Page 79 of Take Me Home for Christmas

“Yeah, well, Reagan’s the artist.” Actually, Reagan learned last month that she’d be studying at the Art Institute of Chicago. “I do better with cold, hard facts.” She gazed up at me, suddenly quiet. “Dr. D’Angelo, I want to be a doctor.”

And I thought I’d lost it before. That was nothing compared to this. I felt so proud, so overwhelmed, so…so damn lucky I was here, experiencing this moment that at times I’d feared might never come. After my torrent of tears subsided, I placed my hand on her slight, young shoulder. “You’re going to make a terrific physician, Rylee. I-I’m just…speechless. In the best way.”

“I want to do what you do,” she continued, far more calmly than I. “I want to help kids like you do. I want to work with families and make them feel better, because I understand what it’s like, you know?”

I was so choked up, I could barely speak. “I’m so honored to have a part in your decision. Everything you’ve been through will be a blessing, because you can use your experiences to help others.”

And all those years ago, I thought, hadn’t that been what Brax had known all along about me?

“That’s the plan.” She glanced at her phone. “I gotta go. Mom said I could pick Reagan up after class. We’re going Christmas shopping.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” I gave her a final squeeze. “You made my day—actually, you made my whole holiday. Give my love to your family.”

“I sure will. Merry Christmas, Dr. D!”

It was nearly five o’clock when I walked onto the adolescent ward, rushing a little because I was late. But the sight in the middle of the hall made me slow my pace.

My handsome husband was standing in the middle of a group of ward-weary residents, some in scrubs, all with stethoscopes around their neck, all paying rapt attention as he talked animatedly, using his hands. Then they all laughed.

It was evident from the way the residents reacted that they liked and respected Brax. Just as he’d been one of our chief residents six years ago, he continued to love teaching and had gotten the Golden Apple Award the past three years in a row, the award that goes to the best teacher for residents.

Also, he was now the head of BCP. Except now it was called Pediatrics of Milwaukee. Even before Dr. Brunner retired, all of us residents made quite a commotion about the practice, and they’d changed their ways. Brax had become an agent for that change, and the group now consisted of three female and three male partners, one of whom was Brax.

As so often happened, he glanced up without warning and saw me. His face broke into a giant smile just as mine did every time I saw him. He shrugged, as if to sayOops, sorry, I got caught up in this. I shrugged back. Except I was wondering, what on earth had he done with our three-year-old?

“She’s got her daddy’s eyes, but who’d she get the curly brown hair from? And the desire to draw all the time?”

I spun about to see Val, holding our fast-asleep three-year-old, head resting on her shoulder and still clutching a red marker in her hand. A faint marker trail cut across her cheek. Those traits she mentioned seemed very much to me to come from my sister, but I just smiled as I shifted my book bag and purse so I could take my child.

“Sorry about that,” Val said, swiping at the marker line while handing her over. “You can blame Bianca. She supplied the markers.”

“Hey, don’t blame the child life specialist,” Bianca said as she walked up, healthy and strong. “Hi, Dr. D.”

I smiled at our incredible child life specialist, who knew how to entertain this ward better than anyone, as I settled my completely passed-out daughter into my arms. “Thanks for exhausting—I mean entertaining her,” I said with a grin. “How long have you two been watching her?”

“Dr. Brax was waiting for you,” Val said, “but then Dr. March wanted him to consult on a patient.”

“We were happy to play with her,” Bianca said. “She’s adorable.”

Yes, she was. “Thanks, you two.”

“No problem.” Bianca handed me a pack of markers. “For your trip.”

“You’re the best,” I said. “These are like, her favorite things in the world.”

Bianca laughed. “We noticed.”

“Hey, Dr. D,” a male voice said. Pedro, wearing scrubs, walked up and snuck a peek at my sleeping toddler. As a physical therapy student, he’d finally found a way to put all that energy to good use. “She looks like Dr. Hughes,” he said. But the one he really had eyes for was Bianca. “You ready, B?”

“I’m done,” she said, pretend-dusting off her hands. “Time for Christmas break.”

Pedro kissed Bianca on the cheek. “Bianca’s coming home with me for Christmas.”

Awww. The would-be physical therapist and the child life specialist were still an item. Too cute.

Then my honey walked over, said hi to everyone, and kissed me hello. Just a simple, straightforward kiss, but it still made my heart race. As he pulled back and smiled, I caught the twinkle in his eye. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

“You’re forgiven,” I said, still feeling a little weak in the knees.

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