A Randall Thanksgiving. Judy Christenberry
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her mom was keeping something this important a secret from her husband. It was another example of her mother’s strength that few people ever saw.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said. “Now tell Caroline it’s okay.” She handed the phone to her cousin.
After speaking to Camille a moment, Caroline hung up the phone. “I wasn’t sure you’d convince her, Melissa, but I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too. Now tell me.”
“Your mother has a tumor on one of her ovaries. Since she’s past childbearing age, we suggested she have a complete hysterectomy.”
Melissa studied Caroline’s face. “What are you not telling me?”
The woman hesitated, and finally said, “I was hoping to impress you with my doctorly manner so you wouldn’t ask questions.”
Melissa said nothing, just continuing to stare at her cousin.
With a sigh, Caroline said, “There’s the possibility of cancer.”
“Then why in hell are you waiting? Won’t it improve her chance of survival the sooner it’s treated?” Melissa demanded.
“Yes, and we explained that to your mom. We also told her it’s possible it’s not cancer. But she refused surgery until after you went back to France. She promised we could operate the moment she put you on a plane back to France.”
Melissa shook her head. Her worry turned to anger. “I’m going to wring her neck just before I march her down here.” Then, realizing what she’d said, she asked, “Can you do the operation here?”
“Yes. Both Jon and I have a lot of experience with this type of surgery. It’s not unusual. And we’ve expanded the clinic since I came back home.”
That was true. Melissa hadn’t stopped to notice before how big and up-to-date the facility was, compared to when she’d lived in Rawhide six years ago. Caroline and their cousin-in-law, Jon Wilson, must have worked day and night to elevate the level of care they could provide right here in Rawhide. If anyone was capable of that, she knew Caroline was.
“You’ve done a hell of a job, Caro,” she said.
“Thanks.” Caroline smiled. “Jon and I can clear our schedules with a day’s notice. I hope you can convince your mother. I had no idea she had such steel inside of her.”
“She doesn’t reveal it unless an issue is important to her. I can’t believe she hasn’t told Dad.”
“You can’t tell him, either,” Caroline warned. “Not unless she agrees.”
Melissa nodded. “I’ll talk to Mom now. I’ll call you and let you know what she says.” She hugged her cousin, grateful for her expertise and support.
As she made her way to the door, Caro called out to her.
“I almost forgot. Harry wanted to know if you would be okay to drive home. It might be nice if you stopped off at his office to tell him you’re okay.”
Melissa wrinkled her nose. “He’ll probably run in the opposite direction.”
Caroline gazed at her in surprise. “He seemed very concerned when he brought you in here. Harry is the sweetest man in town, next to Mike, of course.” She grinned.
“He didn’t look too sweet when he was breaking up the fight in the café.”
“Well, no, he knows when he needs to be sweet, like when he found you sobbing. Not when he’s breaking up a fight.”
Melissa had to admit the logic in Caro’s response. And she acquiesced. “Okay, I’ll stop by and thank Harry. Then I’m going home to fight Mom.”
“I hope you win,” Caroline said, her face suddenly serious.
Melissa left the hospital, wrapping her coat more tightly around her. In one pocket she felt a damp cloth, and pulled out a man’s handkerchief. It must be Harry’s. She had a vague memory of him wiping her cheeks.
She received some curious stares as she walked along the sidewalk in Rawhide, where she’d grown up. It seemed almost no one remembered her, except for her cousins. Thank goodness for them, she thought. It certainly seemed strange to be almost anonymous in a town like Rawhide.
She made a mental note to ask Caro how it felt being away for so long and coming back to town.
Her mother had told her about Caroline’s belief that she couldn’t have children. She hadn’t wanted to come home from Chicago, where she did her internship, because all the Randalls seemed focused on babies. Then she’d met the sheriff and they’d fallen in love and gotten married one Christmas, and now she and Mike Davis had two little boys.
Melissa knew the family thought the world of Mike. But she herself wasn’t ready to settle down. Especially in Rawhide. It was like a company town, and the company was named The Randalls. It seemed at least half the population was kin to her.
Deep in her reverie, she almost walked past the Sheriff’s Office. Stopping, she opened the door and stepped in. There sat Harry Gowan, doing some paperwork. She cleared her throat.
Without lifting his head, Harry said, “You got anything to report, Wayne?”
Blinking in surprise, she said, “There was an hysterical female, but she’s recovered.”
He got to his feet and walked around his desk to where Melissa stood. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. I wanted to thank you for helping me. I was…a little distressed.”
“A little?” he questioned with a smile.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, a little.” Then she remembered she needed to keep him in a good mood so he’d agree to her request. “I, uh, need to ask you something.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“I know I lost my temper and I’m sorry, but…could you not tell my father about our meeting this morning?”
“You mean about opening the door when you shouldn’t have? And shoving the cookies at me and stomping off?”
She gritted her teeth. Did he have to list every offense? “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“I think I can manage to forget that.” He smiled at her. “The cookies were really good, by the way.”
“I’m glad you liked them,” she said, but she didn’t smile. “I should warn you that my father was matchmaking. You need to be on your guard.”
Harry looked puzzled. “Why would he do that?”
“He wants me to stay here in Rawhide. He’s trying to find someone to marry me.”
Harry grinned and raised his brows. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“If that’s a compliment, thank you, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. Dad has chosen you as the prime candidate for my not-so-future husband. You’d better start running in the other direction whenever you see me.”
“Assuming I’m not interested.”
“It doesn’t matter if you are or not,” she told him, her voice firm. “I’m going back to France after Christmas.”
“Oh, yeah? Then I might as well kiss you goodbye,” he said, as if his words were normal, acceptable.
Without any more warning than that, he pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips like none she’d ever received. When he had her reeling, he abruptly put her away from him.
“Have a nice trip, Melissa Randall.”
She stared at him blankly, unable to figure out what she was supposed to do. Then reality poured in and she glared at him. “I will!”
And she