A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

25. Noel

25

NOEL

B y the time Frank finally meets up with us on the road with his plow, my hand already aches from clutching the door handle so tightly.

I release a heavy breath of relief as his blade easily cuts through the snow in front of us, clearing a path the rest of the way down the mountain through drifts we could very well have been stuck in otherwise.

The first two miles, I barely breathed, my throat so tight I couldn’t swallow. Even in Luke’s massive truck, and with all his sheer will and determination, we got stalled six times in just that short distance.

Only Luke’s winch tied to trees along the road freed us.

And that took valuable time we don’t have.

Every time I glance into the back seat at his parents, I have to fight the choking sob that threatens to crawl at my throat.

Luke was right.

We couldn’t have waited.

As it stands now, even with Frank freeing up our path, I’m not so sure when we get them to the clinic that things are going to be okay.

Not with their rattling coughs.

The heavy, wet sound of their lungs.

Oh, God, please keep them safe.

I glance over at Luke and his death grip on the wheel, alternating his focus between Frank on the road in front of us and the rearview mirror to check the two most important people in his life. “How are you doing?”

He flinches at my question and then peeks my way before refocusing ahead. “I’ll be a lot better once Doc sees them.”

We all will.

Bonnie has probably already gotten word across Mistletoe of our frantic drive down the mountain to get them help.

And with Bambi spreading news like an STD, that means everyone will be worrying and praying, waiting for news.

I just keep holding my breath, hoping nothing else interferes, while worrying that the stress and anxiety may make Luke actually snap.

My hands itch to reach out to him, to rest my hand on his arm and squeeze to comfort him, to say or do something that might make him feel even remotely better about the situation, but after the argument we just had, I’m not so sure he’d want me to touch him right now.

It might only make things worse, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

I’ve done enough to ruin his life as it is.

Something I’ve become abundantly aware of over the last few days.

He spent eight years alone, eight years loving me and hoping I would come back. Secluding himself from the things and people he once loved.

And it turned him into a monster .

It turned him in to the type of man no one in town liked, that no one wanted to talk to.

No one even bothered to try.

Swiping the tears from my eyes, I turn back and twist as far as I can in the seat, but I still can’t reach Mrs. Crisp behind me. I unbuckle my seat belt, climb onto my knees, and lean back.

Luke’s strong hand hits my back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking on your parents.”

I glance at him and his tight jaw. A muscle tics, concern flashing in his green eyes before they move to the road.

“I don’t like this without your seat belt on.”

Muttering a curse under my breath, I twist back toward him more so I can see his eyes when he peeks over at me again. “Do you want me to check on them or not?”

The truck rocks slightly, drawing his attention back to the road.

Hell.

I could cut the tension with a knife.

And this isn’t the good kind of tension we shared in the cabin, the type that simmered and bubbled until it boiled over in the most delicious way.

Not at all.

A lot of it has to do with the fact that neither of his parents look good, resting with their heads against the doors in the back seat, growing paler and paler and coughing more every minute that ticks by as we descend the mountain.

The rest is likely due to how we left things when I tried to run from the lake.

Regardless of Luke’s objections, I manage to scramble back enough to get my hand to Mrs. Crisp’s cheek. “Hey, Mrs. Crisp.”

She lifts her head slightly, her eyes fluttering but not fully opening.

“Can you hear me?”

The tiny bob of her head almost tips her over.

“How are you feeling?”

It has to be shitty.

The woman is burning up.

I twist to look at Luke. “She’s warm, really warm. Feels worse than at the house.”

He glances back at me. “Shit.”

“I’m okay, dear.”

She isn’t okay, and she knows it, too. But the woman never lets anyone worry about her. Like my own mother, she’s constantly taking care of everyone else, and when Luke and I were together, she always treated me like the daughter they never had.

Tears threaten to spill over from my eyes, and I swipe them away with the back of my hand and stretch to the seat behind Luke to try to reach his dad.

The truck slips, sending us sliding slightly to one side.

“Shit.” I shift sideways and slam into Luke’s headrest, but a strong arm slides up under and around me, securing my waist and holding me steady.

He regains control and then looks back at me. “You all right?”

Definitely not.

None of this is all right.

Not the situation with Luke and me.

Not the things that were said.

And certainly not the current rush to try to save the life of the people who were like second parents to me since the day I was born.

Flashes of that call from Mom, telling me Dad was gone, echo through my head, threatening to take me to the place I haven’t allowed myself to go since stepping into the Crisps’ bedroom—a place where I lose them, too .

I choke back the sob sliding up my throat. “I’m fine…”

Luke probably knows I’m lying.

The man reads me far too well. With his strong, warm arm wrapped around me, holding me steady, I almost wish he would press me, that he would do or say something to make it better.

But he can’t take care of me right now when we’re trying to take care of his parents.

That’s my job.

I push through my worry and pain and stretch to reach his dad. “His fever seems…I don’t know. The same? Maybe worse?”

“Fuck…”

Luke’s arm tightens around me with the low, almost-growled curse.

God, it feels too good.

It shouldn’t.

Not under these circumstances.

I tap his hand to tell him to release his grip on me, and I settle back in my seat, buckling my belt again without daring to look at him. Instead, I focus on the plow, on the snow flying out to the right, along the bank, creating massive drifts. “We’re still, what, five miles out?”

He nods. “But with Frank in front of us, at least now, we’re going at a decent clip. We’ll be there within half an hour, tops.”

The steel in his voice belies how close he is to the edge of completely losing it.

But he has to keep it together.

And I’ll be damned.

I don’t give a shit if he doesn’t want me here, doesn’t want my touch right now. His cemented me, held me steady. And I have to do the same.

Or at least try.

Even if he hates me for it.

That certainly wouldn’t be a new feeling for him…

I reach out and curl my hand over his on the wheel, tightening my fingers across his. “They’ll be okay.”

The look he gives me tells me everything I need to know.

He doesn’t believe me.

I wasn’t here when Dad died—never could have made it in time after he had the heart attack so unexpectedly. So, I can’t imagine what Luke is feeling right now, wondering if he was too late to save them. But I can sympathize with the pain.

It fills the truck cab.

Growing with each slowly passing mile behind the plow.

I eventually pull my hand back, returning to my seat to watch the road pass by agonizingly slowly.

By the time we hit the four-way stop at Main and Mason Street, my knee is bouncing so wildly I can’t control it, and Luke has been clenching his jaw so tightly for so long that I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s cracked some teeth.

We pull through, not bothering to even pause, since the roads are still empty.

Frank pulls to a stop a few doors down from the clinic and climbs from his plow, racing back toward us. Luke is out the door before I can even get my seatbelt off.

Once I manage to, I slide out, slam my door, and move to the back as Frank and Luke work to get his father out. I open the door, carefully sliding my hand in to catch her as his mom falls toward me, unable to hold herself upright.

Her eyes open halfway, enough that they seem to focus on me slightly. “Noel? ”

I give her a tight smile, then reach over and unbuckle her belt. “We’re going to get you in to see the doctor.”

“Oh, did he come to the house?”

She doesn’t even know where we are?

That can’t be a good sign.

“No, we’re at the clinic.”

Her eyes close again as renewed panic sets in. I turn and watch Luke and Frank carry his dad in as I wait for someone to come help me. Because there isn’t any way Mrs. Crisp is walking in on her own power, and I can’t lift her.

She drops her head against my shoulder and releases a little sigh. “I’m so glad you two are back together.”

It’s as if Luke’s axe has been driven straight into my heart.

I open my mouth to reply when the door to the clinic flies back open and the man himself storms out, barreling straight for me.

His hard, determined gaze meets mine as he reaches the truck. “I got her.”

He urges me out of the way and slips into place, scooping her up easily and carrying the woman who gave birth to him like she’s a child.

I take a long, deep breath, trying to stop the breakdown I’m teetering on the edge of, then go around, climb into the cab, turn off the truck, and close all the doors before running into the clinic.

Frank stands near the reception desk, eyes wide, looking as panicked as I feel. “Are they going to be all right?”

I give him a tense look. “I don’t know…they didn’t look good.”

“No”—he shakes his head—“they didn’t. I’ve known the Crisps my entire life, and I’ve never seen them look like that.” He inclines his head toward the back. “Doc had us take them back there right away.”

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing out the front windows toward his truck.

“Go.” I motion toward it. “You have more work to do.”

His lips twist down. “I don’t want to leave them.”

Dammit…

A knife twists in my heart.

He has no idea how hard his words hit.

Or how painfully.

I grab his shoulders and squeeze. “You did what you could. Thank you. I don’t know if we would have made it without your help.”

He gives me a tight smile, pulls me into his arms for a quick hug, then heads to the door but stops with it halfway open. “Will you make sure to call me and let me know?”

I nod, and as soon as he makes it to his truck, I take another cleansing breath, trying to ready myself for what might happen.

You weren’t here when Dad died, but you can be here for this.

For Luke.

My eyes drop to the phone on the receptionist’s desk, and I slide around and drop into her chair, dialing Mom’s number quickly.

She answers on the first ring, as if she’s been waiting for it. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom. We made it to the clinic.”

“Oh, thank God. Are they okay?”

I squeeze my eyes closed, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to rid my brain of the image of them looking half-dead in the back of the truck. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know as soon as I have an update.”

“Is Luke all right?”

Her question almost hurts more than the one about his parents because when it comes to him, I always seem to be the one causing him the most pain .

Even if his parents pull through, his heart will still be broken.

“He will be.” The words burn like acid as I speak them. “I think…as long as they are.”

Mom releases a frustrated sigh. “If I could get down there to be with you guys, I would.”

The thought of having her here, to hold me, to stand by Luke’s side and hold one of her best friend’s hands through this makes me slap my hand over my mouth to prevent a sob from slipping out.

I force myself to swallow it, clearing my throat. “I know, Mom. Just stay safe. I’ll be home when I can, and I’ll call you with an update. I promise.”

Luke’s raised voice reaches me from the back of the clinic as I set the phone back into the cradle.

That doesn’t sound good.

I push out of the chair and jog back toward the exam rooms at the rear that stand open, light spilling out into the hallway from both.

Luke stands just inside the one on the left, hands propped on his hips, chest heaving as he glares at the doctor standing over the exam table his father lies on.

Doc Woodson offers him a hard look. “Luke, there’s nothing else I can tell you right now.”

Pacing now, Luke throws up his hands. “How can you not know what’s wrong with them?”

“Because it’s been less than five minutes, and it could be a hundred different viruses.” He works on Mr. Crisp’s arm, cleaning it and searching for a vein. “It could be the flu. It could be just a really wicked bronchial infection. I’m going to run flu tests. I’m going to run blood tests…but I’m not going to have any answers immediately.”

Luke’s eyes dart over to meet mine, then move to where his mother is spread out on an exam table across the hall from us. “In the meantime, I’ll get IVs into both of them and start antibiotics and antivirals.”

“Jesus.” Luke shoves his hands back through his hair. “How did they get so sick so fast?”

Doc glances up. “You said your dad started feeling ill three days ago?”

Luke nods.

“And your mom seemed fine when you saw her on Christmas Eve? What time was that?”

His eyes cut to me, and I clear my throat.

“I got to the farm around five, and you were back at your cabin by six.”

He nods again. “So, maybe twenty minutes before that, 530-ish, I saw her, and she seemed okay. She said she was making soup for them, that Dad was being a terrible patient, as always.”

Doc’s lips twitch into a half grin. “Sounds about right.”

“Are they going to be okay?”

Luke’s voice cracks on the last word, and all I want to do is go to him and pull him into my arms to assure him that it will be all right, but I know I shouldn’t say anything when I don’t really know.

“The IVs will definitely help.” Doc fiddles with the IV bag on the stand, ensuring the proper flow. “They’re severely dehydrated, and between the antivirals and antibiotics, hopefully, one will start attacking whatever this is before we even get the results of the tests back.”

Luke releases a long, heavy breath, then scrubs his hands over his face before he turns and brushes past me to go into the other exam room with his mother.

He drops into the chair beside her, reaching out to rest his hand on top of hers that doesn’t hold the IV.

Doc glances up at me. “He appreciates your help and you being here, even if he doesn’t say it. ”

Why does he feel the need to tell me that?

Is the tension that obvious?

While everyone in town is privy to my history with Luke, he has no idea what’s gone on between us, what’s been said over the last few days.

He can’t possibly understand the situation when I don’t.

All I do know is that I’m drawn across the hall toward Luke, pausing at the doorjamb to watch him gently stroking his mother’s hand, whispering something to her that I can’t hear.

Sensing me, he looks up, his eyes brimming with tears. “You don’t have to stay. See if Frank can get you up the mountain to your mom.”

I scowl at him. “Do you really think I’d leave you right now, even if Frank wasn’t already gone? Do you think I would?”

His jaw hardens, and the hand resting on the top of the arm of the chair clenches around its edge. “I don’t know anything when it comes to you anymore, Noel. I really fucking don’t.”