“Promise,” she said.
“I want to be sure you’re safe. Taken care of.”
She looked down as he knew she would. Sad. Quiet. Marcie was hardly ever quiet.
With the sound of jeans clacking in the dryer and the hum of machines droning in the background he held her arms and turned her toward him. He lifted her chin with a finger. “We still have time, Marcie—time for you to be sure you’ve asked me everything on your mind so you feel right about going home. So you have peace of mind.” “And you?” she asked him.
He ran a knuckle down her cheek. “My mind hasn’t felt this peaceful and calm in years. We’ll make the most of the time you’re here.” He gave her lips a little kiss. “I was so angry when I first faced you. I’m not angry anymore. You made things good for me.”
“An awful lot more passed between us than I ever imagined,” she said. “But I’m glad.”
“Then let’s fold our jeans and head back to town. I think we can get a toddy with Jack and Preacher before they close. Then we’ll go home, stoke the fire and if you want me to, I’ll read the dirty part of that book to you again.”
She slapped his arm. “Please, it’s not dirty! It’s romantic.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Very.” He pressed his lips against her forehead.
They went by Jack’s to find it was his last night in town before taking the family back to Sacramento for the holidays, so Mel was there, as was Jack’s sister, Brie, and her partner Mike Valenzuela. The mood was festive. Jack’s son, David, was asleep in Preacher’s quarters behind the bar and there was a lot of excitement about traveling for Christmas. Ian and Marcie ordered up beer and were pulled into the upbeat mood.
Doc didn’t seem to be around, so while Marcie used the kitchen phone to check in with her sister, Ian took a moment to speak to Mel about his neighbor and suggested he might not be doing well. She just smiled and said, “Thanks, Ian. Before I leave in the morning, I’ll speak to Doc and he’ll check on things out there. If he needs assistance, Doc will do what he can. But be warned—some of these old-timers don’t change their ways. They’re pigheaded about things like help, medical intervention, that sort of thing.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Ian said. “I was with old Raleigh when he went.”
“Then you already know.” She smiled. “Have a nice Christmas, Ian.”
“You, too,” he said.
He hadn’t celebrated Christmas in a long time. The last time had been with Shelly before he left for Iraq. He’d given her a ring and suddenly the holiday became all about getting engaged.
His father had never been much about Christmas. It was Ian’s mother who made the holiday real, decorating, baking, fixing up gift baskets for everyone she knew, buying gifts that she’d given a lot of thought to. His dad always came up with something lame for his wife—a subscription to a women’s magazine, a sweater too ugly for words that she’d gush over, a couple of cookbooks. He was famous for caving in to something the house needed like a washer or vacuum cleaner and saying, “All right then, it’s an early Christmas present.” After his mother died, Christmas disappeared entirely. The tree didn’t come out, the lights didn’t go on the house, there was no special dinner. Ian was glad not to be around.
But on the Christmas Ian had given Shelly the ring, he’d also given her a necklace and a beautiful peignoir. He remembered the details now—that was when he decided he was not going to be like his father. He was going to be thoughtful.
For Ian, there still wouldn’t be a real Christmas this year, yet his spirits were higher than they had been in years. He didn’t have any decorations and would probably end up opening a can of Dinty Moore for his dinner. He was sorry he didn’t have a present for Marcie and relieved she’d had no opportunity or means to get one for him. But he liked that the town was not only getting into it, they were honoring the men and women who stood the watch. That in itself made it a joyous holiday.
To his surprise, he was starting to think in terms of things changing for him. Because I’ve had these unusual, unexpected, illuminating weeks of Marcie. She opened his eyes in so many ways. And then he started to laugh to himself, because his mind turned to septic tanks. What would it take to buy and have a septic tank installed, a hot water heater, an indoor bathroom? It would start with money—real money and not the hit and miss income of selling firewood in winter and moving furniture part-time in summer.