Home To Family

Except she didn’t want to go back to her place, toast the season, and open up some ridiculously lavish Christmas gift from him that would embarrass her. Perry wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t stingy, and he was sure to have gotten her something completely inappropriate given the status of their relationship.

In some ways he was so like Matt. Handsome. Generous. Confident. So energetic sometimes that he took her breath away. And goal-oriented. He lacked Matt’s easygoing ways, his charisma, that core of genuine compassion that had made a career in medicine almost a foregone conclusion.

But so what if Perry wasn’t Matt D’Angelo? she thought with sudden stubborn rebellion. Why should he have to be?

In spite of a little boorish behavior this evening, he was still one of the most attractive, interesting men she’d ever dated. She should take him home, open a bottle of her best wine and…see what developed.

Leaving would, of course, disappoint half the single women in this room tonight. Just like Matt, Perry attracted attention from females the way honey enticed bees.

Maybe it was a good thing Matt hadn’t shown up. Two such potent, available males at one party, and who knew what might happen? Over the years she’d watched so many women try to catch Matt’s attention, sometimes with embarrassing results.

Leslie cast one last, long glance around the room. Another few minutes of polite conversation and then she’d wander over to Perry. No point in staying, really. Somewhere along the way, the evening had lost its magic.

Why hadn’t Matt made a concerted effort to come tonight?

CHAPTER TWO

MATT D’ANGELO had been the only one on the flight from Chicago who wasn’t upset about their late arrival in Denver.

He’d always considered himself a patient guy, unflappable. That ability to focus and remain calm in the face of confusion and crisis had made him a star during his residency and brought him accolades in the operating room. But this new willingness to suffer delays due to the weather, the airlines, the traffic, and finally, the girl at the car-rental counter with the speed of a baffled snail—this was a pretty sure sign that he really hadn’t wanted to make this trip after all.

True, he’d been eager to get away, tired of coming under the microscope of the powers-that-be at the hospital, tired of getting pep talks from his occupational therapist. Most of all, tired of having to reassure well-meaning friends and associates that he really didn’t mind spending Christmas and New Year’s Eve alone.

Just tired.

So when his parents had pushed him to come home for a visit, he’d allowed himself to be talked into it.

Now he wished he’d said no. The family, as supportive as they’d always been, would probably smother him with their loving concern. His friends in Broken Yoke would be solicitous, but people who lived in a small town and who’d known you all your life, often assumed they had the perfect right to grill you. They’d be unable to control their curiosity. They’d feel obligated to give advice.

Or worse, they’d offer pity. He knew he’d hate that the most.

In this strange, different year he’d discovered that most people meant well. They wanted to help. But he’d spent months trying to pull a black curtain over that night in the diner. The idea of having to revisit any of it, having those memories ambush him in some new and terrible way, made his heart feel as tight as a closed fist.

He wished suddenly that he’d followed his friend Larry’s advice—gone to the Bahamas for the holidays, where he could have found a sure cure for the blues under the warm sun.

Instead, he was almost home, watching snow flurries pelt the windshield of his rental car as he took the exit off the interstate.

He passed the familiar, aged sign that welcomed visitors to Broken Yoke. The turn up the mountain road that led to Lightning River Lodge would be just ahead, winding and treacherous in the worst of winter, but still as familiar to Matt as the route he took to the hospital in Chicago every day.

Lightning River ran along the lip of the Arapaho National Forest and widened into a deep, cold, crystal-clear lake. His parents had built the lodge on some of the prettiest land along the Front Range. The views from every window of the resort—mountains, lake and aspen-covered forests—left guests awe-struck, and its proximity to ski slopes, river rapids and quaint, historic towns in the area brought them back time after time.

A few years ago, when his father had first been incapacitated by his stroke, Matt had considered moving back home. He hadn’t really wanted to. His career had been on the fast track as he began to make a name for himself in microsurgery, and he could see endless opportunities ahead.

For a while, his mother seemed to manage the family business just fine. Her sisters, Renata and Sofia, had come from Italy to help out. Matt’s younger sister Adriana had just finished college and was more than willing to pitch in until things returned to normal.

But things didn’t return to normal. His father’s medical bills were astronomical. Rainy summer days and little fresh powder on the slopes to entice skiers made the situation worse. Matt had begun to talk to Doc Hayward about returning home and going into practice with the older physician—something Matt had never, ever considered before.

Luckily, his older brother Nick came up with a solution to keep the family business afloat and solve his problems, too.

Nick, an army helicopter pilot who had recently divorced, was concerned about having a proper place to raise his daughter Tessa. Matt couldn’t help feeling relieved when Nick quit the army and came home to take over, building his own cabin only a short distance from the lodge.

The change seemed to have worked. The business was doing well. Nick had added a helicopter tour company, Angel Air, to the amenities they offered guests, and Adriana, an entrepreneur at heart, had finally talked Nick and their father into reopening the old stable where they’d kept horses as kids.

Matt had been glad to leave running the business in Nick’s capable hands. And as much as he loved this area, he had never envisioned returning to live here permanently.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He wove his way through Broken Yoke’s downtown, past all the old familiar haunts. He saw that nothing much had changed, although a few more of the buildings looked empty; some were even boarded up.

Glad for a legitimate excuse to stall, he had called the lodge from the airport, telling the family not to wait, to go to Doc’s party without him. It was already past ten. Most of Doc Hayward’s guests had probably come and gone by now. Maybe even the D’Angelos. Everyone knew that Doc—always a morning person—would have booked an early flight tomorrow.

So if Matt skipped the party entirely, would anyone really notice? Or care?

He felt the muscles along his jaw tighten. No more avoidance, D’Angelo. Not tonight. You know you want to see Doc before he goes.

He could catch the tail end of the party. Say a few quick hellos and be gone before most guests even noticed his arrival. He had to. If he didn’t get a handle on these subconscious and not-so-subconscious evasion tactics, they would develop their own momentum. And then where would he be?

Doc lived just off Main Street, and when Matt pulled in front of the house he was surprised to see how many cars were still in the drive and along the road. He had to park half a block away and walk back, trudging along the darkened blacktop that glistened wetly in the street lights. Snow, falling like a lacy curtain, obscured his vision and made him tuck his chin into the collar of his coat.

The Christmas lights Doc had put up outside twinkled a festive welcome.

Strange how the sight of those decorations could make his gut go cold.

Matt could still recall how every window in the diner that night had held a lighted candle. He remembered the plastic evergreen that had clung to one corner, blinking a sad welcome. The way his own blood had oozed in a slow spill across the linoleum to soak the cheap Christmas skirt around that tree.

Shayla had worn a sprig of holly pinned to her lapel that night. Even now he could remember the scratch of it against his cheek as he’d bent down to kiss her when he’d left the car.

How long would it be before he’d be able to look at a symbol of Christmas and not think of death?

Feeling his back stiffen as if for battle, he continued up the walk.

The decorations were wasted. There wasn’t another soul outside. Too bad. This was the sort of Colorado night Matt loved. Crisp and clear in spite of the snowfall, so chilly that your breath rose in little clouds around your face. The sky was so deeply midnight blue that it could leave you speechless, and he could barely tell where the mountains ended and the heavens began.

In spite of the lecture he’d just given himself, he approached the front steps slowly, delaying the moment when he’d have to enter the house. Not so brave after all, it seemed.

And then suddenly he realized he’d been wrong. Someone was out here in the darkness.

A woman stood with her back to him, nothing more than a black silhouette. Illumination poured from the tall windows in warped, lemon squares of light along the length of the porch. Her body looked as if it had been dipped in gold, as though she’d bathed in it. In spite of the shawl draped around her shoulders, Matt could tell she was tall and slim. Because she seemed intent on watching the goings-on inside the house, he couldn’t see her face. She remained absolutely still, a silent observer. He wondered what had snagged her attention. And what had driven her outdoors.

She raked her fingers along the side of her hair. Then she shoved her hand underneath the dark mass of it, scoping upward along her scalp, so that momentarily it lifted off her shoulders. It was a gesture of impatience. Of annoyance. He knew it well. Over the years, that little habit of Leslie’s had always given her away whenever they’d squabbled.

It had been like a warning flag. Back off, D’Angelo, that movement had said. You’re making me angry.

He smiled to himself. Of all the people to encounter during this visit, he was ridiculously relieved to have Leslie Meadows be the first. With the exception of a few stolen hours at Nick and Kari’s wedding, he hadn’t seen her in so long, and he realized just how much he had missed her. Now here he was, running into the moment he’d been dreading, and Les’s presence would make it so much easier.

She was so intent on watching whatever was going on inside the house that she didn’t hear him come up behind her. He cupped her shoulders, then bent his lips to her ear. “What’s so fascinating?’ he whispered.

She whirled. The startled look in her eyes turned into exuberant pleasure almost immediately, so that warmth rushed through him.