Our First Christmas (6 page)

His lips flattened into a thin line. “Am I being accused?”

“Just get me the list.”

 

The afternoon light shone into Marisa's room, making her head hurt all the more. The discomfort really kicked in an hour ago when she'd stopped taking the painkillers. She'd grown tired of muddled thoughts and had decided the pain was a fair trade for a clear mind.

Her father and stepmother had left around lunchtime but had promised to return tonight. They were talking about keeping her in the hospital a few more days, but she already questioned that decision. She wanted out of here.

She sat up and winced as her head pounded. For a moment, she teetered back toward the pillow before catching herself. She could not lie here. She had a sense of urgency as if important information had been locked in her brain.

Instead of falling back to her pillows, she stayed upright and blinked until her gaze focused. She breathed deeply until her head steadied. She studied her hospital room, noting a bright bouquet of flowers. She couldn't make out the card but suspected her stepmother had ordered them. Susan had perfect taste. If her mother had been alive, she'd have gathered wildflowers from the side of the road or drawn Marisa a picture of glyphs that communicated some kind of get-well message. Her heart ached as she thought about her mother.

Her gaze was drawn to a chair in the corner where two brightly wrapped, if not mangled presents sat. Gaze narrowing, she studied the presents. She'd wrapped them. For her brothers. But how did they get here?

A knock on the door had her turning slowly to see Kyle carrying a big handful of flowers.

“You're alive,” he said.

“Seems so.”

Kyle grinned and came into the room. He held up the flowers. “I got you these.”

“They're lovely.”

“So how're you doing?”

She sat taller, wincing as her bruised muscles screamed. “Feeling foolish.”

Kyle put the flowers in a water bucket and sat on the edge of the bed. “Don't feel foolish. You could have really been hurt.”

“What happened? The accident and the hours before it are all a blur. I'm trying to remember, but no memories are shaking loose.”

“I talked to your dad, who talked to the docs. You've a nasty concussion so a little memory loss isn't unusual. It might take a few days or weeks for all the details to come back.”

“My pieces of memory feel like a dream.”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember those presents. Trying to wrap them and saying a couple of bad words when the toy wheels kept poking through the paper. Did Dad bring them?”

“I don't think so. They weren't here this morning when I stopped by and saw your dad. They must have come this afternoon.”

“Odd that they'd make it to my room.”

“Worry about getting better. What do you remember about the accident?”

She raised her fingertips to the bruise on her face. A slight touch made her wince. “After putting the presents in the car, my memory goes blank. What day is it?”

“Monday.”

“What happened to Sunday?”

“You slept through it.”

As tempted as she was to lie back and close her eyes, she didn't. Instead, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Kyle, I have to get out of here.”

“You really shouldn't be going anywhere.”

“You just said all I really need is rest.”

“You should be resting in a hospital.”

She pulled back the top blanket. “I can rest anywhere.”

Kyle rose, clearly surprised. “Why are you so determined to leave?”

“There's something I have to do.”

“What? You have no work until mid-January, and you said last week in an e-mail that you planned to kick back over the holidays.”

She stared at the mangled presents. As she studied the packages closer and saw the tiny wheel sticking out, she remembered Lucas. He'd driven her to the toy store on time so that she could get . . . so that she could get two trucks for her brothers.

“Did the nurses make any comments about a Texas Ranger visiting me?” When Kyle didn't answer right away, Marisa cocked her head. “Spill.”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. He came by a few hours ago and he checked in on your status. He's been by every few hours since you arrived.”

“I was doing a job for Lucas.”

Kyle's lips flattened as if he'd bitten a sour apple. “Translating some document.”

She'd known Kyle for six years and could read his many moods easily. “What aren't you saying?”

“Your office was ransacked after your accident. All the papers locked in your desk drawer were taken.”

“Papers?”

“The ones you were translating for the Ranger.”

“All my papers are gone?”

“Yes.”

She pressed her fingertips to her temple. Memories came in and out of focus, and no matter how much she tried to corral one, she couldn't. “My work for the Rangers was important.”

“I'm sure that it was.”

“There was a time limit. He wanted me to hurry.”

“How about you not worry about the Ranger and worry about getting better? I was thinking you could come and stay with me for a few days. I know the holidays aren't your favorite.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“It's either me or your dad's place.”

The drama of Christmas had faded to a distant second. What worried her now was retrieving the memories that would not focus. Lucas had said her work was really important. He'd said lives were at stake. They were running out of time.

“Kyle, I want you to spring me from the hospital.”

That statement startled a laugh. “You can't just leave.”

“Of course I can. I'm an adult. I stay as long as I want and I want to go.”

“Where are you going?”

She didn't have the energy to explain or to argue with Kyle. “I need to get dressed and get out of here.”

 

Lucas sat at his desk staring at the map of Texas and doing his best to cage his roaming thoughts. He kept thinking about Marisa. She was going to be okay, but that didn't stop his worries that this accident stemmed from her translation work. She'd unlocked the key about the next shipment. He had ideas and theories about when and where the drugs would land, but he had no concrete clues. Texas was too big to strike out blindly. He needed Marisa's key.

But she now lay in a hospital bed, bruised and battered. Time was running out. Soon the drugs would pass into Texas and he'd be helpless to stop them.

He sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to chase away the image of her on that stretcher being loaded into an ambulance. She needed to be safe. Needed time to heal. As he ticked through each logical point, he couldn't deny he wanted to be at the hospital. He could not explain this pull he had to Marisa, but it was as strong as a cattleman's well-seasoned lariat.

His phone buzzed, and he snapped up the device and offered a far too gruff, “Cooper.”

“Ranger Cooper.” The cool, smooth voice belonged to a staff secretary who was rarely rattled by the big personalities of the Rangers.

“Fran.” He dialed back his frustration.

“You've a visitor.”

“Not now.”

“I told her that and she insists on seeing you. Her name is Dr. Marisa Thompson.”

Cooper's stomach dropped. “I'll be right out.”

Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he slid it on as he made his way to reception. He found Marisa standing by the desk. She looked pale and small, but the rock-hard determination had returned to her gaze. He released the breath he'd been holding for what seemed like thirty-six hours.

“Dr. Thompson.”

She glanced up at him. “Ranger Cooper.”

“Why aren't you in the hospital?”

The man standing next to her sighed as if he'd grown tired of hearing that question. “She should be in bed, but she's not listening. We were driving close by when she announced I had to bring her here.”

Marisa waved away Kyle's concern. “I'm fine. But I want to talk to you.”

“In my office.”

Kyle frowned. “I'll wait out here.”

“I'll see she gets home,” Lucas said. She was his, and he'd take care of her.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. “I don't mind waiting.”

“Kyle, it's fine,” Marisa said. “I'm feeling a lot better already just being away from the hospital.”

Kyle studied her face. “If you feel the least bit bad, go home.”

“I promise.”

Kyle shook his head. “You won't.”

Marisa smiled. “I'll be fine.”

When Kyle left, Lucas escorted Marisa back to his office. He had the urge to settle his hand on her lower back as a steadying guide but decided it was best to keep contact to a minimum.

In his office, he directed her to a chair and after closing his door, sat on the edge of his desk and faced her. “I'm amazed you're here.”

“I don't like hospitals. I spent a good bit of time in them when Mom was having her chemo.” She settled back in her chair with a soft sigh. “I hear my office was ransacked.”

“It was. I inspected it myself, and whatever notes you might have been keeping on my case are gone. Also your laptop was taken.”

“Damn.” A resigned shrug. “I'm a fanatic about backups so at least I have my data on my professional work. Computers can be replaced. Work cannot be so easily duplicated.”

“The docs tell me your memory is fuzzy.”

“It is. I sustained a concussion. The pieces are drifting just out of reach. I understand that's common with concussions, but it's frustrating.”

“What do you remember?”

“Not much. The last memory I have is wrapping presents. I think I was close to figuring out your puzzle.”

“You called me while you were in the car. You said you'd cracked the code.”

“I don't remember the call or the code.” An irritated sigh escaped her lips. “I hate not remembering.”

She was here. With him. That was what really mattered. “You will. Give it time.”

“I don't want to give it time. You said yourself this was time-sensitive information.”

“The accident is not your fault. You have to be patient.”

She leaned forward. “I'm not a super-patient person. I had more than a few professors tell me to ease up and not push so hard. I've never figured out how to stop and smell the roses.”

A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, softening the tension banding his body. “I've been accused of the same.”

Green eyes, glittering a mixture of determination and hope, lifted to his. “I want to go back to the accident site.”

“Why?”

“That was the last place where I had all my memories. I think I might be able to jog my memory if I can travel the road again.”

“That doesn't make much sense.”

“Re-creating steps can be highly effective. It's helped me find countless sets of lost keys, shoes, and sunglasses.”

“We aren't talking about shoes. Memories are a little different.”

“I don't think so.” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temple. “The memories are so close. They're literally hovering below the surface of my mind and I feel as if I can reach out and pluck them up.” She arched a brow. “I'm going. I'm here to ask you to come with me, but either way, I'm going.”

“I can't imagine your father would be happy about this.”

“I'm an adult.” Her annoyance crackled like lightning. “I make my own decisions. Are you going to take me to the site or do I go it alone?”

He leaned toward her a fraction, his tone hard and clipped. “You can't be driving now.”

“I'll take a cab.”

“No.” The response shot from him like a bullet. Of all the people she could have turned to, Marisa had come to him. “No cabs.” She opened her mouth to argue as he reached for his phone. “I will.” He called his secretary, told her he was leaving for the day, maybe two. “Let's go.”

She sat straighter. “I need to swing by my apartment and grab a bag?”

“Sure. Let's go.”

This time as he guided her out of the office, he did put his hand in the small of her back. It felt good to touch her, and he remembered the softness of her skin when he'd stroked his palm over her flat belly that night in Mexico.

“Did you drop the presents off in my hospital room?” she asked.

It pleased him she'd noticed. “A shame to have them land in evidence over the holidays after seeing all the trouble you went to in order to get them.”

“Thanks.”

“I'd have been pretty excited to get a truck like that when I was seven.”

“It's the bells and whistles. It's been my observation that males like loud and noisy toys.”

He pushed the elevator button. “We do like our toys.”

She looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Why is that?”

He chuckled. “I suppose we don't quite grow up.”

Marisa nodded as if she agreed.

Outside, the air was cool enough to send Marisa burrowing deeper into her coat. He opened the passenger side door of his car, and she climbed into the seat. As he crossed to his side of the car, he saw her relax as if she'd arrived home. She likely wasn't aware of the move, but he was. She felt safe with him. Knowing that nearly coaxed a smile.

The drive to her house took less than fifteen minutes, and she packed an overnight bag within minutes.

“Why haven't you unpacked?” he asked, fingering the flap of an open box.

A sly grin tipped the edges of her mouth. “It makes no sense for me to really unpack. I don't plan on being here long.”

He stilled. “Where are you headed?”

“Not sure. I don't really need a house because I travel so much.”

“I had the impression you were going to be in town for a while.”

“For the next few months at least. But I can barely take care of myself, let alone a house.”

They were on the road almost immediately.

“Aren't you going to stop and get a bag?”

“My sister lives in the area, and I can always swing by her house if need be.” He wove through Austin traffic, wanting to be headed south before rush hour. He flipped on the radio, which played a Christmas song. She stared out her window, unmindful of the jingle. They'd been on the road twenty minutes when he noticed she put her hand to her temple.

“You getting a headache?”

“The doctor said I might.” She smiled. “I'm fine. I'd rather keep going.”

Caught up in the rush of seeing her, he'd not really thought about how a car ride would make her feel. He considered the remaining hour of traveling and weighed turning back. He chose the next option.

“Where are you going?”

“To my sister's house.”

A frown furrowed. “Why?”

“You aren't feeling well.”

“I feel fine. A little headache is not a big deal.”

“It's a big deal when you've had a head injury. By the way, did you eat?”

“I ate breakfast at the hospital.”

“What, a fruit cup or pudding?”

“Fruit cup.”

“Not enough.” He slowed and took a right onto a small road not marked with a street sign.

“Where are we going?”

“To my sister's house.”

He and Sherry had inherited the family ranch. Though he'd received the lion's share of the land, their parents had deeded her the house. That suited him fine. He was far from being ready to settle down, and she and her husband had just found out they were expecting. His brother-in-law worked in the high-tech industry and Sherry stayed home with the boys.

Marisa shifted in her seat. “I don't want to interfere with their holidays.”

“Sherry loves guests. She invited me to dinner tonight.”

“She invited you. Not me.”

“The more the merrier for her.”

“Don't the holidays overwhelm her?”

He sensed if he stopped the car, she'd bolt. “It'll be fine.”

“I don't like this.”

“Don't be a baby.”

She glared at him. “I'm not.”

“You're whining.”

“Am not!”

Smiling, he realized her headache couldn't be so bad if she was willing to argue. He turned down the gravel drive and wound into the Hill Country until they rounded a corner.

An explosion of colorful lights lining the drive greeted them. Lights dangled from the trees and wound around shrubs and a collection of wagon wheels. More lights outlined the front porch as well as the steep roofline of the house.

Marisa shook her head. “I think my stepmother has some serious competition.”

“No one can out-Christmas Sherry. No one.”