When the morning sun streamed in the windows, Mackenzie was already slipping into his coat and heading for the door. He needed to talk to Amanda. He reached for the door just as the bell rang. Surprised, he opened it and found Kylie standing there.
She met his gaze steadily. “We need to talk.”
He nodded. No point in pretending he didn’t understand. “Yes, we do.” He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it. As his fingers closed around hers, he noticed how their hands seemed to fit together. Just like their hearts.
He led her into the kitchen. “Coffee, right?”
She nodded. He had it ready in minutes, then handed it to her. As she took the warm mug, he let his fingers do what they’d itched to do for days: caress her face. “I want you to wait here for me.” He hadn’t intended to make the request, but the second he saw her he knew he wanted her there when he got back.
“You’re going somewhere?”
“I have to talk with Amanda.” She stiffened slightly, and he cupped her face. “I need to tell her that things have changed.” He brushed back a stray strand of hair. How he loved that wild hair of hers. “And I don’t feel right about doing that over the phone.”
She held his gaze, her eyes searching his face, and then she nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Relief swept him. “Good.” He smiled, amazed at how light he felt. “I’ll be back soon.”
He grabbed his car keys and headed for the front door. Everything was going to work out. He was sure of it. Whatever this was between him and Kylie, it was right. For the first time in a long time, he felt as though his life was on the right track. And he could hardly wait to see where it would take him.
He pulled the door open—and ran right into a policeman who stood there, hand poised to ring the bell.
“Mr. St. Clair?”
Kylie came to stand beside Mackenzie as he nodded. The policeman inclined his head. “I’m afraid I have some bad news, sir.”
Mackenzie froze.
“It’s your sister. She’s been in an automobile accident.” His eyes gleamed with compassion. “I’m sorry, Mr. St. Clair, but it’s serious.”
Mackenzie tried to contact the aunts, but two days after the accident, he still hadn’t been able to locate them. “I believe they intended to take a rather rambling tour of the countryside,” a woman from the Paris conference informed him. He’d called the airlines and left messages. That was as much as he could do.
He sat in the ICU, holding Lindsay’s hand, staring at her. He understood the doctors well enough: his sister had been thrown from her car when it was rear-ended by a truck. She suffered head trauma and was in a coma. The prognosis was not good.
What he couldn’t understand, however, was why. Why Lindsay? Why now?
“Mackenzie?”
He stiffened at the cold tone and looked up. Amanda stood in the doorway, a nurse at her side. “Would you please tell this . . . woman that I’m part of the family?”
At Amanda’s haughty tones, Mackenzie rose and went to take her arm, ushering her back to the waiting room. She gave him a disapproving look, but followed without comment. Until they reached the waiting room.
“You haven’t called me.”
At the cold accusation, Mackenzie stared at her. “I believe you told me not to.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t be ridiculous. I only meant while the dog was there.”
“Well, he’s still there, Amanda, and he’s staying.”
Her look told him she thought he’d lost his senses. “Staying? What do you mean ‘staying’? I won’t allow it, Mackenzie.”
His head was starting to pound. “Listen, Amanda, I can’t talk about this now—”
“Not with me, anyway. I understand you’ve been talking plenty with your little fuzzy-headed neighbor.”
Anger swept him at the disdain in her tone. “Kylie has been an enormous help.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Mackenzie narrowed his eyes. Amanda’s tone had turned downright nasty.
“Your sweet little veterinarian filled me in on quite a lot when I encountered her this morning as she was leaving your house.” Her eyes were even more frigid than her tone. “She rambled on about all you’ve suffered, how her God saved your dog. She actually asked me to pray for you.” She sniffed. “The way that woman talks about God is juvenile. But then, that doesn’t seem to bother you. Not any—”
Her words halted, and stunned understanding filled her eyes.
“Amanda—”
“You’re in love with her!”
“Look—”
“Don’t waste your breath trying to deny it. You’re in love with that absurd woman.” She gave a harsh laugh and turned from him.
Mackenzie stood there, staring at the back of Amanda’s well-tailored suit. “I don’t intend to deny it.”
She spun around, eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
Mackenzie had had enough. “And so you should.” He took a step toward her. “You march in here, when my sister is lying in a hospital bed, when I don’t know if she’s going to die, and start telling me how I’ve treated you badly?”
Amanda held up an imperious hand, as though to halt his words. He ignored her.
“Let me tell you something, Amanda. Something I’ve only begun to realize. Neither you nor I have a clue about what it means to love someone. All we’ve been concerned about is whether or not we’re a good match socially and financially. But that’s not enough. Not for me. And it shouldn’t be for you, either.”
Her perfectly manicured hands balled into fists. “What exactly are you saying to me, Mackenzie?”
“Mac.” The correction surprised him almost as much as it did her. “Call me Mac. I like it better.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Since when?”
“Since now. As for what I’m saying to you, it’s very simple. I thought you and I were a perfect match, but I was wrong. I’m not right for you—”
“You most certainly are not!”
“And you’re not right for me. I need someone who is warm and loving, who knows how to laugh at herself and find joy in everyday life. I need someone who understands that at this moment, the only thing that matters to me is whether or not my sister lives. And, Amanda, you’re not that someone.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him down that elegant nose. “And all I can say to that is, thank God!”
Mac did something then he hadn’t thought possible until that moment. He grinned. Which only offended Amanda more. As she spun on her heel and marched to the elevator, Mac leaned a shoulder against the wall. He knew he should feel some sense of loss that she was leaving, never to return. But all he felt was relief.
As the elevator doors opened, Amanda paused and turned to fix him with an icy glare. “You might want to ask your paragon of faith and virtue one thing, Mackenzie.” Bitter sarcasm punctuated each word. “Where was her almighty God in this?” She swept her hand toward the ICU. “He cared enough to save your silly dog. Why didn’t he save your sister?”
She stepped into the elevator and was gone.
Kylie set Ivan’s bowl of food down, then stepped back.
“There you go, boy. Have at it.”
Ivan just looked up at her, then laid his muzzle on his paws. She sighed and knelt beside the morose animal. “I know, pup. I miss him, too. But he’ll be home soon.” She sat back on her heels. “I just wish there was something I could do. . . .” Her gaze came to rest on the unadorned tree.
It was clear. She rose and went to work.
It was amazing how quiet the hospital hallways were around midnight. Mackenzie had grown somewhat used to the constant bustling of nurses, doctors, orderlies, and visitors during the daytime. Now, with the lights dimmed and the activity almost nonexistent, the hallway had a strange, melancholy emptiness to it.
Like a tomb.
The thought sent a chill up Mackenzie’s spine, and he quickened his step back to Lindsay’s room. He’d stepped out to get a drink of water. He knew he probably shouldn’t stay night and day, but he didn’t want to leave Lindsay. He needed to see her. To talk to her.
As he entered the ICU, the only sound was the ping of her cardiac monitor and the gentle swooshing sound of her respirator. Mackenzie sank into the chair he’d pulled next to the bed. “Hey, Changeling.”
No, that rough, ragged voice wouldn’t do. He cleared his throat—then shook his head. What did it matter if he sounded like he was about to cry? This was his sister lying here! Truth was, he wanted to put his head on her bed and bawl like a baby.
He stared at Lindsay’s pale face. It didn’t even look like her. All the animation, the luminous personality that drew people from the moment she entered a room, was gone. She lay there, passive, as though she were already gone.
“Don’t.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Don’t let this happen.” He felt the dampness on his face, grew aware that he was crying. He reached out to take Lindsay’s limp hand and hold it between his own. Bowing his head, he placed a soft kiss on her fingers.
God, God . . . help us.
He started talking. Anything to break the stillness. “It’s Christmas Eve, Linds. Bloomingdale’s called me this morning all upset that you haven’t been around.”
He smiled. She would have appreciated the joke.
“Ah, Linds, you can’t do this, hon. You can’t leave me. How can I face Christmas without you? How can I face life without you? Don’t you know you’re the only spark I’ve got?”
He leaned his forehead on the white sheet. “You said my life was ho-hum, boring. Remember? You were right. But I don’t know how to be different, Linds. I need you to show me . . .” Choking back a sob, he lifted his head and pressed her knuckles to his lips. Memories of their past life flitted through his mind, pictures of them as children, as teens, now as adults.
“Remember that first Christmas we stayed with the aunts?” He turned his head to gaze out the window. It was snowing again. “I was so steamed at Mom and Dad for dying. And at the aunts for being the ones who were alive. They understood, and they let me be mad. Until I yelled at you. Then they took me aside and told me to remember you were my little sister. That you needed me. I think they knew the truth, though. It was really I who needed you. I needed your laughter, your delight in every little thing. You missed Mom and Dad, but you loved being with the aunts. I thought they were kooks. You thought they were magic. Especially when we went after the tree.”
He could see as though it were happening again, how they’d gone into the mountains, trudging through the deep snow, examining every tree in the forest—or so it had seemed to his teenage mind—until they found The Tree. That was how his aunt Ophelia had said it. The Tree. As though it were some precious treasure.
He had to admit it, though, once they brought it home and decorated it—an event that took an entire evening—even he had thought it was worthy of such respect. It had been magnificent.
“It was like spending Christmas with Beaver Cleaver and the gang,” he muttered, looking at his sister’s ashen face. “Christmas carols playing on the radio, the smell of fresh-baked cookies and pies in the air.” He chuckled in spite of the pain in his heart. “I swear we watched every TV Christmas special ever produced!” His gaze rested on her face. “You made me watch the Grinch with you five times. Five times, Linds! I should have gotten a medal of some kind.” He closed his eyes, savoring the memories of laughter, singing, praying together. . . . “It was pretty amazing, wasn’t it? You said that year was full of Christmas magic. I pretended I didn’t care, but I did. I still do.”
Emotion choked him, stopping the flow of words. He stood and went to pour himself some water from the pitcher on her bedside table. He swallowed the tepid liquid, willing it to soothe the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “You hounded me into going caroling with you,” he went on, staring out the window again. “Told me it would be my fault if you and your little friends got mugged. I groaned about it, complained every step of the way, but do you know, I can still remember the songs?” He smiled crookedly. “I can still hear you singing, your sweet voice floating on the air. . . .”
In a hushed voice, he started to sing.
Joy to the world, the Lord is come,
Let earth receive her king.
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing. . . .
The last note came out ragged, and he turned and left the room with quick, almost desperate strides.
Kylie leaned over to pull a pan of cookies from the oven when she felt it . . . a strong sensation, an urging.
She needed to pray for Mac.
She set the cookies on the cooling rack and moved into the living room. Ivan padded beside her, watching her with that intent gaze. She sat down, and he situated himself beside her, leaning against her leg as though offering his support.
Laying her hand on the husky’s velvety head, Kylie closed her eyes. . . .