Free My Kind of Christmas by Robyn Carr Page A

With your uncle Jack?”
    “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll probably go home to Sacramento. I just needed a break from Mom and Dad. My mom and I have really been at each other and Jack suggested I come up here for a while. Dropping out of school really took its toll.”
    “Angie, are you a poor little rich girl?”
    She roared with laughter. “My parents are teachers! Well, they’re professors—an honorable profession, but not exactly the top of the economic heap. I grew up in the smallish four-bedroom house they will always live in. They don’t have a boat or a lake house, but we always traveled a lot while I was growing up—I guess giving us an education in foreign countries was a priority to them. Now I realize they just added us in to every conference opportunity they had. They’re middle class. Very smart, intellectually ambitious middle class without much money. I get a break on tuition because they’re professors in a state university and I have some scholarship money for other expenses. And there’s help from Grandpa, that sort of thing. So what about you? Where are you spending Christmas?”
    “I was supposed to be on a ship, but I have some leave. I’m planning to stop in Oklahoma City to check on Marie and Daniel on my way back to Charleston. I’ll have Christmas with them. A few days, that’s all.”
    “Ah. And then? Back on the ship?”
    “I’m not sure. I’m still thinking. Back to med school for you?”
    “Um, it’s not looking that way. But, please, don’t say anything. I don’t need my uncle all worked up or my parents running up here to deprogram me. The more I’ve been thinking about it, the more I just don’t know if med school’s going to do it for me. I had almost a year under my belt before the accident, but I’m losing interest.”
    “What do you mean, do it for you?” he asked.
    She scooted forward on the sofa. “Can I trust you? I mean, trust you? Because I haven’t talked about this with anyone. And I’d like to, but I’ve been kind of afraid.”
    He edged closer to her. He wanted to touch her, but didn’t. He’d like to smooth her hair or grab her hand. All he said was, “I’m your friend. You can trust me.”
    “I’m thinking of taking a couple of years off before going back to med school. I’m considering the peace corps. Or something like that.”
    He stiffened in shock. “Are you kidding me?”
    She shook her head solemnly. “I want to make a difference.”
    “Can’t you make a difference as a doctor?”
    “Eventually. But right now I want to give something back, to justify the fact that I’m here, that I’m alive.”
    “Ange, you don’t have to do that! You have all the time in the world to give back. You’re tough and smart—you’ll live to be a hundred.”
    “Yeah, with a shunt in my head and a rod in my femur. But right now instead of studying microbiology I want to dig a well. Or give immunizations. Or mix up gruel with vitamins for children who need food.”
    He sat back and put a hand on the top of his head. “Whoa.” She laughed at him.
    “Listen,” he said, “they won’t take you right now. It’s too soon after a pretty serious injury—that’s not their style. You have to go through a battery of exams and tests to get in the peace corps.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Well, I don’t, I’m making this up, but I bet I’m right. I’m right a lot—how do you think I test so well? I’m a good guesser. But aside from all that, how long do you think they’ll hold your spot in med school?”
    “No telling, but that’s not my biggest concern. If I have to reapply, I can get in. I have a double major with an excellent GPA. I’ve been valedictorian twice and scored high on the MCAT. Even if I have to apply to a different medical school a couple of years from now, I like my chances. And I’ll find a way to pay back my parents and Grandpa.”
    He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re a little crazy.”
    “Do you