My Kind Of Christmas Part 12

"I hope not. Why?"

"You could actually give me some trouble." Then she laughed.

Something told Patrick he'd be wise to spoon some chili into her and get her out of here, but that was far from what happened. Instead, they took their time with lots of talking and laughing before they even got to the chili. They went through the teenage and college years, jobs they'd had, trouble they'd been in, glorious moments, disappointments, dates-the good and the terrible. He'd had many more dates than she. Instead of sitting at the table, they finally ate in front of the fire and, afterward, Angie found them a Scrabble game online to play on his laptop.

And she beat him.

It was getting very late when he asked her, "Where are you spending Christmas? With your uncle Jack?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'll probably go home to Sacramento. I just needed a break from Mom and Dad. My mom and I have really been at each other and Jack suggested I come up here for a while. Dropping out of school really took its toll."

"Angie, are you a poor little rich girl?"

She roared with laughter. "My parents are teachers! Well, they're professors-an honorable profession, but not exactly the top of the economic heap. I grew up in the smallish four-bedroom house they will always live in. They don't have a boat or a lake house, but we always traveled a lot while I was growing up-I guess giving us an education in foreign countries was a priority to them. Now I realize they just added us in to every conference opportunity they had. They're middle cla.s.s. Very smart, intellectually ambitious middle cla.s.s without much money. I get a break on tuition because they're professors in a state university and I have some scholars.h.i.+p money for other expenses. And there's help from Grandpa, that sort of thing. So what about you? Where are you spending Christmas?"

"I was supposed to be on a s.h.i.+p, but I have some leave. I'm planning to stop in Oklahoma City to check on Marie and Daniel on my way back to Charleston. I'll have Christmas with them. A few days, that's all."

"Ah. And then? Back on the s.h.i.+p?"

"I'm not sure. I'm still thinking. Back to med school for you?"

"Um, it's not looking that way. But, please, don't say anything. I don't need my uncle all worked up or my parents running up here to deprogram me. The more I've been thinking about it, the more I just don't know if med school's going to do it for me. I had almost a year under my belt before the accident, but I'm losing interest."

"What do you mean, do it for you?" he asked.

She scooted forward on the sofa. "Can I trust you? I mean, trust you? Because I haven't talked about this with anyone. And I'd like to, but I've been kind of afraid."

He edged closer to her. He wanted to touch her, but didn't. He'd like to smooth her hair or grab her hand. All he said was, "I'm your friend. You can trust me."

"I'm thinking of taking a couple of years off before going back to med school. I'm considering the peace corps. Or something like that."

He stiffened in shock. "Are you kidding me?"

She shook her head solemnly. "I want to make a difference."

"Can't you make a difference as a doctor?"

"Eventually. But right now I want to give something back, to justify the fact that I'm here, that I'm alive."

"Ange, you don't have to do that! You have all the time in the world to give back. You're tough and smart-you'll live to be a hundred."

"Yeah, with a shunt in my head and a rod in my femur. But right now instead of studying microbiology I want to dig a well. Or give immunizations. Or mix up gruel with vitamins for children who need food."

He sat back and put a hand on the top of his head. "Whoa." She laughed at him.

"Listen," he said, "they won't take you right now. It's too soon after a pretty serious injury-that's not their style. You have to go through a battery of exams and tests to get in the peace corps."

"How do you know?"

"Well, I don't, I'm making this up, but I bet I'm right. I'm right a lot-how do you think I test so well? I'm a good guesser. But aside from all that, how long do you think they'll hold your spot in med school?"

"No telling, but that's not my biggest concern. If I have to reapply, I can get in. I have a double major with an excellent GPA. I've been valedictorian twice and scored high on the MCAT. Even if I have to apply to a different medical school a couple of years from now, I like my chances. And I'll find a way to pay back my parents and Grandpa."

He stared at her for a long moment. "You're a little crazy."

"Do you think so? Because I make perfect sense to myself."

"What do you plan to do?" he asked, a little jealous that he didn't have a plan of his own. "I mean, right now, after your R and R, what will you do?"

"I think I'll get a job and study humanitarian organizations for a while. The downside is I might have to live with my parents while I work and look for the right organization to apply to-and trust me, my mother is going to turn the heat up. She's always had a plan that she expects me to follow and I've been a dissident. It could be very uncomfortable. I've given some thought to staying here in Virgin River just to avoid that. Maybe I can work in the bar."

"Angie," he said, serious as a heart attack. "Go back to school. There's lots of time-don't rush."

"Did anyone ever suggest that you put off flying jets for a while? Until you were sure?"

"Of course not."

"That settles it, in my next life I'm coming back as a guy. I get so b.l.o.o.d.y sick of people saying, *Slow down, little girl, you're not ready.' I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She looked at her watch. "It's getting late. No one's waiting up for me, but I better get going before you get tired of me."

He was afraid he never would.

She stood up and he stood. She reached for her jacket and he said, "I think I should drive you. Or at least follow you home."

"Why?" she said, slipping into her jacket.

"I'm a little nervous about you going out to an isolated cabin in the woods by yourself."

She laughed a little. "Okay, think about this. I just told you I was planning to go dig wells in India or administer immunizations in Africa and you're worried about me driving fifteen or twenty minutes across the mountain to a lovely little cabin? Relax, Patrick."

"What if you miss a couple of turnoffs?" he asked.

"I know where they are now," she said. "Take it easy."

She walked to his door and he was right behind her. When she opened the door, they were greeted by a fresh snowfall-just a couple of inches.

She turned back and smiled at him. "I'll go slow. Try not to act like my uncle Jack."

"Wait," he said. "Wait right here." He went to the desk in the corner and jotted down the phone number at the cabin. He took her a slip of paper. "You're going to have to call me. If you don't, I'll call Jack and track you down."

"I'd scold you for that, but I don't mind that you're a little protective. I'd hate a steady diet of overprotective, but that little bit just now wasn't too bad.

"Now I'm going to drive slow, then I'm going to build my fire because I haven't turned the heat on, so it'll be a while."

"Just call."

"You bet." She started to walk toward her SUV, then turned back. "I liked the chili, Patrick. But that isn't why I came tonight."

He smiled at her, watched her leave and thought, I am so screwed.