A Mummy for Christmas

by Clare Revell

  A tap on the window made her jump. She opened it and turned to find Stan standing there.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Not really.” She rubbed her sleeve over her eyes. “Look at me, no, actually, don’t look at me. I’m a right mess.”

  His finger caught a stray tear. “Do you want to come back inside, talk for a bit?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

  “You mean the almost kiss?”

  She shifted in her seat as his fingers lingered, sending her pulse sky rocketing. He wasn’t making this easy. “For one thing. The nativity set being another.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “It’s myself I don’t trust, not you. See, being around you my head goes skip and my heart takes over and …” She broke off. “Sorry. I’m not thinking straight.”

  “We need to talk,” he said gently. He opened the car door. “Come on. I promise not to make a move on you.”

  “OK.” She picked up her bag and followed him inside the house. She perched on the edge of the couch.

  Stan sat beside her, his hand tantalizingly close, but not touching. “Want me to start?”

  She shook her head. “Seeing the nativity set again just threw me. I bet it was my mother who gave it away. Along with everything else when she gave away my baby. She was told I wouldn’t ever wake; that I was going to die as a result of the accident. The baby was fostered at the end of September. When I woke, she told me the baby died at birth. It was only six months later she told me the truth.”

  She held Stan’s gaze, but somehow he didn’t seem surprised. He looked at his hands for a moment, then back up. “Our papers were signed eight years ago on December twentieth. Julie told me the nativity set came with the baby, from her birth mother. The surviving relatives wanted us to have it. But, to be honest, seeing the two of you together this evening, I’d already wondered if you, if Haley-Jo was, if she might be…”

  “My daughter,” she whispered as his voice broke.

  Could it be true? Had this strange set of circumstances, a work assignment and a child’s request to Father Christmas, finally led her to her daughter?

  “She looks so much like you.” He paused. “What do we do now?”

  “What do you mean what do we do? Do you want me to have a DNA test to prove she’s mine or something?”

  Stan sucked in a deep breath.

  Did she really want to go down that path herself? Would it be better just to drop things? She wasn’t sure. But did either of them really have a choice in the matter?

  Finally he looked up. “Do you want custody? You didn’t sign her over, so is the adoption even legal?”

  “I don’t know. I do know I want to be part of her life.” Shock and awe filled her. But more than anything she was lost, as if she were drowning in a sea of her wildest dreams.

  His hands shook on his lap. “I never imagined this scenario. Not in my wildest dreams of how we’d eventually tell her. The adoption agency told us both her parents were dead. They confirmed it again this afternoon when I asked them. After we’d spoken and you said your daughter had been adopted without your say so, I wanted to check the validity of…” He broke off.

  Carly’s heart fell as Stan’s eyes glistened. The man looked positively broken. “I don’t know what I want to do,” she whispered. “A DNA test might be an idea.”

  He nodded slowly and reluctantly. “OK.”

  Carly reached out and touched his cheek. “It’ll be OK.”

  “No, it isn’t. Never will be,” he managed.

  She turned his face to hers and leaned in. “It will be.” She kissed him and then pulled back.

  Stan looked at her for a moment, then pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly, taking her breath away.

  Her heart pounded, the strength of her response adding to the turmoil inside her. “I should go before things get any more complicated than they already are.”

  He nodded. “OK.”

  “I need to talk to my mother; straighten things out. Would you come with me? I’m less likely to kill her that way.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Cardiff. She moved there about four years ago.”

  Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a flight to Cardiff in the morning. Have her meet us at the airport sometime after ten. I’ll have a couple of hours before I have to be back on duty at one. I’ll get you on my flight. But you’ll need to be here at quarter to seven.” He glanced at the clock. “Or you can sleep in the spare room as it’s almost eleven now.”

  “Is it?” She stifled a yawn. “I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

  “Nor had I.”

  “OK, then, thank you.”

  After loaning her a shirt to sleep in, Stan led her upstairs to the guest room, pointing out the bathroom. “I’ll put towels in there for you. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

  “Night.” She paused in the doorway, watching as he peeked in on Haley-Jo before he headed into his own room and closed the door. She held the shirt to her nose, breathing in his scent, and shivered.

  Carly shut the door and sat on the bed. There was a message on her phone from the nursing home saying her mother would like to see her tomorrow. Carly returned the call and said she’d be at the airport at ten if her mother could meet her there.

  She closed the phone and laid it down. A Bible lay on the side table. She picked it up, running her hands over the cover. Opening it, she found the parable of the prodigal son bookmarked. She read it slowly, the realization that Stan was right dawning on her.

  God had been there all along. He’d never let go of her. Just like the son in the story, she’d gone her own way, letting the past cling to her. But God was running down the road towards her and all she had to do was turn back to Him.

  9

  Stan had just finished his first coffee of the day, when Haley-Jo burst into the kitchen, tugging her uniform jumper over her head. At least he wasn’t going to have a fight to get her out of bed, but she didn’t look happy. “Morning, sweetheart. How are you?”

  “Did you and Carly have a sleepover last night? Or is she just here really, really early? I saw her come out of the bathroom.”

  “She slept in the spare bedroom, thank you very much.” Stan’s cheeks heated. Nothing got past this child.

  “Yes, I did,” Carly said from the doorway. She looked pale and drawn. Bags under her eyes indicated the lack of sleep. “It was really late by the time we finished talking last night, and as I’m on the same flight to Cardiff as your dad, we figured it made sense for us to go to the airport together.”

  “Why?”

  “Why am I going?” Carly took the cup of coffee from Stan. “Thank you. I’m going to see my mother. I haven’t spoken to her in eight years.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I haven’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Haley-Jo, that’s enough,” Stan said, wanting to end this now before she asked anything more personal.

  “Why?”

  Carly rolled her eyes. “Good grief you ask why an awful lot.”

  “It’s her favorite question,” Stan said. “And it’s incredibly annoying. The only way to deal with it is to tell her what she wants to know. Unfortunately. But sometimes it’s best just to give her the bare minimum in facts.” He put his cup in the sink firmly, praying Carly wouldn’t mention their conversation last night. He didn’t want Haley-Jo knowing Carly was her mother just yet. Not until he and Carly had come to terms with it.

  Haley-Jo stared at them. “Why?”

  Carly sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly over the surface of the coffee. “Because she did something I didn’t like. She gave away something of mine without asking. Something I wanted and valued very much.”

  “Without asking?”

  Carly nodded.

  “I wouldn’t speak to her either. I sulked for days when Daddy threw out the stuff under my bed. He said it was rubbish, bu
t it wasn’t.” She looked at Stan. “Where’s the nativity? I want to do it after school.”

  His heart broke afresh. “I thought we’d buy a new one this year.”

  Haley-Jo’s face fell. “Why? I like that one.”

  “That nativity set isn’t ours. We were borrowing it, and the real owner wants it back.” He avoided looking at Carly.

  “They can’t have my box.” Haley-Jo stamped her foot. “It’s not fair.”

  “No, not your box. We’ll go to the shop by the windmill after school tomorrow and you can pick out a new set.”

  “Won’t be the same.” His daughter scowled and folded her arms across her chest. “It won’t have Cuthbert.”

  “Cuthbert?” Carly’s eyes widened.

  “They all have names. Cuthbert is the…”

  “…donkey with the broken ear,” Carly finished.

  “How do you know that?” Haley-Jo asked. Then, her eyes widened. “Are you the Carly who put her name on him?”

  “Yes, I am. I thought he looked like a Cuthbert, so that’s what I called him.” Carly set down her cup. “I dropped him when I was about your age and broke his ear. We glued it back on again, but it never really stuck properly, and by the time I was sixteen it was gone for good. There used to be a piece of paper with them with all their names on, but that got lost ages ago.”

  “Is that what your mummy gave away without asking?”

  Carly nodded slowly. “One of the things, yeah. I called the ox Sandwich, the sheep were Little, Bo and Peep.”

  Haley-Jo giggled.

  “The shepherds were John, Paul, George, and Ringo.” She caught the look Stan shot her and shrugged. “I liked the Beetles.”

  “I call them Eeeny, Meanie, Miney, and Mo,” Haley-Jo said. “The wise men are Shake-the-bed, Make-the-bed, and A-bed-we-go.”

  “Strange names.”

  Stan smiled. “She could never pronounce Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from the fiery furnace story. Wombat, have you got everything?”

  Haley-Jo nodded. “Yes.”

  He rinsed the cups and stacked them in the dishwasher. “OK, then let’s go, or I’ll be late.”

  ~*~

  Cardiff airport was busy. Carly let Stan lead her through the throng to the café. “Can I just say that was the smoothest flight I’ve ever been on?”

  “Well, that’s jolly decent of you to say, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and grinned.

  Worry gnawed at her. “What if she doesn’t come?”

  “At least you tried.” He squeezed her hand. “In which case I’ve got a couple hours, and I know this lovely park and mall not far from here.”

  “OK.” She glanced around then froze. “There she is, by the pillar.” But rather than the tall, foreboding woman with the blue rinse she remembered, the figure in the wheelchair was bent over and frail, the blue hair now grey and unkempt. Something wasn’t right. And it wasn’t just the attendant in a nurse’s uniform standing behind the chair that gave it away.

  She gripped Stan’s hand tightly and walked slowly. As she reached the wheelchair, she noticed the oxygen tank next to it and the nasal mask. “Mam.”

  “Hello, Carly.” Even the voice was fragile. Each word an effort.

  “This is Stan.”

  “Are you Carly’s boyfriend?”

  Stan held out a hand. “No, just a good friend. Stan Fuller. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jefferson.”

  “A pilot.” The handshake was short, more of a quick clasp. A slight smile crossed her lips. “Going up in the world, Carly.”

  “Literally,” Carly said.

  At least her mother hadn’t lost her sense of humor. Something was bugging her about this. Something wasn’t right. She hurried to reassure her mother she was no longer the naïve girl who’d gotten involved with Tony. “And no, he isn’t married. I’m not likely to make that mistake again. We should get coffee and talk over that.”

  “I’ll get it,” Stan said. “Why not sit here at this table, and I’ll be right back.”

  Carly shot him a desperate look. She didn’t want to be left alone.

  He kissed her cheek. “Two minutes. You’ll be fine.”

  “OK.”

  The woman behind her mother’s chair angled it at the table. “I’ll be right behind you if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Vicky.” Mam nodded. She looked at Carly. “Sit down.”

  Carly sat. She wrung her hands on her lap, where no one could see.

  “What do you want?” Mam asked.

  “What makes you think I want anything?” Carly asked quietly.

  “Eight years without a word, then you ring out of the blue. You must want something.”

  Carly shook her head. “What did you expect of me? You gave away my baby, told me she died at birth and only when I found out she was adopted, did you tell me the truth.”

  “It was for the best. I was told you’d never wake from that coma. And if you did, I wasn’t sure you’d be in any fit state to look after a child. Never mind want a reminder of what that man did to you. A bigamist and illegal marriage. A child born out of wedlock—”

  “Oh, pl-ease. This isn’t the nineteen twenties. No one thinks twice about it today. Besides, I wasn’t in the wrong. He was.” She sucked in a deep breath. Lord, keep me calm here. I didn’t come to fight, I came for answers. And she looks sick. Really sick.

  Carly lowered her voice. “Would you rather I’d done what Tony wanted and had an abortion?” She took pleasure in the shocked look that crossed her mother’s face. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t consider it, not even for a second. He told me to get rid of it. It. Not the baby or him or her, but it.”

  Stan came over with the tray. He passed out the drinks and sat without comment.

  Carly shot him a slight smile and then turned back to her mother. “What I really want to know, Mam, is why you didn’t raise her yourself. Other grandparents do. And you weren’t that old. Not even sixty.”

  “You want the truth?”

  “Yes. All the cards on the table, everything out in the open. No matter what.” She gripped the cup, trying not to glare at her mother over it. She needed to know, then she could move on and perhaps be on speaking terms again.

  Because if she were honest, she’d missed Mam more than she realized.

  “OK.” Mam sipped the coffee. “After she was born, I rang Tony, figured he had a right to know. He and his wife turn up and being the biological father, the hospital let him take the baby home when she was three days old. She was a couple of weeks early, but doing well. I knew it wasn’t what you’d want, so I was going to fight for custody. He refused to let me see her at all. But that wasn’t going to stop me. She was my granddaughter. Then, Tony and his wife were killed before the first court appearance.”

  “Why didn’t you take custody then?”

  “I wanted to, but Tony had planned for that too. The terms of his will stated that in the event of his death and that of his wife, any children were to be adopted immediately.” Mam’s hands clenched for a moment. “He even stipulated they were not to be placed in my care. I was going to contest, but then I started coughing up blood.”

  Carly’s stomach plummeted and her cup clattered to the table, spilling coffee everywhere. She grabbed a handful of napkins and dumped them on the mess. “What did the doctors say?”

  “They ran a lot of tests and told me I have COPD. Your dad always said my smoking habit would catch up with me eventually. That’s why I didn’t contest the will. You were in a coma. I wasn’t well before the baby was born, and knew I wasn’t ever going to get better…”

  Carly’s eyes burned and she reached over the soggy napkins and grasped her mother’s hands. “Oh, Mam…”

  “I had no choice. It wasn’t fair on the child. So I let Tony’s will stand. If I’d known then what I do now, that you’d wake, I would have done things differently. You didn’t wake until after everything was finalized and signed. I thought it would be easier on you if you thou
ght the baby had died in the accident so I didn’t correct your assumption.”

  “It wasn’t easier. I wish you’d just been honest with me instead of letting me find out myself. It would have saved a lot of heartache over the years. I also wish you’d told me you were sick.”

  “You were angry with me about so many things by then. I didn’t want you sticking around out of sympathy. I gave your nativity set to the adoption agency. I asked it be given to the baby. I don’t suppose they did.”

  “They did,” Carly said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I found her by accident last week, and we just put the pieces together last night when I discovered the nativity.”

  Her mother’s eyes lit up. “You found her? What’s she like? Do you have a photo?”

  Stan pulled out his wallet and removed the photo of Haley-Jo he always carried. “Here.”

  Mam looked at him. “How do you fit in to all this? Why do you have her photo?”

  “My wife and I adopted her. She’s my daughter now.” He showed her the photo. “I took this in the summer. Her name’s Haley-Jo. She loves playing on the beach and building sandcastles. She also loves singing and dancing and has an amazing sense of humor.”

  “She looks like Carly.”

  Carly smiled slightly. “Fortunately, she looks nothing like Tony. Actually, she’s a lot like Stan.” She caught the look he gave her. “Seriously. Something she said last night came out exactly the way you say it. And she rolls her eyes the same way you do.” She laughed. “Yeah, just like that.”

  She sipped her coffee. “But what about you, Mam? How are you now?”

  Mam shook her head. “First, I want to know about my granddaughter. Tell me everything.”

  Carly filled her mother in on how she’d met Stan and Haley-Jo’s request to Father Christmas.

  “What are you going to do about her?”

  “I’ve been thinking and praying about that all night.” Carly ignored the way Stan’s head shot around towards her and the way he almost fell out of his seat. “She’s happy where she is. I’m not going to take her away from the only family she’s ever known. Stan is a great father. I’ll settle for visiting occasionally.”