Christmas Presence

by Lisa J. Hobman

  She walked in the direction of the taxi parking area and as she got closer, she realised that the cab was still waiting at the kerb, and the man who had hailed it was walking away down the street. His black coat flapped around his legs. Scrunching her eyes, she watched his retreating form.

  She arrived beside the cab as the man in the distance turned again and raised his hand to wave. Her heart leapt in her chest. But… he got off… I saw him get off…

  The driver’s window was wound down, and she heard a voice from inside. “Hey, love. I’m guessing you need a ride. Where are you off to?” His broad Scottish accent was a welcome sound. Music to her ears and heart.

  She bent so that she could speak directly to him. “I’m heading up to Clachan-Seil. Is that too far?”

  “Not at all, love. I live at Knipoch, so it’s not far from home. I wouldn’t see you stranded on Christmas Eve. Well… it’ll be Christmas morning, technically, when we get you home. Got to take it steady with the roads being icy.” Mallory was familiar with Knipoch. It was a tiny hamlet of pretty houses on the shores of the stunning Loch Feochan, only around seven miles from Clachan-Seil. She felt a little better knowing the man wouldn’t have too far to travel once she was home.

  She looked down the road again, but there was no sign of the mysterious stranger from the train now. Tiredness can do such silly things to a girl, she thought, determined to explain away the impossible events of the evening.

  Once she had opened the cab door, she climbed in, pulling her bag in after her. “How come you’re working so late on Christmas Eve?” she asked the man, feeling a twinge of pity that he wasn’t at home with his family.

  “I love to work Christmas. People are usually in really good spirits and keen to get home. I like to think of myself as a facilitator.”

  Huh? “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know. People only get a cab when they need to be somewhere fast. And so I like to think that I’m helping reunite families at this time of year.”

  She smiled. “Awww, that’s really sweet. Are the roads really bad?”

  He glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. “They’re not great, but thankfully the gritter lorries have been out in force. The car’s four-wheel drive, and if I take it steady, we should be fine.”

  She chewed on her lip for a moment. “But what about you getting home to your family so late at Christmas?” She could hear the concern in her own voice.

  He laughed lightly. “Oh, don’t worry, love. I’m used to this weather. I’ve driven in much worse. I’ll be fine. I was just about to go home when something compelled me to stop and check for passengers. I’m glad I did.”

  Something, not someone. She gulped. “Y-yes… me too. Thank you.”

  As if sensing she wasn’t really in the mood to talk, the driver didn’t utter another word. Instead he turned up the radio and let the sultry sound of “Santa Baby” by Eartha Kitt fill the small space as he quickly typed something into his old-fashioned cell phone.

  “Ahh. Dammit. Network’s jammed or something. No signal. Mind you… I’m not surprised in this weather. I had a fare earlier who was having the same trouble. And he said the call-boxes he’d tried were down too. Who’d have thought it in this day and age?” The kindly man shook his head but didn’t appear to expect an answer.

  She played her conversation with the stranger on the train over and over in her mind. He seemed to really care. It was as if he didn’t want her to miss out on life. But what was it to him? Why did he care? Oh, come on, McBradden, you’re being ridiculous… aren’t you?

  He’d mentioned Monty Python… one of her favourite shows. He’d talked about her relationship with Greg as if he knew her. She remembered that he had asked her if she would have changed anything with Sam if she’d have known how things would turn out, and he’d seemed so happy when she said she wouldn’t have.

  She thought back to his face. His amber eyes with a hint of both green and brown. His shaggy hair… a similar style to Greg’s but the colour of Sam’s. The goatee. The familiar and comfortable feeling she’d had when talking to him and when he touched her briefly. It was as if she knew him. Her lip began to tremble as more of his words came back to her…

  “And if, God forbid, you do lose him, you wear bright colours and celebrate the good times you shared.” It was exactly what they had done for Sam… over in Canada. They had gathered and told their memories of him and released Chinese lanterns. It was as if he’d known… or he’d been watching.

  His strange accent sprang to mind… a strange combination of Scottish and maybe American… or… or Canadian? More tears escaped her eyes and trailed down her face. It couldn’t have been him… he looked so… different… but the same too.

  Finally she remembered that he’d called her Mallory when she simply couldn’t remember telling him her name. They had agreed on no specifics. She plainly remembered that. He had told her to be happy—a sentiment expressed to Josie in her dream as a message by someone with amber eyes. He had somehow got off the train in the Scottish Borders yet been able to hail her a cab in Oban.

  She began to shake.

  She had never believed in ghosts. Well, it wasn’t that she didn’t believe as such, but she was rather sceptical when it came to the supernatural. But now? Now she wasn’t sure if she knew how she felt, or if there was some kind of logical explanation for this whole thing like she had said to Josie. Had she been dreaming? No… no, she would’ve known. She would’ve remembered waking up like every other time she’d dreamt of Sam or had a nightmare about losing Greg and the girls. Not this time though. It was all too… too real. He’d said he would be spending his time with his dad, reminiscing. Sam’s dad had passed away too.

  As the driver put the car into gear and prepared to pull away, she suddenly spoke. “Please, wait… sorry, can you just hang on a moment whilst I go and check on something?”

  The driver swivelled in his seat. “Is everything alright, love? Have you forgotten something?”

  “Erm… yes. I won’t be a minute. I promise. I’m so sorry.”

  He applied the handbrake once again, and she climbed out of the cab. She began to walk down the road in the direction that she had seen him disappear. Her feet slipped and slid as she hurried through the snow. There has to be an explanation. There has to be. With tears streaming down her face and confusion fogging her brain, she trudged down the road as fresh snowflakes danced to earth around her.

  She strained her eyes and peered into the distance, but there was no sign of the man. Not even a footprint in the snow. Realising she had walked a little further than she had intended, and with a heaviness in her heart, she turned and began to walk back toward the waiting taxi. She took a deep breath and turned around once more just in case he was there in the shadows.

  But he wasn’t.

  Arriving back at the taxi, she brushed the snow from her hair and clothes, opened the door, and climbed inside.

  The driver glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. “Did you find what you were looking for, love?”

  Biting back a sob she replied, “No… no, sadly, I didn’t.”

  “Well, you should call the station tomorrow. You never know. It may have been handed in.”

  She smiled and nodded as fresh tears sprang forth. Turning her face away, she stared into the distance as the cab began to whisk her towards home.

  Was he an apparition? A ghost? Was he a dream or some kind of Christmas presence? She would probably never really know. The more she thought about him, the more she realised that he was, in fact, almost a perfect combination of the two loves of her life. Why was that? If it was Sam, why had he changed so much? Why did he resemble Greg in so many ways too? The beard, the shape of his eyes. The fact that the green had been replaced with amber.

  As cottages decorated with coloured lights and then the farms and villages faded into snow-covered mountains and moorland, she was thankful that the roads had been cleared enough for them to make their wa
y through toward home. Her mind whirred as she continued to replay the conversation she had experienced. What did it mean? If it was just a dream, was there more to it?

  As she thought things through, yet another realisation dawned on her. The fact that the two men apparently had merged suggested that they were of equal importance in her life. Maybe that was what she was supposed to glean from this whole thing? Both men had impacted her life deeply and both were so very special to her. Sam somehow had led her to Greg, and she’d been so happy for so long—but she was on the verge of letting go, and for all the wrong reasons. The conversation on the train had made her realise just what she had and what she could’ve lost.

  Mallory and the driver continued along the road in the treacherous conditions as the snowfall became heavier. She checked her watch, eager to get home. Greg would be beside himself with worry. Should she ask the driver to stop at the next call box maybe? She needed to let Greg know she was safe. She needed to tell him she loved him.

  As the thoughts were whizzing around her mind at a hundred miles an hour, the driver suddenly jerked to one side and gripped the wheel, trying to straighten the vehicle. Mallory reached up and clung to the handgrip above her head as the car swerved left and then right. Her heart leapt into her mouth and she closed her eyes as hot tears sprang forth.

  A string of expletives from the driver filled the space in the cab and she heard a scream somewhere close by. She opened her eyes as the car spun in a circle and she realised the scream had come from her own body.

  Images of Greg and Sam merged into one in her mind and she prayed for the car to stop safely. Words from her conversations with the stranger on the train came back to her in bits and pieces like a jigsaw, and she recalled the encounter in the shop and the sign he had pointed to. A voice filled her mind with the phrase, “The past is past. Each day is a new beginning.” She didn’t want to leave Greg like this. Not the way Sam had been taken from her. It just couldn’t happen. She wanted her new beginning. Her chance to start over with Greg.

  The car stopped suddenly, and the driver unclipped his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. He appeared at her door and tugged it open. “Are you alright, lassie? I’m so sorry. Black bloody ice. Are you okay?”

  Mallory nodded, unable to speak, as tears of relief streamed down her face.

  The driver reached out and squeezed her arm. “Thank the Lord someone was smiling down on us tonight, eh? Let’s get you home.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After over an hour of travelling from Oban in less-than-pleasant conditions, and a terrifying near death experience, the cab driver drove over the hump of the stone bridge, turned right down the lane, and came to a halt outside the little white-painted cottage that Mallory had grown to love. A string of multicoloured lanterns twinkled across the front of the property, and a lamp glowed behind the curtains in the living room. She could just make out the tiny footprints interspersed with man-size prints on the snow-covered garden. A little snowman stood in the middle with its parsnip nose and blue button eyes. His scarf was the bright blue Caley Thistle scarf that Greg was so fond of, and Mallory wondered how Mairi had convinced him that the snowman needed it more than he did. But then again, she was two and incredibly cute. The wonky construction was topped off with Mairi’s pink Peppa Pig hat. It was sweet to see that Greg and the girls had been playing there. Her heart warmed.

  Home at last.

  She paid the driver and grabbed her bag. “Thank you so much for bringing me home. Please drive carefully. I’ll worry about you.”

  He turned in his seat to face her and smiled warmly. “Like I said, love. I’m used to it. If it gets too bad out there, I’ll get wrapped up and wait ’til morning. I’ve always got a couple of sleeping bags and a big warm coat in the trunk. Oh, and a nice flask of hot chocolate courtesy of my good lady wife. I’m not daft. I know when to call it a night. But it’s not far to home. Only around seven miles, so please don’t worry.”

  She thanked the kind man again and dragged her bag from the vehicle. He waved as he disappeared back across the bridge over the Atlantic, and she watched until his taillights winked out as the car descended the far side of the bridge. He was gone, along with the fears she’d been experiencing. It was as if the driver had taken that part of her baggage with him. She smiled as she realised. The door opened behind her and she turned around. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Strong arms scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. “Oh, God, Mallory, sweetheart, I’ve been so worried.” He carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind them.

  She felt dampness against her face and pulled away to look into Greg’s glistening eyes. Reaching to brush his cheek, she told him, “I’m home now.”

  His lip trembled as he stroked the hair away from her face and locked his intense gaze on hers. “I hope you know how much I love you, Mally. I hope you know what you mean to me.” His voice broke, and she hated that she’d caused him to doubt her feelings for him.

  “I do… I do know. And I’m so sorry.”

  Confusion clouded his ruggedly handsome face. “Sorry? For what?”

  “For how I’ve been acting lately. I know I’ve been distant… distracted. And I’m truly sorry. That’s all over now. I promise.”

  He shook his head and cupped her cheek in his large, calloused palm. “I was so scared that I was losing you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

  She covered his hand with her own. “Greg, you aren’t losing me… ever. I was scared too. I was scared that everything would go wrong and that I’d lose you—like I lost Sam. Things are so wonderful, and I was terrified that it would all go wrong, but… something made me realise that I can’t think like that. I have to live for now. I have to remain in the present with you and our girls. Worrying about what might happen or what could happen will get me nowhere. I understand that now.”

  He brushed the tears away from her cheeks with his rough thumbs. “What… what made you realise?”

  “I think… I don’t want you to hear this the wrong way, so let me finish. I—I think it was Sam.” She was on the verge of explaining everything that had happened in Yorkshire and on the train journey home but stopped herself. It would be enough for her to explain the heart of the matter without delving into the whole thing about ghosts. “I think remembering him and thinking about him helped me to understand more than I ever did that he brought me to you.” Her voice wavered as she gazed up into his chocolate-brown eyes. “That you and I were meant to be together. We’ve been through so much, and you’re too important for me to let fear get the better of me and spoil what we have.”

  Tears trailed damp lines down his face, and he huffed out a long shaking breath. “So you’re back with me? You’re mine again?”

  She smiled through her own tears. “Oh, Greg, I’ve always been yours.”

  He returned her smile and closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, sweetheart. Here’s to the best Christmas ever.” He crushed his lips into hers and took her breath away. She clung onto him as their tongues danced. She was home again; not only physically, but emotionally and metaphorically too.

  Greg was her home.

  Deep down she’d known that all along. But as her mysterious train companion had said, “Fear can do strange things to you.”

  How right he was.

  Lifting her from the ground once again, Greg shouldered open the door. He carried her up the stairs to their bedroom and placed her gently on the bed. She shrugged off her damp coat and tossed it to the floor. He stood before her with his penetrating gaze fixed on her and pulled off his T-shirt, exposing the muscled planes of his chest and abdomen. She hungrily took in the sight of his body, and desire spiked at the juncture of her thighs.

  She could never tire of him.

  Greg shed the rest of his clothing and crouched before her. He grasped the hem of her sweater, pulling it from her body in a gentle sweep. Next her jeans a
nd panties were relinquished, and she eagerly unhooked her bra.

  He lovingly met her eyes with his own and stroked her cheek. With a delicious, heart-melting smile, he told her, “You mean the world to me, Yorkshire girl. Don’t ever forget that.”

  His use of the pet name so similar to the one she was used to hearing from Sam surprised her, but for some reason it didn’t upset her. It simply made her smile, and that seemed to trigger something deep within him. He pushed her back into the billowing white duvet, climbing atop her and moulding into her like he was a missing puzzle piece that made her whole.

  And he did.

  She wrapped her legs around him and welcomed him into her body, closing her eyes as he kissed and caressed her breasts. Meeting his loving gaze with her own once again, she saw raw emotion, passion, and adoration reflected back at her.

  Although it wasn’t so long since they had made love, this felt different. She wondered if he felt it too.

  As if reading her mind, he whispered, “It’s so good to have you back in my arms again. Where you belong.” Gripping her hands in his as he rested his forehead on hers, he continued, “We belong together, Mally… forever.”

  “And we will be together, Greg. Always and forever.”

  The most amazing sensations rippled through her body as he moved inside of her. His features relaxed eventually, but his gaze remained fixed on her. He knew her. Every inch of her. And he worshipped every inch of her like she was the most precious thing he had ever held. His hot breath covered her face and neck as the saltwater from her eyes overflowed.

  

  It was almost seven on Christmas morning when Mallory stepped outside the front door, wrapped in Greg’s old fleece and her warm pyjamas. She had felt compelled to take in a few breaths of fresh, Scottish winter air. Even though she had been gone only a few days, it was as if she were breathing it for the first time all over again—seeing the place through fresh eyes somehow.