An Informal Christmas (Informal Romance Book 1) Read online

  An Informal Christmas

  by Heather Gray

  an Informal Romance novella

  ©2015 by Heather Gray

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  Cover design by CJ Brookes.

  Published in the United States of America by Heather Gray

  www.heathergraywriting.com

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  in celebration of my Savior

  in memory of my daughter

  with pride in my son

  with gratitude for my husband

  And the King will answer them, “I assure you: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.”

  Matthew 25:40

  July

  Rylie ran for the elevator. A man in a faded denim jacket stood inside with the back curve of his left shoulder facing her. He didn’t acknowledge her high-speed sprint in his direction. Nor did he stop the two brushed steel panels from sliding closed between them.

  She thought of pushing the button and forcing the doors to reopen. Honestly, though, did she want to get stuck in a metal box with a man who didn’t care about basic courtesy toward his fellow mankind? Not likely. Rylie huffed out an exasperated breath as she started up the stairs. Three flights up. It could be worse.

  With a shove to the door, she exited the stairwell and stood on a narrow landing with skylights above and a view of the hospital’s lobby below. Ten steps to the left, and she broke through to the hallway-of-no-return. Nobody came up to this floor unless they worked in one of the three departments exiled here. The first door belonged to the chaplaincy. The second led to the main office for the hospital social workers. The third door, decorated with construction paper butterflies and cotton ball caterpillars, was home sweet home — Child Life.

  “I can’t believe how rude people have become!” Rylie vented about the man in the elevator as she stepped past the colorful decorations and into her domain. Suzie, the part-time department head who kept their ship running tighter than junior size spandex on a burly linebacker, wasn’t at her desk. Their offices were anything but spacious, though, so she was likely still within hearing distance. After all, what was a good venting without someone to listen?

  “I was running for the elevator, but the guy inside didn’t even wait for me. He let the doors slide closed. Because obviously it wasn’t big enough for two of us.” She left out the part about his back being to her. Absolving him of guilt wasn’t high on her priority list at the moment.

  Suzie emerged from The Vault, a nether region of their office used for storage. She dusted her hands off and frowned at Rylie. “We have company.” She waved at the man following behind her. “This is Mr. York. He brought several boxes of stuffed animals for our kids.”

  No way. Not… Lots of guys wore denim jackets, right? It couldn’t be the same…

  “Sorry about the elevator. I got wedged into position by my dolly. I thought I heard someone calling, but by the time I turned myself around, the doors were closed and I was on my way up here.” His voice reminded her of a lemon tart, decadent smoothness with a sharp aftertaste. For some reason, she found herself tempted to savor the sound rather than pucker. Too bad her mind was already made up about him. He might have proven interesting.

  Guilt gnawed at her middle. Sorry, God. I’ll be nicer once I catch up on my sleep. She sighed. Okay, now I’m making excuses.

  “Yeah, well, no worries.” Rylie waved a hand dismissively and slipped past him to reach her desk.

  Had there been a dolly in the elevator with him? She didn’t remember seeing one, but her single-minded irritation at the world might have prevented her from noticing it. She couldn’t worry about that now, though. One of her kids was scheduled to start chemo later in the day. Two were going down for CT scans. Yet another had bone cancer that had led to discussion of amputation. The potential amputee didn’t seem to mind — he was still at the age where scars were to be boasted about and prosthesis meant something super-cool and possibly cybernetic. His parents, on the other hand, were pushing the outer edge of hysteria.

  And then there was Makayla.

  In and out of the hospital most of her life, she was sixteen and full of spirit. Confinement to the pediatric oncology unit didn’t suit her in the least. Makayla never meant to make trouble, but she always somehow managed to end up smack dab in the middle of it. This time she’d started a petition for Fourth of July manicures. Now every girl in the unit wanted one. In red, white, and blue. The fourth was in three days. How was Rylie supposed to find time to search for patriotic nail polish on such short notice?

  She ran her fingers through her stick-straight black hair and sighed. It would have to come out of her own pocket, too. Suzie had reminded her just last week. The Child Life budget was maxed out. They were dependent on donations at this point, and nobody had anticipated the whims of a sixteen-year-old girl well enough to donate red, white, and blue polish.

  “Uh, Rylie, did you hear me?”

  She looked up from her desk. Suzie stood there, her wide green eyes expectant.

  “Sorry, Suz. My girls all want their nails decorated with the stars and stripes, and I need to figure out how to make it happen. What did you say?”

  Suzie shook her head. “Polish isn’t in the budget.”

  “I’ll work something out.”

  The hulking form of Mr. York remained over Suzie’s right shoulder. Not that he hulked exactly. His was the wiry build of an Olympic swimmer, and if forced to guess, Rylie would put him at a hair shy of six feet tall.

  Suzie waved a hand in their guest’s general direction. “Mr. York here is planning on making monthly deliveries to us. He’d like to be able to coordinate with someone so he’s better informed about the needs of our patients. I hoped you could be his liaison. You know, keep him up to date, that sort of thing.”

  “Liaison? Isn’t that your job?” Rylie regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips.

  The middle-aged woman shook her head as a shadow dimmed her eyes. “I’m part-time since the cut backs, remember? My job is to keep this department running, but there isn’t enough time in the schedule for me to handle everything that needs attention. If I don’t start delegating, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  Suzie wasn’t to blame. The hospital, not her, had decided Child Life needed only a part-time administrator. To run the entire department.

  Rylie sighed.

  Working at a children’s hospital affiliated with a much larger adult hospital had tremendous benefits. Their patients had access to treatments and equipment that a smaller facility on its own wouldn’t be able to provide. It had its share of drawbacks, too, though. One such drawback was money.

  Decisions were made based on profit, and the adult hospital — with nearly four times as many beds — dominated the spreadsheet. As a result, the children’s hospital found itself in an indefensible position whenever budget cuts were discussed. If the adul
t patients didn’t demand a service, that service was deemed unnecessary.

  Times were hard, and it was apparent nowhere more so than in this forgotten corner of the hospital where everybody worked themselves into exhaustion so the patients wouldn’t feel the pinch of reduced budgets and staff.

  “Very well. Give me a second, Mr. York.” Rylie booted up her computer and sent a message out on the intranet that Child Life shared with Social Work and the Chaplaincy. Need red, white, and blue nail polish for the girls in Oncology. Anybody have some?

  She counted to thirty, hoping for a return message. None came, so she shifted her attention to the man who now leaned against the wall opposite her cubicle, arms crossed. As she did so, she prepared to send her computer into hibernation. The mouse hovered over the power down icon as a beep reached her ears. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed in the command to bring the intranet chat box to the front on her desktop.

  Dollar store by my house had huge display earlier in week. I’ll check on my way home this afternoon. How many bottles?

  Bless her. Blossom, the retired CEO of a successful technology firm, had realized too late that she couldn’t stand retirement. She now volunteered as a chaplain to fill her time. Per her choice, she worked with adults in her official duties, but off-the-unpaid-volunteer-clock she did whatever she could to help the children’s hospital.

  Two of each ought to do it. THANK YOU.

  She hoped those girls realized they wouldn’t be getting flags and fireworks on their nails. Her skills were limited. It would be a good day if she remembered to paint one nail red, the one after that white, and the next one blue. If they were smart, the girls would give each other manicures and leave her, at best artistically challenged, out of the fun altogether.

  “Ah-hem.” The man still leaning against the wall cleared his throat.

  A quick glance at the clock told Rylie she needed to be on her way. The first of the CT scans was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes. Scotty, an eight-year-old patient, had asked her to accompany him because his parents were at work, and he didn’t want to be alone.

  “Walk with me, Mr. York.” She brushed past him hoping her voice hadn’t sounded as cold to his ears as it had to hers. It wasn’t his fault she’d been running nonstop since coming through the hospital doors hours prior — or that the day’s race was far from over.

  A second later, the yell came from behind her. “Watch out!”

  Rylie spun around in time to see a previously stacked column of boxes tumbling in her direction. Of course. The boxes with the marbles in them. Who had piled those blasted boxes so high? No one in touch with their sanity would be foolish enough to… Oh yeah. She’d done it. Because they’d needed the room.

  A speedy jump saved her from most of the trauma, but the edge of one box landed on her left foot. Her yell filled their small office. Meanwhile, one of the other boxes broke open. Marbles began rolling across the floor. Rylie, her lost balance tossing her in that direction anyway, managed to throw herself in front of the door as she fell. At least the glass-orbs-of-doom wouldn’t wander out into the hallway and cause further catastrophe.

  Whose brilliant idea was it to donate a hundred pounds of marbles to the Child Life department? Now she remembered. The international marble champion Rylie had convinced to visit the hospital and host a demonstration for the children one afternoon had been so moved by the experience that he’d donated thousands of choking hazards to them. The boxes had been stacked in the corner so long she’d almost forgotten about them. Until now.

  “It’s awfully narrow in here. I brushed against a box. Sorry.” Mr. York held his hand out to help her up, but Rylie wasn’t sure she wanted to move. Some falls – and crushed toes – deserved to be babied for a bit. The image of poor Scotty, afraid of the CT machine, popped into her head, though, and she couldn’t ignore the outstretched hand.

  The benevolent stranger and knocker-over-of-boxes started to speak again, but Rylie cut him off as she got to her feet. “I’m needed elsewhere. Walk with me, or it’ll have to wait.”

  “Don’t worry about the mess here, folks. I have nothing better to do with my time.” Suzie’s indignant muttering followed them all the way to the elevator.

  “You should get your foot examined.”

  Being angry at him would be easier if his voice didn’t make her think of sweet treats on hot summer days.

  “A little boy is going for an NBD test, but he’s terrified. My job is to make it bearable for him, even if that means limping all the way there and back.”

  “NBD?”

  “No Big Deal. The kids classify any procedure not involving needles, saws, or drills as NBD.” The children actually said needles or a scalpel. She’d thrown saws and drills into the equation to get under his skin. Looks like it worked. So why didn’t she feel good about it?

  “Oh.”

  Rylie took a deep breath as the elevator eased down another floor. The time had come to start acting her age. Or even half her age. She wasn’t exactly getting off to a good start with this man.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Rylie Durham, the Child Life Specialist assigned to the oncology unit.”

  His hand enveloped hers in a warm grasp. “Zach York. I’m… the guy who knocks over boxes, gets himself jammed into elevators, and…” He rolled his eyes. “And apparently forgets his dolly up in the Child Life office so he has to go back for it later.”

  It was a trial, but she afforded him a smile. “What brings you to us?”

  His shrug was a study in nonchalance. “Another time, maybe.” He pulled something from his wallet and held it out to her. “Here’s my card. Drop me an email within the next day or two so I know how to get in touch with you. When I’m ready to order some items for next month, I’ll contact you and find out what y’all need.”

  She took the card but doubted any communication between them would be as simple as he made it sound. This man had complication written all over him.

  “Ignore my email at your own risk, Ms. Durham.” His molasses eyes glinted with a hint of mischievousness. “Or you might find yourself with more marbles instead of whatever children in the hospital actually need.”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened smoothly near the entrance to Oncology. Rylie stepped out but couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at him. “Are you coming?”

  “Not today. I need to fetch my dolly.” He pushed the button that would return him to the forgotten corner of the hospital, and the doors slid closed.

  Hm. He wanted to help the kids, but he wasn’t eager to see them. He was either uptight, emotionally detached, or she was reading too much into his actions.

  Tempted as she was, she couldn’t take time to psychoanalyze the handsome Zach York. A wheelchair rolled her way, accompanied by a nurse. “Scotty! Sorry I’m late. You won’t believe this, but a tower of marbles fell on me.”

  The little boy giggled and pointed to the foot she was favoring. “Is that where it landed?”

  “Of course it is. You know I’m the clumsiest person in the whole world, right?”

  August

  Rylie stared at her pager. It couldn’t be. Wasn’t he supposed to contact her to ask what they needed before showing up unannounced?

  The message from Suzie said otherwise. Zach York was in the Child Life office, and he’d brought another donation. A bunch of stuff, according to the pager’s display.

  How dare he? It was one thing for people who didn’t understand the way their department worked, but this guy knew better. He’d witnessed the tumbling tower of marbles and their limited storage space.

  The elevator dinged its way open, and Rylie stepped out onto the landing. She didn’t, however, stop to enjoy the view or let the sun from the skylight wash over her face. Instead, she headed straight down the claustrophobic hallway and marched her way past the Chaplaincy and Social Work offices. The Child Life door sported dinosaurs and space aliens this month, courtesy of a surge in the old-enou
gh-to-color boy population of the hospital.

  “Is he still here?” Why waste time on good mornings?

  Suzie tilted her head in the direction of the hallway, which meant the man in question was either packing their storeroom to within an inch of its life or waiting in her little cubicle of an office. “Mr. York, I need a word.” She spat the words out loudly enough to be heard no matter where he lurked.

  A hand snaked out and grabbed her arm as she passed Suzie’s desk.

  Rylie peered down into the older woman’s eyes.

  “Go easy on him. He means well, and he doesn’t look so good. Do you know yet why he’s donating?” Suzie’s uplifted eyebrow said it all.

  Rylie released a sigh and studied the light fixtures in the ceiling. Father, I’m in a rotten mood. Please temper my tongue and fill me with kindness and patience for adults today, as well as for kids.

  Sleep had chosen not to visit her last night, and if the dark circles in the mirror that morning hadn’t given it away, her foul disposition ought to. The parents of one of her patients had suffered a complete meltdown the night before. They’d even used the D-word. Divorce. A nurse had texted to tell her. The couple’s six-year-old daughter, after witnessing the whole thing, became so distressed that sedation had been ordered.

  The Child Life budget didn’t allow for overnight workers, and since there was rarely ever a need, it was usually a nonissue. After all, the kids were supposed to be asleep. The nurses were fantastic and handled whatever came up during the night. This, unfortunately, was different. A fight like that wouldn’t be forgotten by morning, not by the young girl who had witnessed it.

  Rylie shook her head. An attitude adjustment was in order. She was angry at the parents for fighting and frustrated she hadn’t been present to intervene. To the mom and dad, it was a disagreement — nothing more, nothing less. To their daughter, though, who’d been given far too much to deal with in her short life, it was one more thing piled on top of the plate of wretchedness she’d been served.