Home To Family

“Not yet. And since we don’t want to know the baby’s sex, the names haven’t even been narrowed down to a boy or girl. Everyone in the family has an opinion.”

Leslie grinned. “With the D’Angelos, that’s no surprise.”

“It’s just a good thing I love them so much,” Kari said, taking a sip from her glass of ginger ale. “Last week I found a note pinned to the front door of the cabin that said, “Do you like Mercedes?” I spent ten minutes trying to figure out why Aunt Renata wanted my opinion about cars before she told me that was her latest suggestion if the baby was a girl.”

The three of them laughed.

Perry was suddenly at Leslie’s side. He draped a proprietary arm around her shoulder. “What’s so amusing?”

They filled him in, but it must have lost something in the translation because he looked as if he didn’t really understand. Obviously he didn’t see the humor in living in a large Italian clan that could make you feel like the single most beloved person in the world and drive you to distraction all at the same time.

It occurred to Leslie that she didn’t know much about what Perry’s own family life was like. Or even if he was close to them. Why had she never bothered to ask?

Conversation, light and inconsequential, continued to ebb and flow among the four of them for a few more minutes.

Then Perry said to Kari, “So where’s this brother-in-law of yours? The infamous Matt.”

Leslie felt her stomach lurch. With that one, bald question, the innocence and fun of the conversation evaporated. Yet a part of her felt no regret. It was an inquiry she’d been dying to make herself.

Kari’s smile wavered a bit, but she responded easily enough. “He called from Denver. His plane got in late, so he suggested we come without him.” She looked at Doc Hayward. “He’ll be sorry he missed you, Doc.”

It was Perry who answered with an impolite snort. “I suppose it’s easier to hide out for a while than deal with a bunch of nosy questions right off the bat.”

Leslie wondered if she was the only one who noticed Kari’s posture stiffen. “I’m not sure that’s what he’s doing,” the woman said. “I think he’s a lot like Nick and meets any problem head-on.”

“Still…” Perry went on. “I can’t say that I’d blame him very much if he chose not to come. Who wants to be a freak in the sideshow?”

Leslie frowned and cut a glance at Perry. He had his moments, but he was seldom rude. She knew he’d been drinking steadily through most of the evening—so had she, for that matter—but the comment was uncalled-for. She wondered just how many details of last year’s tragedy he’d picked up while circulating among Doc’s guests.

“Matt’s hardly a freak,” she heard herself say. She sounded ridiculously defensive and toned her attitude down a notch. “He’s always loved to be around people, and everyone in this house is his friend.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t be curious as hell,” Perry said over the top of his glass. He raised a speculative brow toward Kari. “So what happened exactly? I heard he walked in on a robbery and got shot.”

Kari nodded. “A year ago. He was bringing his girlfriend up here to spend the holidays with the family. She was killed, and so were a couple of others at the diner where they stopped. Matt was shot twice. Once in the back, which I understand he’s recovered well from. The second came at close range and did considerable damage to his left hand. And since he’s a surgeon…”

“It’s been a year,” Perry remarked. “Surely he’s well on the way to recovery by now.”

Kari gave Perry a vague, distancing smile. “I’m sure he’s doing quite well.”

“Life is full of tough breaks,” Perry added. “If you can’t change things, then you need to stop cursing your bad luck and move on.”

Leslie looked at him sharply. He sounded so pompous that she wanted to drive the point of her high-heel into his instep. She felt his fingers tighten imperceptively along her shoulder. It occurred to her suddenly that he might be jealous of Matt. Ridiculous, of course. There was no reason to be.

Luckily, Kari seemed disinclined to take offense. Forming a smile that did not include her eyes, she said, “Speaking of moving on, will you excuse me? I really ought to say hello to some of the others.”

Before anyone could object, she slipped away.

Perry favored Leslie with a questioning glance. “Did I say something wrong?”

Leslie’s temper was too provoked to comment right away. Laughing lightly, Doc shook his head at Perry. “Young fellow, I’m not sure you said anything right.”

Perry’s arm still lay across her shoulders like a heavy bar. Slipping out from under it, she said, “I should check on things in the kitchen.”

She hated to strand Doc with Perry, but she had to get away from him right now. Why had she invited him to this party? He was bored and behaving as badly as a six-year-old dragged to the opera.

A waiter passed by with a tray of filled wineglasses. She scooped one up and would have made her way into the kitchen, but Althea Bendix, the police chief’s wife, pulled her into the front parlor, where a small circle of women were eagerly plotting a surprise baby shower for Kari D’Angelo.

With no children of her own, Leslie found it hard to get excited by talk of games that involved measuring the waist of the expectant mother and trying to guess how many jellybeans could fill a baby bottle. But she liked Kari, she liked these women, and she liked that she was a part of their world, that they considered her one of them.

It hadn’t always been that way. As a child, she’d quickly realized that even a place as small as Broken Yoke had a pecking order. Jagged, winding Lightning River bisected the town, and there was definitely a correct, acceptable side of it to call home, and one that some people preferred to pretend didn’t exist.

The trailer park Leslie had grown up in—Mobley’s Mobile Court—was a run-down eyesore that smelled of misery and failure. Town government considered it a constant source of embarrassment. Her parents, whose fights were loud and legendary, whose mailbox stayed stuffed with late notices printed in increasingly irate colors, had definitely been persona non grata in Broken Yoke. For a long while, Leslie had been sure she was, too.

Until the sixth grade. When Matt D’Angelo had come into her life. Saved her, really. From parents and teachers and the law, and sometimes even herself.

In those days she’d been lonely and disoriented most of the time. The fragile universe she’d managed to create for herself had always been in danger of toppling, but she’d been honestly convinced that no one knew that.

No one knew that quiet, sullen Leslie Meadows considered life to be missing some essential piece she couldn’t identify. That happiness seemed to get further and further away from her every day. And that she imagined her heart to be no more than an empty cave where fear and hopelessness dwelt year-round.

No one, that is, except Matt.

One of the women beside her nudged her arm. “Look,” she said. “It’s starting to snow.”

Leslie glanced out the nearest window. The temperature was supposed to drop drastically tonight, and a flurry of light flakes cascaded in the outside lights beyond the wrap-around porch. She listened to the conversation of the other women with half an ear, wishing she could be out there in the darkness, feeling the feathery touch of those snowflakes against her face.

Here, the laughter, the heady, perfumed atmosphere, the warmth generated by so many people made her feel restless and claustrophobic. She thought how clear and sharp the air outside must be right now. Every breath would be almost painful.

Years ago, on a moonlit night just like this one, she and Matt had sat snuggled against one another for warmth, catching snowflakes on their tongues as they watched an impromptu hockey game on Lightning Lake.

He’d been busy with sports all winter. Matt was the best skier on the school team, and he’d had little time for her as he concentrated on trimming his run times.

She’d missed him so much. How good it felt to have his familiar strength pressed against her, to hear his easy laughter and know that her closest friend had not forgotten her. It was the best feeling in the world, that connection with another human being.

Those hours on the lake had also seen a shift in the dynamic of their friendship. It had wandered into unexpected territory when warmth and closeness had led to a kiss. They’d barely skirted disaster that cold, January night. At the last minute they’d managed to pull back from going any further, laughing nervously with the unspoken knowledge of how close they’d come to ruining everything.

In all the years since then, they’d never spoken of that evening. Happily, the bond between them had remained strong and pure and immutable.

She glanced back out the window as she drained her wineglass. It was snowing a little harder now, soft and silent, and so inviting. Why did anyone stay inside when there was that kind of beauty to be enjoyed only steps away?

She knew that some of Doc’s guests would curse the sight of it as they left, complaining as they tugged on coats and scarves and made their slow, cautious way home. Perry would be one of them. He hated the drive back to Denver, even in good weather, and tonight the roads could be troublesome.

But she loved the snow. So did Matt. At least, he always had when they’d been kids.

Where was he right now?

Over the murmur of conversation, she heard a hard, harsh bark of amused laughter. It had to be Bob Gunderson, the president of Broken Yoke’s only bank. Everyone called Bob “Heimlich” because of his penchant for telling jokes that always ended with a laugh that sounded as though he was trying to expel something from his throat.

She caught sight of Perry standing by the fireplace, nodding as Heimlich finished his story. From the glazed look on Perry’s face, she suspected he was wishing himself anyplace else. Poor man. She supposed she ought to rescue him.