We Need a Little Christmas (2 page)

At Coffman's Hardware, he pulled to the curb and tried not to eavesdrop, although that was hard to avoid from less than two feet away in the cab of a truck.

“Rachel?” Liv held her cell phone to her right ear, away from Scott. “How's Mom? What happened?”

And then there was nothing to hear for a couple of minutes, as Liv sat stock-still and listened. She brought her left hand below her temple, rubbing in small circles. Her breathing was slow, quiet, schooled.

“So it could have been a lot worse,” she said. Then quickly added, “Thanks for taking care of her. We're not far away. Right by the hardware store. We'll be there in . . . ten, fifteen minutes, I think.” She glanced at Scott.

Of course, from his side of the conversation, he didn't know where they were going. He shrugged. “Close enough.” After all, it was hard to be more than fifteen minutes away from anything in Tall Pine.

When Liv hung up, she turned to Scott. “They're back at my mom's house. I can direct you.”

No point in mentioning he'd been there himself. With Tall Pine's quirky roads, it would still be easy to botch a turn. He sat silently behind the wheel and let Liv's directions take them to Faye Tomblyn's house, about three-quarters of a mile off Evergreen Lane. The little clapboard home boasted a nice coat of fresh-looking white paint, with deep green trim. Scott gave a mental nod of approval to whoever did the upkeep or had chosen paint durable enough to withstand the intermittent rain and snow of their mountain winters. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he cared for the creepy-looking plaster gnome that guarded the front porch—

He'd barely come to a stop in the driveway before Liv was out of the truck, rushing up the walkway at a near run.

Her sister, apparently, was like-minded, because the front door opened before Liv reached it, and Rachel burst out.

Watching the reunion between the two sisters, Scott quickly decided he didn't know Liv Tomblyn as well as he thought.

Chapter 2

As Rachel came running out to meet her, Liv's heart caught in her throat. Again.

Her frantic visual scans through the airport would have been much easier if she'd been able to keep in mind the fact that Rachel was seven months pregnant.

“Liv!” Rachel cried, and crashed into her.

“Rachel!” Liv cried, and crunched her little sister into her arms.

Her
big
little sister, because Rachel's pregnant stomach bulged between them, as firm and round as a basketball. Liv giggled and sobbed at the same time as she stepped back.

“I can't believe it,” she said. “My little sister . . .”

“Big as a house?” Rachel interjected, and they both laughed, sobbed, and hugged again.

Words welled up in Liv's throat and mind, too many to keep up with.
I'm sorry I was gone so long. I'm sorry about Nammy. I'm sorry . . .
She set the warring emotions aside and went to something useful. “How's Mom?” As if they hadn't covered it already on the phone ten minutes ago.

“She said she was in a hurry getting ready and she didn't see the throw rug in the kitchen and she just—fell. Hard, on the kitchen floor. I know, it's like one of those bad old commercials. ‘I've fallen and I can't get up . . .'”

Liv's stomach clenched. Her grandmother dead and her mother falling down in her own kitchen—it was too much to take in. “But she's okay?”

Rachel patiently repeated what she'd said on the phone. “It looks like a sprain. But the urgent care physician said she should see her regular doctor for a follow-up next week.”

Liv became dimly aware that Scotty Leroux had followed her out of the truck and now stood behind her, tall and silent as an oak tree. She should thank him and let him know he was free to go, but that felt rude.

She turned and got no clue from his expression. Once again, he looked more serious than she remembered.

“I need to go in and see my mom,” she said. “Want to come in for a minute?”

Like Liv, Scotty seemed unsure. After a moment he nodded, and they went inside. Liv was assaulted, as she had been on the drive through town, with a sensation of the familiar and the foreign. The living room carpet, still dark brown, maybe a little more worn looking than the last time she'd seen it. The walls, that honey tone they'd helped Mom pick out after their father died, when it was important to find something to do that would occupy their minds. Her mom, sitting in the easy chair that had always been her favorite.

Seeing her little sister pregnant had been a shock, an adjustment. Seeing her mother—

Faye Tomblyn sat with her right foot propped up on a kitchen step stool that now served as a makeshift footrest. A pair of crutches leaned against the arm of the couch beside her. She started to stand, but both daughters immediately shouted her back down into her chair.

“Mom.” Liv bent down, engulfing her mother in a gentler version of the crunch she'd given Rachel outside. With her mom's chin hanging over Liv's shoulder, she knew her mother couldn't see the insistent tears prickling at her eyes.

Liv
had
to get a grip. Half an hour in Tall Pine, and she was turning into a leaky faucet.

But Mom looked so much older than she had when Liv flew out for Rachel's wedding four years ago. Rachel and Brian lived just a few hours away in San Diego, and Liv knew her sister visited often, so for Rachel, the change would have been more gradual. For Liv, it was jarring. The scattered strands of white she remembered seeing in her mother's auburn hair had turned into a full-on dusting of gray; it made up nearly half of her hair color now. Her jawline was a little blurred, a little softer, as if the ten or fifteen extra pounds she'd gradually gained over the years had finally started to show in her face. And those crutches, propped against the sofa . . .

Just a silly accident, Liv reminded herself. Mom had been in a hurry. It was a wonder she'd wanted to come with Rachel to the airport at all. Her mom had always hated airports, with all their turmoil and confusion.

Liv blinked hard and pulled back resolutely. She focused on her mom's familiar gray-blue eyes. They still looked the way Liv remembered, the same way they'd looked all the times Mom had scooped Liv up after
she
fell down.

“Mom,” she said, mock scolding. “What did you do to yourself?”

“The rug was in my way,” her mom said. “I tried to show it who was boss. I lost.”

Liv melted into another hug, no longer caring that she was crying, until she remembered Scotty standing behind her like a long, tall shadow. Poor guy. She shouldn't have brought him into the middle of all these female hormones.

She stood again and wiped her eyes before she turned in his direction. Sure enough, he stood a few steps back, as if waiting to be of service. “You know Scotty, right?” she said to her mom.

“We all know Scotty,” Mom said. “Thanks for getting Liv here.”

Scotty nodded awkwardly, and Liv once again had the feeling she'd missed some developments at home while she'd been gone.

“I'm sorry about Nammy,” he told her mother, and Liv did another mental double take at his use of the family pet name.

“She appreciated you,” Mom said.

Okay. Liv had missed
way
too much.

“I'll be right back,” she told her mother. “Let me walk Scotty back out.”

Silence engulfed them as they stepped outside the house Liv had grown up in. Yet she felt as if she was more out of place here than Scotty.

“It's okay,” he said. “You don't need to walk me—”

Liv led the way to the battle-scarred truck, and Scotty followed, his long legs catching up with her easily. When they reached the truck, he cracked the door open. But his eyes were on her, and once again Liv wished for the couple of extra inches her shoes usually gave her.

She breathed in the dry, bitter cold that surrounded them, seasoned with the scent of pine trees. So different from the air in Dallas. It was midafternoon in late November; it would get colder still in the next few hours.

“Scotty, I'm sorry,” she said. “I never said thank you, did I?”

He gave her a warm smile, and this time she didn't suspect him of laughing at her. “You're welcome. I was glad to do it. And I'm glad your mom's going to be all right. I know it's a strange kind of homecoming for you.”

Liv nodded mutely, reminded once again of her reason for being here. She'd forget for minutes at a time, and then Nammy's loss would hit her again, catching her off guard.

Tomorrow was the memorial service. Then maybe it would
really
be real.

“Well, I'm sure I'll see you around,” Scotty said. That lazy smile toyed at his lips, then vanished. “For one thing, you guys will probably be needing the truck. Nammy accumulated a lot of stuff.”

They stood facing each other like a customer and a store clerk who weren't quite sure how to end a transaction. For a second she thought he might try to give her some kind of consoling hug. But they'd barely known each other before; common sense must have prevailed. He turned toward the truck.

“Thanks again, Scotty.”

Keys in hand, he turned back. “No problem. Just do me one favor.” One corner of his mouth tipped up at her. “Call me Scott.”

“What?”

“Nobody calls me Scotty anymore, except . . .” His smile widened ruefully. “Well, everybody. But I keep trying.”

She nodded. “I'll try to remember.”

“That's all a guy can ask.” He swung up into the front seat, barely
up
at all for him. “Maybe one of these days it'll take.”

* * *

Liv discovered their old bedroom was now a guest room, and Mom had traded in the two twin beds for one double. The top of the long dressing table on the left wall held a tidy display featuring eight-by-tens of Liv and Rachel's senior portraits, a wedding photo of Rachel and Brian, and the marble-mounted pen set Liv had been awarded as class valedictorian.

“Roommates again,” Rachel said.

“It looks nice.” Liv contemplated the slightly unfamiliar room. “A lot less cluttered than it was when we were both crammed in here.”

But without even closing her eyes, she could see the dressing table littered with clutter, most of it Rachel's: nail polish, makeup, spare change, ticket stubs, drinking glasses that left water rings and drove Liv nuts. Keeping their things cleanly divided and separated had been impossible, and it had been a bone of contention between the two of them the whole time they were growing up. When Liv went to college and shared a dorm room with someone who wasn't her sister, she'd needed to keep all her belongings condensed on her own half of an even smaller room. It had taught her the value of making the most of space.

Four years of college had sharpened her business sense, but as it turned out, living in a dorm had been the training ground for her livelihood.

“So, what's up with Mom, really?” Liv asked. “
Why
did she fall?”

Their mother had managed to stay awake another half hour after Liv came back into the house. But then the pain pills from the urgent care doctor had kicked in, and she'd started nodding off. Liv and Rachel had sent her to the master bedroom to lie down.

“As far as I know, just what Mom said,” Rachel answered. “She was in a hurry, she tangled with the rug, she fell.”

“Does it sound right to you?”

“It's the kind of thing that could happen to anybody.”

Liv frowned. “I know she's just laughing it off. But it seems strange to me. Did you ask the doctor—I mean, is she having some kind of balance problem or anything?”

“I didn't think to ask. I mean, Mom was right there. She can talk.”

“Unless she didn't want to bring it up. Sometimes people can get defensive when they're . . .” Liv's voice faded away. She couldn't say it.

“When they're what?”

Liv gulped. “Getting old.”

“Liv!”

“Sorry.” Liv rubbed her aching jaw muscles with her fingertips, trying to get rid of the tension. “She just looks a lot grayer than she did the last time I saw her.”

Four years ago.
And whose fault is that?
She didn't know if Rachel was thinking the same thing, but Liv winced inwardly anyway.

“Mom's a long way from old,” Rachel said.

Liv was silent, not wanting to put her foot in her mouth, but thinking that fifty-seven wasn't far from sixty. Wasn't sixty officially senior-citizen territory? She didn't want to think of their mom that way, either.

“Well, the urgent care doctor did want her to see her regular doctor,” Rachel said. “We can ask more questions then.”

Visions of brain clots and other unknown maladies reeled through Liv's mind. “When can she get in to see him?”

“At this point, you know what I know.” Rachel lifted her shoulders. “We only got home about fifteen minutes before you called. It's Saturday. We could phone his answering service, but I don't think there's much point. It doesn't seem like something he'd drop everything for on his weekend, and tomorrow afternoon is Nammy's memorial service. I say we call first thing Monday morning.”

Rachel sounded a little edgy, like a witness being cross-examined, but her tone stayed even. Liv decided not to press. Even if she did wish Rachel had found out more.

“Sorry,” Liv said again. “You've been dealing with this for the last few hours, and I'm just catching up.”

Rachel's shoulders relaxed, and she turned to survey the room again. “Looks smaller, doesn't it?”

“You've had it to yourself the past few days. I imagine it just got smaller with me in it.”

“Brian and I stay over together sometimes.” Rachel bit her lip and grinned. “Yeah, this is smaller.”

Liv returned the grin, feeling the tension evaporate. “You'd better not snore. Anymore.”

“Are you kidding? I'm pregnant. I sleep with three pillows to keep from getting heartburn, and Brian says I snore like a buzz saw.”

“Where is Brian, by the way?”

A shadow crossed Rachel's face. “He couldn't get away. They put him on a crew of firefighters to go up and put out that wildfire way up in Bakersfield, and they're still at it. Only twenty percent contained.”

And Liv felt like a beast. Rachel's husband was five hours away, putting out fires. She had to be worried sick. That, on top of Nammy's death, and taking their mom to urgent care today. No wonder Rachel hadn't thought of all the questions to ask.

“I'm sorry,” was all Liv could think of to say.

“He'll be okay.” There was a stronger set to Rachel's shoulders than Liv remembered as she gave a resolute shrug.

Last time Liv had seen Rachel, she'd been a bride, and that had been hard enough to wrap her head around. Now she was the wife of a firefighter, and a mother-to-be. Time had moved fast since Liv had been gone. Everyone seemed to have changed so much. Even Scotty Leroux.

Which brought another question to mind. “What's the deal with Scotty? How'd he get to be the first person you called to pick me up?”

“He helped Nammy a lot. You know, little repair jobs. She got pretty attached to him.”

“That's what he said.” It made sense, Liv supposed. With their father and grandfather both gone, Nammy would have needed someone for help with heavier work.

“Mom thought of him,” Rachel added. “By the time I got here she'd pulled herself up into one of the kitchen chairs, and she pointed me to his business card on the fridge. He's done some work here, too. He got that ceiling fan in the living room to stop going
whump, whump, whump
.”