Evergreens and Angels (6 page)

Dillon, on the other hand, would rather be strung up than caged in.

He killed the engine and made his way across the lot, drawing his hands to his mouth and breathing into them to combat the chill that numbed his fingers. He'd left his jacket with Brynn. Actually, he'd left more than his jacket—he missed her already.

Sensible: not an ounce. Crazy: just call him certifiable.

Maybe Wyatt could help Dillon make heads or tails of the storm unleashed inside him. Their eight year difference in age tipped the scales of experience well into Wyatt's corner and since Dad's passing, Wyatt had graciously stepped into the role as Dillon's go-to guy when it came to matters of the heart.

Dillon bypassed Reese and offered Maddie a quick nod. His boots crunched over the snow as he rounded a corner toward the office. Flakes continued to dust the ground as the temperature plummeted. A moderate wind had him wishing for his jacket as he closed the distance to the door.

At the click of the door latch, Wyatt glanced up, his dark eyes glittering beneath the light. “Hey, Dillon. Where've you been?”

“I had to make a delivery.” Dillon headed toward a space heater near the foot of the desk. Thankfully, Wyatt had it cranked to the highest setting.

“Really?” Wyatt scanned a delivery sheet and then removed his wire-framed reading glasses, tossing them onto the blotter. “I don't see a record of it. Must have been some adventure, seeing as you've been gone a full three hours.”

“Dock my pay.” Heat brought the feeling back to his fingers, causing them to tingle painfully.

“Now, there's a thought.” Wyatt laughed. “How's Brynn?”

Dillon's head shot up. His gaze locked on Wyatt's. “How did you know?”

“We don't keep secrets here. Besides, it's written all over your face.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're a walking contradiction. That grin could fill a library, but you look more than a little perplexed, as well.” Wyatt leaned back in the rolling chair and crossed his arms. “So, the counselor is in. Go ahead, dump your load.”

“Give me a minute.” Dillon gathered his thoughts as he strode over to the coffeemaker Wyatt insisted on running practically twenty-four/seven. Right now, he was glad for his brother's idiosyncrasy. He filled a foam cup, dumped in a packet of sugar and a healthy shake of powdered creamer before stirring it all together with his finger. Then he crossed back to the desk and dropped into the chair opposite Wyatt. “Are you in a hurry?”

“I'm never in a hurry when it comes to helping my baby brother out of a jam.”

“In that case”—it took one giant huff of a breath before he spewed like Mount Vesuvius—“I kissed her.” He inhaled once more, long and deep. “Not once, but twice. I liked it.”

Wyatt grinned as his eyes danced. “Well, that's certainly a relief.”

“I'm being serious, Wyatt. I want to kiss her again, but I can't. I shouldn't.”

“Why on earth not?”

“It's crazy. That's why not. And Jacqueline—”

“Is completely out of the picture. For good. Mom's right on all counts in that department. Talk about crazy; that's one roller coaster you don't want to stand in the queue for. Ever again.” He propped one foot on his knee and eased the chair back and forth in a slow, rocking motion. “OK, here's the bottom line. Sometime our heart races ahead of our brain. There's nothing wrong with that. It does no good to reason things out
ad nauseum
, especially when there's no earthly explanation for the way we feel. Believe me, I've been there and done that, and it garners the same results as beating your head against a brick wall. So, my advice to you is to just go with it, and let God have His way, whatever that might be.”

“I think Brynn's here only long enough to help Mrs. Jansen get back on her feet.” Dillon sipped the coffee, let its sweet warmth soothe his throat. “And to keep watch over little Janie Mitchell. She might not have returned here to stay.”

“Then again, maybe she has.” Wyatt dropped his foot and leaned in, splaying his hands atop the desk. The glow from the overhead fixture cast him in a milky globe of light. “Look, I remember the night you came home after dropping off the tree and those gifts at her grandparents' house. You had this same look, even back then at only thirteen. It was as if a freight train had plowed through and knocked you clear off the tracks. Even if I'd thought to have some fun teasing you over it—and believe me, I did—I just couldn't bring myself to cast that first stone. Because there was something to it then—something deeper than a little adolescent, starry-eyed crush—and my guess is there's something to it now. Only time will tell.”

“You're right, and that's tough to swallow because everyone who knows me also knows I'm not the most patient man on the face of the earth.”

“Then I guess you'll just have to work on it. You've waited a dozen years to see Brynn again and now she's here—and from all accounts she's as into you as you are her. Are you just going to toss that away on account of what-if's?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“'Nough said. The counseling session is suspended for the time being. You can pay me with a large Pappy's pizza to go, heavy on the anchovies.” Wyatt stood and rounded the desk to clap Dillon on the back. “I'll phone in the order, and we'll head that way. Then I have to get home. Kami and the kids are waiting on me.”

“Kami and the kids.” Dillon shook his head. “That sounds…”

“Just right.” Wyatt finished for him.

 

 

 

 

5

 

A cuckoo clock perched over the fireplace mantel chimed eight forty-five as Brynn peered through the front window. Outside, the morning sky shone clear and blue; sunlight turned the snow to a glassy shimmer. Dillon was right; the storm had passed just as quickly and unexpectedly as it had arrived. Even so, the temperature held steady at a frigid twenty-nine degrees. Cold seeped through the pane to chill her. Snow might have quit falling, but the aftermath was promising to stick around for a while.

Dillon's jacket, now warm and dry, still hung over the chair back where he'd left it last night. Brynn fretted that his drive home had been not only long and laborious through the snow-packed roads, but also cold. She'd return the jacket to him as soon as he arrived.

Beside her, lights twinkled along tree boughs, transforming the fir to a cheerful symbol of Christmas. Gran had managed to remain afoot long enough to hang several ornaments on the branches while Gramps placed a gold star atop the highest bough. Soon, gifts would appear beneath to cover the tree skirt. Brynn already had a few ideas.

A fire crackled in the hearth and heat caused the mistletoe wreath to swing lazily above the doorway that led to the kitchen. Brynn touched a finger to her lips, remembering the kisses she'd shared with Dillon. It was so out-of-character for her to behave in such a reckless manner, especially with a man she barely knew. But Dillon was more than that…he'd seemed to be a part of her life since that day he'd shown up on the doorstep bearing gifts. Somehow over the years that followed, he seemed to find his way into every conversation she shared with Gran and occasionally even with Gramps.

“Dillon Cutler came to help Gramps repair the roof shingles after that storm last week,”
Gran would chatter. Or,
“Dillon stopped by with a poinsettia for our dinner table. He asked how your classes are going and if you plan to visit anytime soon.”

Through the years, Brynn had made a point to return to Clover Cove on a handful of occasions, and Gramps had even worked at Cutler Nursery for a brief period of time while he waited to be picked up once again at the lumber yard. No matter, Brynn and Dillon walked paths that failed to cross again.

Until yesterday.

Brynn shook her head. Had it really just been yesterday? If it was possible to live a lifetime in a single span of moments, she believed she'd accomplished that with his kisses. Now that her path had joined with Dillon's once again, where might it lead?

She sighed. What was the point of dreaming? She was on leave from her job in Jacksonville for only a few more weeks, and was due back two days after Christmas. She'd been afforded a month's leave to help care for Gran but she'd eventually have to return. She was needed there.

She was needed here, as well. Gran's accident brought that reality front and center. Her grandparents were aging, and, with her father's constant travels, Brynn's relationship with him was precarious at best. Gran and Gramps were all she had; conversely, Brynn knew she was the same for them.

A sleek, extended-cab black truck turned the corner. Sunlight shimmered along the polished chrome.

Dillon.

He headed slowly up the plowed street toward the house, pausing to turn into the drive. When he stepped from the driver's seat a few moments later, Brynn drew a deep breath. He seemed taller, leaner than she remembered. Dark hair curled around the nape of his neck while his gaze sought her through the window. Locking on, he studied her for a moment, bringing back memories of that night so long ago when he'd looked at her with the same expression, as if she was a code he struggled to decipher.

Just as quickly, the puzzled look morphed into a brilliant smile. He offered a slight wave and then climbed the stairs two-at-a-time. She moved to open the door and let him in.

“Hi again,” He murmured as his hand, chilled from the cold, brushed hers. His breath was warm on her cheek. “It's good to see you.”

“You, too.” She squeezed his fingers. “Come in out of the cold for a moment.”

Dillon stomped his boots on the welcome mat and then crossed the threshold. “Snow's moved out; streets are fairly clear. Should be business as usual by tomorrow morning. In the meantime…”

“You forgot your jacket yesterday.”

“I know.” He glanced at it before his gaze traveled to the mistletoe, still filled with berries. His voice, low and soothing, held a hint of hesitation. “About yesterday…I hope I didn't overstep my bounds.”

“Not at all.” Brynn's cheeks heated as a smile tickled her lips. “I was hoping for an encore…but we should talk first.”

 

****

 

We should talk first…four of the most terrifying words in the English language when they were strung together—by a woman—following a kiss.

Good grief.

Feeling as if he treaded along a magician's bed of nails, Dillon carried a wicker basket generously stocked with everything from magazines to candy bars as he and Brynn wound their way through a revolving door and into the Children's Hospital lobby. The place was a pleasant contradiction to the adult medical center just down the street, which he remembered as somber and smelling of musty age and disinfectant. The thought brought back a wave of memories filled with his dad's last days. Dad had passed away in that very building, in a quiet, dusky room tucked into one corner of the sixth floor.

Dillon promised not to dwell on the loss or the string of dark days that had followed. Instead, he focused on colorful bulletin boards and welcoming posters that lined the length of the wall to the elevators.

“Tell me again how you know Janie and her mother,” Dillon murmured, doing his best to chase away the painful memories of cancer that had ravaged his dad. He'd been a week shy of seventeen when the end finally arrived and returning to a place so close to the scene brought the loss front and center. “I mean, how did you get to the point of visiting them like this?”

“Well, you know Janie was in the car that was involved in the wreck with Gran and Gramps.” Brynn pressed a button on the wall indicating their need for an elevator headed up. “And I spent day and night here watching over Gran and keeping Gramps company. During that time, I got in the habit of stopping in to see Janie, as well. Gramps was fretting over everything, and it made him feel better to know someone was checking up on her. As the days progressed, I spent a little more time and then more, still. While we sat together, Sarah and I got to talking, and I just feel…I don't know…connected, maybe because we're so close in age. I can't imagine enduring all she's been through—first losing a husband and now watching her child suffer. The accident was nobody's fault which I suppose, in some odd way, makes the whole thing even harder to stomach. Why did this happen? Why did the deer choose just that moment to bolt, and why did the two vehicles have to be in just the right position to crash? Why did Janie endure the brunt of the impact? ”

“Was Sarah hurt, too?”

“No. She wasn't involved in the wreck, which brings us to a whole other set of why's. She was at work while Janie was with a friend headed back from the park. The driver endured a sprained wrist as well as a couple of bruised ribs while Janie's little friend sustained a slight concussion. But Janie took the lion's share of the impact, since it happened on that side of the car—the passenger side.”

“How, exactly, did the accident happen?”

“A deer bounded into the road, crashed through the windshield of Gramps's SUV and landed in the front seat—right in his lap. The shock caused him to cross over into oncoming traffic, where his car collided with the oncoming sedan. Thank goodness a police officer happened to be there at a side road and saw the whole thing. He radioed nine-one-one and had help on the scene right away.”

“It's a miracle, really, that your grandparents weren't hurt worse.”

“I know. Especially Gramps, who walked away without so much as a scratch. But his damage was more emotional—he feels awful about Janie.” The elevator doors parted and Brynn waited while those inside disembarked before she stepped on. “She wasn't as fortunate. She suffered a compound fracture of her distal femur as well as a skull fracture resulting in an extradural hemorrhage. And her spleen was compromised—”