Single Dad's Christmas Miracle

by Susan Meier

  “Pretty impressive, ain’t it?”

  She gasped and her knees about buckled. Her short, stocky father stood right beside her. His hair had thinned out and life had worn lines in his face, but he still had the same air of superiority, the ability to instill fear.

  “Our little Missy, all grown up. Becoming a big girl in this town.”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips and refused to look at him, while she plotted whether or not she could spin away and race back to Clark’s SUV before he could catch her.

  “Nice SUV you’re driving.”

  “It’s my boss’s.” She found her voice, if only to keep him from making incorrect assumptions about her.

  “Fancy. What do you do these days?”

  Everything inside her told her to run. She couldn’t imagine why he was outside Missy’s Bakery when the lights were still on in the diner. But that was how it went with her dad. There was never anywhere to run. No way to hide. It was as if he had radar and always knew where she was...unless she was three thousand miles away.

  She mumbled, “I’m a teacher.”

  “Hump. Not as highfalutin’ as your sister.”

  His attempt to goad her got lost in her fear. She told herself she didn’t have to stand here and even talk to him, told herself no one would blame her for simply turning and walking away, so she did. She turned, walked to the SUV and opened the door.

  “Still no time for your old man?”

  Ignoring him, she climbed inside.

  He shook his head and kicked snow like a little kid. As she pulled out onto the street, he waved.

  Her hands shook so badly she could barely drive. She forced herself to focus and when she turned onto the street for the house where her grandmother used to live, the house where Missy and Wyatt now lived, her eyes bulged. Not only had a huge addition been attached to her grandmother’s little Cape Cod, but the house next to it—the one owned by Wyatt’s family—had also been remodeled.

  She parked in the wide driveway, behind the huge RV, her heart in her throat. Every bad memory she had rolled through her brain. The fear. Her mother crying and begging. Missy reading to her in the closet, telling her not to be afraid, telling her someday they would get out.

  Tears filled her eyes. Missy had gotten out.

  And she had, too. As long as she was away from Newland, she was okay. Her tears fell off her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She pulled down her gearshift and silently let the SUV roll backward out of Missy’s driveway.

  Missy had always been the strong one. She wasn’t strong. Fear still haunted her.

  She didn’t have to talk to Missy. She already knew she wasn’t ready for what Clark wanted.

  * * *

  When Althea arrived home, Clark watched her take off her coat, completely confused. The red rims around her eyes told him she’d been crying. He’d expected her to come home happy, bubbly...

  Ready.

  For what he wasn’t entirely sure himself. The kiss had knocked him for a loop. And she’d let him kiss her before she’d left that evening. He thought they were carefully moving toward something.

  Maybe he was wrong?

  Or maybe he was reading too much into this?

  Except—he glanced at his watch—she hadn’t been gone long enough to visit her sister. The length of time was only enough to drive to Newland and turn around and drive back.

  Now he was really confused.

  Following her down the hall toward the kitchen, he said, “Hey, you’re back early.”

  She wouldn’t look at him. “I changed my mind about visiting Missy.”

  “Really?”

  She said, “Yeah. The drive was fun. It was nice to get out of the house but I wasn’t in the mood to talk tonight.”

  He stopped following her. Wasn’t in the mood to talk? He’d thought she needed to talk? That that had been her purpose in going. “Okay.”

  She turned and smiled at him. “The drive was relaxing, but I’m actually tired and I think I’m just going to my room to watch a little TV.”

  “You don’t want to help put Teagan to bed?”

  She shook her head and walked down the hall that led to her suite of rooms. A few seconds later he heard the door to her room click closed.

  He ran his hand across his mouth. What had just happened?

  * * *

  She spent the week barely speaking to him, though it didn’t seem obvious because Jack talked nonstop. From his constant chatter, Clark figured out that Althea wasn’t skimping on Jack’s lessons. If anything, they were pulling ahead and Jack was jazzed. His grades were up. His mood was good. He’d be going to school in town in January and Clark wasn’t afraid.

  But Althea was gone. Quiet. Not talking. Barely eating.

  Something had happened on her trip to town and if it killed him he would get her to tell him.

  * * *

  Saturday morning, Althea woke later than normal. Worried about how she’d spend a whole weekend avoiding Clark, she dallied another twenty minutes in her room, waiting to hear the noise of him and the kids having breakfast, but she heard nothing. As the hands on her clock clicked toward ten, she told herself that she’d probably slept through their breakfast.

  She ambled into the empty kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. Before she could turn and go into her room, Teagan raced into the kitchen and over to her, plowing into her knees. Jack followed close behind her. Both kids wore their jackets and mittens.

  “Are you going out to play?”

  Clark walked into the kitchen. “No. They’re going to my parents’.” She noticed the pair of sixty-year-olds behind him. “Althea, these are Mona and Dave Beaumont. My parents. Mom and Dad, this is Althea. She’s Jack’s teacher.”

  His parents said, “How do you do,” and smiled at her.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  His mother clapped her hands. “Come on, guys. We have to get going. Snow’s coming again.”

  Jack said, “Bye,” and pivoted away from her. Teagan smiled until Althea got the message and stooped down. Then she hugged Althea with all her might, spun away and raced to her grandmother.

  Clark followed them out of the kitchen, but returned in what seemed like seconds.

  “Already had the car packed,” he said as he walked to the coffeemaker. He popped in a single serve packet and put a mug under the drip. “So they’re off. I’m glad you got up in time to say goodbye.”

  The room fell silent as she processed everything. The kids were gone and they were alone. Alone. Never once had he talked about the kids leaving for weekends. So why suddenly were they spending a weekend away?

  Finally she said, “Is this a regularly scheduled visit?”

  He pulled his now-full mug from the coffeemaker. “I thought the kids could use a break. My mom’s always wanted to have them a weekend before Christmas to help decorate, bake cookies, that kind of stuff. But my parents live in town so that never happened. Anyway, now that I’m beyond that, I called her to see if she wanted them this weekend and she was thrilled.” He looked at her over the rim of his mug. “Plus, I think you and I need to talk.”

  Fear about suffocated her. “Talk?” She should go to Missy’s. She almost said the words, but remembered running into her dad and those words froze on her tongue.

  “About what happened between us.”

  A wonderful kiss. The generous offer of his car. The way he let her go to her sister’s. The easy, familiar way he accepted her.

  Longing welled up inside her. He was the kind of man any woman would want. But she didn’t fit into his life. Her father reminded her of that. A woman whose idea of love and marriage was abuse had no clue of how to be the lover of a man like Clark. A woman who’d spent her childhood hiding had no idea of how to be a
mother to his children.

  “I thought we’d kind of silently agreed our getting involved was a mistake.”

  He smiled over the rim of his cup. “I was giving you time.”

  She swallowed. “Time?”

  “To think through whether or not you want to be involved with me.”

  Every fiber of her being yearned to. But she could hear the cigarette-roughened voice of her dad, talking about how successful Missy was. And the realization, standing beside him, that the only way she’d ever gotten free of him had been to run.

  She would run again. Except this time she wouldn’t steal a car or have only two hundred dollars in her pocket. As soon as her task with Jack was finished, she’d have a few thousand dollars. Enough to keep her while she sent teaching résumés to states like Texas or Idaho. States so far away no one would ever find her.

  “I’m not who you think I am.” She tried to smile at Clark, but knew her attempt had been weak at best. “I’m one of those people who does better alone.”

  With that she walked into her room and closed the door. The thought of being cooped up in the twelve-by-twelve space all day made her think again about going to Missy’s. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not only did she not want to see her dad, but what if she drew her dad’s attention to Missy again? What if he began harassing her?

  She couldn’t risk it.

  She spent two hours sitting by a window in a pretty aqua club chair, watching the snow fall, and an odd memory surfaced. When it snowed like this, big, wet flakes, she and Missy had made snowmen. Living in California for the past decade, she hadn’t even seen a snowman let alone made one. She suddenly, desperately needed to be out of this room, but more than that, she needed to do something. Something that reminded her of the one good thing she could remember from her childhood.

  She had a coat, boots and mittens. So it wasn’t as if she was ill prepared. Plus, Clark had undoubtedly retreated to his office to work. No one had to know. No one had to see her. And the kids would love the snowman when they got home.

  She peeked out her door. Kitchen was empty.

  She could do this.

  * * *

  Clark glanced out his office window and burst out laughing. Unless he missed his guess, she was building a snowman.

  Stretching, he rose from his desk and walked to the window. She looked adorable in her blue coat and black mittens, but something was wrong. Something big enough that she needed the physical diversion of rolling a huge ball of snow.

  He left his office, grabbed his coat and shoved his feet into sturdy boots. He exited through the front door, so she wouldn’t see him and sneaked up behind her.

  “What are you doing?”

  She spun to face him, her mittened hands flattened on her chest as if he’d scared the tar out of her. A reaction he found a little drastic.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s up?”

  She swallowed. “I’m fine.”

  “Oh, hell, no. You’re not fine.”

  Her chin lifted. “I am.” She turned away and put her attention on the second ball she was rolling to be the middle of her snowman.

  Okay. So the direct approach wasn’t getting him anywhere. He sucked in a breath. The air was crisp but not frigid. Big white flakes of snow billowed around them. The silence intensified the peace in his soul. Peace she’d helped him find. Whatever was wrong, he wouldn’t let her go through it alone.

  But if she wouldn’t talk—he stooped down, grabbed two handfuls of snow and packed them into one big snowball—then he’d just have to loosen her up.

  Ten feet in front of him, she labored over her snowball, her butt in the air, her arms straining as she rolled it, gathering more snow.

  He gave his big snowball one final pat before throwing it at her butt.

  Thwack. Direct hit.

  She shot up straight and pivoted to face him.

  He bent and built another snowball. Before she could say anything, he tossed it at her middle. It landed with a wet thunk.

  Her eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Loosening you up.”

  He bent again.

  “Loosening me up? For what?”

  Whack. He hit her again. This time in the thighs.

  Her widened eyes narrowed. “Oh, you are so dead.”

  “I don’t think so. I think you’ve been in California too long to be really good at a snowball battle.”

  She bent, gathered snow, threw it at him and missed.

  He laughed. “See? I was right. Of course, anybody with any recent snowman experience knows that you don’t roll the snowball that you have to put on top of your first snowball.”

  Thwack. She hit him right in the chest.

  “You think I’m a lightweight?” She scooped up more snow. “I might have been in a warmer climate for years, but this isn’t exactly brain surgery.” She hit him again. “There’s a very low learning curve on snowball throwing.”

  This time he was smart enough to duck away from her snowball. It whizzed past him. As he ran, he bent and scooped up more snow. He turned and tossed it at her. Direct hit.

  She didn’t waste a second. Chasing him, she gathered snow. He lost sight of her when he ducked around the side of the house. He stopped, flattened himself against the wall and worked to slow his breathing. When she flew around the side, he caught her arm and pulled her to him.

  The stunned expression on her face had laughter bubbling from him. He breathed in the fresh air, savoring this one precious, wonderful moment that he knew he’d remember forever.

  He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t unhappy. He was with somebody who made him laugh.

  “I think this is against the rules of the Geneva Snowball Convention or something.”

  He laughed again. His heart swelled with a wonderful freedom that intoxicated him. Already holding her one arm, he hooked his hand around the second so he could pull her closer. He didn’t give her two seconds to realize what he was about to do. He swooped down and kissed her.

  Thoroughly. The way he’d wanted to kiss her from the second she’d shaken out her pretty yellow hair. He moved his lips across hers roughly, but enticingly, feeling her yield beneath him.

  The world around them became a reverent hush as he realized he was falling in love again. Differently this time. Not with a partner. Not with a friend. But with...someone he adored.

  He wasn’t quite there yet. He was wise enough to hold back a bit. But he was on the brink.

  When her hands crept up his arms and slowly slid to his neck, he smiled against her mouth. Unless he missed his guess, she was falling, too. Their lips moved against each other, tongues mating in the silent world.

  But she suddenly pulled away. Stepped away. Turned away. “Don’t.”

  He reached out to catch her shoulder and force her to face him, but she shrugged him off.

  “Okay. Fun and games are over. I like you and you like me. Why are you rejecting me?”

  She said nothing.

  He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the snow that fell to his face. “You know what? You were a bit shaky but agreeable until your trip to your sister’s.” He paused, frowned. “Who you never actually visited. What the hell happened?”

  She still said nothing.

  “Do you want me to get another snowball?”

  She peeked back at him. “I was winning that fight.”

  “In your dreams. If I’d wanted to destroy you I would have.” He took a step toward her. His voice softened. He ran his hand down her knit cap to the yellow hair that peeked out beneath it. “What happened that night? Tell me. Maybe I can help?”

  She sniffed a laugh. “Right. That’s exactly what my dad wants. He wants you to feel sorry for me. Then h
e can swoop in and tell you his sob story so you’ll give him money. Or maybe he’ll blackmail you and just demand money.”

  He held up his hand. “Wait! What are you talking about?”

  “The night I was supposed to visit Missy, I stopped on Main Street when I saw her adorable little bakery. I couldn’t believe it and had to look at it close up.”

  “I get that. You’re proud of her.”

  “Yeah. It was great until suddenly my dad was standing beside me.”

  “Oh.”

  “He liked your car by the way. He guessed you must have some money just from the look of it.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to him.”

  She snorted in derision. “Oh, you don’t know my dad. He’s a con man and a bully, remember? Once he finds a mark, he doesn’t let go.”

  “And you consider me incapable of calling the police?”

  She sniffed a laugh. Peeked back at him again. “You’d just call the police?”

  “You are talking to the guy who wouldn’t take his kids to town for three years.” His chest puffed out with pride. “I take care of my own.”

  She laughed.

  “You told me to think positively about Teagan. You told me not to let gossip or negative things get me down. Now I’m up because of you. I’m ready for whatever happens. You can’t wallow in misery, when you wouldn’t let me wallow in misery.”

  She laughed again as a funny feeling assaulted her. She gave herself a second to examine it and realized it was hope. She faced him. “This is a little more than wallowing. He’s going to come after your money.”

  He shook his head. “Let him try.”

  She pressed her lips together, drew strength from his strength, confidence from his confidence. After all, her dad was fifty miles away. Why should she cower now?

  “I still think I won that snowball battle.”

  He put his arm across her shoulder and led her back to her two big snowballs that would eventually be a snowman. “Yeah, but I won the war.” He kissed her again. Happiness bubbled inside her. This was what sharing your life felt like. She knew it. She’d never had it before, but there was no mistaking the feeling.