My Kind of Christmas

Patrick’s cabin, Angie snuggled up against him in bed and said, “I envy them in a way. I mean, I don’t want to teach or garden or cook, but still…”
    “What do you envy, then?”
    “They know exactly what they want. And who they want it with.”

Twelve
    L uke and Shelby were the last ones to leave the Victorian after dinner. Luke held his hefty son; Brett’s head rested against Luke’s shoulder, sound asleep.
    “He’s going to fuck it up,” Luke said as Colin walked him to their car.
    “Luke!” Shelby admonished. “My God, I hate to even think what Brett’s language is going to be like! Besides, what are you talking about?”
    “Paddy,” Luke said. “He’s in love with her, with Angie. And he’s going to move on without her.”
    “Did he tell you he’s in love with her?” Shelby asked.
    “He didn’t have to,” Luke said. “Right, Colin?”
    “I’m pretty sure Luke’s right. I’ve seen Patrick with other women. That last one, Leigh, he was with her for four years and we’d never have met her if we hadn’t gone to Charleston. He didn’t look at her like he looks at Angie. And when Angie looks at him, she lights up.”
    “I should have a talk with him,” Luke said.
    Everyone laughed.
    “How is that funny? That’s not funny.”
    Colin put a hand on Luke’s back. “Mind your own business. He’ll figure it out.”
    “Maybe, maybe not. The Riordan men aren’t known for figuring things out. And he’s only got another couple of weeks here.”
    “He does look better than he did two weeks ago,” Jilly said. “Better rested, I think.”
    “Of course he’s rested. He probably hates to even get out of bed these days!”
    “Oh, Luke,” Shelby said. “Let’s get you home before you say something stupid.”
    “I’m just making an honest observation,” he grumbled. “I should really talk to him....”
    * * *
    Since that first night together, Angie and Patrick hadn’t spent a night apart. He loved falling into bed with her, loved waking up with her. He knew how much his heart would ache when they ended this, and he worried that it was going to scar hers. But she always reminded him that, even if they did have a future together, he would be deployed often. And she had plans of her own. So Patrick tried, somewhat successfully, to take this comforting routine at face value and not to think about it too much.
    Right now, his relationship with Angie out in the open, life was good. They could spend time with his brothers and her family, have a beer or dinner at the bar without ruffling Jack’s avuncular feathers. In fact, in the past week, Jack had become downright friendly.
    Angie worked every day, though Mel encouraged her to take as much time to play as she wanted. But Angie was setting up a surgery and wanted to be one hundred percent involved. Megan was scheduled for the operation in one week—on the seventeenth. Angie planned to travel to Davis with her, to get her own hotel room so that after the doctor saw Megan, she could bring her home. Megan’s mother would stay in Megan’s room all night, along with Dr. Hernandez’s nurse.
    Paddy begged his way along.
    “I’m not sure it’s proper,” she said.
    “We’ll get two rooms if you want,” he said. “We won’t use them, but we can get them. Let me do the driving.”
    They’d had such a wonderful weekend together, first with the group at the Victorian and then a day of adventurous snowmobiling. And always, no matter what went on during the day, they had that time together alone at night. And there hadn’t been anymore nightmares.
    But Patrick still called Marie daily, promising to be with her for Christmas when grief might hit her hardest.
    On this particular day, he went to Fortuna to shop. He wanted to stock his refrigerator for that night. He was planning to meet Angie at the bar along with others from town. They’d have a beer or glass of wine, then she’d follow him home and he’d make her a special dinner—Italian beef that had been simmering in the Crock-Pot all afternoon, drowning in spices and gravy, potatoes whipped into silk, peas and carrots. He grabbed a chocolate cake, her favorite wine, his favorite beer, eggs, milk and a few other staples.
    He had loved cooking for Leigh, too, but she never seemed to care much, always preferring dinner at a restaurant. Angie, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy everything he made for her and spending the time alone together.
    Heading for his car in the