My Kind of Christmas

Christmas baskets. The house is amazing, decorated for the holidays. You’ll like them—they’re nice people.”
    “I can swing through the coast towns for a few hours and then—”
    Patrick shook his head. “There won’t be time. I rented us a snowmobile. For Sunday.”
    “You did?” she asked, coming out of her chair. “You did!”
    “We’re wearing helmets,” he informed her. “And we’re going on an approved trail so we don’t run into any wire fences.”
    “Oh, Paddy, you are so cool. But I can still make a run through—”
    He was shaking his head again. “Tomorrow we’re going to sleep in, then lie around in front of the fire, have a big breakfast—not early. I know you don’t like an early breakfast. Then we’re going over to Colin and Jillian’s. I’ll give you a tour of the property on their little snowplow. You can see the greenhouses, the big Victorian they live in, the farm.” He grinned at her.
    “But, Patrick, I’m getting closer to the amount I need—”
    He squeezed her hands. “We’re going to play. Then on Monday you should call Catherine. Book the surgery for Megan because if you can drum up almost two thousand dollars in four days, you’re going to get there, no sweat. And whatever else you need in the end to get it up to five thousand, I’m going to chuck in.”
    “Patrick…”
    “The whole time I was dating Leigh, she dragged me to fundraiser after fundraiser, a slew of silent auctions, raffled prizes and fancy events that required big tickets for charitable contributions. I’m scared to even think what I shelled out and nothing I can remember felt as right as this does. Go with it, Ange. I won’t get in your business and steal all your thunder in this campaign—you’re doing great and I’m proud of you. But I want to have some fun this weekend and I also want to dump some money in the Megan fund.”
    “Wow,” she said. “Do you realize how wonderful you sound?”
    “Yes, I do,” he said with a firm nod. “And I think I’m underappreciated.”
    “Well, we can’t have that!” She stood up and lifted her plate and his. “I’ll do the dishes.”
    Elbows braced on the table, fingers laced together, chin on his hands, he watched her clear away the dishes. But the minute she had them rinsed and in the sink, he stood up. He scraped the chair back loudly and when she turned to look at him, he was smiling that half smile and his eyes were smoldering. He approached her slowly, but then grabbed her up in his arms, lifting her off the floor. She laughed and looped her arms around his neck.
    “Listen, mister. Don’t think you can buy my love.”
    “I don’t intend to. I’m going to seduce your love. Then I’m going to help buy you an operation.”
    * * *
    Patrick felt the soaring, heard the powerful engines, the g’s pulling on him. The sky above him was the kind of clean blue you can only experience from a jet. The water below barely moved. Then he reached land that was brown and gray, mountainous and stark.
    Nothing in the world felt so potent to him, yet even in his deep sleep he was afraid to feel it, to let it consume him. He felt he had complete control of a mighty machine, and yet…
    Viper One, target in range. Descending to ten thousand feet.
    He held his breath. Even in his sleep, he stiffened and couldn’t breathe. And then it happened—just as the three Hornets passed over the mountain range with a large fortress in his sights, he felt his ship rock from an explosion, a blast of white light, flying debris, and he screamed. He banked away and brought the jet level, looking for a chute. Jake! Goddammit, Jake! Where’s the goddamn chute?
    He screamed his friend’s name, sat up in bed, covered with sweat and freezing. Panting. Gasping.
    And there was Angie, kneeling beside him, running her small hand over his back and whispering his name. “Shhh, Paddy, it’s all right now. Shhh, just a bad dream…”
    Just? he thought. Just seeing his best friend go down over and over again, his F-18 exploding, showering the other jets with debris, then dropping from the sky in a flat spin, another explosion on impact with the side of a big, brown mountain.
    Patrick groaned and fell back against the pillows. He was shaking. He pinched his eyes closed and felt Angie pull the quilt over him, but she didn’t lie down beside him. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, waiting for his breathing to even, to slow. When he finally opened his eyes she