Bring Me Home For Christmas. Робин Карр

had an agenda. “Let’s go,” he said. “Becca, stick close to your brother. Ride with us.”

       “Sure,” she said, jumping in the back of Rich’s extended cab.

       Denny took the wheel on Rich’s truck, since he knew the way, and within thirty minutes they arrived at a marshy lake in a designated hunting area in Trinity County. It was still foggy in the predawn hours; there were probably ducks on the lake. They pulled up right behind a big dually truck. Standing beside it with a couple of Labs, one brown and one yellow, was Muriel. A few other trucks pulled off up ahead indicated other hunters.

       Denny made the introductions. When Muriel shook Becca’s hand, she said, “Nice to have another woman along. I’m almost always the only one!”

       “Well, I’m a novice,” Becca said. “I’ve never been duck hunting before. How long have you been hunting?”

       “Since I was a girl,” Muriel said. “I grew up on a farm around here. My dad taught me to hunt when I was about twelve, but I’d been tagging along for a few years before that. This is Luce,” she said, introducing the chocolate Lab. “She’s an expert. Buff is still iffy—sometimes he retrieves, sometimes he just goes for a swim.” Muriel nodded at the rifle, still in the case. “I take it you shoot.”

       “Skeet,” Becca said. “I’m not sure how I’ll do with ducks.”

       “Ducks are bigger, but you don’t set them off by yelling ‘pull.’ Just stay quiet, pay attention, try to be invisible. Damn fowl have excellent vision, I swear. Coffee? Danish?”

       “Sure,” she said. “That would be great.”

       Muriel opened the passenger side of her truck and poured Becca a cup. “We have a few minutes before we get in the weeds. Your boys are unloading their boat and setting up their decoys. Are you going in the boat?” she asked.

       “I don’t know,” Becca said.

       “One of the advantages to having a couple of dogs, I can stay on dry land and they’ll do the swimming.”

       “Doesn’t look to me like there’s enough room for everyone in that boat,” Becca said. She sipped her coffee.

       “I like this area,” Muriel said. “Lots of natural blinds. I get comfy with my thermos and my dogs and wait for the ducks to come to me.” She smiled. “What’s your excuse for doing this?”

       Becca gestured toward the men with her coffee cup. “See the big one? My twin, Richard. And the two guys carrying the boat to the water? Friends of Richie’s from the Marine Corps. And the really cute one? Denny. We used to be together. We broke up about three years ago.”

       “Really?” Muriel said. “You and Denny?”

       “We were just kids.”

       “Ah,” she said. “You’re not over him.”

       “I have a boyfriend,” Becca said, but she didn’t make eye contact with Muriel. “I think he’s getting real serious, too.”

       “So, you’re not over him,” Muriel said again.

       “It’s not relevant. He’s over me,” she said.

       Muriel sipped her coffee. “Gotcha,” she finally said.

       It was an hour before Becca realized who Muriel was—a well-known actress. She just didn’t look the same without makeup, her hair covered with a stocking cap and hood. “I’m sorry, Muriel,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you were that Muriel!”

       The woman just laughed softly.

       “Is this how a famous actress spends her spare time?” Becca asked.

       “I’m just a farm girl who learned to act, sweetheart.”

       Becca was so happy to have Muriel to follow. She imitated her behavior, sitting still and silent in the bushes. Thank God there was another woman to cover for her when the time came to go behind a bush to pee; at that moment, she wished she really was one of the guys! And she stood guard while one of the best-known actresses in Hollywood squatted behind a bush. “Talk about something for my Facebook page,” Becca joked.

       “Don’t even think about it, darling,” Muriel said with a smile that promised dire consequences and no sense of humor on that suggestion.

       It drizzled on and off through the early morning and even though everyone had rain slickers, Becca felt damp to her bones. There were a couple of flushes of birds, a few shots fired, but it wasn’t until 10:00 a.m. that Muriel bagged a mallard. Luce went out for the duck, brought it back to her mistress, and Muriel praised her Lab proudly, tossing the dead bird into the back of her truck.

       Becca hoped she didn’t hit anything. Though she was every inch an athlete who could keep up with the boys, she seriously didn’t want to touch a dead duck.

       “What are you going to do with that duck?” Becca asked her.

       “Eat it, hopefully.”

       “You’re a cook, too?”

       “Well, no. Not at all. I can barely slice cheese. But I very wisely found myself a guy who loves to cook and he’s brilliant at it.”

       “And will you pluck it and gut it?” Becca asked.

       “Well, I can, if it comes to that. But I think Walt will take over. He loves thinking he takes care of me.” She smiled. “And I love promoting that idea. I like to train the dogs and shoot a lot more than I like handling the game.”

       “It’s a relief to hear that. I was feeling a little out of place with the boys,” Becca said.

       Then they went back to sitting, silent and shivering, waiting for game. What about this is fun, exactly? Becca wondered. She heard soft masculine laughter now and then. What could possibly be entertaining them? The cold? The rain?

       At a little before noon, Muriel decided she’d had enough, bid everyone goodbye and took her dogs home. A little while later, Becca took refuge in her brother’s truck, drank more hot coffee and ate a sandwich. She turned on the truck to run the heater and within seconds Denny was there, telling her to kill the engine. The noise! She hadn’t gotten even an ounce of heat, but she turned the ignition off. She decided the guys could have as much wet, cold fun as they could stand, she was done for the day. She couldn’t feel her toes; her nose would never again be a normal color. At least it was a little warmer inside the truck, even without the heater. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

       She wasn’t sure how long she had dozed when the truck’s door on the driver’s side opened and caused her to wake. Smiling, Troy settled behind the wheel. “Just thought I’d grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. You okay?”

       “Fine. Just got cold and hungry. Time for a break.”

       He reached into the back of the extended cab, into the picnic box Preacher had packed, and pulled out a sandwich. “So, what do you think of duck hunting so far?”

       “Honestly?” she asked. “A little on the, uh, boring side. Not to mention cold and wet.”

       He laughed and nodded in agreement. “Good weather for ducks, but not for us. I’d rather hunt on a clear day, but the cold doesn’t bother me. And when you actually hit your target, that’s when it’s cool. And we like to eat our kill,” he said, grinning, before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

       “How caveman of you,” she said. “Do you also like to pluck your kill?”

       “We let our women do that,” he teased. “We go out, club the beasts, drag them home and our women clean them, cook them and make our clothes out of their skins.”

       “And what tribe do you come from?” she asked, laughing at him. But he just chewed and his eyes twinkled. “Rich has mentioned you a hundred times, at least, but I don’t know that much about you. Besides being a Marine reservist,