A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

24. Luke

24

LUKE

N oel stands speechless, somehow stunned by the fact that she was a very willing participant in everything that went down in my cabin.

Being reminded of that seems to suck the fight right out of her.

Her shoulders sag slightly, and she stares up at me with her big blue eyes, as violently stormy as the one that trapped us together. Tears trickle out of the corners and down her cheeks, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. “I-I have to go.”

Not again…

Her blond hair whips out behind her as she spins away from me, and she trudges through the snow the last few yards to the barn—where she will probably try to convince Mom and Dad to lend her the snowmobile so she can try to get up the road to her house…

And away from me.

As if putting physical distance between us will make this any easier.

It fucking won’t.

Fighting the desire to catch up, wrap my arms around her again, and force her to finish this conversation, I follow her, scanning the property for any signs of damage from the storm like I normally would.

But everything looks perfect.

No broken portions of fence.

No missing signage.

Nothing but untouched, pristine snow as far as I can see.

Including on the lot and the walkway up to Mom and Dad’s house.

My footsteps falter slightly as I narrow my gaze on what should have been cleared a long time ago.

They would have known I was snowed in.

They would have come by now to at least start clearing the snow and to get up to me.

Ignoring Noel stomping toward the office—since the door is locked and she’s not getting in no matter how pissed and determined she might be—I move in the other direction toward the path that will take me up to the house.

I hear her jiggle the door, a few muttered, unintelligible curses, and her footsteps behind me through the crunching snow.

“Luke”—she sounds out of breath trying to keep up with me—“where are you going?”

Unease curls around the base of my spine, tightening the closer I get to the house. “To check on my parents.”

Noel inhales sharply, then jogs to try to catch up with me, but my long strides are too much for her. “Luke, wait. Is something wrong?”

I finally glance back at her to see the true concern in her gaze. “I don’t know. They’re usually up and working on snow removal by six in the morning with me, and since I was up at the cabin without the snowmobile, they would have seen it in the barn and known they would need to bring it up to try to help clear the path so I could get out easier.” I scan the property again, worry now gnawing at my stomach. “And they haven’t touched anything.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she reaches me. “Shit…”

I climb the porch and try the door, but it’s locked. “I’m going around the back.”

“Luke—”

Whatever she has to say can wait.

Panic threatens to overwhelm me as I work my way through the deep snow and drifts the wind left against the house, trying to peek in the windows, but they’re mostly frosted over. As is the kitchen door that they always leave unlocked.

I turn the handle and push it in. “Mom, Dad?”

The eerie silence of the house doesn’t help ease my worry.

I scan the kitchen.

A pot sits on the stove, lid halfway off.

Two dirty bowls stand on the counter with what appear to have the remnants of soup in them.

The TV drones on in the living room to my right.

Mom would never leave dirty dishes out or the TV on if she or Dad weren’t in there watching it.

My chest aches, like iron bands are tightening around it more and more the longer I see the state of the house. I don’t bother taking off my boots; I just rush through the kitchen to the staircase. “Mom, Dad, are you here?”

There’s no way they left.

They couldn’t have.

When I checked on them after I threw Noel into the cabin, they were fine. Mom said Dad seemed to be doing better. She said she was planning her usual Christmas spread for the two of them and they were going to watch movies and ride out the storm.

They were fine…

“Mom! Dad!” I keep calling for them as I take the steps two at a time to the second floor, then scramble the few feet it takes to get to their door, which stands wide open, allowing me to see in.

Their inert forms lie on the bed, both of them on their sides.

Unmoving.

Mom has her back to me, but Dad faces the door, his skin a sickly pallor I don’t think I’ve ever seen on the man.

“Shit…” I rush in and drop to my knees on his side of the bed. “Dad!”

I shake his shoulder and press a hand to his forehead.

It isn’t just warm; it’s hot .

Fuck.

He releases a little moan from between dry, cracked lips.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

I rush around the bed to the other side to find Mom in much the same condition—her lashes fluttering but not responding, skin hot, looking pale and dehydrated.

“Luke?” Noel’s voice carries in from the stairs, and a second later, she appears in the doorway with wide eyes. “Oh, God, are they—”

“Call an ambulance.” I incline my head toward the phone on the dresser, and she rushes in, tugging off her mittens and shoving them into her pockets. “What’s wrong with them?”

“I don’t know.” I return my focus to the bed. “Mom.” I shake her gently, and her eyes flutter open. “Ma, can you hear me?”

Her cracked lips part slightly, and she releases a shuddering cough filled with unhealthy fluid sounds. “Luke, what are you doing here?”

“The storm’s over, Ma. I came to check on you.” I push sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. “You’re sick.”

She hacks again and tries to push herself up into a sitting position with the hand not pressed over her mouth. “Just caught whatever your father has. We’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine, Ma, and neither does Dad.”

Noel’s hand shakes as she dials the number on the cordless, and she tosses me a look filled with all the same fear flooding me right now.

Mom glances at Dad, then up at Noel. “What are you doing here, dear?”

“It’s a long story, Mom.” I press my palm flat to try to better gauge her temperature. But only one description comes to mind— burning the fuck up. “When did your fever start?”

She shakes her head and coughs. “I don’t know.” More rattling. “Yesterday sometime? Your father’s broke—”

“No, it didn’t, Ma.” I glance at him, but he hasn’t moved and doesn’t even seem to realize there’s anyone else in the room or hear the conversation happening right next to him. “Or it did, and it’s back.” With a vengeance . “He doesn’t sound like he’s breathing very well.”

The rattling and wheezing every time he draws a breath makes my own chest feel so tight that each one becomes agony.

Maybe that’s the anxiety sneaking up again.

But I have to keep it at bay.

If I let it overwhelm me, I won’t think clearly. I might miss something or make a mistake that could be costly—and not just to me.

Noel’s eyes widen slightly as something inaudible leaks around where her ear is pressed to the phone. “Hi, yes. Bonnie, it’s Noel.” She meets my gaze. “Belated Merry Christmas to you, too. I’m out at the Crisp farm. We need an ambulance right away. Luke’s parents aren’t doing well.”

She examines them, looking more frantic each moment while I try to remain calm so I don’t panic them even more.

“I’m not sure. The flu, maybe?” Her blue eyes dart up to me in question. “How long have they been sick, Luke?”

They both start coughing so loudly I can barely hear myself think. Dad winces, like it’s acutely painful. Mom reaches over and pats his shoulder, offering support in any way she can.

I wrack my brain, trying to remember specifics through the static everything that’s happened has created in my head. “I think my dad started not feeling well the day you arrived in town. They’ve been cooped up in the house together since then.” Which was how I ended up in town on Christmas Eve day under that tree with Noel. “Mom was taking care of him. She seemed fine when I checked on them Christmas Eve, early evening when you got here.”

Noel nods and relays all the information as I climb to my feet and rush into the bathroom to fill two glasses with water for them.

By the looks of it, they haven’t left this room in a while.

They’re probably incredibly dehydrated, which will not help them fight off whatever is ravaging their systems right now.

When I come back in, Noel is chewing on her bottom lip, phone still pressed to her ear, none of her panic relieved. If anything, she looks more tense, more worried than when I left the room.

“What is it?”

Her brow furrows. “The road isn’t plowed.”

“Fuck.”

Something I would have already realized if I’d actually been paying attention to that as I came down the mountain instead of having my laser focus on Noel.

I hand Mom a glass of water. “When can they get somebody up here?”

Noel releases a little rushed breath, filled with her anxiety. “ I just asked. Bonnie’s going to radio the maintenance department to check.”

Watching Mom struggle to even lift the glass to her lips to take a sip, and seeing how weak Dad is, barely able to lift his head and unable to fully sit up, her news doesn’t give me any confidence in where this is heading.

I kneel next to Dad and help lift his head to take a drink. “We’re going to have to take them.”

“What?” Noel’s mouth gapes. “But you said the road isn’t passable.”

“It isn’t, but by the time they actually get a plow up here…”

I don’t finish the thought.

Because I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear, nor do I want to admit it’s a real possibility.

But Noel knows what I’m saying without the words ever leaving my mouth.

Mom and Dad have always been incredibly healthy, far more active and youthful than some people half their age, but they’re still almost seventy years old, and whatever this is that’s attacking them, it moved quickly.

Mom was fine only a day and a half ago.

Just like I was before Noel showed back up.

Noel releases a long breath, returning her focus to the phone. “Okay. Yes, I’m still here.” Her worried gaze meets mine again. “Bonnie said potentially two hours…”

Far too long.

We have no idea how long they’ve been this bad, and we can’t risk that it might take them even longer to get through all the snow to us.

I shake my head, glancing between Mom and Dad again, assessing them the best I can. “We have to try in the truck. Give me the phone.”

She hands it off to me with a trembling hand.

“Hey, Bonnie, it’s Luke.”

“Luke”—Bonnie’s worried voice cuts through the line—“I’m so sorry, but the plows are way out on County Highway 23, and by the time they come all the way back to your side of town and try to get up the mountain—”

“I know. It’s not your fault, but…” I turn away and try to lower my voice, putting my back to the three people I care about the most in the world. “I don’t think they’re going to last long enough for us to get them to the clinic if we wait.”

That bile threatens to finally show, and I have to struggle to keep it down and prevent myself from heaving on the damn carpet.

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Can you get them out?”

It’s the same question that now sits heavy on my shoulders and in my heart.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to try.”

If I have to get out of the damn truck and carry them to the clinic, I will.

“Okay”—Bonnie clicks something on a keyboard—“Frank is in one of the trucks. I’ve already sent him your way. I’m going to tell him you’re heading to the emergency clinic. If he can help, he’s going to try.”

“I appreciate that.”

It’s all I can ask.

And it’s one of the best things about Mistletoe—anyone here will do anything for a friend or neighbor.

Which means for anyone, since we’re all friends and neighbors.

“Can you call Doc Woodson and let him know we’re coming?”

Her typing comes again. “Of course, as soon as we’re off the line.”

“Thanks.”

The fact that Doc lives close enough to town that his access to meet us at the clinic won’t be blocked the way we are on the mountain gives me a modicum of hope.

I end the call and drop the phone back into the cradle. When I turn back, Noel’s concern-and-tear-soaked eyes meet mine in question. “You need to help me get them into the truck.”

“Of course.”

She glances toward the phone, and without saying a word, I know what she’s thinking.

“Call your mom quickly. Tell her what’s going on, but we can’t waste any time.”

Noel’s head bobs emphatically, then she snags the phone and dials as I start tugging open dresser drawers and pulling out heavy, warm clothes for Mom and Dad.

I don’t even know if they’re strong enough to walk.

Dad probably isn’t.

And they can’t go out in this cold and the deep snow and all the way over to the barn in just their pajamas.

Plus, if we get stuck, it’s going to get really fucking chilly out there waiting for someone to get us out.

Mom coughs and watches me scramble to find what I’m looking for. “I really think we’ll be fine, dear.” Another hacking fit. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not, Ma, and even if I am, I’m not going to risk that I might be right.”

The mere thought of how this might go…

Bile climbs my throat, and I choke it back as I bring Mom a heavy sweater and a pair of fleece leggings. She accepts them with a trembling hand, and I grab Dad a pair of jeans and his favorite UW-Madison Bucky Badger sweatshirt.

“Hi, Mom.” Noel turns to watch me as I start helping Dad out of his pajamas and into the clothes. “Yes, I’m fine, but Luke and I need to take his parents into town to the clinic.” She releases a little hiccup that borders on a sob. “Yes, I know the road isn’t plowed yet.” Her blue eyes bore into mine. “They’re really sick, Mom. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I’m okay. All right. I love you, too. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

She ends the call and quickly races to the other side of the bed to Mom, dropping to her knees with a kind smile. “Hi, Mrs. Crisp.”

Mom reaches out to pat her cheek like she has a million times, then seems to think better of it and tucks it back against her chest. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

Noel’s smile grows, but it can’t wipe away the trepidation in her gaze. “Thank you.” She pats Mom’s leg. “Let’s get you dressed.”

I manage to get the pants on Dad, and Noel starts by helping Mom with her leggings.

Mom blinks a few times, watching her, then glances over at me before refocusing on Noel. “What are you doing here? Were you and Luke together?”

Shit.

For a split second, the tiniest smile curls Noel’s lips before it disappears just as quickly. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

For Christ’s sake…

This is not the time.

Mom looks over at me. “Tell me what?”

Noel clears her throat awkwardly. “Um, that I came on Christmas Eve.”

Coughing again, Mom presses her hand over her mouth to cover it before turning back to Noel. “You did?”

I offer Noel a little warning glare as I get off Dad’s pajama top.

There was a reason I didn’t tell my mother that Noel was going to be riding out the storm in my cabin.

The last thing I wanted to do was to have Mom and Dad wondering what Noel and I would be up to trapped together for two days.

Which is exactly what Mom is likely doing right now.

And she’s a smart woman.

Which means she’s probably right in her speculation.

Dad seems so out of it that I’m not even sure if he recognizes me. I help him sit up and tug the sweatshirt over his head, then immediately lay him back down because he can’t seem to hold himself upright.

Watching Noel finish getting Mom dressed, I push to my feet. “I’m going take him down first, then come back for her.”

Her lips quiver, those tears barely contained. “What should I do?

At this point, there’s only one thing we can do.

“Pray.”