Twins Under His Tree (12 page)

The questions flooding his brain doused the far-reaching, fiery tendrils of his desire. A good thing, too, because he might have pulled her onto that bed, undressed her and joined their bodies no matter who was downstairs.

Tearing himself from her and the kiss, he stood away so he wouldn't reach for her again.

Looking a bit dazed, she said, “Wow! Those few minutes sure went fast.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “You get to me.”

Smiling, she replied, “
You
get to
me
.”

What bothered Mitch was that, despite the rush of passion that had enfolded them, the smile on Lily's face and in her voice didn't touch her eyes. Neither of them seemed happy about it.

“I'm looking forward to this weekend, Lily, but if you don't want to take the time away from Sophie and Grace, I'll understand. I'll be busy playing host, so I don't know how much time I'll have for…us.”

Her hands fluttered as if she didn't know what to do with them, so she stuffed them into her front jeans pockets. “Why don't we just play it by ear? I'll see what kind of day the girls are having and then decide.”

“Fair enough,” he responded. Yet what he'd suggested didn't seem fair at all. He'd just given her an out, and she might take it…just as she might still move to Oklahoma City and leave her life in Sagebrush behind.

 

Midweek, Lily softly descended the steps into the living room, not wanting to awaken anyone. Sophie and Grace were snuggled in for the night. Angie, on day shift now, had turned in around the same time as Ellie after the evening news.

But Lily couldn't sleep. The decision whether or not to go to Mitch's on Saturday was gnawing at her. Every time she ran into him during the course of the day, she knew he was wondering if she'd be there or not. She felt that if she decided to go, she would be making a commitment.

A commitment to Mitch when she still wore her wedding ring?

She'd had lunch with Raina today, who had given her
a DVD copy of the video Eva had recorded on Thanksgiving. Lying in bed, feeling more alone than she'd ever remembered feeling, Lily decided she needed to watch that DVD.

After she inserted the disk in the machine, she sat on the sofa, perched on the edge of the cushion, pressing the buttons on the remote. The video sprang to life and she watched Thanksgiving Day come alive for her all over again. The living room at Shep and Raina's had been full of lively chatter. Mitch sat on the floor with Joey and Roy, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. The boys said something and Mitch laughed. He had such a deep, rich laugh and she rarely heard it. But he'd laughed often on Thanksgiving Day. Because he'd been relaxed? Because kids surrounded him? Because the two of them were together with friends in a way they hadn't been before?

The moment Grace raised her arms to Mitch and he'd lifted her onto his lap brought tears to Lily's eyes. He was so caring and gentle with the girls. Yet Lily sensed he still withheld part of himself. He didn't want to get too attached. Because in being attached to them, he'd be attached to her?

“You should be asleep,” a soft voice scolded.

Startled, Lily dropped the remote.

“Sorry,” Ellie said, coming to sit beside her. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Bending to the floor, Lily found the remote and hit the stop button.

“This is Thanksgiving,” Ellie noticed, staring at the freeze frame on the TV, the still image of Mitch holding Grace.

“Raina gave me a copy today. She thought I'd like to
have it for posterity,” Lily said with a small, short laugh that she had to force out.

“You don't have to stop it on my account. I was there, remember?”

“I know, but I thought—”

“Stop tiptoeing around me, Lily. You don't have to. I know how I reacted at the beginning of the summer when Mitch was around. I'm sorry for that.”

“You had every right to feel whatever you were feeling.”

“I had no right to dictate who you should or shouldn't see.”

“You didn't.”

“Then why didn't I see Mitch around for almost six months?”

“That was
my
fault, not yours. I wasn't ready to open my heart to another man.”

Ellie pointed to the screen. “It looks as if you're trying to figure out if you're ready now.”

“If I have to figure it out, that means I'm not?” Lily asked, in turmoil about it. Yet that's what she was feeling.

“I don't know, Lily. Troy is still real to me. He's still my brother. I talk to him, and I listen for his advice. Is that crazy or what?”

“I don't think that's crazy at all. I still do that, too.”

“Then maybe you should ask him about this,” Ellie advised her.

The two women sat there for a few moments in the dark, with the silence, staring at the frozen picture on the TV in all its color and high definition.

Now that she and Ellie were having an open talk about this, Lily went to her purse on the foyer table and
removed her camera. It had been in there since Sunday night.

“I want to show you something,” she said to Ellie, sitting beside her sister-in-law again.

She switched on the camera, pressed the review button and brought up a picture. She was standing in front of the town's Christmas tree with the twins in their stroller. Then there were a few shots of Sophie and Grace by themselves, their faces filled with awe, the excitement of their first Christmas shining from their eyes. The miracle of Christmas was starting to unfold for them. She wanted the holiday to be filled with kindness and love and sharing so they'd never forget the importance of giving all year.

The final picture was Mitch holding Sophie and Grace, gazing into the camera with the intensity that was all his. Even though he was smiling, she knew he had questions about what the future held for all of them. Their attraction to each other couldn't be denied. But it muddied the already stirred-up waters. As Lily studied his face, her heart tripped. Her gaze fell to his smile and her stomach somersaulted. Staring at him holding her twins, she felt as if she could melt.

Lily flipped again to the photo of herself with Sophie and Grace, then the other one with Mitch. She said in almost a whisper, “I'm falling in love with him, and it terrifies me.”

“Why?”

“Because I've lost everyone who loves me. Because Mitch has an area of his life he won't open to me. Because I'm still attached to Troy and afraid to let go.”

“So what are you trying to decide?”

“Mitch's reunion with his buddies from Iraq is this
weekend. Saturday they'll be at his place most of the day and he asked me to come over. I'll be setting foot in an area of his life he kept closed off to me. He said we won't have much time alone, but after everyone leaves, we might.”

“Are you asking my permission?” Ellie asked with a hint of a smile.

“No. I guess what I'm asking for is your blessing.”

Ellie's gaze dropped to the end table by the sofa where a picture of Lily and Troy stood. Then she lifted it to the TV screen. “Go, Lily. You have to. It's the only way you'll know for sure if you're ready to move on. That's the best I can do.”

Lily switched off the DVD player and set the camera on the coffee table. “Let's have a cup of hot cider. I want your opinion on what I'm thinking of giving to Angie and Raina for Christmas.”

“You want to be distracted from what's really going on in your mind.”

Ellie knew her too well because she was right.

M
itch opened his door to Lily, trying to adjust his thinking about today to include her in it. His gut always twisted a little when he saw her…when her blue eyes looked at him with so many questions he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to answer. “I wasn't sure you'd come.”

She had a cake holder in one hand, a paint case in the other. “I told you yesterday that I'd come to help.”

Yes, she had. They'd been passing in the hall and she'd stopped him with a touch of her hand on his elbow. He'd felt the heat from it the rest of the day, though he'd told himself that was impossible. Had his caresses branded her the same way?

Stepping aside so she could enter, not sure what her presence meant, he pointed to the far end of the kitchen.
“I put the desserts on the table. The deli trays are in the fridge and the barbecued beef is in the slow cooker.”

“It sounds as if you have all of the bases covered.”

Except the base with her on it. He nodded to her carrying case. “Paints?” The mundane conversation had to get them through, although the question he wanted to ask was—would she stay the night? Too much to expect?

“Yep. And I have some board games and puzzles in the car. Along with Santa Claus, you should have the kids covered.”

“I have a table set up for you in the sunroom.”

After she unzipped her parka, he moved behind her, taking it from her shoulders. He hadn't been
this
close to Lily all week, though each time he'd passed her in the hall he'd wanted to haul her over his shoulder, carry her to a closet for privacy and kiss her. She'd left her hair loose today and he caught the scent of it as his hands closed over her jacket and red scarf. She was wearing a Christmas-red sweater with black jeans, dangling gold earrings and black shoe-boots with tall heels. She looked incredible.

When she glanced over her shoulder, their gazes collided and he bent his head to kiss her.

But that kiss wasn't to be. His doorbell rang and he swore under his breath. Not that he didn't want to see his visitors. But every private moment with Lily was precious.

“I'm nervous,” she admitted with a shaky smile, as he hung her jacket and scarf over his arm.

“Why?”

“Because these are your friends and I'm not sure I belong here.”

“I felt that way at Thanksgiving until Raina and Shep made me feel comfortable. Relax, Lily. These are just families who share a common bond.
You
share it, too.”

His words didn't seem to reassure her. He wanted to wipe the anxious look off her face with a touch…with a few kisses. But he couldn't. His guests were arriving and he had to play host.

The next half hour passed in a whirlwind of guests entering and introductions being made. Lily had no trouble making conversation, as Mitch had known she wouldn't. She was easily drawn to the moms with kids, and to one of Mitch's best friends, Matt Gates, who was an ER doctor in Houston. After everyone else had arrived, Jimmy Newcomb's wife, Robin, drove their van into a space the guests had left for them in Mitch's driveway. All of the guys went outside in case Robin needed help. But the Newcomb's van was equipped with a wheelchair lift and, fortunately, Mitch's house had only one step to navigate to push the wheelchair inside.

“I don't want to make tracks in your carpet,” Jimmy said to Mitch as he wheeled into the kitchen.

“You can go anywhere you want to in my house,” Mitch assured him.

Robin and Maya, Tony Russo's wife, set up the kids in the sunroom with games and puzzles, drawing paper, pencils and crayons, while Lily arranged her face paints on a small table. The children began asking questions right away and she explained what she could do. Soon they were lined up, pleading with her to paint a Christmas tree or an angel, a reindeer or a butterfly on their faces. Once when Mitch looked in on her she was telling them about Christmas traditions around the world.
Another time, the children were explaining how they celebrated Christmas. He realized how much he wanted Lily to stay tonight. It had to be
her
decision. As she took a few breaks, he suspected she was calling Ellie to check on Sophie and Grace.

In the course of the afternoon, he attempted to spend time with everyone. He lit a fire in the fireplace, pulled bottles of beer from a cooler, made pots of coffee. When darkness fell, he set out the food. He'd ordered more than enough, and he was glad to see all his guests looked pleased to be there, sitting near the predecorated Christmas tree he'd bought at the last minute. Reunions could bomb. But this group had too much in common. Feelings ran deep and so did loyalties.

Matt had brought his Santa paraphernalia and stowed it in a spare bedroom where Mitch had stacked presents for the kids.

As most of the guests enjoyed dessert and Lily sat on the couch deep in conversation with Robin, Matt beckoned Mitch to follow him into the hall.

“Ready to sweat in that Santa suit?” Mitch asked with a grin.

Matt grimaced. “You're going to owe me for this one.”

“Not if I can help it. You're going to love doing this so much you'll want to do it every year. If the gifts are too heavy in that flannel sack—”

“Do you think practicing in the ER is making me soft?” Matt inquired with a raised brow.

“Not for a minute,” Mitch assured him.

“Before I forget, I want to give you something,” Matt said, taking out his wallet and slipping out a business card.

“What's this?” Mitch glanced at it and saw the name, address and telephone number of a doctor—the head of the Hand and Trauma Surgery division at the hospital where Matt practiced.

“Eric Dolman is good, Mitch. The best I've ever seen. He's performed nerve grafting and conduits, as well as nerve transfers, with success. If you want to return to surgery, you might want to fly to Houston to see him. I could probably get you in on short notice.”

Mitch's gut tightened. “I have a new career now. I was told surgery could cause more damage than I already have.” He flexed his fingers just thinking about it.

“Look, Mitch. I know about survivor guilt. Most of us carry it. Maybe it's time to lose it and reach out for something you deserve to have. If you don't want to go back to trauma surgery, that's your decision. But Eric might be able to restore full use of your hand.”

Mitch heard a noise and swung around. Lily was standing there and had obviously cleared her throat to make her presence known. She was holding her cell phone and probably looking for a quiet place to make her call.

“I didn't mean to interrupt,” she told both of them. “I was just trying to find—”

“A little quiet?” Matt filled in with a smile. “That's hard to do around this crowd.” His grin faded, then he became serious. “Tony's wife told me you lost your husband to Afghanistan. I'm sorry.”

“Thank you,” Lily replied, looking down at her phone where a picture of her twins stared up at her.

Matt tapped the card Mitch was still holding. “Don't lose that. Call him anytime. Just mention my name.” Then he strode down the hall to the bedroom.

Lily's blue eyes found Mitch's. “I really didn't mean to interrupt. I overheard a little. This doctor could repair the damage to your hand?”

If Mitch was going to even think about doing this, he had to run it through his own mind first. “The risk could be greater than the rewards.”

“But if you could return to surgery—”

“Lily, I don't think this is the time or place to have this discussion. Can we just table it for now?”

“Does that mean you'll want to talk about it later?” she challenged.

Not only was Mitch hesitating to start a serious relationship with Lily because of her memories…but also because of his. She might want too much from him, a closeness he didn't know how to give. She was pushing him now, and that made him restless and uncomfortable. So he was honest with her. “I don't know. I need some time to think about what Matt said. I might want to research this doctor. I might not want to discuss surgery at all.”

He saw the hurt on Lily's face, and he knew he was closing her out. But this was sacred territory to him. She didn't understand the ramifications of everything surgery could stir up. Not only memories of his time in the hospital and rehab, working to change his specialty to endocrinology, but also the cause of it all. He didn't talk about
that
to anyone.

More gently, he told her, “I'm going to set up the kindling in the fire pit. After Santa leaves, we can toast marshmallows with the kids.”

“I'm sure they'll like that,” Lily said, much too politely.

He left her in the hall, believing that after the marshmallows were toasted, she would leave.

 

Lily opened one side of the French doors and stepped outside onto the red-and-gray brick patio. It was huge, running along most of the back of Mitch's house. But three high stone walls framed the outside of the patio, giving it a protective feel. Mitch, Jimmy and Matt sat by the fire, talking, mugs of hot coffee in their hands.

She walked over to them, zipping her parka. “The kids want to come out and sing Christmas carols before they all go back to the bed-and-breakfast.”

“Tell them to come on,” Mitch said, rising to his feet.

Lawn chairs were scattered across the bricks, where after Santa's arrival and departure some of the older children had toasted marshmallows for the younger ones under their parents' watchful eyes. Now the fire had died down and short flames licked at the remaining logs under the mesh fire screen.

Lily didn't have to convey Mitch's invitation to the guests inside. As soon as she turned toward the door again, all the children and adults who had gone for their coats poured out. Light from inside shone on the closest section of the patio. The rest was lit by a half moon and so many stars she couldn't count them all if she tried. For Mitch's guests who lived in cities, this had to be a treat. Those who lived in more rural areas knew how to appreciate the beauty of the winter night.

Jimmy's little boy, who was eight and had Rudolph painted on one cheek, grabbed Lily's hand and pulled her toward his mom and dad. “Stand over here,” he told her.

She did and found herself beside Mitch.

The night was turning colder and a light wind blew over the stone walls, but she felt protected in the cocoon of the patio, although her breath puffed white vapor in front of her.

Beside her husband, Robin suggested, “Let's take hands.”

A hush fell over the group and even the little ones reached for a hand on either side of them. Lily found one of her hands in Mitch's, the other holding Jimmy's. She was emotionally moved in a way she couldn't even begin to express, especially when Maya's sweet voice began “Silent Night.” Lily's throat closed as she tried to sing along with the words.

All is calm. All is bright.

How these men deserved calmness and bright.

Instead of holding her hand now, Mitch swung his arm around her shoulders.

What was he feeling at this moment? What had this night meant to him? Would he talk to her about it? Would he talk to her about the possible surgery?

Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.

She suspected all the men were thinking about fallen comrades and maybe how lucky and grateful they were to be alive…to be here together. She thought about the Purple Heart medal tucked away in her jewelry box and how well Troy would have fit in here tonight.

After the last verse of the Christmas carol, moms and dads herded up children and one by one thanked Mitch for his hospitality. She heard him say, “It'll be your turn sometime. Then I'll be thanking you.”

He'd gone to a lot of trouble to put this weekend together and it showed.

Inside the house again once more, Mitch saw his guests to the door. Lily stowed food away while he made sure Jimmy accessed his van without difficulty.

“You don't have to do that,” Mitch told Lily when he returned to the kitchen.

Actually she'd been grateful for something to do. She knew what
she
wanted to happen next, but she wasn't sure how Mitch felt. “There's not much left. A few pieces of chocolate cake, a half dozen cookies. Some guacamole and a bag of corn chips.”

She covered the remainder of the cake with plastic wrap and set it on the counter. “Matt was a great Santa.”

“He's always the life of the party,” Mitch replied.

The echo of “Silent Night” and the picture of the group gathered outside would be lasting. “Jimmy's a remarkable man. Robin explained a little of what their life is like since he became paralyzed. They're both courageous people.”

“She stuck by him when he wasn't sure she would.”

“She loves him.”

“Sometimes love isn't enough.”

Mitch's decisive words seemed to echo in the kitchen. Lily didn't know if he was going to ask her to stay the night, but if he wasn't, she wanted to discuss the surgery on his hand.

He was standing by the counter perfectly still as she moved closer to him. “Nothing can change what happened to Jimmy in Iraq.” She took Mitch's hand and ran her thumb over the top of it. “But maybe you can change some of what happened to you.”

Mitch pulled away from her, his expression closed. “I told you—surgery could have repercussions.”

“I understand that. But a consultation would do no harm.”

“I'd have to take time off.”

“The practice slows down over the holidays,” she reminded him.

His jaw became more set. “I don't want to be a guinea pig. I don't want to be given false hope or become a statistic.”

“You haven't even
met
this doctor. You don't have the information you need to make an informed decision.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Lily, I don't want to argue about this.”