Family of Three Under the Tree
Author
Traci Douglass
Reads
15.9K
Chapters
14
Can two research partners heal from their past hurts and find a family in time for Christmas? Find out in the final installment of the Wyckford General Hospital series by Traci Douglass. AN UNEXPECTED GIFT IN THEIR STOCKING Radiologist Riley isn't interested in romance. After an accident left her in a wheelchair, she'll prove she doesn't need anyone's help — especially neurosurgeon Sam's. But despite his being infuriatingly gorgeous, she can't knock her new research partner's commitment to their study. Single dad Sam's still fighting his grief and is hell-bent on curing the disease that stole his wife. Yet he can't stop thinking about Riley…or the way his little girl lights up around her. With their undeniable attraction growing, could a family of three top their Christmas lists?
CHAPTER ONE
DR. SAM PERKINS inhaled the pine-scented air as he walked up the curving sidewalk to his rental place in Wyckford, Massachusetts. For now, this house worked fine, even if it made his latent handyman skills itch to be used again. Renovating things relaxed him, and had helped him work his way through medical school while keeping him sane despite the crazy hours. Kept him going day to day as he worked on one project after another even as he slowly lost his beloved wife to ALS. Something about the smell of sawdust and fixing what was broken calmed and focused him the same way his patients and surgeries did. He’d always been a caretaker, first for his single mother as a kid, and now for his daughter, Ivy. It was what he did, who he was.
The approaching winter was still a novelty though. In San Diego, where he and his daughter had moved from two years ago after his wife passed away, the temperatures stayed consistently around seventy degrees and the skies were reliably clear and blue. Here, in Massachusetts in December, the temperatures fluctuated between cold and colder, and the threat of nor’easters could chill you to the bone. Last year, he’d been caught off guard by the snowfall. This year, even though Thanksgiving had just happened and there were no storms in the forecast, he was prepared with both a heavy-duty shovel and a snowblower, just in case.
He drew in another deep breath, hoping the crisp air would perk him up and dissolve the stress of the day. Since taking over as head of neurosurgery at Wyckford General Hospital this past September, his plate was beyond full, with what seemed like endless rounds office hours, emergency consults in the ER and follow-ups with the patients in his ALS research study. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis was a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affected nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord. It had claimed his wife, despite Sam’s valiant efforts to the contrary, and Sam was determined to find a cure, even if it was too late to save Natalia. He owed her that much for his failure.
Light snowflakes began falling, landing on his cheeks as he stepped up to his door. The neighborhood had a quaint, small-town vibe, with lots of well-kept homes, manicured lawns and even the occasional white picket fence. Very different from the modern, contemporary Mission Hills home they’d had on the West Coast, but still nice.
When Sam walked inside, the first thing that greeted him was the aroma of vinegar from kimchi and the earthy, miso-like scent of doenjang jjigae—a hearty Korean stew with vegetables and beef in broth. The second was their overeager mutt, Spork. He was part shih tzu, part schnauzer, and all energy. Sam toed off his boots and set them by Ivy’s near the heating vent on the floor, then scratched the dog behind the ears. They’d adopted Spork from the local rescue shelter and the canine was settling in just fine, at least based on the number of toys scattered all over the house.
“Hi, Daddy,” his daughter called from where she sat at the island in the kitchen down the hall. Ivy’s backpack rested on the stool beside her and was almost as big as she was. Sam couldn’t remember ever having that much homework in first grade, but apparently times had changed.
“Hi, yeobo,” he called back, using his pet name for his daughter as he tossed his keys onto the side table then walked toward the delicious smells from his childhood, Spork still circling his ankles with his favorite octopus stuffed animal in his mouth. Sam gave Ivy a kiss on the cheek. “How was school?”
“Good. Adi and I got to pet an iguana today.”
“Wow.” Sam grinned as he turned to greet the nanny. “Hey, Hala.”
“Mr. Perkins.” The woman bowed slightly, her black hijab covering her gray hair. In her early seventies, she’d emigrated from Jordan to the US with her husband almost thirty years ago and had worked as a nanny ever since. She also did some housekeeping for Sam and picked Ivy up from school when he had to work late. They were lucky to have her, even if Hala had no qualms about giving Sam life advice whether he needed it or not. “Dinner should be ready shortly. I heated up something from the freezer.”
“Thank you.” Sam turned back to his daughter. “An iguana, huh? That sounds cool.”
“It was!” Ivy swiveled slightly, her pink-stockinged feet tapping against the legs of her stool. “His name was Fred.”
“Fred the iguana.” Sam snorted. “Got it.”
He moved the backpack to take a seat on the other stool. At least the kitchen in their rental had been updated. Quartz countertops gleamed under the recessed lighting, and new stainless steel appliances and freshly painted cabinets completed the modern decor. Sam wasn’t the best cook ever, but he knew a few good recipes, most learned at the hip of his Korean mother, who’d insisted he learn to fend for himself when he went off to college. The others had been gleaned from Natalia’s Italian heritage. An odd culinary mix but a tasty one. Meal prep, which Sam did on the weekends, was a lifesaver for him.
“Anything else interesting happen today?” he asked his daughter. His mom had always led with that question after school, and it felt like a tradition now. Sam’s dad had left when he was just a baby, so it had always been the two of them. He’d gotten his first job as a bagger at a grocery store near their home after school when he’d been just thirteen to help pay the bills. “What did you learn?”
Ivy continued coloring the rainbow dinosaur in front of her. “I learned about butterflies and states and pastrami.”
Sam glanced at Hala, who appeared to be holding back a laugh, before looking back at Ivy, confused. “Pastrami?”
“Yeah.” Ivy nodded. “The stars are cool!”
“Oh. Right.” Sam bit back a smile of his own. “You mean astronomy.”
“That’s what I said, Daddy. Pastrami.”
Chuckling, Sam pushed to his feet and ruffled his little girl’s hair. He was still wearing his scrubs from the hospital and needed to shower and change before dinner. “Be right back.”
“Wait, Daddy,” his daughter called before he’d made it out of the room. “I didn’t tell you the most exciting part!”
Sam turned back, steeling himself for just about anything. “And what’s that?”
“Ice, Ice Baby.”
Sam frowned, leaning a shoulder against the door frame, trying to puzzle out what that meant. “The song?”
“No. The town pop-up festival,” Hala supplied helpfully. “The town has done it every year that my husband and I have lived in Wyckford. It’s put on by the local town council once the weather gets cold enough to support an ice rink. The fire department sets it up in the town square. All proceeds go to support the local food bank.”
“Can we go, Daddy? Please?” Ivy said, so excited she was practically bouncing on her stool. “I’ve never been ice-skating before and Adi’s going and there’s hot cocoa and Santa and please! I can’t miss it!”
He sighed, still processing her stream-of-consciousness chatter. His first instinct was to say no. Standing around in the freezing cold after working at the hospital all day wasn’t exactly Sam’s idea of an enjoyable time. But Christmas was Ivy’s favorite holiday, and they were trying to start a new life and new traditions here in town. And he couldn’t let her down, especially when it was obvious from her excitement that she really wanted to go. Plus, he’d promised himself he’d make this year’s holiday special for his daughter, so...
“Fine,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “When is it?”
“It’s a secret,” Ivy said, grinning.
“A secret?”
“They don’t announce the dates ahead of time,” Hala said. “It just pops up one day.”
“Great.” Sam wasn’t a man who enjoyed surprises. In his experience, they were bad news.
“Yay!” Ivy ran over to hug his legs in appreciation before scrabbling back up on her stool to finish her dinosaur before dinner. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever!”
Sam really hoped that was true. They could use a bit of brightness and cheer after all the heartache in California, and he felt obligated to do his part to make that happen, even if he wasn’t thrilled about it. He walked down the hall to the master bedroom and closed the door, then stripped before heading into his attached bathroom and stepping into the shower for a quick scrub and rinse. And sure, maybe he’d been told over the years that he could be a bit of a buzzkill because of his penchant for analysis and logic and detail, but those same qualities served him well when it came to his career—and to his skills as a caretaker. Seeing what people needed and fulfilling those needs. In truth, he honestly didn’t care what other people thought. Living with a terminally ill person had taught him that. Losing Natalia had taught him the lesson that the important things in his life were his work and his family and protecting and serving those who relied on him. And perhaps he did use those duties as a barrier to keep people who weren’t part of that circle away sometimes, especially after losing his wife. Better to avoid getting entangled with others than risk failing anyone else ever again. He had enough to handle with Ivy and his patients.
Letting people in, letting them help you, isn’t a weakness, you know.
Those had been some of Natalia’s final words to him before her passing. And while they were true, Sam hadn’t been ready to listen then. Still wasn’t ready to listen now. Relying on other people, allowing them into his life and heart, required a level of trust and vulnerability he never wanted to experience again. So, until further notice, he planned to stick to his status quo. Even if it was lonely sometimes.
He shut off the water and grabbed a towel to dry off, then padded into his bedroom to put on fresh jeans and a dark green sweater before pulling on socks and padding back to the kitchen to eat. Hala had just set dinner on the island and was serving them each up a bowl of stew and kimchi before getting one herself. Her husband wasn’t picking her up until later due to a late shift at the hospital that night. He ran the hospital’s environmental services department.
They chatted about their days while they ate, and Sam was grateful his daughter seemed to be settling in so well. She even had a best friend now. He took another bite of stew, ignoring the odd pinch of melancholy as memories of eating this same dish with his mother flooded in. He hadn’t made many new connections in town himself, being so busy and all. But he was surrounded by people all the time at work, so it wasn’t like he was a hermit. Plus, he chatted with his neighbors when he took Spork for walks. Or picked Ivy up from school. And while he often found himself awake at night and staring at the ceiling, wondering if the Natalia-sized hole inside him would ever heal, that was life, wasn’t it? His mom used to tell him a bend in the road was not the end of the road. His life was different now than he’d expected, but he would make it work. He always did. Better than getting his heart stomped on and obliterated by grief. He was always the strong one, the dependable one, the person who took care of everyone else. The sooner he got over whatever this momentary bout of melancholy was the better.
Ivy needed him, and Sam didn’t want any more complications in his life.
“Can I, Daddy?” Ivy asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.
Sam wiped his mouth with his napkin to hide the fact he hadn’t been paying attention. “Can you what, yeobo?”
“Spend the night tonight at Adi’s house after the meeting?” Ivy said. “Please? She said it was all right with her parents.”
“I don’t know.” Sam frowned. It was a school night, and sleepovers were usually restricted to weekends.
“Remember I have the day off tomorrow, Dr. Perkins,” Hala added.
And Sam had a full schedule the next day, which would take him well into the night, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “You’re sure it’s okay with her parents?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Ivy gave him a solemn nod. “You can ask them yourself when you drop me off at the meeting.”
“What meeting?” Sam had a feeling he’d missed way more of their conversation than he’d thought.
“The town hall meeting. Adi said you can bring me there, and I’ll go home after with them.”
“Adi said, huh?” Sam shook his head. His daughter’s new best friend sounded about as bossy as her aunt. Dr. Riley Turner was a radiologist who often worked with Sam on the scans for his research study. While Sam got along fine with the woman on a professional level, that’s where it ended. They exchanged pleasantries at work, discussed results after scans, and that was all. And the only thing he knew about these monthly town halls was that they were basically the small-town equivalent of reality TV, where everyone went to see and be seen.
Not exactly his cup of tea, but Ivy was still watching him, practically brimming with anticipation, so he finally gave in. “Fine. Now hurry up and eat so we can get you downtown.”
People said you could never go home again, but in Riley’s case, she’d never left.
At first, she’d stayed in Wyckford because she’d been too busy training to be a radiologist and rebelling against the rules her family had always imposed on her. Then later, following the car accident two years ago that had killed her parents and left Riley with a severe spinal cord injury, she’d been too sick. Even now, she was still trying to get back to the way her life had been before, working hard in PT with the hopes she might walk unassisted again someday.
For a long time, she’d imagined the most awful thing that could possibly happen to her would be living in her older brother Brock’s shadow forever. But then the accident had shown her a whole new level of awful. Now she knew how precious life and freedom and independence were, and she didn’t plan to give up any of them any time soon.
Riley rolled toward the entrance of the Wyckford Municipal Building for the monthly town hall meeting, carefully avoiding eye contact with all the people standing around outside for fear they’d want to help her. “The do-gooders,” as she called them. She appreciated the sentiment, she really did, but she didn’t need help. She did just fine on her own. Usually, Riley avoided gatherings like this so she wouldn’t have to deal with them, but tonight she was meeting her Realtor here to discuss new places for Riley to look for potential residences.
Not that she didn’t love and appreciate living at Brock’s place, but the lack of privacy left a lot to be desired. Plus, with her brother now so stupidly happy in lurve, it left Riley feeling like a third wheel. Not that she wasn’t thrilled for her brother and his new wife, Cassie, or her beloved young niece, Adi. But they’d recently had a baby too, so that made the house even more crowded.
And maybe it was her restless spirit, but Riley longed for space of her own, a new chance at life on her own. A chance to escape her brother’s golden boy shadow once and for all after thirty-two years.
Not that she wasn’t grateful for all Brock had done for her after the accident. He’d lost his first wife a few years prior and had been dealing with his grief and problems because of that, trying to raise Adi on his own while juggling their father’s GP practice alone. Still, being together like that, grieving their respective losses, had brought them closer, healed old wounds and strengthened their sibling bond. But that phase was over and now Riley wanted something all her own, something unique and true and right. Something that would bolster her ability to take care of herself instead of relying on anyone else.
She paused at the threshold to take a deep breath before heading through the double doors into the chaos. The building was an old factory the town had renovated into a new useable space for their local government offices and meetings, thanks to a federal grant. The contractors had also made it fully accessible, so it featured wide halls, ramps everywhere there were stairs and an elevator up to the second floor, though that level was used mainly for storage these days. Riley smiled politely as she passed several townsfolk on her way to find an empty space to park her wheelchair. She’d come straight from her shift at the hospital, so still had on her green scrubs beneath her coat and comfy white sneakers instead of boots, and her long dark hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail.
As she traveled down the center aisle toward the front, she saw familiar faces in the rows lining either side, including Brock and Cassie and Adi. Cassie had mentioned earlier that they were leaving the baby home with a sitter. ER nurse Madi Scott and flight paramedic Tate Griffin were there too, as was Riley’s physical therapist Luna Norton and her partner, firefighter Mark Bates. Mark was there in an official capacity as the newly appointed assistant fire chief, according to the agenda posted on the town’s Facebook page, to discuss setting up the ice rink for the town’s yearly pop-up holiday festival. She waved to each of them as she passed, praying she hadn’t made a mistake coming here tonight. These things could last notoriously long as they turned into big spectacles, a chance for everyone to see and be seen, to voice their opinions—sometimes loudly—and catch up on all the local gossip, the town’s biggest export—with Wyckford General as its main supplier. Given it was the largest employer in the area, most people either worked there or had family members who did, so it made sense.
Riley finally found a quiet spot near the far wall toward the front of the room and settled in for the show. At the very front of the space was a dais, on top of which was a long table where the town council sat. Lucille Munson spotted her from there and waved, her eye-wateringly bright pink track suit and lime-green headband on brand for the older woman. She was the queen of the busybodies in town and loved her shocking colors almost as much as she loved sticking her nose into other people’s business. Riley plastered on a polite smile, the same one she used with difficult patients in the CT room, and waved a hand in response.
“Happy holidays, Doc,” said a grinning security guard standing nearby. “Here, let me help you with your chair.”
“No,” Riley said, her tone sharper than she’d intended. “I got it, thanks.”
The guard’s grin faltered and he gave her a dubious look. “Might be easier if—”
“If what? If I let you handle things for me? Sorry, not gonna happen. I’m not here to make your life easier, Barry. And don’t forget I punched you in the nose in kindergarten, and I’m not above doing it again.”
His eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he was going to argue, but then Lucille called for him to help her with some supplies, so he had no choice but to rush off. Good. All Riley wanted at that point was a hot shower and a year-long nap. And yes, Christmas was coming up, but it was hard getting into the holiday spirit when you were exhausted all the time. Between her crazy schedule and frequent PT visits, Riley had virtually no time to herself these days. She searched the crowd for her Realtor, Lynette, but didn’t see her. If she’d ditched Riley in this cheerful hell without telling her, she was going to... She pulled out her phone to check for texts. Yep, there was a message from Lynette. She’d gotten caught at a showing and couldn’t make it. Said she’d call Riley tomorrow. Perfect. Grumbling, she shoved her phone back into her pocket.
She hadn’t reached Scrooge territory yet this year, but she was close.
Ben Murphy, Cassie’s dad, took a seat near Riley, greeting her and Luther Martin, the town curmudgeon who sat on the other side of him. Now more than ever, Riley felt a kinship with Luther and his attitude. Sarcasm kept people at bay, especially the do-gooders. And while their situations were different—Luther was old while Riley was injured—people still tended to see them as less than, as needing assistance when they clearly didn’t. It was infuriating. She appreciated their concern, but there were only so many pitying stares and platitudes a person could take. Her spinal cord had been damaged in the accident, not her brain, and Riley was still perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
She bent over to lock her chair wheels and when she straightened, Riley froze. What was Sam Perkins doing over by the entrance? Worse, why did her stomach flutter with invisible butterflies every time she saw him? She squashed them down fast, not wanting to feel that for anyone, let alone him.
“Everyone quiet down please,” Lucille said into the mic on the table. She commanded the town council like a queen directing her lieges, and tonight was no different. “Thank you all for coming. On tonight’s agenda, of course, is the pop-up Ice, Ice Baby festival, and we have Assistant Chief Bates with the fire department here to update us on their plans for this year’s ice rink installation. We’re also taking vendor sign-ups for the festival, so if you have or would like to make something to sell, please use the sheets at the back of room to get your name on the list. The exact date, as always, will be a surprise, but it’ll be in December prior to the holidays, so you can plan accordingly. And finally, we’ll discuss the suggestion of adding a new event to the festival schedule, the Ho-Ho-Horrorfest, and open the floor to public comments.” A chorus of boos and cheers on the topic rang out before Lucille shushed them down. “Right. Let’s get started.”
Riley couldn’t help watching Sam and his daughter as they hurried down the center aisle to take seats in the front row near Brock and Cassie. His little girl was as cute as a button, with the same dark hair as her dad but with green eyes instead of Sam’s brown ones. She was best friends with Riley’s niece, Adi. Other than the fact the man had arrived in town to assist Cassie with a patient’s case and had never left, no one seemed to know much about him. Which was odd in a town where everyone knew everyone else’s business. She’d managed to discover from Cassie that he was a widower and that he and his daughter had moved here from San Diego. Cassie had known and worked with Sam in California and had called him in to consult on the neurological aspects of a reconstructive surgery. Whenever Riley did scans for one of Sam’s patients in Radiology, she and Sam always stuck to discussing the cases, never anything personal, which was fine. She’d had enough of people poking into her personal business a long time ago, even if she was curious about him.
Over the course of the next two hours, Mark walked to the head table and discussed the ice rink, then a myriad of townsfolk argued about the horror movie fest until Riley’s eyes had glazed over. Occasionally, she glanced over at Sam to find him either whispering something to his daughter or staring blankly at the stage, probably fighting the same boredom-induced brain fog Riley was. He always seemed quiet and thoughtful and a bit tightly wound, which she found intriguing. And he was handsome, in a Daniel Henney sort of way. Before Riley’s accident, he would’ve been just her type. But the last thing she was looking for now was romance. She didn’t need anyone else in her life telling her what to do. Nope.
Then Sam looked over at her and their gazes locked, and for a brief second, a strange awareness passed through her, like warm honey on a summer’s night—warm and sweet and comforting and...
Whoops.
The meeting ended and Riley hightailed it toward the nearest exit in record time, her heart racing for some stupid reason. Not fear exactly, but like she’d narrowly escaped a trap. A trap like Sam Perkins. She needed to get home and get some sleep—to get out of here before they did something stupid like start talking to each other socially. Keep it professional, keep it safe, keep it free. That was the way.
Bah humbug, indeed.
