Forever Christmas

by Robert Tate Miller

  “What? No, he doesn’t!”

  “He’s a she,” Beth said. “She won’t come to you. You’ll spook her.”

  “Then I’ll just come along for support. I feel like a walk.”

  Beth shook her head. “What is with you tonight? Too much eggnog?” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Be right back.”

  Andrew caught a quick glimpse of the grandfather clock behind her: 11:52. Beth buttoned up her coat. “No, Beth. Please don’t go. It’s not your problem.”

  “Baby, the poor woman’s worried,” Beth said. She slipped on her gloves. “And it’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Exactly,” Andrew said. “The nerve, asking you to go out this late on Christmas Eve. It’s almost 11:58.”

  Beth gave him a curious smile. “Huh?”

  “I mean, midnight. It’s almost midnight.”

  Beth stepped up to him and took his face in her gloved hands. “It seems the baby news has made you a little loopy. You act as if you’re never going to see me again.”

  Andrew looked away. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Beth, please don’t . . .”

  Andrew stopped. Over Beth’s shoulder he saw Lionel, standing on the other side of the door, his stern eyes locked on him.

  “You can’t change this, Andrew. This is her destiny.” The angel’s words were firm and strong. He meant business.

  “No!” Andrew shouted.

  Beth shook her head. “You are being so weird.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Weird, but adorable.”

  “It’s her time, Andrew,” Lionel said.

  “It’s not fair,” Andrew said. He was trembling, his knees quaking, his heart beating as if it might burst.

  Beth winked at him. “Life’s not fair,” she said. “Keep my spot warm.”

  Andrew felt her move away from him, and every fiber of his being screamed, Grab her! Hold on for dear life! Do something, anything, to keep her from walking out that door.

  But he was paralyzed. He simply couldn’t will himself to move. His eyes locked on Lionel’s.

  “No,” he whispered.

  Then she was gone, out the door into the freezing Christmas Eve night to keep her date with destiny. The dreadful sound of the door closing snapped Andrew out of his trance.

  He lunged for the door, grabbed the knob, and pulled. It wouldn’t open. He pointed at Lionel. “Open it! If you’re truly from God, open it! I order you to open this door!”

  “I don’t work for you, Andrew.”

  “Please! I beg you—”

  “You know the rules, Andrew. You got your three days, and now we get Beth. It’d be so much easier on you if you’d just accept that.”

  “I’ll never accept it! Never!”

  “Give it up, Farmer. It’s over.”

  This calm pronouncement of finality sent a shot of grief through Andrew that overwhelmed him. He began to sob uncontrollably. His knees abandoned him, and he slumped to the floor. Anguished tears rolled out of him. He buried his face in his hands and cried like a lost little boy.

  “Please. Please, Lionel. I’ll give anything.”

  “Anything? ” Lionel said.

  Andrew slowly looked up into Lionel’s eyes. Did he detect a flicker of hope in the angel’s tone? Andrew rose to his feet and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Yes,” he said. “Anything.”

  And suddenly the truth hit Andrew Farmer like a runaway train. The gift. The one gift his wife really needed for Christmas. Not a music box or a turn on the ice. A chance. A chance only he could offer her.

  At last, Andrew knew what he had to do. He knew what he must give.

  As the realization washed over him, Andrew nodded, and a small smile creased Lionel’s wise and ageless face. The grandfather clock by the door read 11:55.

  Their eyes met. Human and angel. The door lock turned, the door swung open, and Andrew Farmer ran out after his wife.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The snow clung like a thin cotton blanket to the sidewalks and pavement of New York City. Andrew ran madly down the middle of the nearly empty street, a determined man with a desperate purpose and not a moment to spare.

  He turned a corner, slipped, and hit the ground hard. As he sprang back up, headlights and the grill of a blaring city bus bore down on him. He jumped out of the way, kept moving, moving forward toward Third Avenue, where fate awaited him.

  As Beth reached the corner at 88th and Third, she heard Lulu’s familiar yelp. She stopped and looked around. It wouldn’t be easy to spot a white dog in a snowstorm. Then she saw the trembling little terrier parked in the middle of the street. Beth breathed a sigh of relief and gave a quick prayer of thanks for the fact that there was scarcely a car in sight to threaten the little pup on this stormy Christmas Eve.

  “Lulu?” The dog’s tail wagged at Beth’s familiar voice. “Hey, you crazy girl. What are you doing out here?”

  Andrew rounded the corner at a dead run just as Beth crouched down in front of the dog. He watched Beth scoop the pup up in her arms. The sound of the speeding cab seemed louder than before, so deafening it nearly drowned him out.

  “Beth!”

  He did the math as he dashed for his wife. He had the angle on the taxi, but the car was moving so much faster. There was no way he could make it. It was too late. He had no chance. He could see Beth as she turned toward the sound of the screaming engine. She was bathed in headlights, and he could see her watching the speeding taxi as it bore down on her, kicking up a dusty white wake as it zoomed toward its deadly destiny.

  As he sprinted toward her, time seemed to slow down, and Andrew saw it all happening again. He was a hundred feet from her, then fifty. He felt his hamstring pull and pushed even harder. This time he wouldn’t be a helpless spectator; this time he wouldn’t be too late.

  He saw Beth stare at the fast-moving death machine with unblinking eyes, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

  In the moment before impact, Beth performed one final unselfish act. She tossed the skittish dog out of the way. Again, the cabbie saw her much too late, tires skidding on the icy street. There was no way to brake, no time to swerve.

  For a flickering moment, Beth watched her life flash before her. The end had come far too soon for the young mom-to-be and her unborn child.

  I am going to die, she thought. My life is over.

  Suddenly, Beth felt herself being lifted off the ground. Only it was not the crushing metal of the taxi’s front bumper that had hit her. It was Andrew who slammed into her like a charging linebacker. He knocked her out of the street and into a big pile of plastic garbage bags that cushioned her landing.

  Beth watched as Andrew stood in her place and defiantly faced the skidding taxi. He didn’t flinch or cower. He just stood there staring right into the headlights.

  “Nooo!” Beth screamed as the taxi slammed into her husband, knocking him fifty feet back down the street. The impact was horrific and devastating and final.

  In the moments before his death, Andrew Farmer was strangely calm. He’d been given three days to find a way to save Beth’s life, and he’d accomplished the task just in the nick of time.

  Andrew had always wondered if he’d have the courage to give his life for someone he loved. And now, in the last instant of his life, he had his answer. He would die knowing that he had what it took, that he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. His wife, his beloved friend, his Beth, would be all right. She would have their baby and be a wonderful mother and move on.

  He had done it. He had given Beth the greatest Christmas gift possible.

  He had given her his life.

  “Andrew!”

  Beth’s initial shock turned into a desperate scream. As she rushed to her fallen husband, Beth knew in her heart there wouldn’t be a happy ending this Christmas. She knew that Andrew Farmer, the love of her life, the father of her unborn child, wasn’t going to make it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Mrs. Farmer?” The ER doctor ca
me through the door into the waiting area, and Beth lunged to her feet. She had been waiting for nearly an hour with no word, and she felt that if she had to wait another minute she would go stark raving mad.

  “I’m Dr. Atkinson, and I’m afraid—” The kindly doctor took a deep breath and shook her head. Beth felt her heart sink.

  “I’m so sorry,” the doctor said. “We did everything we could.”

  “No,” Beth said. “There must be something more you can do.” The tears rolled down Beth’s face and into the corners of her mouth.

  “I think you should say your good-byes,” the doctor said. Beth wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her sweater and followed the doctor down a long white corridor.

  Moments later, Beth stood in the doorway of a dim, dreary trauma room. There was only one soft light and the faint green glow of the heart monitor to illuminate it. Andrew Farmer lay motionless on the examining table, a white sheet covering everything but his head.

  From where she was standing, Beth thought how pale and small he looked. She hesitated; she was afraid to approach him, for she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up even for the few short steps to the table. She glanced over at the barely beeping heart monitor and then moved toward her lifeless husband.

  Standing over Andrew, Beth gently fingered the bandage that was wrapped around the top of his head. His eyes were black and sunken as if he’d gotten the worst end of some back-alley brawl.

  She reached down, took his lifeless hand, and held it to her quivering lips. “What were you thinking? Shoving me out of the way like that. It should have been me. It should have been—”

  The heart monitor stuttered, flat-lined, and let out a monotonous, piercing wail. Startled, Beth dropped Andrew’s hand as if she were the cause of it.

  “Andrew, no! Andrew!”

  The doors flew open, and Dr. Atkinson rushed in. She checked Andrew’s heart with her stethoscope, then switched off the sound on the monitor and put a hand on Beth’s arm.

  “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Farmer.”

  When the doctor retreated from the room, the last thread of Beth’s composure snapped. She began to sob uncontrollably. She put her head on Andrew’s chest and desperately listened for the heartbeat that was no longer there.

  “Andrew, I love you. I love you so much . . . I’ll always love you.”

  Her faltering words were finally drowned out in sobs. He was gone now. Her best friend had left her behind to raise their child alone.

  Beth almost didn’t see it when it came. One faint pulse of the flat green line against its black background. Then another. She stood up and peered at the heart monitor. Did she imagine it? Then it came again . . . another pulse . . . and another. She stared hard at the green line. The flat line shot upward again and again. The heart rate counter rose from zero to ten beats a minute, then twenty, then thirty.

  “Andrew?”

  Andrew opened his bruised eyes a slit and looked up at his wife.

  “Oh, Andrew! You’re alive! You’ve come back to me!”

  Beth took Andrew’s face in her hands and kissed him. “I thought I’d lost you,” she said. “Do you know what it feels like to lose the love of your life?”

  “I can imagine,” Andrew said. “I can imagine.”

  EPILOGUE

  Beth wasn’t entirely right. There weren’t three stockings on the mantel the next Christmas. There were four.

  Henry Farmer’s stocking hung right next to his baby grandson Lionel’s. The old man who thought he was living his final chapter at a nursing home found he actually had a few more left in him. Baby Lionel gave him a new reason to live. So Grandpa Henry moved in with his son and daughter-in-law to watch the little guy grow up firsthand.

  Now, don’t think Andrew and Beth Farmer have a perfect life. We don’t. But there’s one thing for certain: we love each other deeply, and those three days changed me in ways I never thought possible. I learned to be grateful for the good in this life, to appreciate the little things and the insignificant moments. To treat every single day as if it were my last.

  If you have a grateful heart, then no matter what the number on your bank balance reads, you’re as wealthy as the richest tycoon.

  And it’s forever Christmas.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. Andrew admitted in the prologue that ingratitude was his defining characteristic. What do you think he meant by this? Is being grateful really important to a happy and successful life? How did Andrew’s lack of gratitude contribute to the story?

  2. Childhood sweethearts Andrew and Beth have drifted apart. What do think caused this? In general, what causes married couples to grow apart? What qualities in a marriage partner help keep a marriage going strong?

  3. Andrew’s obsession with material success causes him to lose sight of what’s really important. Why doesn’t he value Beth’s career choice? How did Andrew’s and Beth’s views of success differ? Is there a higher, more spiritual meaning of success than the commonly held materialistic view?

  4. How do you think Andrew’s lack of a strong father figure affected his own desire to be a father? How did his anger towards his father influence and affect his life and marriage?

  5. When Andrew’s mother passed away, he deeply resented his father for not being there: so much so he tried to convince Beth to share in his hate for his dad. How does Beth react to this? What does her refusal to participate in his hatred say about her character? What other moments in the novel give insight into Beth’s character?

  6. Despite his love for his wife, Andrew takes Beth for granted. Have you ever taken someone you love for granted? Do you feel that, perhaps, you’ve been taken for granted?

  7. Andrew is doubly devastated by Beth’s death because she died thinking he’d been unfaithful to her. Have you ever experienced regret over how you treated someone? Why is reconciliation important? How is reconciliation a part of this story?

  8. How might the story have gone differently if Andrew had actually cheated with Kimberly? How would you have felt about his character if he had done this? Would he still have been able to redeem himself in your eyes?

  9. When Andrew initially encounters Lionel, he doesn’t at first recognize him as a heavenly visitant. Why do we sometimes fail to distinguish God’s voice? What state of thought sometimes blocks our receptivity to God’s word? What do you think Lionel’s key symbolizes?

  10. If you had three days to live how would you spend them? If you were Andrew and knew Beth was about to die, would you tell her? How do think things might have gone differently if he had told her?

  11. Do you agree with Beth’s decision to keep her friendship with Andrew’s estranged father a secret? How did this revelation in River Falls contribute to the conflict of the story? Why was it important that Andrew miss the train from River Falls to New York?

  12. How does Andrew’s concept of the “gift” evolve throughout the story? What’s the difference between the first gift he gave Beth and the ultimate gift?

  13. Andrew encounters a variety of “angels” during the three days. What do you think their purpose was in Andrew’s experience? What forms might angels appear in our own lives?

  14. When Andrew’s desperately searching for Beth around their Manhattan neighborhood, he pauses to pray, asks God to help him find his way. He expected his answer to come as “a voice from heaven, a bolt of lightning, any kind of sign.” Instead, a bus rolled by with a Rockefeller Center advertisement that sparked his memory. Have you ever tried to outline how God should speak to you? Have you ever had a prayer answered in an unexpected way?

  15. Why do people sometimes have to hit rock bottom before they are ready to make a change? What does Andrew’s final sacrifice say about how his heart changed from the beginning of the book to the end? Is there anyone you would give your life for?

  16. By the end of the book, Andrew learns an important lesson about gratitude? What do you think he learned? Why is it important to be gratefu
l for the good in our lives?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book is about gratitude: gratitude for friendship, for love, for all the good that God gives us, the sweet companionships that nurture our heart and soul and richly bless our lives.

  As a core theme of this novel is gratitude, I’d be remiss if I didn’t express a little of my own for the many extraordinary and talented people who took the reins of this project and helped guide it to completion.

  I’ll begin with my tireless agents Jennifer Gates and Natasha Alexis of the Zachary Shuster Harmsworth Agency. Thank you, Jen and Natasha, for being willing to take a chance on me. Your insight, brilliant notes, and encouragement made all the difference.

  I’ll be forever grateful to Penny Stokes, an editor extraordinaire with a quick pen, a brilliant mind, and a kind heart. Thank you, Penny, from the bottom of my heart for all you did to make this book better.

  Thomas Nelson truly is a writer’s dream. There are so many good people there who obviously love their jobs and whose talents are helping to bring about literary works that have blessed and will continue to bless the world. I’m especially grateful for my editor, Becky Monds. Becky, thank you for believing in this project and for being such a calm and steady presence along the way.

  I’d like to also express gratitude for the rest of the Thomas Nelson-Zondervan Fiction staff for working so diligently to bring this book to fruition. Thank you Ansley Boatman, Katie Bond, Amanda Bostic, Karli Cajka, Laura Dickerson, Elizabeth Hudson, Jodi Hughes, Ami McConnell, Becky Philpott, and Kerri Potts. A special thanks goes to Vice President and Publisher Daisy Hutton for leading such an extraordinary team!

  The support of family and friends is so important to whatever we accomplish in life. I’m grateful to my wonderfully supportive wife, Gina, and my beautiful and talented daughter Chloe June. Thanks to all the remarkable people who have populated my life thus far. By your love and friendship, you’ve made the journey such a rich and rewarding experience.