The Color of a Christmas Miracle: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Color of Heaven Series)

by Julianne MacLean

  C.

  * * *

  He might not have thrown in the towel if Angie hadn’t been there to encourage him in that direction. I’m sorry, Claire. I’m sorry we moved in across the street from you. If we hadn’t, your marriage might still be intact.

  S.

  * * *

  I sat back and felt a heavy pang in my heart for Scott and the guilt he should not be feeling.

  Please, Scott. It’s not your fault. And I’m not sorry—because I’m glad I found out what kind of man Wes really was deep down. I just can’t believe I never knew the real him. I thought I was marrying a man with a stronger sense of commitment and deeper family values, but obviously, my love was blind.

  C.

  * * *

  Dear Claire,

  Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re a trusting person who believes in people. If it makes you feel any better, my love was blind, too. Although, I think I always knew Angie was impulsive and selfish. But I married her anyway. There was just something about her that was irresistible. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, she had a spark when we first met—like no other woman I’d ever known, but unfortunately for me, it didn’t last long after we were married. I suspect that’s what’s in store for Wes. It was that spark and excitement that he found attractive. But he’ll soon realize his mistake when Angie’s needy, unhappy personality emerges. It won’t be long before the excitement of their affair wears off, and then I suspect Angie will get bored with Wes—especially if there’s no money—and make his life miserable. I think he’ll look back on his marriage to you and regret ever having left you, Claire. Because you’re a sensible, good woman. He has no idea how lucky he was.

  S.

  Those last words made my eyes fill with tears, and I felt a flicker of happiness, to know that I was not completely undesirable. Someone thought I was worth something.

  I wiped my cheek and slowly typed my reply.

  Thank you, Scott. I appreciate that more than you can ever know.

  C.

  I hit SEND, and waited for his response. It took awhile, but I was more patient this time.

  Dear Claire,

  If it helps you to know, Angie was always jealous of you. She said you were the kindest person she’d ever met, and that it wasn’t fair that someone like you couldn’t be a mother, when someone like her could. She actually said those words to me just before Christmas. I think at that point, she was already planning to take Wes away from you, and some decent part of her was ashamed. Didn’t stop her from doing it, though.

  As for her “issues” and why she is the way she is… She had a rough childhood. Both her parents were alcoholics and her father took off when she was in her teens. They’ve been estranged ever since. She hasn’t seen him or spoken to him in over a decade, and her mother passed away from breast cancer a number of years ago, so Angie’s been on her own. She has a brother, but he’s not someone she can rely on. He has addiction problems as well and he lives in Texas now.

  I guess that’s why I’ve always been so forgiving with her—because I know she has a hard time believing that people can actually be dependable. I think that’s why she likes to latch on to new people. She likes to accumulate friends, in case others disappear.

  S.

  By now, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. This was so disheartening to hear, and I genuinely felt sorry for Angie. But it was also cathartic, to know the truth. I took a deep breath and typed my reply.

  Dear Scott,

  Thank you for all this. Talking to you about it has really helped. It has given me a great deal of clarity. I don’t feel quite so in the dark anymore.

  C.

  * * *

  Dear Claire,

  I feel better, too—getting all that off my chest and explaining Angie to you. Now I should probably get some sleep. It’s past midnight here and I have to be up at six for a meeting in Salzburg. I’m looking forward to the train ride. It should be beautiful.

  S.

  * * *

  Salzburg! I envy you. I’ve always wanted to visit Austria. How long will you be there?

  C.

  * * *

  A couple of days. I have to educate the local IT team on the new systems.

  S.

  I imagined him getting on the train in the morning, passing through old European towns and approaching the Alps. What an adventure. I responded with:

  I did some research on that part of Europe when Wes and I were booking our honeymoon. Did you know there’s a Sound of Music tour in Salzburg? Just google it if you’re interested, and if you go, take some pictures. I’d love to hear all about it.

  C.

  * * *

  Thanks Claire. I love The Sound of Music. It was a family tradition at my house—to watch it every Christmas when we were kids. Happy memories. I’ll definitely look that up.

  Goodnight, Claire. I’ll email you again soon.

  S.

  I sent him a quick reply to say goodnight, and felt a great weight lift from my shoulders as I let out a breath and closed my laptop. Then I took Leo for a quick walk. It was a beautiful night.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Scott and I continued to email each other every night for the next three weeks. Eventually, we stopped talking about our spouses and their affair. He took The Sound of Music tour in Salzburg and emailed me pictures, which I greatly enjoyed.

  We also discussed the books we were reading, and Scott continued to make an effort to get out more and sightsee. He was able to send me pictures from his phone, so everything felt very immediate.

  We never Skyped or engaged in any type of video chat. I’m not sure why. I suppose we both preferred to keep some sort of emotional distance between us, because he was still my neighbor from across the street, former husband to my former best friend. Written correspondence felt more appropriate.

  Whenever Bev came home from her shift at the hospital and found me typing away at my laptop, she left me alone and didn’t interrupt. But the week before Scott was due to arrive home, she asked me a question while we were preparing dinner.

  “So what’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing,” I replied as I tossed the salad.

  She moved around the table to set out our plates and cutlery. “But you talk to each other every night.”

  “We’re just friends,” I said, “and we don’t actually talk. We just type and write.”

  “Still…” She went to the cupboard to fetch two water glasses. “It’s fairly intimate, don’t you think? The things you talk about?”

  I gave her a sidelong glance. “Like I told you, we’re just friends. We’ve both been through hell and it’s nice to have someone to talk to who understands. Besides, he’s really far away. I think he’s just homesick.”

  Bev nodded. “Maybe. But he’s incredibly good looking, right? Surely you must find him attractive.”

  I laughed and turned around to face her with the wooden salad bowl in my hands. “What are you trying to do here, sis? I’m not even divorced yet, and he’s the husband of the woman who stole mine. That would be weird.”

  I moved forward to set the bowl on the table while Bev served up our chicken breasts with rice.

  “I don’t think it would be weird at all,” she replied. “You know, the same thing happened to Shania Twain. Her husband ran off with his assistant who was also her best friend. Then Shania—who was totally heartbroken—ended up marrying the friend’s husband, who was a wonderful man, probably the one she was meant to be with all along.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “I am not Shania Twain.”

  “No, but you’re a nice person and from what I gather, so is Scott. You might want to think about it.”

  We both sat down to eat, and I grinned at her. “You’re a rascal, do you know that?”

  “Maybe.” She chuckled. “I just want you to be happy. That’s all.”

  I reached for the salad tongs and filled half of my plate. “Well, I’m not rec
overed yet from what Wes and Angie did to me, and neither is Scott. I don’t want to rush into a rebound situation or date Scott just to get back at them. That’s probably what it would look like.”

  “But don’t not date him because you’re worried about appearances,” Bev argued. “If you care for him and he makes you happy…”

  I held up a hand. “Stop right there. Scott and I have been pen pals and nothing more. He’s my neighbor. I don’t want to start imagining there’s something happening when there isn’t.”

  “Whatever you say,” Bev replied, but I could see that she was skeptical and thought I was in denial.

  I decided to let it drop, because my life was complicated enough as it was. I didn’t want to start anything that might involve heartbreak down the road. I’d already endured ten times my share of heartbreak this year, and it was only March.

  * * *

  The night before Scott flew home, I offered to pick him up at the airport, but his flight was coming in at midnight and he insisted he take a cab.

  Secretly, I was relieved, because I wasn’t sure how to behave when we saw each other. If I met him at the baggage carousel, would we hug?

  Despite all our personal emails over the past few weeks, he was still just my neighbor. I thought it would be best to maintain a proper reserve, because I didn’t want things to get awkward.

  He did send me a text shortly after midnight. I was still awake, lying in bed reading a novel when my phone buzzed.

  His text said: Flight just landed. It’s nice to be home.

  I immediately sent a reply: Welcome back to Canada! I’ll pop by tomorrow after work and say hi.

  He responded right away: Great. See you tomorrow.

  I set my phone down on the bedside table and knew in that moment that it was going to be awkward.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It was just past 5:00 p.m. when I rang Scott’s doorbell. Butterflies invaded my belly, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to expect. The last time we had seen each other in person, we were both in shock over our spouses’ affair, and since then, our only communication had been through email. But now he was back, and he was my neighbor again.

  The door opened and he smiled warmly at me, in a way he’d never smiled at me before, not when he was with Angie and I was with Wes.

  “Hi,” he said. “Come in.”

  I stepped through the open door, and he closed it behind me. Then he looked at me expectantly.

  “Welcome back!” I said, giving him a friendly hug.

  I felt myself blush as I backed away.

  “How’s the house?” I asked. “Everything still in the right place? It must seem weird, after being away for so long. I wish I had thought to put some food in your fridge.”

  I glanced toward the kitchen but remained in the foyer with my coat on.

  Scott waved a hand casually. “Don’t be silly. You’ve already gone above and beyond, changing lightbulbs and whatnot.”

  We nodded our heads and I smiled clumsily.

  Oh, God. This was painful.

  “Thanks for all that,” he said, referring to my weekly walk-through.

  “It wasn’t a problem at all. I was happy to do it.”

  There was a long pause, and I didn’t know what to say. I shrugged a shoulder.

  “Any more overseas trips planned?” I asked.

  What in the world was I saying? He had told me in his last email that he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Probably not even until next year. What a ninny I was.

  “Nah, I’ll be sticking around,” he replied. Then he turned and picked up a gift bag that was sitting on the black leather bench by the door. “These are for you. Bavarian chocolates. I got them in Berchtesgaden.”

  I reached out to take the bag. “My gosh. Thank you so much.” I dug through the tissue paper and withdrew the slender box. “These look amazing. I can’t wait to try them.”

  I slid the box of chocolates back into the gift bag and met Scott’s gaze.

  Another awkward silence ensued.

  “Well, I should get going,” I said, gesturing toward my house. “I haven’t even been home yet. I came straight here from work.”

  He watched me with what I could only describe as disappointment, and I wanted to sink through the floor.

  What was wrong with me? Had Wes’s betrayal stolen all my social skills? My ability to relate to people? I’d never felt so awkward in all my life.

  I started backing out the door and Scott said, “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  He seemed genuinely baffled.

  “Bye,” I replied as I walked out and descended the stairs.

  He shut the door behind me and I crossed the street, shaking my head at myself. “Claire, you are an idiot.”

  When I entered my house, Bev was just pulling on her coat to go to work for the night shift. “Did you see him?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, “and it was worse than junior high. I acted like a total nerd. I had no idea what to say.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh no! I thought he might pull you into his arms and you guys would end up making out on his sofa.”

  “Hah!” I began to remove my coat. “Far from it. Not that I would want that to happen, but it’s so completely opposite from what did happen.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Now it’s just going to be so awkward between us!”

  Just then, the phone rang and I moved to answer it. When I checked the call display, I recognized the number. “Oh, God, it’s him.”

  Bev stared at me while the phone continued to ring. “Well, don’t just stand there. Answer it.”

  I picked it up. “Hi.”

  This time, there was an intimacy in my tone, as if we both knew why he was calling.

  I heard Scott chuckle through the phone. “That was awkward,” he said.

  I began to laugh—a nervous reaction. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t know what to say. This is so weird.”

  “It is weird,” he replied. “And I didn’t know what to say either. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to act with each other, but I want to be friends, Claire. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  “I won’t,” I said, “now that you’ve called. I’m glad you did.”

  “Good.”

  I felt Bev’s eyes on me. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching with curiosity, so I turned away and moved toward the back door so I wouldn’t feel her presence.

  “So listen,” Scott said, “why don’t we just continue to be neighbors and friends, but I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to go to the movies or just play cards or something. I might call and ask one of these days, because it’s feeling pretty lonely over here. I could use a friend.”

  “Okay. Me, too.”

  “And I couldn’t help noticing that the trim around your front window is peeling a bit. I’d be happy to take care of that for you, anytime.”

  I chuckled again. “You’re offering to do yardwork for me?”

  “It’s not yardwork, it’s painting,” he replied, good-naturedly. “And I owe you, for looking after my house over the past few months.”

  I smiled. “Okay, that would be very nice of you. I think we have some of that paint in the basement. I’ll have to check.”

  “If not, I have plenty here,” he replied. “It’s just standard white exterior.”

  Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, and I turned around to check if Bev was still watching me. She wasn’t in the kitchen, but I knew she hadn’t left for work yet.

  “I should let you go,” Scott said. “It was nice to see you today, Claire. I mean that.”

  “It was nice to see you, too. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  We hung up and I moved to the living room where Bev was sitting on the sofa with her coat on, her purse on her lap. “So? What did he say?”

  I let out a breath a
nd flopped onto the chair. “Well…I don’t think it’s going to be awkward anymore. He was totally cool about it, actually. He made me feel less like an idiot.”

  Bev smiled and rose from the sofa. “What did I tell you? Nice guy. Don’t screw it up.”

  I wagged a finger at her. “And don’t put pressure on me.” I took note of the fact that she hadn’t zipped up her coat because she couldn’t close it around her belly.

  “You need to buy a parka you can zip up,” I said. “Have you checked the maternity stores? Stuff is probably on sale now.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s almost spring. I don’t want to spend money on a new winter coat that I’ll only use for a month.”

  “Always so practical,” I replied, walking her to the door.

  “You should call Scott tonight and invite him over while I’m gone,” Bev suggested as she slung her purse strap over her shoulder.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to set up those kinds of expectations—that we’re becoming involved, because I’m not ready for anything like that. I don’t know when I will be. I’m still traumatized.”

  She inclined her head. “You’ve been traumatized all your life. But as long as you’re not still waiting for Wes to realize his mistake and come back to you.”

  I looked down at the floor. “Of course I’m not. And even if he crawled back on his hands and knees and begged for my forgiveness, I wouldn’t take him back. There’s too much water under the bridge now.”

  “Good,” Bev said. “Now I have to go. See you later.”

  I remained in the doorway as she walked out, got into her car and drove off. Then I found myself looking across the street at Scott’s house, where it was nice to see lights on in the kitchen, and not just the one lamp in the living room window that was operated by a timer. I was glad he was home.

  I stayed up late that night reading the rest of the novel, and it felt odd that Scott and I didn’t exchange emails.

  More than once, I considered getting up and sending him a message, but I resisted the urge.