense. Forming a smile that did not include her eyes, she said, “Speaking of moving on, will you excuse me? I really ought to say hello to some of the others.”

Before anyone could object, she slipped away.

Perry favored Leslie with a questioning glance. “Did I say something wrong?”

Leslie’s temper was too provoked to comment right away. Laughing lightly, Doc shook his head at Perry. “Young fellow, I’m not sure you said anything right.”

Perry’s arm still lay across her shoulders like a heavy bar. Slipping out from under it, she said, “I should check on things in the kitchen.”

She hated to strand Doc with Perry, but she had to get away from him right now. Why had she invited him to this party? He was bored and behaving as badly as a six-year-old dragged to the opera.

A waiter passed by with a tray of filled wineglasses. She scooped one up and would have made her way into the kitchen, but Althea Bendix, the police chief’s wife, pulled her into the front parlor, where a small circle of women were eagerly plotting a surprise baby shower for Kari D’Angelo.

With no children of her own, Leslie found it hard to get excited by talk of games that involved measuring the waist of the expectant mother and trying to guess how many jellybeans could fill a baby bottle. But she liked Kari, she liked these women, and she liked that she was a part of their world, that they considered her one of them.

It hadn’t always been that way. As a child, she’d quickly realized that even a place as small as Broken Yoke had a pecking order. Jagged, winding Lightning River bisected the town, and there was definitely a correct, acceptable side of it to call home, and one that some people preferred to pretend didn’t exist.

The trailer park Leslie had grown up in—Mobley’s Mobile Court—was a run-down eyesore that smelled of misery and failure. Town government considered it a constant source of embarrassment. Her parents, whose fights were loud and legendary, whose mailbox stayed stuffed with late notices printed in increasingly irate colors, had definitely been persona non grata in Broken Yoke. For a long while, Leslie had been sure she was, too.

Until the sixth grade. When Matt D’Angelo had come into her life. Saved her, really. From parents and teachers and the law, and sometimes even herself.

In those days she’d been lonely and disoriented most of the time. The fragile universe she’d managed to create for herself had always been in danger of toppling, but she’d been honestly convinced that no one knew that.

No one knew that quiet, sullen Leslie Meadows considered life to be missing some essential piece she couldn’t identify. That happiness seemed to get further and further away from her every day. And that she imagined her heart to be no more than an empty cave where fear and hopelessness dwelt year-round.

No one, that is, except Matt.

One of the women beside her nudged her arm. “Look,” she said. “It’s starting to snow.”

Leslie glanced out the nearest window. The temperature was supposed to drop drastically tonight, and a flurry of light flakes cascaded in the outside lights beyond the wrap-around porch. She listened to the conversation of the other women with half an ear, wishing she could be out there in the darkness, feeling the feathery touch of those snowflakes against her face.

Here, the laughter, the heady, perfumed atmosphere, the warmth generated by so many people made her feel restless and claustrophobic. She thought how clear and sharp the air outside must be right now. Every breath would be almost painful.

Years ago, on a moonlit night just like this one, she and Matt had sat snuggled against one another for warmth, catching snowflakes on their tongues as they watched an impromptu hockey game on Lightning Lake.

He’d been busy with sports all winter. Matt was the best skier on the school team, and he’d had little time for her as he concentrated on trimming his run times.

She’d missed him so much. How good it felt to have his familiar strength pressed against her, to hear his easy laughter and know that her closest friend had not forgotten her. It was the best feeling in the world, that connection with another human being.

Those hours on the lake had also seen a shift in the dynamic of their friendship. It had wandered into unexpected territory when warmth and closeness had led to a kiss. They’d barely skirted disaster that cold, January night. At the last minute they’d managed to pull back from going any further, laughing nervously with the unspoken knowledge of how close they’d come to ruining everything.

In all the years since then, they’d never spoken of that evening. Happily, the bond between them had remained strong and pure and immutable.

She glanced back out the window as she drained her wineglass. It was snowing a little harder now, soft and silent, and so inviting. Why did anyone stay inside when there was that kind of beauty to be enjoyed only steps away?

She knew that some of Doc’s guests would curse the sight of it as they left, complaining as they tugged on coats and scarves and made their slow, cautious way home. Perry would be one of them. He hated the drive back to Denver, even in good weather, and tonight the roads could be troublesome.

But she loved the snow. So did Matt. At least, he always had when they’d been kids.

Where was he right now?

Over the murmur of conversation, she heard a hard, harsh bark of amused laughter. It had to be Bob Gunderson, the president of Broken Yoke’s only bank. Everyone called Bob “Heimlich” because of his penchant for telling jokes that always ended with a laugh that sounded as though he was trying to expel something from his throat.

She caught sight of Perry standing by the fireplace, nodding as Heimlich finished his story. From the glazed look on Perry’s face, she suspected he was wishing himself anyplace else. Poor man. She supposed she ought to rescue him.

Except she didn’t want to go back to her place, toast the season, and open up some ridiculously lavish Christmas gift from him that would embarrass her. Perry wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t stingy, and he was sure to have gotten her something completely inappropriate given the status of their relationship.

In some ways he was so like Matt. Handsome. Generous. Confident. So energetic sometimes that he took her breath away. And goal-oriented. He lacked Matt’s easygoing ways, his charisma, that core of genuine compassion that had made a career in medicine almost a foregone conclusion.

But so what if Perry wasn’t Matt D’Angelo? she thought with sudden stubborn rebellion. Why should he have to be?

In spite of a little boorish behavior this evening, he was still one of the most attractive, interesting men she’d ever dated. She should take him home, open a bottle of her best wine and…see what developed.

Leaving would, of course, disappoint half the single women in this room tonight. Just like Matt, Perry attracted attention from females the way honey enticed bees.

Maybe it was a good thing Matt hadn’t shown up. Two such potent, available males at one party, and who knew what might happen? Over the years she’d watched so many women try to catch Matt’s attention, sometimes with embarrassing results.

Leslie cast one last, long glance around the room. Another few minutes of polite conversation and then she’d wander over to Perry. No point in staying, really. Somewhere along the way, the evening had lost its magic.

Why hadn’t Matt made a concerted effort to come tonight?