Читать книгу With Christmas in His Heart - Gail Martin Gaymer - Страница 11

Christine watched Will’s jaw drop. “Your mother broke her hip jogging? Where?”

“On the ship’s promenade deck.” She crumpled back onto the stool. “I can’t believe this. This is a bad dream.”

Will rose and rested his hand on her back. His warmth rushed through her. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s in Florida, you said. Don’t worry about—”

“Not that. I’m stuck here, Will. Don’t you understand? I need to get back to my job. I thought I’d be home in a few days. Now what?”

She could see he’d been taken aback. His dark eyes flashed with disbelief, and she tried to recover from his look. “Naturally I’m concerned about my mother, but like you said, she’ll be okay. I just wasn’t planning on something like this happening.”

“We don’t plan for bad things to happen, Christine, but they do.”

She stared at him, wanting to say something, to explain, to have someone understand her stress, but she knew it was useless. Will didn’t know her at all. He had no idea about her work or how hard it was to stay at the top. “I’ll figure out something.”

Will pulled his hand away, leaving a cold spot where warmth had been. Her mood felt the same. Without expecting it, she’d enjoyed the outing and new experience of the snowmobile, but now the fun had faded.

She rose from the stool. “We’d better get moving. I’m sure my grandmother is upset about this, too. Daddy called there first. I know Grandma’s fine, but she’ll be worried about me.”

“That’s just like your grandmother,” Will said, walking ahead of her and snapping off the lights. He tucked the folded paper inside his jacket and waited at the door for her, his hand on the knob.

Outside, the wind seemed colder than it had felt earlier. Christine sank onto the sled, scooted back and waited for Will to climb on and help block the bitter air. Tears filled her eyes, and she brushed them away with her gloves. She felt sorry for herself, and she hated the feeling. Lord, I’m trying to make this a go. I want to be thoughtful and compassionate, but this isn’t helping.

God’s voice didn’t fill her head with an answer. The only sound she heard was the rev of the engine as they sped away. She wrapped her arms around Will’s trim waist, his broad shoulders blocking the wind—just as he seemed to want to protect her from her problems.

“Hang on,” he called.

That’s what she needed to do—hang on. But to what?

When Will stopped outside Doud’s Mercantile, Christine saw a smart-looking snowmobile on display. “They sell sleds at the grocery store?”

Will grinned. “No. It’s for the Christmas Bazaar the first weekend in December. They hold a fund-raiser, and the prize is this sweet-looking baby right here.” He gave the sled a pat. “It’s the best of its line.”

“It’s really nice. Tell me what to do, and I’ll donate to the fund-raiser, but I never win prizes. If I do, I’ll give the sled to you.”

Will gave her shoulder a squeeze.

Christine flew through the grocery store, paid for the purchases, donated to the fund-raiser, then headed back to her grandmother’s in silence, her mind having slipped back to her problem.

The fun had vanished from the trip as quickly as the sun had hidden behind the heavy clouds and refused to come out. The cold penetrated her body, as did her dismay, and she felt icy to the bone.

Will put away the sled while Christine hurried into the house. She dropped her packages on the kitchen counter, then rushed toward the living room while she pulled off her coat. When she came through the doorway, her grandmother’s concerned eyes lifted to hers.

Christine dropped her coat on a chair and put her arms around her grandmother’s shoulders. “What a predicament, Grandma Summers. Poor Mom.”

Ella’s face reflected her concern, but her demeanor negated the look. “I’ll manage, dear, but tell me what happened. Your father only told me your mother had broken her hip, of all things.”

Christine shared the story that her father had told her. “It was the wind, I guess. He said the prow of the ship has a powerful wind. Mom lost her balance and fell.”

“But he said they were in Florida,” Ella said.

“Yes, they airlifted her there. They have a doctor on board, but they can’t do surgery like that on the ship.”

Her grandmother shook her head. “How long before—”

“Daddy didn’t know.” The back door banged closed, and Christine lifted her head. “Mom’ll need surgery and rehab. It’ll be weeks.”

“Many weeks, I’d guess,” Will said from the doorway. He strutted in and plopped into a chair. “Looks like you’ll need a snowmobile lesson after all.”

Christine didn’t like the faint grin he tried to hide without success.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” she said. “I have to go back to work. Somehow.” She felt the air leave her lungs.

He pinched his thumb and index finger and slid them across his mouth. “Zip.”

“Zip?”

“I’ve zipped my mouth shut.”

Good, she thought, then had second thoughts. He was a nice guy—an appealing man—but she certainly didn’t want to hear his jokes about her predicament.

She turned back to her grandmother. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you have good care. I’m sure you’ll get better and better each day.”

Christine wondered if she was trying to convince herself of that even more than her grandmother. Good care could come from a professional. Christine’s mind began to snap with ideas.

Her grandmother’s expression broke her heart. “I know,” she said, “but this is difficult for you all the way around.”

“I’d better get dinner,” Christine said, rising and motioning toward the kitchen. “I left the groceries on the counter.” Anxious to think by herself, she didn’t wait for a response but hurried into the kitchen.

She stood inside the doorway, taking in the tall painted cabinets and tiled countertops. She shifted to the groceries and pulled items from the shopping bags, totally oblivious to what she’d planned to make her grandmother for Sunday dinner.