Chapter 7
Christina’s phone buzzed against the sofa cushion. She fumbled for it, squinting at the screen through the haze of her nap. Ryan. He never called.
“Christina?” His voice was tight. “I need your help.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”
“That girl I told you about? Sam? We’re at the drugstore, and she almost passed out. She’s burning up with fever and—” He paused. “She’s got nowhere to go. It’s too cold for her to sleep in her car tonight.”
Christina was already reaching for her jeans. “I’ll be right there.”
“Are you sure? She doesn’t like accepting help.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking her permission.”
The garage apartment felt cramped with her mom and sometimes Will in the main house, and Emily and Evan in the guest room.
But Sam could stay on their pullout couch until she was better.
Christina grabbed sheets and a blanket, dropping them on the sofa before going downstairs and out to her car, dialing her mother as she backed out.
“Perfect timing,” Tara said. “I was just thinking about dinner. Pizza sound good?”
“Actually, Ryan’s bringing someone home. A friend who’s sick.”
“I’ll put soup on instead.”
No questions. No hesitation. Just immediate acceptance. Her mom was amazing. A year ago, Christina would have called a shelter and kept her distance. Now, letting her brother bring a stranger home felt natural.
Ryan was waiting outside the drugstore with Sam and both dogs. Christina’s heart clenched at the sight of the girl—pale, shivering, dark circles under her eyes. Her oversized hoodie hung on her slight frame as if she were about to disappear inside it.
“This is my sister Christina,” Ryan said as Sam slid into the back seat with the dogs.
Sam managed a weak nod. “Bella,” she whispered, indicating the protective brown-eyed dog beside her.
“She’s welcome too.” Christina caught the girl’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Looks like she and Angus get along fine.”
The drive home was quiet except for soft panting. Christina gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
“No offense,” he said, studying her face, “but you look like you’re coming down with something too.”
“Just tired.” Though even as she said it, she wondered. She’d felt off all day, tired, slightly queasy, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Inside the apartment, Christina showed Sam the sofa. “It’s a pullout, there are clean sheets and towels in that closet. Bathroom’s through there.”
A knock interrupted them. Her mom stood outside with a tray loaded with a big mug of soup, crackers, water, and Tylenol.
“How is she?”
“Exhausted.” Christina took the tray. “Thanks, Mom.”
Tara squeezed her arm, then frowned at Christina’s face. “You look pale, sweetheart. Are you feeling alright?”
“Just tired.”
Her mom went to the kitchen and filled water bowls for the dogs as Ryan put dog chow down. “Let me know if you need anything. And Christina, if you start feeling sick, just call.”
After her mom left, Christina turned up the heat a degree and then went to the bathroom. When she came back out, Ryan had made up the bed for Sam, who was sitting in the kitchen, elbows on the table, looking lost. Bella had settled on the rug, watching Christina’s every move.
“Try to eat something,” she said. “And take two Tylenol.”
Sam nodded. “Thank you. Just until I’m better.”
“We’ll figure things out tomorrow. Right now, just get some rest.”
As Christina turned to go to her bedroom. After Ryan had kept distracting her playing video games, she’d set up her desk in the alcove in front of the window. Maybe she could finish the project that was due in a few days before dinner.
“Why are you helping me?” Sam was watching her, a look of uncertainty on her face.
She paused in the doorway. “Because someone helped me when I needed it. Get some sleep.”
* * *
The next morning, Christina barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach emptied. She knelt on the cool tile, pressing her forehead against the wall.
Must be the flu going around. With almost two weeks until Christmas, she had plenty of time to get better. No way was she missing her mom’s Christmas dinner.
She checked on Sam, who was still sleeping deeply, with Bella curled at her feet. The dog raised her head but didn’t growl. Apparently, Christina had passed some sort of test.
Ryan had left a note about bringing Sam’s car back. Christina smiled despite feeling awful. Her little brother was growing up into someone remarkable.
She made tea and toast, hoping to settle her stomach, then curled up on the oversized chair in her room.
Throughout the day, she and Sam both dozed and tried to recover.
Her mom stopped by with ginger ale, already deciding they both had come down with the flu and suggesting she stay out of the cottage so Emily didn’t catch whatever was going around.
“You’re good with her,” Christina observed from the kitchen.
Ryan shrugged, but she could tell what she’d said pleased him by his smile. “She’s just scared.”
By that evening, Christina felt marginally better. She and Sam sat at the small kitchen table, sipping more chicken soup her mom had made.
“So what’s your plan?” She kept her tone casual. “After you’re feeling better?”
Sam’s shoulders tensed. “I’ll figure something out.”
“It’s December in the mountains. It gets below freezing most nights, and they’re saying this winter is supposed to be worse than last year.”
“I’ve managed so far.”
Christina rested her elbows on the table. “Look, you can stay here through Christmas at least. Give yourself time to get back on your feet.”
“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”
How to answer? “Because it’s Christmas. And because Ryan likes you.”
Sam looked skeptical but didn’t argue.
Later, when she came out of her room to check on Sam, she found the girl asleep, with the dog on the floor next to her. The sound of music came from Ryan’s room as Christina covered her with a blanket, studying the girl’s young face in sleep.
Why was she here in Blueberry Hill? And where was her family?
* * *
Evan adjusted his laptop screen and straightened his tie, checking his appearance one more time in the video window. Emily was at her prenatal appointment with Tara, giving him the perfect opportunity for the interview without having to explain himself.
“Mr. Singleton? Great to meet you face to face.” The hiring manager’s voice crackled through the speakers. “I have to say, your resume is exactly what we’re looking for.”
Evan felt the familiar rush of being wanted, of being valued for his skills. “Thank you. I’m excited about the opportunity.”
“Seattle Technical Consulting is expanding rapidly. We need someone with your corporate management background to oversee our West Coast operations.” The man leaned forward. “The position comes with significant responsibility, and significant compensation.”
The salary figure and benefits quoted made Evan’s pulse quicken. More than he’d made before. Enough to prove he hadn’t thrown his career away by moving to this small town to please his wife.
“The role requires extensive travel,” the manager continued. “Minimum fifty percent, potentially more during expansion phases. You’d be setting up new offices, managing teams across multiple locations. It’s exactly the kind of high-visibility position that leads to executive leadership.”
Evan’s throat tightened. “I’d need to discuss the travel requirements with my wife. We’re expecting our first child in February.”
“Congratulations! That’s wonderful news. A daughter, if I remember from our phone interview?”
“Yes, a daughter.” Evan forced a smile, thinking of the nursery Emily had been planning, the way her face lit up when she talked about their baby girl.
“Well, we’re certainly flexible on start dates. The important thing is finding the right person for the role. And frankly, your background makes you our top candidate.”
After the interview ended, Evan sat staring at his laptop screen.
This was everything he’d worked toward. The title, the salary, the career trajectory.
But fifty percent travel meant missing half of his daughter’s first year.
Missing Emily’s recovery from childbirth.
And potentially causing problems with a marriage that had been rocky at best over the past year.
His phone rang. Their realtor.
“Excellent news! The buyers increased their offer. Above asking price with the furniture included.”
Another piece falling into place. “How quickly can we close?”
“Before Christmas. Everything can be handled remotely.”
The last connection to his old life, selling for more than expected. It felt like a sign from the universe, testing him.
Emily’s laughter drifted through the front door as she and Tara returned. Evan closed the laptop quickly, guilt settling in his stomach. He’d tell her about the house sale first. The job offer could wait until he figured out how to frame it.
Emily entered with the pregnancy glow everyone talked about, hands resting on her belly. “Everything looks perfect!”
Tara followed with shopping bags. “We found the sweetest little Christmas outfit. She’ll be crawling around under the tree next year.”
Next Christmas. Where would he be then?
“That’s wonderful.” He kissed Emily’s cheek, catching Tara’s perceptive look. His mom had a way of sensing when something was off.
“The realtor called,” he said carefully. “They want to close before Christmas.”
“Really?” Emily’s face brightened. “That’s amazing! We could go see the lake house again, maybe put in an offer.”
Her excitement made what he had to say next feel like a betrayal. “Emily, we need to talk. I had an interview today. For a position back in Seattle.”
The joy drained from her face. “Seattle?”
“It’s a VP role. The kind of opportunity I’ve been waiting for.” He hesitated. “But it involves significant travel.”
“How much travel?” Her voice had gone cold.
“Fifty percent. Maybe more initially.”
Emily stepped back, hands protectively covering her belly. “So you’d miss half of our daughter’s first year? Half of everything?”
“It’s not permanent. Once the expansion is complete—”
“Once what’s complete? There’s always another project, another promotion, another reason you can’t be home.” Her voice cracked. “We moved here so our daughter could have a father who’s actually present.”
Tara quietly slipped out, leaving them alone with the tension crackling between them.
“This is about having a career that matters,” Evan said, desperation creeping in. “I can’t just disappear into small-town anonymity. I have skills, experience—”
“And I have a husband who’s never satisfied with what we have.” Emily’s tears started falling. “Who complains about this town, this life, every single day. Maybe you should take the job. At least then I’ll stop pretending you want to be here.”
“Emily, that’s not—”
“It is, though.” She was already moving toward the bedroom. “You’ve made it clear this place is beneath you. That I’m not a priority, and neither is our child.”
The bedroom door closed with finality, leaving him alone with the blinking Christmas tree lights and the weight of his choices.
Outside, rain hit the window as his laptop sat closed on the coffee table, containing an opportunity that could resurrect his career.
Somehow he had to convince Emily that moving back was best for them and for their daughter. They could fly out to see his mom next summer.