His Christmas Miracle

by Dani Collins

  “This might be above our level, Atlas,” Nicki said, brow furrowing as she took in a gingerbread church with a stained glass window made from cooled liquid sugar and food coloring.

  Quincy found his gaze lingering on her expression more than the houses. She was entranced, dark eyes reflecting little glints as she took in scrolls and scallops of icing, gumdrop stepping stones and candy-canes archways.

  “Oh, look! It’s a whole village. It’s Marietta! Look, Maury!” She was so excited Quincy felt his mouth twitch with amusement.

  It’s candy, he wanted to point out, but a woman invited Atlas to climb a short stepladder, so he could better see a gingerbread carousel with plastic horses.

  Atlas kept Quincy’s fingers in his fist as he climbed, then looked at the carousel that plinked with calliope music as it slowly turned.

  “How can it move?” Atlas asked the woman. “It’s food.”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t make it.”

  Atlas frowned with puzzlement.

  Quincy pointed under the rotating disk that made the floor of the carousel. “There’s a tiny motor under there.”

  The boy crouched and squinted.

  Quincy’s mouth twitched again. He’d been exactly that inquisitive as a kid, wanting to know how stuff worked. It was how he’d wound up drawing electrical schematics for a living.

  “You probably can’t see it. I’ll find a picture on my computer and show you tomorrow.”

  “ ’kay.” Atlas came down off the step, still holding tightly to Quincy’s fingers.

  That was when Quincy realized Nicki had joined them. She wore the look women got when they saw a newborn, as if he and Atlas were too cute for words.

  Scowling with self-consciousness, Quincy said, “Should we go see Santa?”

  They made their way to the line where people waited with their children. The gathered crowd made, “Ah,” noises as each child took his or her spot on Santa’s lap.

  Atlas held back when his turn came up.

  Quincy didn’t need Nicki’s hurried, “It’s okay,” to keep him from pressing Atlas into being the center of attention. He wouldn’t force him to do something like that if he didn’t want to.

  “Probably wise,” Pops said as they left the hotel. “When your mother took you for photos with Santa, every shot showed the back of your throat.”

  Nicki looked at Quincy, pursed her mouth for one second, then burst out laughing.

  December 4th

  “I can take him myself if you don’t want to come,” Nicki said the next morning. “Liz said there will be boys there to help tie the tree to the car.”

  “No, I’ll come.” Quincy hadn’t looked happy about it, though, and had been at his computer right up until she was helping Atlas into his new boots and mittens.

  Maury bowed out again.

  The quiet morning the other day had done Maury a world of good. He’d been rejuvenated when they arrived home from the library, eager to read aloud the books Atlas had selected. Yesterday had been another busy day, however, with being outside in the yard, then walking around town. Maury was better off resting, and he wanted to start making calls to old friends here in Marietta, to reconnect.

  Which meant she was on her own with Quincy again.

  She thought they had made progress last night. He had laughed with her over the remark his father had made about his reaction to visiting Santa. Shortly after, they’d moved along the Stroll to enter a shop showcasing local crafters. After much deliberation over colors and styles, the Ryans all had their names embroidered onto Christmas stockings.

  Watching them had made Nicki quite wistful. They had already arranged for Christmas Eve to be her last day of work. She was driving to Glacier Creek that night to spend Christmas with her father and Gloria—her first in years.

  It was important she do that. Seeing the disjointed relationship between Quincy and his son made her realize how much she had let her relationship with her own father deteriorate. It was time to move past old hurts, no matter how difficult that might be.

  She put that out of her mind, concentrating instead on the winter wonderland around them. The sky was so blue, the snow so pristine, she didn’t want anything to ruin her enjoyment of the day.

  “I missed this so much,” Nicki said as she gazed across the peaceful landscape. “I used to tell people how glad I was to be away from the cold and shoveling, but there’s something about having well-defined seasons that feels right. Like you’re part of nature’s process.”

  Silence.

  She looked at Quincy’s noncommittal profile, then at Atlas in the backseat. He was buckled into his booster, also staring out at the empty, snow-blanketed fields. There was quiet curiosity in his expression. She hoped it was a sign that Montana was working on him. Healing was hard in traffic and crowds, surrounded by concrete.

  Here, among nature and mountains, you could find yourself again.

  She hoped to rediscover her own self, anyway.

  And the Ryan men seemed to like the quiet, she thought with private amusement. Hopefully, Atlas would grow up seeing Montana as home. Not just the place he lived, but home, in his heart.

  “Maybe that’s why your father wanted to move back here,” she mused.

  “We had seasons in Philly.”

  “Oh. I meant… It doesn’t matter. Do you miss it, though?” she asked, curious now that Quincy seemed willing to talk. “Are you homesick for Philadelphia?”

  “Nothing feels familiar, so yeah. There was a really nice bakery on my block, and it was easier to work in my office where I could shut the door.”

  That was it? He was homesick for a loaf of bread and the isolation of his office?

  “What kind of work do you do, exactly? I saw your business card said draftsman. Do you design houses?”

  “I work for an architectural firm. We mostly design commercial buildings. I specialize in electrical drawings, but I can do structural ones if needed.”

  “You draw on the computer?”

  “With a program, yes.” He said it like he’d had to explain it many times.

  “You should show Atlas.”

  Quincy glanced at her, frowning. “Why?”

  “Because he would probably like to know what you’re doing, since you’re on your computer all the time. Would you like to see, Atlas?” She glanced back at him.

  Atlas nodded.

  “It’s pretty complex.”

  “Draw something simple. Oh, I know! Draw the tree for our Advent calendar.”

  Quincy’s mouth opened and shut as if he wanted to protest. He wound up sending her a scowl that wasn’t exactly disapproving, but a tiny bit dismayed. “That’s definitely simple.”

  “Not for me.” She shrugged. “I was going to draw one freehand, but I’ve been holding off, certain I’d ruin our one good piece of cardboard. Maury said his hands shake too much. You’re our guy,” she decided.

  He didn’t say anything because they arrived at the tree farm. He turned into the driveway and parked next to a handful of other vehicles, near some snow-swept picnic tables.

  It was already shaping up to be a busy day with people milling in and out of the decorated tents, as well as trailing into the forest of pre-cut and newly potted trees. As they climbed from the SUV, the chill hit, but at least the wind had stopped. The air was filled with the damp scent of sawdust and evergreen boughs. Tinny loudspeakers played “Frosty the Snowman”.

  “That smells like Christmas, doesn’t it?” She took Atlas’s mitted hand in her gloved one. “Shall we get some hot chocolate so we can drink it while we choose a tree?”

  The atmosphere was casual, yet operated like a well-oiled machine with a handful of teenagers mixed in with the adults as they sold cookies and dealt with all the people coming and going.

  The sleigh would be back in a few minutes, they were told, and were invited to visit the tents if they wanted hot drinks, baking, or homemade wreaths.

  Steam rose in
little wisps from the spouts of all the thermoses at the drinks table. The girl behind it was quick to explain. “This one is homemade cocoa, this one’s hot cider, and this one is Irish Cream hot chocolate, but it’s only flavored that way. No alcohol.”

  “Have you tried hot cider before, Atlas? You can try mine. If you don’t like it, you can have the cocoa.” Nicki asked the girl to pour a tiny sip and swirled it a moment. The aroma of cinnamon and cloves made her sigh with nostalgia, and the sub-zero air quickly cooled it to drinkable. She offered it to the boy.

  He didn’t care for it, but Nicki had the cup filled for herself and snapped a lid over it, then added extra milk to Atlas’s cocoa before covering his.

  Quincy didn’t want a drink, but he paid even though she had her wallet out. Then he pushed a twenty into the tip jar.

  “Thank you,” Nicki said as they meandered away, adding, “That was really generous.”

  He gave her a little frown. “It’s Christmas.”

  Nicki couldn’t argue with that and only pointed out the gingerbread men at the cookie table.

  “Look at these,” she said to Atlas. “I want to make a house for one of these guys with you. I bet we could make a man like this to live in it. Not tomorrow, though. We have to take Pops to the doctor and make a pinecone bird feeder.”

  “We’re leaving the house again?” Quincy said.

  She couldn’t help it. She released a peal of laughter. “It’s five minutes into town. Is that so bad?”

  He made a face, scowling at her when she continued to laugh.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much you liked staying home. You’re jealous of your father right now, aren’t you?”

  “Insanely.”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d take Atlas to the workshop, but you don’t have to. It’s just that it’s at the same time as your father’s appointment. I was going to go in with your father, to introduce myself to his new doctor. But I’m sure your father can handle his own appointment. I can take Atlas.”

  “No,” Quincy grumbled. “Check in with his doctor. I’ll do the pinecone thing. What about these?” He indicated the butter tarts.

  “Are you asking if I want one? Or whether I can make them? I’m hopeless with pastry, so no. If you want one, you should get one here.”

  He asked for six and handed over another twenty, refusing the change.

  The woman behind the counter winked at Atlas and offered him a gingerbread man free of charge.

  Atlas hesitated, looking to Nicki. She looked to Quincy.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure?” he answered, but he didn’t sound sure.

  Oh, this man.

  “You can have it,” she told Atlas, “But remember your manners.”

  Atlas took it with a shy, “Tank you.” Then he held it and stared at it.

  “Should we ask your dad to put it in the bag with the butter tarts, so it doesn’t get lost or broken?” Nicki suggested.

  Atlas nodded, and Quincy took it, saying, “I’ll put them in the Bronco.”

  Atlas sipped his cocoa as they approached the table of wreaths and other decorations. He lowered his cup to take a long look at the candy-cane reindeer with pipe-cleaner antlers, googly eyes, and tiny pompoms for noses.

  “This one is supposed to be Rudolf. See his red nose?”

  Atlas’s brown eyes flicked up to hers. He gave her a tiny smile. “It’s candy.”

  “It is. But you don’t eat them right away. You hang them on the tree as a decoration. Should we buy a few?”

  He nodded.

  “Six please.”

  “For an extra dollar, you get the whole team,” the young man behind the table said.

  “Well, we’d better do that, then. We can’t leave anyone behind, can we?” She set down her cider to get out her wallet while the young man behind the table encouraged Atlas to point to the ones he wanted, helping him name them as they went.

  “I’ve got it,” Quincy said behind her, handing over another of his crisp twenties.

  She was so startled by his sudden appearance, her pulse leapt. At least, she told herself it was his surprise arrival, but her blood continued to simmer with awareness as he stayed next to her, scanning the table.

  He had more than exceeded the price for the reindeer, but he said, “We’ll take a wreath for the door, too,” and offered another twenty.

  She looked at his stern expression framed in that dark beard, seeing her sober, Grinchy boss with new eyes. He was an absolute soft touch under that façade. If he was this generous with business transactions, what would he be like at the drive for the food bank she had added to the calendar for next week?

  “I’ll stow this, too,” Quincy said as the sleigh returned with a group of laughing families. “You go ahead to the sleigh. I don’t need to ride it.”

  Like heck he didn’t. “We’ll ask them to wait.”

  She caught a flash of alarm in Atlas’s eyes as Quincy turned away. She caught Quincy’s arm to stop him.

  He looked from her hand to her face, something flickering in his gaze. His arm felt really tense and muscled, even beneath the pockets of down filler.

  “Do you want to hold one of the candy canes?” she asked Atlas, pretending it was totally normal to touch your boss, but letting go of him as she spoke.

  Atlas nodded, but he sidled a cautious glance to Quincy. He wasn’t afraid of his father, but she suspected he was equal parts intimidated by the big man with the big voice, while he yearned for Quincy’s approval without even understanding that was what he was looking for.

  “Oh. Okay. Be careful. It might break.” Quincy flicked Nicki a glance that suggested he wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but he offered Atlas one of the reindeer.

  Atlas hesitated, gaze going to the ones Quincy still held.

  “You want Rudolf?” she guessed. “The one with the red nose?”

  Atlas nodded.

  “Oh.” Quincy frowned, obviously not having noticed there was a difference. He switched up the candies and took the rest to the SUV with the wreath.

  “Who’s next?” the sleigh driver called.

  Nicki walked Atlas across to where the red sleigh was stationed behind two enormous draft horses. Their signature scent coated the air. One snorted, releasing a plume of mist above his nose.

  Atlas’s little hand tightened in hers.

  “I’m sure it’s very safe, but we’ll wait for your dad—”

  “Nicki!”

  She turned to see Liz picking her way across the frozen parking lot toward them, Lucy on her hip.

  “I was just dropping Ethan for work and saw Quincy, so I knew you were here.” Liz pointed to where a young man was pulling on gloves and heading into the thick of the cut trees.

  The young man lifted his arm in a friendly wave, calling, “Morning, Lane.”

  The sleigh driver called back, “Morning, Ethan.” Then to Liz, “How are you, Liz? How’s Blake?”

  “We’re all great, Lane. Thanks. You?”

  Lane responded in kind, then turned to help a family settle into the sleigh.

  “I’m dropping Lucy in town with my brother and heading to the airport to pick up my other daughter,” Liz said. “The usual Christmas shuffle. But I wanted to say hi again and tell you… I mentioned to my sister-in-law that Lucy has a suitor. She said you’re her parents’ new tenant?”

  “Oh, the Tierneys? Piper is your sister-in-law? What a coincidence!”

  “Not in this town. Not really. Everyone knows everyone and winds up related by marriage if not by blood.”

  Nicki nodded, accepting that since Glacier Creek was much the same.

  “But we’re having a toboggan day soon, out at the ranch. Depends on the weather and Ethan’s day off. I wanted to invite you to bring Atlas. It’s a great day for the kids—No, sweetie, you can’t go in the sleigh.” She caught her daughter from trying to pitch out of her arms. “You’re going to see Uncle Sea Bass. Oh. It’s not the sleigh you want. Hi, Atlas.
” Liz smiled at him. “How are you today? Are you having fun?”

  Atlas nodded, gaze fixed with adoration on Lucy.

  Why wouldn’t he be besotted? Lucy wore a purple hat with matching mittens. Her hat had teddy bear ears with pink centers. She grinned at Atlas and pointed at Pup-pup, the stuffed dog he liked to carry.

  “Oh, that’s his special toy, honey,” Nicki told the girl.

  Without an ounce of hesitation, Atlas held out his candy-cane Rudolf. “Be cah-fow. Dey bwake.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to give her that,” Liz said. “That one is yours. We can buy one for her ourselves.”

  But Lucy wanted it, and Atlas wanted her to have it.

  “This love affair is going to kill me with how cute it is,” Liz said. “But I do have to run. Take my card, though, and pop me an email, so I have yours. I’ll send you the date and directions.”

  “You have a spa?” Nicki asked, then recognized the logo and the name of the chain. “I’ve been to one of your salons in L.A!”

  “My mom and sister run those. I run a retreat at the ranch in the summer. I’ll show it to you when you come out.”

  Her gaze lifted and she smiled. Nicki’s neck tingled. Quincy was back.

  “We’ll see you soon,” Liz said, wrestling her increasingly wiggly daughter. “No, we have to go,” she insisted, earning a cry of protest as she carried Lucy to the car.

  Atlas watched her go with a forlorn look in his eyes.

  “It’s okay, honey. We’ll see her again soon. Let’s get in the sleigh. People are waiting.” She scooted in and added, “Why don’t you sit on your dad’s knee so you can see better?”

  She was being sneaky, forcing some contact between father and son, but it worked. Quincy wore a neutral expression as he settled Atlas on his lap. Lane handed them a red-and-green blanket, saying, “The breeze is chilly.”

  Seconds later, the horse took off at a trot. The bells started to jangle and cold air cut across her cheeks. The family with them began singing a rousing chorus of, “Dashing Through the Snow,” which made her smile.