“I haven’t been to one of these in forever.” Silver inhaled the scent of the evergreen trees covered in the freshly fallen snow.
“A tree lighting?” Fisher was in step beside her. She could smell his cologne through the frosty air trying to numb the insides of her nose with every breath. His scent was sleek and sexy and burned in her memory forever.
“Yup.” The sun had nearly set, and the park was lit with the occasional streetlight and multicolored bulbs guiding the way to the seating area. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky despite the eighty percent chance of snow she’d heard on the radio on her way home. “We used to come every year when I was little. It feels like the start of the holiday season when I see the park lit up, hear the choir singing, and get hot cocoa.” She hugged the Thermos she’d filled with her grandma’s recipe, complete with Bailey’s, Kahlua, three different types of chocolate, and a tap of whiskey because, according to Grandma Betty, the act of hot chocolate was worthless unless it made you tipsy, and tipsy when hot chocolate was involved was never a crime.
Silver had debated whether to bring it, because, really, he shouldn’t drink with any sort of organ condition, but she’d felt nostalgic this afternoon while taste-testing her batch. Fisher didn’t have to have any, but she sure as crap was going to have more. Being home this last year had been rough, but she might finally be ready to accept the hand life had dealt her and move on. Be happy. She had no idea what that path was. But, still, new things were on her horizon.
“How about here?” Fisher pointed to the seats in the back row and pressed his palm to her back to escort her.
A comforting heat sank deep into her gut. Ever since they’d met, life seemed a little easier. And she hadn’t lied to him directly any more, except for her name and occupation and what she was really doing a week ago at CCH. There’d just not been a good opportunity to come clean yet.
“How long has it been since you’ve been to one?” He sat on the very outside seat, and she next to him, thankful her coat covered her butt. The chairs were plastic, but still.
They had a great view of the choir that would sing the traditional holiday melody and the trees that would light up one by one in concert with the melody.
“Years. I don’t think I’ve seen one since I started college, and then with my internships and overseas work …” She smoothed out the king-sized blanket she’d grabbed just in case the snow started to fall.
“Which country in Africa did you say before?”
“Tanzania. For a year.” Until she’d made a mistake by accidentally slicing into her own hand. If she hadn’t gone to school with the head surgeon at the nearby military base, she probably would’ve lost the use of it completely.
“Wyoming is great and all, but why did you come back?” His eyes twinkled back at her in the glow of the holiday lights; her breath caught in anticipation as his gaze roamed over her face. “You seem better suited to giving orders and saving lives instead of sitting behind a desk.”
Why didn’t I just tell the truth that first day? She could tell herself that this sinking feeling was because she thought he was handsome and nice and she wouldn’t mind pressing her lips against his, but she knew. It was lying. The not-complete-truth telling. Then she’d lied again on his forms; she’d told Janae that she’d take care of his paperwork, but she hadn’t even sent it to him. And she’d purposely dodged people at the fundraiser so they wouldn’t ask her about the transplant portion of her work while she was around Fisher.
She couldn’t bring herself to let this man give up. He didn’t really want to die—he just hadn’t realized it yet. She’d get him there. The Christmas festivities would help, and maybe he’d change his mind on his own. Then she could come clean. Tell him who she was, what her job truly involved, and that it was all okay because his paperwork hadn’t been filed yet.
No one should give up on life.
Least of all a man who had so much to live for.
A man she hoped might want to live for her.
She sucked in the cold air a little too hard and blinked as she coughed. She was losing her mind. There was no way she should be thinking like this. Too many variables were in play that made a relationship between them unknown. Would he live even if he were lucky enough to get a heart? Did she want to stay in Casper or take a job traveling, finding a way to help others without a scalpel? She was leaning more toward teaching these days—showing people how to help others was starting to sound like a fulfilling next step.
“I was doing what I always dreamed of.” She started to unscrew the lid of the Thermos. Suddenly she needed the spiked hot chocolate. “I loved the mechanics of the hea—” She stopped herself dead cold from finishing that sentence. She’d never said that she was well versed in surgery, including the heart procedure he needed. Just that she was a doctor. “Healing ailments to give people a better life,” she correctly quickly.
He leaned in, his mouth slightly open to ask a question, when the sound system cut in. “Welcome, Casper, to the annual tree-lighting ceremony of Central Park.” Claps and shouts of glee came from the crowd as the announcer introduced the choir from the high school and thanked the sponsors who’d made the ceremony possible.
Silver poured a couple sips of hot chocolate into the lid and offered it to Fisher, raising her eyebrows in question. He shook his head, like she’d expected him to, and she sat back a little farther into her chair. Heat rushed down her throat with each sip. The smell of rich cocoa brought her back to Christmastime in the Morgenstern household—Mother directing the people she’d hired to bring in an outrageously big tree, adorn the outside of their mansion with festive lights, and hang wreaths on every available surface.
The choir started to sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” in joyful harmony as the three aspens behind the choir racks lit up in red, green, and yellow.
Nostalgia settled on top of Silver’s shoulders, and she slumped closer to Fisher. The strength of his body was hard against her insulated, puffy coat. Neither of them moved an inch the rest of the ceremony.
By the time it was over, the entire park was lit up like the North Pole, and neither of them made a move to leave. There was no hurry. She could sit here all night.
In fact, she didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant everything moved forward. Fisher would eventually find out she’d met him under false pretenses, and while she hoped they could laugh about it, she had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be smiling. Their relationship, or whatever had started, wasn’t going to end well, which was a shame. Then there was the little thing about her life and her future, letting her dream career go for good. She’d never had to try to find a purpose; she’d always known what she wanted to be when she grew up and had thrown herself completely into it.
Chilled air filled her lungs, and when she exhaled, she said good-bye. Good-bye to her past. She wasn’t going to waste any more of her life pining for something that was over and done. There was no use.
Now she had to figure out what she wanted to do next. Who she wanted to be.
She screwed the cap back on the Thermos and tucked it between their chairs. She searched her pockets for gloves, and then her purse. Rats. She’d forgotten them. Fisher grabbed her hand as she was about to set it in her lap under the blanket.
His hand dwarfed hers, yet his touch was tender. His thumb caressed the scarred, sensitive flesh that marred the top of her hand between her index finger and thumb and ran all the way down to her wrist bone—the original cut jagged and messy and the subsequent cuts precise from the surgeons who’d done their best to repair the damage.
“What actually happened?”
“A wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing.” She didn’t like to talk about it. Ever.
“Ahhh.” His gaze searched hers, silently pleading with her to continue. “You can do better than that.”
She watched his gentle touch rub over her scar. She hadn’t even winced when he’d touched her hand. “I studied for years to become a surgeon.” Her quick smile faded just as swiftly. “It was all I ever wanted to do. Save people. And the body is so fascinating.” Hell, she’d purchased her own human anatomy doll with the babysitting money she’d saved by not going to the movies every weekend with her friends. She’d painted every single piece, learning about it in the process, and then assembled the hard plastic man only to take him apart through the years as her classes progressed.
When her head rose she was met with golden brown eyes that were warm. Inviting. Damn sexy.
“I studied hard, was at the top of my class, landed prestigious internships, and traveled abroad helping those in less fortunate countries. I lived my dream for a while.”
She could see it in his eyes. He knew there was a “but” coming. Obviously. The scar took up half of her hand.
“Slipping on a wet floor with a very sharp blade. That’s what caused this.” She pulled her palm from his. She was sharing, and he was caressing, and it was all adding up to make her chest tighten.
“You cut yourself?” His brows knitted together.
“Yup. I was getting ready for surgery, arranging the tools, and I stumbled, tried to brace myself but fell and never let go of the blade.” She’d slashed her own dreams in three seconds.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”
His honesty was nice. There really wasn’t much to say that other people hadn’t already said. And nothing, not any word, ever made her feel better.
“It’s just a fact at this point.” She hid her hand back under the blanket, squeezed her palm, and then relaxed.
“How long ago?”
“About a year.”
“That’s is why you came back?”
“My options were pretty limited after my second surgery, and I couldn’t hold a scalpel.” Actually, she could hold the metal instrument, she just didn’t trust herself. And since she couldn’t fully control the shaking and the cramping she experienced even when writing, no one else trusted her skills either.
“You’re still in the medical field.” The hopefulness in his tone nearly brought tears to her eyes.
He wanted her to find peace. Why didn’t he want it for himself? Why didn’t he want to heal if given the chance? In his shoes, she wouldn’t have to think it over or pull her name off a list.
“You know, seeing what I can’t be every day almost makes it worse.” She’d never admitted that truth out loud before. The antiseptic smell of the hospital reminded her of the anticipation of the challenge she used to feel walking through the sliding doors. The men and women in white coats, with pens in their pockets, reminded her of rounds, when she’d meet her patients, get to know them, watch them recover.
Holy crap. She’d gone about this all wrong. She’d never considered doing something outside the walls of a hospital. This could be the answer though. She needed a whole new start.
A smile she couldn’t contain spread across her lips, and she leaned in, kissing Fisher smack dab on the mouth. “Thank you.” She pulled back, letting the enjoyment of her impulsive reaction to her epiphany sink into her bones.
“For?”
“I think the reason I’ve been wallowing this entire year is because I didn’t take myself out of that space. Every day I’m reminded of what I can’t have. I need to find something new.”
“Sounds like something I’d say.” Fisher chuckled, reached his arm around, and laid it on the back of her chair. He touched her shoulder with his thumb ever so slightly. Technically, he was only touching her fluffy jacket, and the only reason she knew was because she’d heard the swish of the fabric. But still. The gesture was endearing. And made her want to start stripping some layers off—outside, in a park, in the middle of winter.
Snow started to fall whimsically, each flake melting before the next came along. Tonight was more than she had bargained for—both sharing and caring. Fisher was more than she’d thought she’d ever find.
• • •
He rubbed his thumb over her puffy jacket. The dark navy color matched her eyes, and the gold of her scarf accentuated the pink of her cheeks. Her blond hair flowed over her coat—he hadn’t realized it was so long. She’d always had it pinned up.
“How many of these lightings have you been to?” she asked.
“None.”
“What?” Her eyes brightened as her cheeks plumped up in a grin. “This is your first time?”
“And it was perfect.” He winked automatically, clearly unable to help himself around her. He knew he was headed down a path he shouldn’t walk. Didn’t want to walk. But there was no stopping the words that wanted to come out of his mouth around Silver.
Silver was a lady who was put together. Calculated. Precise. One he liked to be around.
“I’d hate for your first time to be anything less than.” Her chin turned up, the Christmas lights making her face glow. Little snowflakes fell around them, and his chest warmed. He’d not felt this strongly even with Maggie’s mother. Which might’ve had something to do with their being so young and quick to fight. And then there was her whole “leaving when things got hard” bit that he’d allowed to jade him toward all relationships for the past ten years. Ten years. Damn, he’d let that woman ruin a good chunk of his life.
But he couldn’t blame it all on her. There was Maggie’s diagnosis. Then his. Then the transplant and the subsequent failure. It didn’t seem fitting now to take a perfectly good heart away from the good guys on the list below him just so it could fuel the shell of a man he’d become. Pearly gates and streets of gold sounded like an upgrade.
His quick, curt smile stung—how cold the night had become. He didn’t much feel like socializing any more.
“If you didn’t come here for lights, what did you do to find your holiday spirit?” Silver continued.
“What makes you think I don’t have this holiday spirit you speak of all year round?”
He should live in the moment. That’s what he’d vowed to do when he decided to take his name off the list—not take any of his days for granted, because they were numbered.
But living them fully didn’t mean he had to drag someone into his numbered days, take them down with him. And certainly not Silver, who already had enough to deal with in her own life. He never should’ve allowed himself to be around her so much in such a short amount of time.
“You are quite the do-gooder year-round, but there is a special spark that only this specific time of year can bring.” Her gaze wandered to the cheer blinking all around them. Most of the people were gone—it was just them, surrounded by twinkling lights and snow.
“Maybe it’s just you. Your natural spark.” He couldn’t help himself; he dropped his gaze to her lips and lingered too long. He wanted to kiss her, too. Kiss her glossy lips, trail his lips and the tip of his tongue down her creamy neck, and slip his arms around her hips.
Damn his warring mind and body. He knew this was wrong, but he did nothing, absolutely nothing, to stop it. Her lips kept distracting him. Her small peck on his lips hadn’t been enough. What would they taste like? The answer to that question contradicted everything he’d set his mind to. Everything. He wanted to be in a bad mood and storm off, but he couldn’t. Not when she was practically in his arms.
He swore he saw a nano-smile on her full lips. Her gaze fixed on his, silently prompting him to … what? Kiss her?
He glanced behind her to break the moment. They shouldn’t even be having a moment. “Holiday parade. That usually kicked off the season. Then driving around to look at the lights on houses. There used to be this place up on the east side, a Santa funhouse.” The multicolored glow of lights around them was a good distraction from her beautiful eyes—ones that didn’t look on him with pity, because she had no idea he was dying. The decorations on the trees, and the lit Santas and reindeer speckled about were cheery. And calming. “This guy and his wife would decorate their two-story top to bottom, even open the side fence, because their yard was decked out, too. That’s when the spirit caught me, seeing Christmas through Mag—”
His throat felt like a snake was slowly choking him to death. Megpie’s eyes. Her sassy brown eyes that matched his had always brought him happiness.
Christmas through a child’s observation was pure joy. A whole different perspective. One long forgotten by the time adulthood was in full swing. Those four years Maggie was alive were the best he’d ever had. Probably ever would.
“Through?” Silver turned in her seat, her lips not much farther than a small crane of his neck.
Dammit, he needed to get it together. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t have enough energy to love someone else, to let them in only to have them shut out in the worst way possible. There was no coming back from death.
“My daughter,” he said in a rushed breath as the snake continued to constrict.
“I didn’t know you have a daughter.” She tucked her blond hair, curled at the ends, behind her ear. “How old is she?”
The hopefulness in her eyes was almost enough to bring him to his knees—if Maggie had still been alive, would Silver have wanted to join their little family? Maggie would’ve adored Silver with her “princess hair,” to use a term Megpie was so fond of.
He shook his head and felt his body completely deflate. “She died five years ago. When she was four.”
Her hand jutted out and clenched the top of his thigh. “I’m so sorry.”
“She loved Christmas and all of the decorations.”
“What was her name?”
“Maggie Elaine.”
“As in Margaret?”
“No.” A quick chuckle escaped his lips. “Just Maggie. My little Megpie. She was my ball of joy and always on the move.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Her gaze left his for the ground.
“She was a preemie. Lung problems from the get-go, but everything seemed fine at first. It wasn’t until she was about one that things took a turn. Soon after that we found out she’d need a double lung transplant, and that took years.”
He could practically see Silver’s mind at work, sorting it out from a doctor’s viewpoint. She remained silent, slightly bobbing her head as she took in the information.
“I finally got word that she was a match. Things were looking good.” He’d finally, finally started to see a future with no hospitals, only raising his little girl doing normal, everyday activities. “Then they weren’t. Her body rejected the lungs, and it all happened so quickly. Felt like one day she was sitting up, asking for her dolly, the next day she was gone.”
He didn’t even know if she’d heard him say good-bye.
Tears threatened, because they always did when talking about his little girl and how she’d died—hooked up to all of those machines in a sterile hospital room. Awful. All awful. He wasn’t about to go out the same way. He was going to die on his own terms.
“No one should ever have to go through what you did.”
“No, they shouldn’t.” On either side of the equation. “The anniversary of her death is coming up, just after the new year. I bring her flowers. Pink carnations. She called them princess flowers.”
“It sounds like you were a great dad.”
“I like to think so,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Neither of them moved as silence settled over them, and suddenly he wasn’t so cold anymore. Talking about Maggie, telling Silver about his daughter, had warmed him inside and out.
“What about your wife?” Her question nearly startled him out of a trance.
“Wife?”
“Maggie’s mother?”
“We were never married. She left us when Megpie was diagnosed with chronic lung disease.”
There one day, gone the next. Luckily for Maggie, Sharon came from a wealthy family, and her dad offered a substantial sum for him and Maggie to basically go away. He’d had no choice but to take the money; Maggie needed the surgeries, and the care was expensive. There’d been a small amount left over when Megpie died, and he’d used that to create the endowment that was sustaining CCH.
“That’s horrible.”
“I have no regrets. I don’t know what Sharon has.” He stood. He didn’t know how else to get away from all of the emotions clouding his mind, tightening his chest, and numbing his body. It was time to go home.