My Kind of Christmas

hold her back. It’s just not fair.”
    “We’ll do our best,” the doctor said, holding out his hand to Lorraine. Then he looked at Angie and said, “You have a champion in Dr. Temple.”
    She flushed a little at that. “He was my neurosurgeon,” she said, and whenever she said that, she unconsciously touched the shunt scar behind her ear.
    “He told me about the accident. And you’re a medical student, he said.”
    She nodded. “Only a year, but—”
    Hernandez gave a chuckle. “Well, brace yourself.” He put out his hand to Angie. “Why don’t you sit down with Catherine and see what we have. And I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope.” Then to Lorraine he said, “Try not to worry, Mrs. Thickson. I’ve done this before.” Then to Patrick he said, “Nice meeting you. I have a feeling you have a bigger stake in this than driver.”
    Far bigger, Patrick thought.
    Soon they were all seated in a small office. Patrick, Angie and Lorraine faced the desk while Catherine sat behind it with her computer screen off to the left. As she clicked away, she explained certain things. No fee for the doctor, a very generous gesture. A discount at the surgical center. Operating room staff discounted. Presurgical lab work—sorry, no help there.
    “We’ll get the lab work in Virgin River—my aunt Mel might have connections there.”
    “We just need the results. I’ll write up the order. There’s one night of post-op observation. We usually have a nurse stay the night and, rather than hospital costs and germs, Dr. Hernandez keeps a room at a local hotel. This is nonnegotiable, given her age, anesthesia and the delicate work—a medical professional has to be on hand to watch for that rare complication. The first twenty-four hours post-op are the most important.”
    “Maybe the hotel will donate the room? Maybe I could find a nurse?” Angie suggested hopefully.
    “I’ll leave it on the estimate for now, but you’re welcome to ask. Dr. Hernandez might prefer a nurse who has worked with his postsurgical patients before and we have to trust his instincts. His very experienced instincts. So, understanding this might yet come down a bit more, we can do this procedure for as little as five thousand dollars.”
    Patrick almost let out a sigh of relief. Five thousand? The limit on his Visa was six times that! He felt it was done, that Angie had won the day, Megan would have surgery soon.
    But Lorraine put her hands over her face....
    “Don’t panic,” Angie said softly. “We’re going to find a way. I have ideas. We’ll talk about it later.”
    “That’s half what the last doctor—”
    “We’ll get there somehow,” Angie said. “There are lots of things I can do. Lots.”
    Catherine pulled the printed page from the printer. “Normally we schedule and ask for a deposit, but under the circumstances Dr. Hernandez has decided to forgo that technicality.” She attached her card to the estimate and handed it to Angie. “Good luck with this. Let me know how it’s going.”
    “Thank you,” Angie said. “Let’s go get Megan and head home. This was a very helpful beginning.”
    They were barely settled back in the Jeep when Patrick heard Megan’s quiet voice ask her mother, “Am I going to get the operation?”
    Angie turned immediately. “We have a few things to figure out first, Megan. I think I know some people who will help—but now that I know what the doctor can do, it’ll be easier. I know it’s so hard to be patient.”
    “It’s hard,” she admitted. “I wish I’d never of slipped.”
    “Well, accidents happen, honey,” Angie reassured her. “I was in a car accident and broke my leg—and other stuff. It was hard for me to be patient while I was getting better, too.”
    And other stuff, Patrick thought. Like a near-death experience, a swelling brain, a possibility of permanent disability and brain damage…
    Patrick had spent the past few hours understanding and feeling Angie’s vulnerability and it made him want to protect her in a way he’d never wanted to protect a woman before. Not even Marie. Yet despite her vulnerability, she fought to be strong and independent and his admiration for her only grew.
    “Me and Frank, we talked about what we could sell. We have the land—his father was a homesteader, so we have land. But it’s not great farming or ranching land and most of the maximum allowed lumber was sold off before it came to us—and no one’s buying mountain land without