Under the Mistletoe with John Doe (13 page)

Odd, she thought. The closer she got to the woman, the more of a resemblance she saw.

She supposed she could be a perfect stranger, but the woman had zeroed in on her, too.

“Carla?” Betsy asked, taking a gamble and calling the woman by name.

She nodded as she got to her feet.

“I'm Betsy Nielson.”

“I know. I…” Her lips quivered. “I wasn't stalking
you. Honest. I had no intention of bothering you. I just…wanted to see you.” She bit down on her bottom lip.

Betsy didn't know what to say. Their unexpected meeting had certainly thrown her off stride. But now that they'd seen each other, now that they'd spoken, she couldn't very well turn her away.

“I can understand your curiosity,” Betsy said. “But I'm on duty, so I can't promise that I won't be called back inside.”

“I'm not sure if you ever wondered about me, about why I had to give you up.”

“Yes, but I want you to know that I had a happy childhood and wonderful parents. As far as I'm concerned, your placing me for adoption was a blessing to them, and I'm glad to be their daughter.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that.” The wind kicked up, blowing a strand of her hair across her cheek, and she swatted it away. “I was a sixteen-year-old foster child when I gave birth to you, with no real family support. And your father was in the same boat. As much as I loved him and wanted to keep you, I knew I'd be sentencing us all to a life we'd never be able to break free of.”

“I understand,” Betsy said, figuring the woman wanted her forgiveness. But there were no hard feelings. She was happy with the way things had turned out.

“I was an honor student,” Carla added, “and a grade level ahead of the kids my own age. I was looking at a full-ride academic scholarship to Rice University, but having a baby would have meant giving it up and getting a job.”

“You made a good decision,” Betsy said, assuming
that's why it had been so important to find the child she'd given up. “Did you graduate?”

Carla smiled and her eyes misted over. “Yes, with honors. And I went on to get a master's degree in biology. I work for a biotech firm in Houston.”

So they didn't just look alike. They had the same scientific aptitude and drive for success.

Betsy took a sip of the coffee she still held. “I guess we have a lot in common. I went to med school at Baylor.”

“I'm proud of you, even though I didn't have anything to do with your achievements.”

“You gave me to people who cheered me on every step of the way, so we were all winners.”

A tear spilled over and slipped down Carla's face, and she managed a smile with quivery lips.

“So tell me,” Betsy said, “do I have any half brothers and sisters?”

“Actually, I married Brad—your father. So you have full siblings, not half.”

At that, Betsy felt her own eyes water. She'd never had any qualms about her childhood, about having parents who were older than the ones most of her friends had. She'd never really cared that she'd been adopted, although she'd been curious about the details. But she'd always wished that she had a brother or sister, that she hadn't been an only child.

“Brad and I really loved each other, but we wanted more for ourselves and our children than what we'd had. So we waited to get married until after we had our degrees and were established in our careers.” Carla
reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “I have pictures, if you'd like to see them.”

Actually, Betsy was intrigued by the idea of having siblings and wanted to see them. “Please.”

Carla reached into the photo slots and pulled out a picture of a fair-haired young man with a shy smile. “This is Kenny, your brother. He's a junior at Texas A&M and a math major.”

Betsy's heart warmed as she searched for a family resemblance and found it around the eyes and mouth.

“And this,” Carla said, as she pulled out a second picture, “is Kari, your sister. She's a senior in high school and far more interested in her dance classes than in math or science. But she's a good kid. And happy.”

“I'd like to meet them,” Betsy said.

Carla took a breath, as if needing to fortify herself before making a comment. “I'm so glad to hear you say that. Not a day went by that I didn't think about you or pray for you and the family that adopted you. I'm so glad to know those prayers were answered.”

“Ten times over,” Betsy said. “My parents are wonderful people.”

“If you don't mind,” Carla said, “I'd really like to meet them sometime and tell them how happy I am that they took you in and gave you all the things your father and I couldn't give you.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

At that point, Betsy's pager went off, calling her back to the E.R.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I have to go now.”

“Thanks for talking to me. Honestly, I would have
abided by your wishes, but I just wanted to see you from a distance. And to make sure that you were happy.”

“I am,” Betsy said, even though she was nursing a painfully broken heart. But she'd been happy before she met Jason, and she knew she'd be happy again someday.

Before leaving, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to the woman who'd given birth to her. “We'll have to get together later. After Christmas.”

“That's great. And for the record, this will be my best Christmas ever. I've got the gift I've wanted for the past thirty-two years.”

Betsy smiled, then turned and walked away.

She was glad that she'd been able to help Carla put the missing pieces of her life back together—even if she hadn't been able to help Jason do the same with his.

Still, with Christmas on the horizon and a new year coming around the bend, Betsy's life was opening up for her in a way she hadn't expected.

She just wished Jason had been around to be a part of it.

 

As usual, Betsy asked to work on Christmas Eve, something she volunteered to do each year so that the doctors with children could stay home with their families and enjoy the holiday.

She'd even been open to taking the night shift, but Dr. Babbitt had suffered a gall-bladder attack yesterday and had been admitted to the hospital. So she'd taken his shift, leaving the night to Darryl Robertson.

As it neared seven o'clock and the shifts were
changing, Betsy was writing up orders in a patient's chart.

“Dr. Nielson?” one of the nurses asked.

Betsy continued to write. “Yes?”

“There's a man named Jason Alvarez in the waiting room. He's asking to talk to you.”

She froze, then forced the pen to finish her thought. “Tell him I'm off at seven. I'll meet him in the lobby.”

“All right.”

She paused long enough to tamp down her surprise, then she finished out her shift. When she was free to leave, she followed the corridors to the lobby, where she found Jason standing near the Christmas tree, his back to her.

“I didn't expect you to return,” she said.

He turned away from the tree, and her breath caught. She hadn't remembered him being that handsome. And she couldn't help noting that he was wearing jeans again. Had he not gone to California after all?

“I needed to talk to you.” His expression was solemn and almost unreadable.

She slowly closed the gap between them, yet kept a little distance, like that of acquaintances rather than friends.

“I didn't like the way things ended between us,” he said. “In fact, I really didn't like them ending at all.”

Her lips parted and her heart thumped to life, but she held her tongue, protecting her thoughts, her feelings.

“I realize there's a lot about me that you don't know, but I was wondering if we could start over from scratch. Maybe, if we dated, it would give you a chance to know the real me.”

She wasn't sure what he was asking, what he was saying.

“You made it clear that you weren't looking for a relationship,” he added, “and I'll respect that, if you ask me to. But I'd like to see where this goes, and I'm hoping you feel that way, too.”

“We live in two different states, Jason. I'm not sure how a relationship could possibly work.”

He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and tossed her a crooked grin. “Actually, I just put a cash offer on Doc's ranch, and he accepted the deal. Our attorneys are drawing up the papers as we speak.”

He did
what?

And did that make him her landlord?

Try as she might, she was still speechless.

“I was pretty confused when I left Brighton Valley,” he added, “so I couldn't make any promises then. But when I went home, things fell into place.”

“And now what?”

“Have you ever heard of Alvarez Industries?”

She hadn't and shook her head.

“What about Abuelita Tamales, Salsa, Tortilla Chips, Mole…?”

“Yes, I've heard of those products.”

“My great-grandmother was an incredible cook, and people in the community raved about her tamales. Her husband began to sell them to the neighbors and to his coworkers. And before long, their son began to market them, too, along with her salsa, mole and homemade tortillas. Before long, Alvarez Industries was born.”

“That's a
big
company,” she said.

“We've been very fortunate. Within three generations, the company went international.”

She still didn't understand how a relationship could work out for them. “But you said you were an executive in the corporation. How are we going to deal with the commute?”

“I just resigned from the board of directors.”

How could he do such a thing? “Why? I don't understand.”

“Before the mugging, I had an almost-obsessive focus on the family business. But something happened while I was in Brighton Valley. I had time to relax, to enjoy life for the first time in years. To be real.”

She wanted to take credit for that—or for being a part of the good things that had happened on the ranch, but she knew better than to open herself up for disappointment. So she let her rational side answer. “Vacations can do that for people. The human body wasn't made to work 24/7.”

“It was more than that, Betsy. When I was a kid, we had horses. And I secretly considered a degree in animal husbandry. But that wouldn't have benefited my family. So I went to USC and majored in business, just like my brothers.

“After graduation, I went to work at the corporate office and made my own mark on the company. And the fact that sales improved remarkably after I initiated a few ideas of my own made me proud to be a part of a successful, family-owned business.”

If truth be told, it made her proud of him, too.

“But I've never really been happy or content. I thought if I just worked harder or put in longer days or
made more money…” He clucked his tongue and slowly shook his head. “But it didn't help. I was never as happy or content as I was on the ranch with you. You healed something deep within me, Betsy. Something I hadn't even realized was damaged.”

She didn't know what to say. He'd healed something within her, too.

He closed the distance between them and reached for her hand. “I love you, Betsy. Even if you don't feel the same way about me.”

“But I
do,
” she said. “I was devastated when you left.”

“Are you kidding? You were so…”

“Professional? Detached? That's how I deal with stressful situations, Jason. That's one reason I refused to meet my mother. But you were right. Some people deserve second chances.”

A smile stretched across his face. “So does that mean you'll give me—us—another chance?”

“Absolutely.”

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of the hospital lobby.

 

After a wonderful night spent in the guesthouse at the ranch, Betsy and Jason celebrated the first part of Christmas Day with her parents in Doc's hospital room. When they arrived, her dad had carried in a miniature tree and set it near the window. And Jason brought in an armful of gifts that Betsy had purchased and wrapped ahead of time.

Of course, she didn't have a package for Jason because
she hadn't expected to share the holiday with him. But his surprise appearance last night and his profession of love had been a prize beyond measure, and the lovemaking that had followed had been an amazing treat.

After Doc had opened his gifts—an iPhone, a new pair of pajamas, DVDs and a book on tape—he apologized. “If I would have known I was going to have a stroke, I would have gone shopping sooner. I'm afraid I don't have anything for you yet.”

“Don't worry about it,” Betsy said. “Jason and I didn't get each other gifts, either.”

“Actually,” Jason said, “that's not true. You gave me mine last night, when you agreed to give our relationship a chance. And I've got one for you.”

“You do?”

He reached into the lapel of his sports jacket and pulled out a checkbook and a pen. Then, using the table near Doc's bed, he wrote a check.

“I'm sorry,” Betsy said. “We'll need to get one thing straight. Cash doesn't count as a present. And gift cards aren't much better. You're going to have to tear that up and start over. I want something that comes from your heart.”

“I think you're going to like this one.” He ripped off the check and handed it to her.

When she read what he'd written, she furrowed her brow. “Pay to the order of Brighton Valley Medical Center? One million dollars?” She looked up in awe. “Oh, my God. What's this?”

“Something to keep the hospital afloat until things turn around. And hopefully that means a well-deserved vacation for you.”