An Island Christmas by Nancy Thayer Read Free Book Online Page A

her chair. Jilly flushed with pleasure.
    Felicia beamed at Archie, who moved to his chair at the side of the table and sat down. She noticed the cat creeping into the room, stationing himself next to Jilly’s chair.
    “If you’ll hand me your plate, Felicia,” said her father, “I’ll dish out—”
    A loud cracking noise interrupted George. More snaps and pops, like kindling on fire, erupted into the room, and then Archie’s antique wooden chair exploded into bits. Archie was dropped to the floor, the back of his head smacking the raised metal fireguard. Blood spurted over the hearth.
    Rex yowled as a section of the wooden chair slammed into him. He streaked from the room.
    “Archie! Are you all right?” Felicia knelt next to her fiancé who lay sprawled on the carpet looking startled.
    “Let me help you up,” offered George, but he tripped on some of the round, rolling rungs of the chair and had tograsp the dining room table for support, pulling the tablecloth and dishes sideways so they trembled at the edge.
    “I’m fine,” insisted Archie. With a groan, he sat up, leaving a pool of blood on the hearth. More blood poured down the back of his head and his neck. “It’s only a small cut.”
    “ Nothing about you is small!” Jilly cried.
    “Mother!” Felicia snapped. She snatched her clean white napkin and pressed it against the back of Archie’s head.
    “Should I call 911?” Jilly asked.
    “No,” protested Archie. “I’m fine.”
    “But all that blood!” Jilly said.
    “Head wounds bleed a lot,” said Archie, “because there are so many blood vessels beneath the scalp. Keep the pressure on, Felicia, and the blood will stop.”
    “I hate to tell you this, Archie,” said Felicia, “but I think you’re going to need some stitches.”
    “I’ll call an ambulance,” Jilly said.
    “Nonsense.” George took charge. “Felicia, keep the pressure on his head. Here’s your coat, and Archie’s. We’ll take Archie to the emergency room at the hospital. Felicia, you sit in the backseat with Archie. I’ll drive.”
    Archie awkwardly stood up as Felicia continued to press her napkin to his scalp. Like a couple in a three-legged race, they struggled toward the front hall. Jilly ran up with a pile of towels in her hands.
    “Put this around your neck, Archie, and this one overyour coat, so you don’t ruin your clothes. Felicia, use this towel if there’s any more blood.”
    “Thanks, Mom. Do you feel dizzy, Archie?” asked Felicia. “Can you see right? Are you sick to your stomach?”
    “I’m fine,” Archie insisted, but he stumbled as they all went out the door, possibly because in their anxiety they were trying to squeeze through at the same time.
    “Call me,” Jilly begged. “I’m sure you’ll be okay, Archie.”
    “Of course he will, Mom,” Felicia called as they hurried toward the car. “Believe me, Archie has a hard head.”
    “I’ll keep dinner warm!” Jilly called. More quietly she added, “And wash up the blood.”

7
 
    After the other three raced off to the hospital, Jilly returned to the dining room, where she stared at the gleaming red patch of blood on the floor.
    “Okay,” she said to herself aloud. Picking up her cell phone, she punched in a number. She could almost hear the phone next door ringing.
    “Hi, Steven,” she said cheerfully. “How are you settling in?”
    Steven’s low voice was smooth, almost melodious. “Great, thanks. I’ve enjoyed the casseroles you brought over.”
    “I wonder if I could ask you a favor in return,” Jilly said. “I have to go to the Cape tomorrow to buy some new dining room chairs. My antiques are falling apart. I need someone to help me carry them to the taxi and load them on the ferry luggage rack.” As a boy, Steven had been practically a fixture at the Gordon house, enjoying innumerable meals and snacks, so Jilly felt completely at ease asking for his help.
    “Um, isn’t Felicia there with her