“I hope nothing goes too long. And that your dad’s totally okay.” She gave him a hug from her heart. “Just call me when you hear something, okay?”

  “You know I will.”

  Brer stole her away. Sam couldn’t stand there long; he wanted and needed to get his dad into the car and off. But he didn’t want to take his eyes off Poppy. To him, as worrisome as part of this Christmas had turned into, it was just another measure of how perfectly they suited each other. How they communicated above and beyond. How she got him. How—he hoped—he got her.

  But that was a squiggle of worry in there. Everything always seemed perfect when they were together. But when they were apart, he sensed it was harder for Poppy to believe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  POPPY DIDN’T REALIZE, until she got back to the cottage, that she still didn’t have her Christmas present from Sam, though compared to his father’s health, that didn’t remotely matter now. Her sterling silver marshmallow stick was a treasure beyond treasure, but she had hoped to see what he had in mind with the small green box. The obvious was never obvious with Sam.

  Still, it was foolish to think about that now. And the instant she walked into the dark, silent cottage, there was plenty to occupy her time.

  Somehow, no elves had shown up to clean up the mighty mess from the Christmas Eve gathering. The food had been all taken care of, no sweat there. But another round of dishes needed to be fed to the dishwasher, and some of the fancier plates and serving dishes still needed to be hand-washed and boxed up. Ribbons and bows and wrapping paper were strewn around.

  Poppy tugged off her Christmas velvets and holiday jewelry, donned sweats and a sweatshirt—then just pushed up her sleeves and dug in. She washed, cleaned, straightened, took out trash. By ten o’clock, Sam still hadn’t called, which she told herself wasn’t worrisome. No one ever visited the ER and escaped there fast. Even if all the news was good, there was still paperwork, nurses taking history, someone getting the insurance stuff on the dotted line, basic procedures done. And after all that, the doctor still had to come in, and order the stuff he cooked up—x-rays and/or blood work and/or whatever else he thought was a good idea.

  Poppy doubted that Sam would call before midnight. And although she was tired, she wanted to be there for him, so there was no way she was going to sleep until she heard.

  The chores had zapped her last zip of energy, but once Poppy walked into the bedroom, she saw her Christmas clothes, presents, other things she’d worn—and abruptly realized the painful obvious. She wouldn’t be needing any of those things again. Not here.

  Technically she had two more days to get packed up and moved back to Madison. Work started on the third day, Monday, and she couldn’t hold off returning to the lab any longer than that. The grant crisis needed to be imminently handled.

  Her real life was waiting for her. She had no way to postpone returning to it. She’d known this was coming and so had Sam. It was time for her to leave.

  That didn’t mean she had to stay in Madison forever, or that she always had to live in her house, or that she would never see him again. Of course she would. But trying to be “a couple” with a few hours’ distance separating them would naturally change things.

  Poppy tried, hard, to push all that out of her mind. She poured a glass of soda. Grabbed a cookie. Then surveyed the debris she’d accumulated over two solid weeks of living in this wonderful, magical place. Finding a wonderful, magical man.

  She wanted to curl up and just think about Sam, his wonderful family, how much she liked them—how easily they’d been to talk to, be with. She’d adored his dad. Yeah, Taran was on the gruff side—but sitting at Conan’s, he had been scared. A big, vulnerable strong man who just wasn’t used to feeling helpless. Of course he was swearing . . . but he hadn’t been swearing at her.

  Sam’s mom was no-nonsense, the kind of serious strong woman you’d have to be to mother three boys, all close to the same age. She’d survived it. She ruled her roost. Poppy felt as if she’d been checked out by a brain surgeon—not in a mean way—but Elys wanted to examine who Her Boy was cavorting with. Elys had clearly wanted to be certain that she wasn’t like That First Woman who was as shallow as a candy dish, pretty but superficial, a girl who wanted the romance a whole lot more than she wanted a marriage. She’d hurt Sam. Elys didn’t go so far as to threaten Poppy with poison or bodily harm, but she made it darned clear there’d be Big Trouble if another woman failed to appreciate a damn good man.

  How could she not love Elys? Poppy would have felt exactly the same. And once they got that personal stuff out of the way, she was just drawn into being family, doing family stuff, serving food, picking up the cranky baby, taking away dirty glasses, cuddling up with Kristin, stopping to joke, to laugh, to bump hips in the kitchen.

  The more Poppy thought about the day—the last two days of Christmas—the more she worked like a fiend. Thinking was making her sad. She wanted to just do. Outrun what was coming.

  And there was plenty of “fiend” work still to do. The tree had to come down, the bulbs packed, and those boxes packed in the back of her Subaru. The clothes she wasn’t likely to wear again might as well be packed and stashed in the car, same way. The Christmas dishes had to be carefully packed, so did all the extra silverware and so on.

  The cabin started to look worn out and dated and a little on the shabby side. Not the home she’d savored for two weeks, but turning back into the stranger’s place she’d rented. She didn’t want to keep on packing. She was starting to feel so darned sad she could hardly stand it.

  But if Sam had any free time over the next couple days, Poppy wanted to spend it with him—not on chores and carrying and packing. So she kept going . . . until the phone finally rang, just after midnight.

  “I was afraid I’d wake you.” Sam sounded beyond tired.

  “You didn’t. And there’s no way I was going to sleep. How’s your dad?”

  “Not great, but not terrible. No broken bones.” He took a breath. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “It’s so good to hear yours. So.” That pause told her there was trouble. “You’re worried.”

  “Yeah.” Poppy heard Sam pull in a long breath. “He has to stay overnight. Maybe two nights, depending. I offered to go get Mom, but he said, no, absolutely not. Mom would just fret and fuss—which is true. So I’m staying with him.”

  “I’d do exactly the same,” she said.

  “I wanted to be with you tonight.”

  “Me, too, Sam. But obviously family comes first. You still haven’t said what’s wrong.”

  “It’s his heart. The darned fall was probably a blessing. They think he has a blockage or two. It’ll take a few more tests before they set out a plan of action. Nothing’s a crisis. They’ll do another EKG tomorrow and then get the cardiac guy in to review the CT scan. Probably there’ll be some kind of procedure involved. Stents or like that.”

  She tucked the phone against her ear. “But he didn’t have a heart attack.”

  “No. And hopefully he won’t. No one’s saying he was about to keel over, just that there were too many signs that say it could happen—chest pain he never owned up to. Dizziness—probably what made him fall—a sign of not getting the oxygen he needed, and that means there are probably blockages. Apparently a doctor gave him pills over a year ago and he ‘forgot’ to take them.”

  “Forgot? I think I’d call that a king-size fib. He really sounds more stubborn than a mule. I’d beat him up for you, Sam, but to tell the truth, I kind of fell in love with him. Flaws and all.”

  There was a moment’s silence from him, but then came his bark of a laugh. She could almost picture him leaning back, closing his eyes, letting loose some of that tension. “That’s the first time I’ve laughed since I saw you a hundred hours ago. And I should beat him up. All he had to do was take the damn pills and get his checkups.”

  “I hear you. And if your mom discovers he had medication and neglected to take it, she might just blow the roof off. You really need to keep wearing your Calm Hat.”

  Another chuckle. “That’s exactly why I’m staying with him at the hospital—so he won’t be alone and she won’t feel obligated to come. Although, if and when push comes to shove, she’s as strong as a lion. They were both just scared today. Neither one can stand the idea of being fragile. Or of losing each other. But my mom, when she gets her strength on, can be a powerhouse of calm.”

  “Good family. I loved them all, Sam.”

  “That was sure mutual.”

  Poppy didn’t want to end the call. Neither did Sam. But she knew he had his hands full, and likely a long day ahead of him besides. “Listen, you. Get some rest. If I can do anything, give a shout. Tell me tomorrow if I can visit him. Or if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “Well, I know what I want you to do for me, but it’s not possible if we’re in two different places.”

  He meant her to laugh, so she did. But smooth as silk, she murmured, “That’s another that-goes-for-me-too—but just let me know what’s what tomorrow, okay? I decided—since I only have two days to pack up here before heading back to Madison—that I’m going to get all that nuisance work done. So. Your dad and family come first. But if we can catch any time, I’ll be here. Can you picture me giving you a huge seductive wicked kiss?”

  For a moment Sam didn’t answer. Poppy wondered if her bringing up having to return to Madison had startled him. Even though they’d both known it was coming. They’d just both blocked thinking about her having that whole different life apart from him. But maybe not. He answered in a particularly wicked whisper.

  “I can picture that kiss perfectly. In fact, I’m counting on your giving me more trouble than I can handle.”

  “Well, that’s not even a challenge.”

  When she severed the call, he was laughing. So was she. But alone in the cabin, as she started switching off lights, locking the door, preparing for bed, she couldn’t seem to stop feeling . . . lost. Sad. Anxious. It was such a change. A total letdown from two days of constant activity, constant togetherness, constant seeing how their families related to each other. Without Sam here, there seemed nothing but this lonely silence.

  * * *

  SAM CALLED AT seven the next morning.

  “Did you get some rest?” she asked, her own voice still groggy.

  “Not really. But they took Dad for all the tests, finally got him settled down. The hotshot team came in a few minutes ago. They’re going to put in a couple of stents. They say there’s a risk, but not a bad one. He’ll hopefully feel stronger and better almost right away. But they want him to wait one more day, to ensure he’s solidly stable before the procedure, so he’ll be here a few more days.”

  “I’ll bet talking him into that was as easy as cuddling a tiger.”

  He chuckled. “You said it. I’m going to get my mom here, but just for a short visit, to see how she does. She’ll want to be here for the procedure. And we’ll need to hear what kind of preparation needs doing before he comes home. Unfortunately, I have no idea when . . .”

  Sam didn’t need to finish the sentence. She knew what was coming. “I understand, totally. You’re stuck there. You can’t guess what either of them are going to need right now.”

  “Conan’s got his hands full. Brer will happily come, but—”

  “Brer’s terrific, but not with stuff like this. You’re the one who keeps the clan calm and on track.”

  “How come you understand everything so easily?”

  “Because I’m brilliant and cute and have you buffaloed about how wonderful I am?”

  “Poppy. I swear you’re the only one in the universe who could make me laugh this morning.”

  “You worried?”

  “Not exactly. I think we’re lucky we got here before his condition got any worse. I also think this is the time of life when parents develop medical problems like this. We weren’t prepared, but now we need to be. For right now, though, I’m the one who has the most flex time, workwise, so I really feel I should be here.”

  “I’d feel the same. And I can come and sit with you, if you want, but I suspect you need to grab some rest when you can get it. You’ll have family coming and going pretty much nonstop. And if I can get the grunt work done here—the packing and closing up of the place—then I can be free whenever you are.”

  “I wish I could help you with the closing up.”

  “I wish you could, too. It’s a total pain. But it’s not hard, Sam. I can get it done.” Poppy took a breath. “Okay, saying goodbye with a major smooch and an even bigger hug.”

  “Back atcha.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR hours, Poppy practically stayed glued to her cell phone. Sam called. His mom called. Sam called. Her sisters called. Sam called. Shocking her, her father called to say he’d tried the Call the Mrs. and he was amazed to discover “it was kind of nice.”

  Once the packing was done—except for the food—Poppy pulled on gloves and seriously cleaned the place. It was spotless when she got here. She wanted it spotless when she left.

  When Sam didn’t call for several hours on Sunday, she tried his cell. Conan answered. “We’re all here, Poppy. Dad did great. Think we can spring him tomorrow if he behaves himself.”

  “And Sam? You’re answering his phone?”

  “I think he was up for forty-eight hours straight. When he crashed in the cot in Dad’s room, we just let him sleep. But if you want, I’ll wake him.”

  “Heavens, no. Let him rest. He knows I have to vacate the cabin by tomorrow, and it’s not like I’m disappearing. I just have to get back to my job. Tell everyone I love them all? And give your dad a hug from me.”

  “You bet.”

  To cheer herself up, Poppy took her skates, one more time, to the rink by the church. She couldn’t imagine the next chance she’d have to skate again. The sky was gloom gray, the rink deserted, no kids, no adults, no anyone. Still, she laced up her skates and took off, hoping to regain the feeling skating gave her. The inner peace. The power inside herself to just let go. Be who she was. Value who she was. All the wonderful things her mom had not only taught her, but showed her.

  When she got back to the cabin, there was a text from Sam. She called him, but his phone went to voice mail. The next call came from her lab rats—they’d texted her that they were ready to work on the grant study as soon as she got home. Even if it was in the morning. Even if they were still on Xmas vacay.

  Poppy had to smile. She was so lucky with her team. Even the youngest of the grad students loved the work, loved what they were doing. They all felt seriously great about doing something that actually mattered.

  So did she.

  She just really didn’t want to go back, quite this fast.

  She called Sam again. And again, got his voice mail. This time, she was almost glad she had to text him, because the lump in her throat was so big she doubted she could talk.

  Sam. I can’t believe I have to leave without seeing you first, but I really need to be at the lab early tomorrow. It’s killing me not to say goodbye—but then I realized how silly that was. I’m not saying goodbye. You know where I am. I know—and you know—how crazy family responsibilities can be. It’s okay. Hope to hear more about your dad when you have the chance. She added a heap of heart emojis.

  * * *

  THREE HOURS LATER, Poppy was back in Madison, turning on lights, looking forward—NOT—to unpacking the car. Her cell phone buzzed, giving her an excuse to sit down and put her feet up before tackling chores.

  Her sisters were sharing the line, both all abuzz. How good Christmas Eve was. How good the presents were. How was Sam’s dad? Could they come over and help her unpack, make her some dinner, help her with anything? They could be at her place in minutes.

  “Hold on for a minute.” Poppy squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the sharp stab of stress she’d almost forgotten. The last two weeks had changed her. Sam had changed her. She’d worked at recognizing and changing herself.

  Everything was better . . . but she saw how easily it would be to slip back into old habits. For her. And for her sisters. Their bubbling exuberance was wonderful to hear. Only not exactly. She’d tried to gently coax change, but sometimes you just had to aim straight for the bull’s-eye to reach the goal.

  “Poppy? Do you want us to—”

  “No, you two. But could you both stay on the line for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” Cam and Marigold both said at the same time.

  “I’d rather talk in person, but somehow I keep failing to get that done. So let’s just do it. I want to clear the air. About why I took these two weeks off. What was troubling me. What I wanted to fix.”

  “Good.” Cam’s no-nonsense voice, strong and clear. “Let it out, Poppy.”

  “The reason I wanted that time off was to think through our relationship. Us. Who we are together. Who we could be.”

  Cam spoke first. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean . . . when Mom died, the three of us cleaved together like glue. Maybe we had some tough times, but we took care of each other, protected each other, nurtured each other. Honestly, I don’t think we could have made it without each other. I hope you feel as proud of us as I do.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ in there, Poppy.” Marigold rarely sounded serious, but she did now.

  “But . . . I think we got into a habit of depending on each other. The three of us are family. Always will be. I can’t imagine ever losing that special bond. But we really don’t need each other the way we did when we were little.”

  “You think we depend on you. Too much.” Cam’s voice was calm, but already sounding hurt.

  “Yes. I do. We’re all adults now. But I think you do overdepend on me. Not because you need to. Just because it’s our habit. How we made our lives work for so long.”

  “You didn’t want us to find you? Is that what you’re saying? You didn’t want us to have Christmas together?” Marigold’s voice turned wobbly.