Page 3 of Christmas in His Arms

Helen nodded and finally rested her head on the pillow. She was so tired, she was asleep before I even walked away from her side. I stood at the foot of the hospital bed watching Walter rest. He didn’t look peaceful, though. He looked like death warmed over. If they had sedated him, it probably wasn't good news. A stroke could mean anything from lasting brain damage to permanent disability or death. I was reeling over the shock of it all when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned to see Walt's only child walk into the room.

"Hi… uh, Ryan, right?"

I hadn't seen Carrie in almost ten years, though I recognized her from pictures Walter had shared with me. Walt and I were close, but that closeness only manifested after Carrie left for college. Walt seemed to withdraw from our mutual activities when she was home for visits, understandably, but even those were few and far between now.

"Yeah, Ryan Hawthorne," I told her, extending my hand. It didn't get past me how beautiful she was. A spitting image of her father, only in a much-younger and very obviously female form. Her petite frame was clothed in a striking pencil skirt and matching suitcoat. Her shoulder-length, light-brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and her eyes—like her mother’s—were swollen from crying. "Your dad's best friend," I added as she took my hand and shook it.

Her eyes swept over the room, and she noticed Helen sleeping on the sofa bed. "She must be worried sick."

"And exhausted," I told Carrie. "He's going to be out for a while, maybe days. Maybe we should step into the hallway so we don't wake her." I glanced at Helen, who now snored lightly, and Carrie nodded her agreement.

I followed her into the hall where the light was brighter and the smell of death wasn't so strong. She seemed tense, and I felt awkward. It was one thing to support Helen fully. Walter was like a brother, which made Helen feel like a sister to me. But Carrie was this foreign person, not close, but not at all a stranger. I knew so much about her, because of Walt's stories, and nothing at all about her at the same time.

"I'm so sorry this is happening." I shivered, realizing for the first time how cold I was with my damp shirt. So, I shrugged my coat on and tried not to look too out of place.

"I, uh… I don't know what to feel or how to act." Carrie's honesty was painful but refreshing. She looked up at my face, and I saw tears in her eyes. My God, was she stunning too, probably close to perfection in human flesh. I found myself with an overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms and hold her, to absorb the blow of this tragedy for her so she could avoid it.

"You don't have to feel anything or act any certain way. I know you love your father. It's scary. And I promised him a long time ago to take care of Helen if anything happened. You too," I added quickly. I noticed her cover her mouth as tears streaked down her cheeks.

"He can't die… I need him," she sobbed, and I followed my gut instinct.

I pulled Carrie to my chest and cradled her as gently as a child, though she was far from it. "He's going to fight this, and we're going to be here for him. I'm not leaving your side, or your mother's side. Alright? Anything you need, I'm here."

Carrie nodded her head and clung to me as if her very life depended on it. I wanted to undo everything that had happened,but I couldn't. All I could do was be here for Walter and his family because I knew they needed me.

"Thank you, Ryan, for being here."

"My pleasure, Carrie. Now, let's get you settled, and I'll get you a cup of coffee." I led her into the room and parked a chair next to the hospital bed, and when she was seated, I slipped out to find a coffee machine.

Carrie and Helen needed a rock, and I determined that to be me. Walter's family had suddenly become my family, though I couldn't look at Carrie as my daughter. It felt awkward and wrong, maybe because she was easily the most attractive woman I'd ever met, or maybe because I'd never wanted children. Besides, to assume that post meant I was conceding death for my best friend. And that wasn't something I could ever do. We had to fight for Walt to survive. None of us were ready to say goodbye.

3

CARRIE

Isat on the couch, watching the flames dance upward from the gas logs in the fireplace. The aesthetic was nice, but I would've much preferred the old wood-burning fireplace my parents used to have. Though, the upgrades to the rest of the house were nice. Since Dad retired from his post as mayor, he'd had a lot more time to use his handyman skills to work around the house.

Nursing the cup of hot cocoa with a sprig of cinnamon in the mug, I thought of how odd it felt being back home. My visits to Evergreen Falls only fell directly on holidays, and I usually never even stayed the night. I'd catch the redeye just to make it back to the city and not have the burden of enduring town gossip—or being the subject of it. Mom's church friends made sure to never let any juicy detail slip past their burning ears.

The house was too quiet with no one home, but I was comfortable with silence. It was better than hearing my mom nag me about how I never came home often enough or stay long enough when I did. She'd opted to stay at the hospital and use the family lounge room to shower and rest when needed. It wasstuffy and sterile, and while I disliked being in this town, home was better than that. Dad hadn't woken up yet, either, so there was little point to making myself miserable.

I came home for a nap and a shower and dinner, which was nothing more than a few stale Christmas cookies Mom had thawed from her overflow after last year's party. The fridge was almost bare. It looked like Mom and Dad had been eating out a lot, judging by the takeaway boxes in the trashcan. Mom always hated to cook.

I stretched out my legs and rested my feet on the glass-top coffee table. My bright red socks coordinated well with my green pajama pants, giving me a Christmassy feel, though the holiday was still six weeks out. I was more exhausted than normal, which I attributed to having such a shock. Dad wasn't fully out of the woods yet, but the doctors told us he would probably make it. Though, they were still waiting for the best time to wake him up and find out what sort of damage the stroke had done.

My stomach churned at the thought that my dad could have brain damage or lose physical abilities. He was such an active man, working, golfing, and even volunteering around town. It scared me to think how he and Mom would fare if he were permanently disabled. And that idea made the slight nausea I was feeling even worse. I shouldn't have eaten those cookies.

When I set my mug down after drinking the last sip of cocoa and finally decided to rest my eyes, I quickly dozed off. I didn't know long I'd been sleeping, but a loud scraping noise woke me. I was startled, sitting straight up and blinking my eyes a few times as my brain came out of deep sleep and I had to remind myself I wasn't in my cozy Chicago apartment. I was in Evergreen Falls in my parents' living room.

Then I recognized the sound that startled me awake and frowned at it. Someone was shoveling their walk, and by the sounds of it, they were very close to Mom and Dad's house. Frustrated, I stood and hugged my arms over my belly as I shuffled toward the front door. It was probably a nosy neighbor who had heard that Dad was in the hospital and wanted to come be neighborly just long enough to get information they could share around town.

I pulled the curtain back from the large picture window slightly and peeked out, and I immediately recognized the tall, broad-shouldered man with a shovel in his hands. Ryan Hawthorne, Dad's best friend, stood on the curving walk from our driveway to the front door holding a shovel. It looked like he'd already cleared the entire drive and was just working on the walks now.

His back was to me, or I would have waved at him. The man was sweet, offering to pick up any slack around the house that might occur in Dad's absence. Mom let him serve her like he was the butler or a waiter. I, on the other hand, thought maybe he was trying a little too hard. But he and Dad went way back. Before I left for college, the two of them had a regular poker night with a few other guys, and they were in a bowling league too. Now, I wasn't sure how close they were, but it appeared they'd gotten pretty tight.

I couldn’t just let Ryan shovel the walks without at least acknowledging it and saying thank you, so I slipped my shoes on and grabbed a sweater. I thought about offering him cocoa, but I worried that by the time I got the cocoa heated up, he'd have finished and left. So I skipped that and walked right out the front door, pulling my sweater more tightly around my body as the cold air hit me.

"Oh, hey, Carrie." Ryan straightened and smiled at me, resting his hand on the shovel handle. "I just stopped by to move thesnow for you guys. Can't have the mailman out here sliding around."

---