Christmas on 4th Street. Susan Mallery
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settled next to him. His luck wasn’t that good.
“Here,” his dad said, handing over a travel mug. “If you’re going to be fool enough to sit out here, you need to keep warm. Your other coffee will be cold by now.”
“Thanks.”
“You waiting on a woman?”
He was, but didn’t want to have the conversation. It would mean explaining why and that would take both of them places they didn’t want to go. His father had spent his life in the military but had seen little actual combat. It was a timing thing. While Gabriel hadn’t been under live fire, except when the field hospitals were attacked, he’d been plenty close to what went on. Gideon had lived it, of course.
Regardless, their father would feel he was one of them and want to talk about it. Gabriel had never been able to figure out what to say.
“Just enjoying the morning,” he told his father.
Norm nodded. “Beautiful country.”
“So it seems.”
“I heard you had a job in town.”
Gabriel opened the travel mug and drank the hot coffee. Warmth filled his stomach. “Just for the holidays.”
“Retail?”
From the tone it was obvious his father thought retail was as distasteful as having to clean up the local dog park.
“I like it.”
His old man turned to him. “You can’t mean that. You’re a soldier.”
“I’m a doctor and I’m not suggesting a career change. I have a lot of time on my hands. This is good, honest work. Different. Seeing people all excited about the holidays reminds me what the fight is about.”
Most of the words were true, he thought with some surprise. He didn’t have enough to fill his day and the store was unexpectedly pleasant.
“Just don’t get any ideas,” his father grumbled.
“About?”
Gabriel knew it was wrong to bait his father, but did it anyway, even as he continued to watch the driveway.
“Leaving. You’re staying in.”
“You asking or telling?”
“Leaving’s not an option,” Norm told him. “You owe them.”
“I’ve paid that debt. I gave the army what they asked in return for my education.”
“It’s not enough. This isn’t about the letter of the law, it’s about the spirit. You have to do the right thing, boy. That’s how you were raised.”
Gabriel drew in a breath, then faced his father. “You’re saying I can’t leave.”
“Yes. Stay and get your twenty. You’ll still be young enough to get some fancy hospital job and earn your millions.” Each word dripped with distaste.
“You think it’s about the money?”
“What else? It’s like those jet jockeys who take their training to some airline. Disgusting. They should stay in until they’re released. Leaving isn’t right.”
“You think service isn’t a choice? It’s indentured servitude, with pay and medical? Once you sign up, you’re in for life.”
“That’s how it should be,” his father told him. “If you’re thinking of leaving before your twenty, you’re dishonoring this family. I should have known you’d be like this. You never understood the importance of what was right. Never understood the history you’d been born into. When I was your age—”
Whichever of the stories he’d been about to launch into was cut short when Noelle drove around the corner. She managed to stay in the middle of the driveway, right until the end. Gabriel saw the triumph in her blue eyes. Then she hit the brakes a bit too hard and went sliding.
He heard her shriek and guessed she was spinning the wheel too hard. Sure enough there was a sweep to the right, then to the left, all in slow motion. Her car came to a gentle rest against a snowbank by the porch.
He stood and started toward her. Norm stayed on the porch, muttering something about female drivers.
Noelle opened her car door and stepped out.
“That is so unfair,” she yelled. “I was careful. I went slow and it was perfect right up until the end.”
“You hit the brakes too hard.”
She glared at him. “You think?” She turned and kicked her tire. “I’m not good at snow driving. Why is that?”
Instead of answering, he put his travel mug on the roof of her car, then pulled her close. She had on a thick coat and a red knit cap. Her long, blond hair spilled over her shoulders. She looked like a model for a ski ad. Ignoring her inability to travel in bad weather.
He wrapped his arms around her and was pleased when she returned the action, holding on to him.
“If you’re going to mock me, don’t,” she told him, staring into his eyes.
“I’m not.”
Behind them, the front door closed. The older Boylan had gone inside. They were alone.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked.
There were a dozen reasons not to kiss her and only a couple as to why he should. But the latter were more compelling. Or maybe it was just because a woman like Noelle wasn’t easy to resist. Either way, he lowered his head just enough to brush his mouth against hers.
Gabriel’s kiss was sadly brief, Noelle thought as she felt the warmth of his lips on hers. There was contact, a sensation of heat, and then he raised his head. She wanted to insist on more, but perhaps the front yard of his brother’s house with both his parents in residence wasn’t the place.
“Thanks for coming early,” he said.
“You’re welcome. Felicia called me a little bit ago with a last-minute grocery list.” She smiled. “I’ve never heard her so rattled.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been banned from the kitchen. All the men have. This is Felicia’s first Thanksgiving dinner.”
They were still standing very close together. If not for the layers of coats and sweaters, their pose could be considered intimate. She liked how his hands rested on her hips and the way he was looking at her—like a man looks at a woman who intrigues him.
“We should get inside,” he said. “You’re freezing.”
She could stand the cold a little longer but nodded anyway and stepped back. She got the two grocery bags out of her car. Gabriel took them from her and together they walked inside.
The house was bright and warm. So far there weren’t any smells, but it was barely eleven in the morning. If they weren’t eating until five, the turkey wouldn’t have been in the oven very long.
Karen and Felicia stood together talking in the open kitchen. Felicia glanced up and saw Noelle, then hurried toward her.
“You’re here. Thank you for stopping at the store. I don’t know how it’s possible I forgot anything. I made lists and I checked them at least twice.”
“Just like Santa,” Gabriel murmured.
Noelle took in her friend’s slightly frantic expression and did her best not to smile. “It’s okay. I’m happy to help. Where are you in the meal preparation?”
She asked the question before realizing she was hardly an expert. Her lone Thanksgiving cooking experience had been two years ago—shortly after