Bring Me Home For Christmas
The woman just laughed softly.
“Is this how a famous actress spends her spare time?” Becca asked.
“I’m just a farm girl who learned to act, sweetheart.”
Becca was so happy to have Muriel to follow. She imitated her behavior, sitting still and silent in the bushes. Thank God there was another woman to cover for her when the time came to go behind a bush to pee; at that moment, she wished she really was one of the guys! And she stood guard while one of the best-known actresses in Hollywood squatted behind a bush. “Talk about something for my Facebook page,” Becca joked.
“Don’t even think about it, darling,” Muriel said with a smile that promised dire consequences and no sense of humor on that suggestion.
It drizzled on and off through the early morning and even though everyone had rain slickers, Becca felt damp to her bones. There were a couple of flushes of birds, a few shots fired, but it wasn’t until 10:00 a.m. that Muriel bagged a mallard. Luce went out for the duck, brought it back to her mistress, and Muriel praised her Lab proudly, tossing the dead bird into the back of her truck.
Becca hoped she didn’t hit anything. Though she was every inch an athlete who could keep up with the boys, she seriously didn’t want to touch a dead duck.
“What are you going to do with that duck?” Becca asked her.
“Eat it, hopefully.”
“You’re a cook, too?”
“Well, no. Not at all. I can barely slice cheese. But I very wisely found myself a guy who loves to cook and he’s brilliant at it.”
“And will you pluck it and gut it?” Becca asked.
“Well, I can, if it comes to that. But I think Walt will take over. He loves thinking he takes care of me.” She smiled. “And I love promoting that idea. I like to train the dogs and shoot a lot more than I like handling the game.”
“It’s a relief to hear that. I was feeling a little out of place with the boys,” Becca said.
Then they went back to sitting, silent and shivering, waiting for game. What about this is fun, exactly? Becca wondered. She heard soft masculine laughter now and then. What could possibly be entertaining them? The cold? The rain?
At a little before noon, Muriel decided she’d had enough, bid everyone goodbye and took her dogs home. A little while later, Becca took refuge in her brother’s truck, drank more hot coffee and ate a sandwich. She turned on the truck to run the heater and within seconds Denny was there, telling her to kill the engine. The noise! She hadn’t gotten even an ounce of heat, but she turned the ignition off. She decided the guys could have as much wet, cold fun as they could stand, she was done for the day. She couldn’t feel her toes; her nose would never again be a normal color. At least it was a little warmer inside the truck, even without the heater. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
She wasn’t sure how long she had dozed when the truck’s door on the driver’s side opened and caused her to wake. Smiling, Troy settled behind the wheel. “Just thought I’d grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. You okay?”
“Fine. Just got cold and hungry. Time for a break.”
He reached into the back of the extended cab, into the picnic box Preacher had packed, and pulled out a sandwich. “So, what do you think of duck hunting so far?”
“Honestly?” she asked. “A little on the, uh, boring side. Not to mention cold and wet.”
He laughed and nodded in agreement. “Good weather for ducks, but not for us. I’d rather hunt on a clear day, but the cold doesn’t bother me. And when you actually hit your target, that’s when it’s cool. And we like to eat our kill,” he said, grinning, before taking a big bite of his sandwich.
“How caveman of you,” she said. “Do you also like to pluck your kill?”
“We let our women do that,” he teased. “We go out, club the beasts, drag them home and our women clean them, cook them and make our clothes out of their skins.”
“And what tribe do you come from?” she asked, laughing at him. But he just chewed and his eyes twinkled. “Rich has mentioned you a hundred times, at least, but I don’t know that much about you. Besides being a Marine reservist, how do you earn a living?” she asked him.
“I teach seventh-grade math. Geometry and pre-algebra.”
“No kidding?” she asked, sitting straighter. “I teach!”
“I know. We have a lot in common.”
“I wonder why Rich didn’t tell me that,” she said.
Troy laughed. “Let me guess—maybe it’s not way up there on his list of important conversational topics. I haven’t been teaching long. I did two years in the Corps, finished college, got called for Iraq again and came home to teach. I think I’ll get in a good stretch at home now.”
“But why the Marines? I mean, why still the Marines?”
He shrugged. “I love the Marine Corps.”
“And if you get called again?”
“I’ll go again,” he said easily.
“And Dirk? Did I hear he worked construction…?”
“Heavy equipment operator—a crane. Just like his dad and his brother.”
“No interest in college for him?”
Troy laughed. “I don’t think so, no. It takes about three teachers’ salaries to make one crane operator’s.”
“Now, see, that’s just wrong. What’s more important—the future of your children or the construction of a building?”
“You’re not looking at it the way they do,” he said. “It’s not the building that’s valued above the future of the children, it’s the guys in the hard hats under the crane who count on a really good operator. Their lives depend on it. They would be the fathers.”
“Teachers are underpaid,” she pointed out to him.
“As are cops, firefighters, librarians and just about everyone who is a public servant. I don’t know about you, but most of us don’t teach because it’ll make us rich.”
“You do it for love?”
“I guess. And because I’m having fun!” Then he grinned handsomely. “Those kids just crack me up.”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “Mine are seven—what a hoot. I hear about teacher burnout all the time, but I’m still on the honeymoon. I look forward to every day. Well…I used to.”
“Used to?” he asked.
“My school closed. I’m currently unemployed. When I get home, I’ll see if I can sub while I’m sending around applications. It’s not a great time to be job hunting. Not only is it a holiday season, but education funds have been cut, too.”
“Bummer,” he said. “I don’t know why I’ve been lucky enough to hang on to my job while everyone else seems to be getting laid off or cut back on hours. But as Big Richie tells it, you’ll probably just get married.”
“Wow. That’s pretty sexist. I hope I also get married.”
“I stand corrected. Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked.
“Good question. I’ve been seeing someone for the past year, but we’re not engaged.”
“Which allows you to go duck hunting with your ex?” he asked.
“Which allows me to go hunting with my brother,” she emphasized.
“And Denny,” he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “You must have a very understanding boyfriend.”
“Well, he is, as a matter of fact. Denny and Rich have been friends for years—before and after we dated. It really doesn’t have anything to do with me. And what about you? Girlfriend?”
“Sort of,” he said with a shrug.
“Sort of?” she pushed. “Either you do or don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Troy said before he had time to fully chew and swallow. He finished that task. “I don’t have a steady girl at the moment. I date here and there. I’m talking dinner, movie, clubs sometimes, group things. Lately I’ve been seeing this girl who gives accident-adjustment estimates—I had a fortuitous little fender bender. She’s not quite over the last guy, so we’re taking it very slow. We’ve been out about four times—a couple of softball games with her friends, one Monday-night football at a sports bar with mine and a high school football game to watch her little brother play. I’m not committed and neither is she.”
“And Dirk?” she asked.
“Same girl for about six months now. Diedre. An assistant manager of a bowling alley. Personally, I think Dirk might be down for the count. Diedre seems to be around all the time.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell me more about the guy, Becca,” he said. “Teacher? Like you?”
“Law student.”
He laughed uncomfortably. “Stiff competition,” he said.
“For who?” Becca asked, wondering if her cover had just been blown.
“Well, me, for starters.”
“Are you making a pass?”
“I’m saying I wouldn’t mind hearing you’re open to the possibility.” He touched her nose. Then he smiled and winked.
Three
Denny watched Troy and Becca in the front seat of the truck for about a half hour, drinking coffee, laughing, talking. He caught a little casual touching—Troy reached toward her face; she put a hand on his shoulder—stealing glances over his shoulder while he crouched in the blind. Dirk and Rich were in the boat, right in the midst of some shoreline reeds.
Finally Troy exited the truck, grabbed the shotgun that leaned against it and went back to his cozy little nest in the bushes at the water’s edge. Every few minutes one of the guys would blow on a duck call, but other than that the only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
Then a flock of ducks burst from the narrow end of the lake and took flight. Shotguns blasted as all the hunters fired, but the flock escaped unscathed. Nothing dropped from the sky. Nothing.
Rich and Dirk brought the boat in and dragged it up on the bank, ready to take a little break while any fowl that remained nearby regrouped and recovered from the shock of gunfire.
“I think I’m done in,” Denny said. He looked at his watch—it was barely after noon. “How about you guys?”
“I got a couple of hours in me,” Rich said.
“I’m good. You gonna wimp out?” Troy asked.
“Might just,” he said. “I’m going to help out in the bar tonight. I could use a shower before that. Looks like Becca’s had about enough. Tell you what, I’ll leave the thermoses and food in your truck, Dirk, and take Rich’s truck back to town. I can give Becca a lift. When you boys are done, bring in the boat and the decoys, will you? And I’ll see you at Jack’s for dinner. How’s that?”
Rich, Dirk and Troy looked back and forth between each other. Finally, Troy said, “Sure, Den. Okay.”
“We’ll do it again tomorrow. Maybe Becca will take a pass.”
“Denny, Becca’s no trouble,” Troy said. “She’s not asking to leave. She seems to be holding up fine. I bet she’d sit in the truck till dark, if that’s how long we stay out.”
“Yeah, probably,” Denny admitted. “But there’s no reason for her to do that, since I need to get back to town, shower and help Jack round up a good meal for you diehards. So I’ll see you at Jack’s.”
“Sure,” Troy said as the other two nodded.
Whew, that was close, Denny thought. Before anyone could decide to tag along, he headed for Rich’s truck. He opened the back door and began to gather up thermoses and the food. Becca looked at him curiously. “I’m going to put this stuff in Dirk’s truck. They want to hunt awhile longer. I’ll take you back to town.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Well, you’re not hunting, so I’ll take you back.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re just sitting in the truck.”
“So? Am I bothering you? I can sit in Dirk’s truck if you want to go.”
“Becca,” he said in exasperation, “let’s just go back to town.”
“I don’t need to go back to town,” she said. “But if you need company so you can go back to town, by all means. Let’s go.”
He frowned at her but held his tongue. Instead, he moved the coffee and sandwiches to Dirk’s truck. When he was walking back, he noticed his friends standing on the bank of the lake, just watching him. He smiled at them and waved, then got in the truck and got the hell out of there before he had company.
They drove for about five minutes of stony silence before Becca said, “Well, that was a fast getaway, Denny. What’s eating you?”
“Nothing’s eating me, Rebecca!” he snapped. “I thought you were done hunting and so we’ll leave!”
She just laughed softly and for some reason that lit a fire in him.
“Is something funny?” he asked. “I thought you said you had a serious guy in your life. It makes me wonder what he’d make of the way you cozied up to Troy.” He glanced at her.
“You’ve completely lost your mind,” she said.
“Wouldn’t you say you’re a little overly friendly?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“If I were the guy, it would look that way to me,” he said, totally amazed by how childish he sounded, even to himself.
“If you were the guy, you’d be studying for finals at UCLA and would’ve said, ‘Have a good time and be careful.’”
“Must be a freaking god,” Denny muttered.
“Jeez, what is up your butt?” she asked.
“I just thought a stand-up guy would get you out of what could be a bad situation. If you’re practically engaged, you probably shouldn’t be messing around with Troy.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t. Unless you call having a cup of coffee and talking messing around. If so, I mess around almost daily.” She smiled indulgently. “I’m very loose that way.”
“Damn it, Becca, don’t you get what I’m saying?”
“No, Dennis, I’m completely lost. I don’t know what your deal is. You almost act like you’re jealous or something…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Why would I be jealous?”
“I can’t imagine,” she said.
“I guess I just don’t get it, why you’d go hunting with a bunch of guys if you have a serious boyfriend. It makes no sense. Maybe I can do the guy a favor by a little intervention…”
“Intervention?” she asked, frowning.
“Well, you get a little flirty. And that’s not smart.”
She inhaled sharply, not sure if she was more offended by being called flirty or not smart. Her mouth formed a thin line, her nostrils flared, her eyes glittered and she said, “Stop the truck.”
He looked over at her. “What?”
“I said, stop the truck!”
“This is a bad place to stop!”
“Stop anyway!” she yelled back.
There wasn’t much of a shoulder, but he pulled over. The road was built up about three feet and ran between drenched fields that were probably lush with grain and corn in the summer. He stared at her.
“I made a big mistake here and I’m going to cut my losses,” she said. “I thought if we spent a little time together, we might get some closure so we could both move on, but it’s impossible if you’re going to be such an ass! I’m going back to where we were hunting. I’ll either sit with the guys or in the truck, but I’m not putting up with this bullshit anymore. I haven’t heard a word from you in years. You have no right to judge me or my behavior.” She opened the door.
“Becca, wait a sec,” he said, reaching toward her.
“Seriously, if you had anything to say to me, you might’ve called or maybe shot me an email or—hey! You could’ve ‘liked me’ on fricking Facebook! But I haven’t heard squat from you, so trust me, you have absolutely no right to even suggest who I talk to.” She made a derisive sound. “Flirty,” she muttered. “Of all the nerve.”
“Becca, no—” he said, reaching out to her.
“Denny, yes!” And with that, she stepped out of the vehicle, forgot it was such a long step down from her brother’s jacked-up truck, hit the very narrow shoulder with one booted foot, twisted her ankle, buckled, fell and rolled off that raised road and down to the mushy, muddy field below. And she did it all with a scream that included a very unladylike expletive.
In spite of himself, he laughed and lowered his head to the steering wheel. Well, he was an ass, like she said. And she never had listened. She was always full-steam ahead. He got out of the truck, walked around to her side and stood on the road, hands on his hips, looking down at her. She was sprawled, looking a little like she was ready to make a snow angel—in the mud. She glared up at him.
It was all he could do to keep from doubling over in hysterical laughter.
“I tried to stop you. I tried to tell you I’d take you back there…”
She blew a sputter of air through her lips to rid them of a splatter of mud. “Sure.” Then she sat up. “Screw you.”
“Come on,” he said, trying to carefully slide down the bank to help her. “You’re right and I was wrong. I have no right to tell you how to act or who to flirt with… I mean, talk to.” He smiled, ready to duck if a mud clot came at him. “All right, let’s just get you back to town so you can get out of those muddy clothes. I’m sorry, Becca,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as he looked at her. He reached a hand out to her. “Really, I’m—”
“Ah!” she cried, trying to stand. She grabbed her right leg. “Oh, crap!”
“What?” he said, jumping in the mud with her.
“Oh, God, I think I did something!” She reached for her ankle. “Damn, oh, damn! Oh, God!”
Denny crouched. “Maybe you sprained it,” he said. “I can’t look at it with the boot on. I have to get you up the hill and back to the truck. Then we’ll look.”
“On one leg?” she asked. Despite her sarcastic tone, tears of pain glistened in her eyes.
“Well, it would be easiest to just carry you.” He reached out to pull her upright. “Just put the weight on your good leg.”
“Denny…” she whimpered, giving in to the pain as she let him help her stand.
“It’s okay, Becca, just lean on me.” Once she was upright, balancing on her left leg, he wiped the tears with his thumb. “Over my shoulder, that’s the best way.”
“Noooo,” she wailed.
“It’s the best way for me to keep my balance getting up to the truck.” He gave her a little smile. “You used to think it was fun.”
She shook her head. “I used to think you were fun. 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 Big’s truck.”
“Are we going to be able to get along?” she asked with a hiccup of emotion. “Because I’m just not in the mood for any more conflict.”
He nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll come back tonight….”
“That’s all right, you don’t have to—”
“How bad is it?”
She shook her head. “It’s throbbing. But it feels far away, like it’s someone else’s foot.”
A huff of laughter escaped him. He ran a finger along her jaw. “You really scared me with that foot, the way it looked.”
“Scared you?” she asked, sinking back into her pillows.
A big orderly pulled back the curtain. “Ready to go for a ride, miss?”
“I hate to leave you,” Denny said.
“Just go on. Tell Rich to absolutely not call our parents. Absolutely not.”
“Don’t you think they’d want to know?” Denny asked.
“I’m going to take care of that. And tell him I’m sorry about getting the inside of his truck all muddy. He worships that truck. He’s going to marry that truck…”
“I’ll clean it up,” Denny said. “Try to rest.”
Before heading to Virgin River, he went through Fortuna, stopped at a full-service gas station and had the truck cleaned up, inside and out. He drove out to Jack’s guesthouse to retrieve his duffel and shaving kit, then went to his room above the Fitchs’ garage and took a shower. Next, he opened Becca’s suitcase and gathered some clothes to take to her. When his hands fell on her silky panties, they lingered there, remembering. God, how he had missed her! Then he folded her bra and panties inside a pair of jeans and a sweater, hiding her lingerie from view. Her camouflage vest was filthy, so he brought a jacket for her.