Outside, she was rewarded by the puppy doing its business in the grass. “Whee, success!” she crowed to Amber, who had followed her.
“She’s going to be a great dog. I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy, too,” Mary said. She waved a hand toward Kirk’s house. “Kirk was right, after all. But where were we when we got interrupted?”
Amber lifted her hands, palms up. “I was complaining, feeling sorry for myself. No big deal.”
The poor woman was berating herself over something that clearly wasn’t her fault. “You know, Amber, sometimes we blame ourselves for things because it’s the only way we can feel like we have any control. At least, that’s what a fairly wise therapist said to me one time.” She knelt to pick up a stick, showed it to the puppy and then tossed it a few feet away.
The puppy ran after it and pounced, and they both laughed.
“Anyway,” Mary continued, “you’re not at fault for your cancer at all, nor for your fainting spells. And blaming yourself isn’t going to have an impact on your health. At least, not a positive one.”
Amber tilted her head to one side, her expression skeptical. “You could be right.”
“Give it some thought.” Mary felt a twist of hypocrisy because she knew that she was doing the same thing: blaming herself for something she hadn’t been able, really, to stop from happening. Now she was trying to find peace and self-forgiveness through her actions, through her charitable activities. It helped, but didn’t make her feel completely cleansed.
“There’s another problem,” Amber said. “I’m keeping a pretty big secret from Paul. Not something I did, but something I promised not to tell. Even if my health wasn’t a barrier, that would be.”
“Don’t keep secrets,” Mary said automatically. “They’re toxic.” She picked up the puppy to walk inside and saw a car pull up to her house. The driver-side door opened and Mary suppressed a sigh. “Oh, no.”
Amber had started back toward the house, but now she turned toward Mary. “What’s wrong?”
Mary just nodded at Imogene, now headed up the sidewalk toward the front door. She hadn’t yet spotted Mary and Amber.
“You don’t want to see her?” Amber kept her voice low.
“Not in the least, but I have no choice.”
Amber nudged Mary toward the side of the yard that wasn’t visible from the front. “Take the puppy in and don’t answer the door,” she said. “I’ll go out and say I was bringing you food because you’re sick.”
“She’s not going to believe that.”
“Then I’ll improvise. I can weave a good story when I need to.” Amber grinned. “Go on. I can’t get her out of your hair permanently, but I can give you respite for today. It’ll make me feel useful.”
Mary scooped up the puppy. “All right. Thank you.” She would probably pay the price for avoiding Imogene, but she just wanted a day to enjoy her puppy and relax by herself. She gave Amber a quick hug, buried her face in the puppy’s fur and sneaked inside.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
STAY HOME, GET extra rest, don’t drive. Yada yada yada.
The same afternoon she’d gotten home from the hospital, Amber rolled out dough for gingerbread boys, mentally picturing elaborate ways to decorate them. She felt restless. She’d already driven Hannah crazy enough that she’d gone off to spend the day with some friends. Which was good; Amber didn’t want Hannah staying home worrying about her.
Trouble was, she didn’t want to stay home herself. She needed to be doing something so she could stop thinking about Paul and Davey and what they might be doing, how things had gone after she’d passed out at Davey’s grandparents’ house.
The knock on the door came as a welcome surprise, and Amber felt pathetically eager as she hurried to get it.
When she opened the door, she couldn’t help clapping her hands. There was Davey, and behind him, Paul, barely visible behind a bunch of rolls of Christmas wrapping paper and several bags. Beside them, Sarge gave a friendly woof of greeting.
“We came to help you wrap gifts!” Davey said. “Because you’re sick.”
“I know it’s intrusive, and early for wrapping. We can leave if you’re not feeling up to this. But we were getting ready to wrap the presents we’ve bought so far, and I wondered if you needed help with yours.”
“And Daddy doesn’t do it right,” Davey contributed.
Amber laughed and stepped back from the door so they could all come in. “I would love to have the company,” she said. “And I am good at wrapping presents. So it might be me helping you, rather than the reverse.”
Paul smiled, a lazy smile that warmed her to her toes. “My dream come true.”
“Are you making cookies?” Davey was sniffing the air.
“I sure am, but I don’t know if I can get them all decorated by myself. Do you like to decorate cookies?”
Davey looked up at Paul.
“When you were little, you loved it. Remember that picture of you with icing all over your face?”
“I was a baby,” Davey said.
Which meant they decorated cookies together as a family, Davey and Wendy and maybe Paul, as well. Amber rolled that notion around in her mind for a minute and decided it didn’t bother her. She’d felt traces of jealousy about Wendy here and there, but it seemed to be gone now. “It’s nice you did that with your mom,” she said.
“Mommy loved me.” Davey said it matter-of-factly as he marched through the living room and into the kitchen as if he owned the place.
Amber glanced at Paul and saw him swallowing hard. Of course, he’d have good memories of Christmases with his family before Wendy had gotten sick. She walked beside him, following Davey, and rubbed a hand across his back to
