Bring Me Home for Christmas

I’m not sure I think so anymore.”
    He bent at the waist, put his shoulder in her midsection and folded her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Try not to wiggle too much or you’ll topple us both.”
    “Ugh,” she said. “God, it hurts! What did I do?”
    He took a few wobbling steps up the hill and said, “Watch your head,” as he hefted her into the passenger seat. “Stay like this, legs dangling out. Sit tight.” He went to the truck bed, lifted Rich’s tool storage bin and found a tool with a sharp edge.
    When he came back to her, she pulled her knees up fearfully. “What are you going to do?”
    “I’m going to cut off your rubber boot, Becca. You don’t want me to pull it off—that would be awful. I’ll get you a new pair.”
    “I don’t care about the boots! I just don’t want you to cut my leg off with that thing!”
    “I’ll be very careful,” he promised.
    “I’ve had a run of bad luck lately. Owwww!” she wailed as he carefully slid the slit boot off her foot.
    Her foot dangled there at a very odd angle, pointing inward and limp. And it was already starting to swell. He lifted his eyes to hers. “Oh, man,” he said. “That doesn’t look too good.”

    Becca tried to hold back her tears all the way to the hospital and Denny tried to see how often he could apologize for being a total idiot. “I have no idea why I baited you like that,” he said. “I really don’t know. I think I’m still a little upside down that my old girlfriend is here with the guys.”
    “I don’t even want to hear it,” she said. “Where’s the goddamn mute button?”
    Denny laughed.
    It was a long way across the mountains, through Virgin River and down the mountain to reach Valley Hospital. Denny lifted her carefully out of the truck and carried her into the E.R. From the odd angle of her foot, Denny suspected a break, and E.R. staff agreed with him. They contacted the on-call orthopedist to come to the hospital.
    One of the nurses started an IV and Becca was given pain medication and a sedative, making her much more comfortable. While Denny held both her hands in both of his, the doctor gave her a shot of anesthetic right in her ankle. Then he gave it a sharp pull, setting it right. Becca half rose off the E.R. bed with a cry; Denny pulled her up against him, holding her tight until the pain subsided again.
    “We’re going to have to operate on this ankle, Becca,” the doctor said. “It’s a little too swollen right now, but we’ll elevate it, put an ice pack on it and in a few hours we’ll be able to do the surgery. You can stay overnight and go home in the morning.”
    “Operate?” she asked.
    “A small plate and screws.” He smiled. “You’ll be good as new.”
    “I don’t want to stay all night,” she said. “I’m miserable!”
    “I can appreciate that, but there’s no alternative. What you really need is to go to a room where a nurse can get you out of those nasty clothes and get you washed up, into a hospital gown and comfortable. I’ll come back in a few hours and we’ll fix you up. You’ll go home with a splint and crutches. I’m afraid you can’t put any weight on it for six weeks—that’s going to be the hard part.”
    She shifted her eyes to Denny. “Denny?” she said softly in a shaky voice.
    “Easy, honey, you need to get taken care of. While you get cleaned up and put on some dry clothes, I’ll call Jack’s and make sure Big gets a message.”
    “Becca’s going to need clean clothes to leave the hospital in,” the doctor said. “Maybe you could do that while she’s getting cleaned up and I take care of the ankle.”
    Denny lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Would you like me to do that, Becca? Get you some clothes? Leave a message for Big Richie that you’re here?” She nodded.
    “I’ll see you later,” the doctor said, ducking out of the curtained cubicle.
    “Becca, I’m sorry. You can add this to the list of things that are totally my fault. If there’s room on the page, that is.”
    She just averted her eyes.
    “Are you in a lot of pain right now?” he asked her. “I’ll stay with you till you go to surgery, if you want. I can get your clothes then.”
    “It’s okay,” she said. “You can leave. Maybe Rich could bring me some clothes in the morning and bring me back to Virgin River.”
    “I’ll do it, Becca. I want to. And I’ll bring back my own truck, which is a lot easier to get in and out of than