Home To Family. Ann Evans
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.
“Matt!” she said on a little gasp of excitement and gripped his arm. “You’re here! You did come after all!”
“Of course I came,” he said, and when she grabbed him close for a hug, he pushed her dark hair away from her cheek and placed his lips against hers. His kiss was quick, friendly and unplanned. But it was nice—because on a cold night like this her lips were warm.
When he pulled away, he grinned at her. “Merry Christmas, Les.”
She angled back a little, and the way she blinked and looked at him said she hadn’t expected that kiss, either. But what the hell? After all these months of watching his life take a frightening and unknown course, her welcoming smile was a real treat.
She was, and always had been, the only woman he could be completely comfortable with. The only woman he had ever trusted with his dreams, his confessions and his secrets. More so than his family, his male buddies, or even the shrink the hospital had forced him to talk to after that awful night.
He felt a loosening inside his chest, as though something had given way, and suddenly he was glad he’d come home for the holidays.
In the golden light, Leslie’s eyes sparkled and gave her skin a lovely glow. She’d let her hair grow long again. It flattered her face. It seemed impossible that he had known her nearly all his life and had never once realized just how pretty she was.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
“Not half as much as I’ve missed you. You look terrific.”
Difficult to tell in the poor light, but he thought she blushed at that comment. Les had never been comfortable with compliments. He’d always suspected that it came from getting so few of them growing up. Her mother and father had never been demonstrative to their only child. Hell, when it came right down to it, they’d hardly known she existed.
She turned back toward the window. “Everyone will be so glad to see you.”
“Hmmm…Can’t wait,” he offered in a noncommittal tone.
Looking over her shoulder, he peered into Doc’s front parlor. Guests stood in little knots of conversation around the room, laughing, talking, sipping wine. He caught no sign of their host, whom he wanted to speak to before the older man headed off to California. Practical, logical, straight-talking Doc Hayward had been the one to guide Matt through every step of med school. He’d know what to make of the mess Matt’s life had become.
But passing time with everyone else in there? The thought made Matt’s head ache, made his lungs feel as though a band of steel encased them.
“Who’s here?” he asked.
“The usual crowd.”
“I see Ellis Hughes. And there’s Chad Pilcher. What’s he looking so sour about?”
“Felicia took him back to court. The judge increased his alimony.”
Matt let his gaze drift to another pocket of guests. “Tom Faraday’s gained weight.”
Leslie nodded. “Doc put him on a strict diet last summer, but so far he’s still fighting it.”
A statuesque blonde with a figure that had clearly been enhanced by something other than nature passed in front of the window. As first, Matt didn’t recognize her. Then he gasped. “Good Lord, is that Stacey Merrick? What did she do to herself? She looks fantastic.”
Stacey could be a first-class witch, and he remembered that she and Leslie had never been friends. Not surprisingly, Leslie made a disgusted sound. “She says it’s because she’s found inner peace, but her husband let the cat out