Mrs. Scrooge

by Barbara Bretton

  He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Once they were married, he'd have to make sure the doors were locked. "Sam!" His voice seemed to echo in the quiet house. "Sam! Where are you?"

  He heard a noise and turned to see her standing in the archway to the hall. Her lovely face was whiter than the snow falling outside.

  "It's Patty," she said, her voice trembling. "She's gone."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Murphy was beside her before her legs gave way. He put his arms around her and led her to the sofa then sat down next to her and tried to bring the circulation back into her hands.

  "She's gone," Sam repeated, her brain as frozen as the street outside her window. "She's gone!"

  Murphy's ruddy face blanched but that was the only indication of fear. "Back up, Sam. Tell me the whole story."

  Her hands fluttered helplessly in the air before her and he captured them again between his. "I went to the bar to make lunch. Patty was watching television. She was in her pajamas and robe. I wasn't gone more than an hour—" Her voice broke and she lowered her head in despair. "Oh, God, Murphy!"

  "Donovan." Murphy's voice was hard with anger. "If that son of a bitch has kidnapped her, I'll--"

  "He wouldn't," Sam said. If she was sure of anything, she was sure of that. "He took her out to dinner last night. If he had kidnapping in mind, he wouldn't have brought her back home."

  Murphy glowered in her direction. "Did she leave a note?"

  "Nothing."

  "Did she pack a suitcase?"

  "I didn't look."

  They jumped up and ran to Patty's room. As far as Sam could tell, her daughter had taken nothing but her book bag and a few dollars from her piggybank.

  "Christmas shopping?" asked Murphy.

  "She finished ages ago." Sam couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she met Murphy's eyes. "It's my fault. I thought I was doing the right thing. I want her to have every advantage in the world." The thought of her daughter's sad little face when she came home from dinner with Ronald tore at Sam's heart. "She wondered why you weren't here for the past few days. She thinks she's to blame. She probably thinks I want her to go away."

  "Where would she go?"

  "I don't know. We can call Susan. My mother. Caroline."

  Murphy pushed her toward the phone. "Go ahead. I'll go next door and call my contacts." He hugged her close for an instant, and she felt his strength flow into her body. "We'll bring that girl home, Sam. You can count on it."

  One more miracle, God, Sam prayed as she dialed Susan's number. You gave me Murphy. Now please help us find my little girl.

  * * *

  MURPHY'S WEB of contacts reached far and wide. Scotty and the crew set out in the blizzard to look for the little girl. He called' Sam's cousin Teddy and alerted the local police force and beat reporters from the Home News, Courier, Newark Star-Ledger and the Trentonian.

  "We'll find her," he said to a crying Sam, after he ran back to her house to find her."

  "I'm going with you."

  "No!" He sat her back down on the sofa and smoothed her silky hair back from her face. "Not this time. Stay here. She might come back on her own."

  "Oh God, Murphy . . . the storm! How will she find her way?"

  "Trust me." His tone brooked no argument. "I won't let you down. What kind of way would that be to start our future together?"

  Future? Sam thought as he ran through the snow to his rented car. What future? "Murphy!" Her voice bounced off the snowdrifts as he disappeared into the storm.

  * * *

  MURPHY'S FINGERS clutched the steering wheel of Sam's four-wheel-drive in a death grip.

  "Bad choice of words, O'Rourke," he muttered through the sweat dripping down his face. He'd been out there for hours and still no luck. Visibility was zero. He had no traction; the vehicle slid from side to side as if it were entered in an Olympic ice-skating event. Not even four-wheel-drive was enough to combat the icy undercoating beneath the snow. The only thing he hated more than the act of driving was driving in a blizzard.

  Somehow it didn't matter.

  He had to find Patty—and not just for Sam. He had to find her for himself, as well.

  * * *

  SAM FELT USELESS back at the house. She had never been good at waiting. She'd always been the type of person to leap into things feet first, rather than hold back and read the instructions.

  She smiled despite her panic. That's how it had been with motherhood. She read the books and studied the manuals and asked her own mother a thousand questions, but when it came down to it, she trusted her instincts and she and Patty had done just fine.

  Why hadn't she trusted her instincts this time? Ronald was wrong. She understood his position about sending Patty to the best schools possible, but this wasn't the time. She needed to be a little girl first and a genius second. She needed to be grounded in home and family before she faced the world beyond Rocky Hill.

  She needed Sam and, God willing, she needed Murphy O'Rourke, as well.

  Our future together. She was positive she'd heard him say those words, positive they weren't a figment of her imagination. Oh, dear God, was it so much to ask for, that she and Murphy have a future as a family—and that Patty be right there at the center of it, safe and strong and healthy.

  But outside the storm was raging and her little girl was all alone.

  "No!" Sam's voice was loud and strong in the quiet house. Patty was fine. She was probably at school or at the library or, off with her Grandma Betty doing some last-minute shopping. I won't think about anything else, she vowed. I absolutely will not!

  She glanced at her watch. Four o'clock. Out on the street her neighbors were setting up the luminaria. As soon as the sky grew dark, the candles would be lighted, turning the entire street into a fantasyland. From babyhood on, Patty had loved sitting on the front steps and watching for that magical moment—even though Sam had never mustered up enough enthusiasm or spare cash to participate herself.

  "Come home, Patty," she whispered to the empty room. "It's Christmas Eve."

  * * *

  PATTY SHIVERED as the blizzard winds almost lifted her off her feet. How she wished she'd never left her house!

  Last night Captain Donovan had made everything sound so clear and reasonable that Patty felt dumb for not seeing things his way. He didn't seem to understand that she was just a ten-year-old kid. She had the feeling that every time he looked at her, all he saw was her stratospheric IQ, and that made her mad. She was so many other things besides, and he'd probably never know about any of them.

  Not like Murphy.

  But Captain Donovan had been right about one thing: her mom had given up an awful lot to give Patty a happy life. Now her mom had a chance to be happy, herself, with Murphy O'Rourke, but that just wouldn't be possible as long as Patty was in the picture. Murphy would never stay put in Rocky Hill. He wanted to go back to London and Paris. If Patty went to that sleep-away school in Massachusetts, her mom wouldn't have to work so hard. Maybe she could even go with Murphy on one of those backpacking-through-the-Alps adventures he was always talking about.

  Her morn had done so much for her. It seemed to Patty that this was the least she could do for her mom.

  Patty's intention to find Captain Donovan had been good but she hadn't counted on a blizzard of such ferocity, or buses that had stopped running long before she made it to the bus stop. And she sure hadn't counted on how awfully hard it was to see where you were walking when the wind blew snow into your eyes—and the tears were flowing freely.

  A vicious gust of wind-driven snow swept down on Patty and knocked her to her feet at the side of the road—what road it was, she didn't know. She struggled to get back to her feet but another blast of snow and then another made it impossible for her to regain her bearings.

  "Help!" Her cry seemed tiny and lost in the scream of the storm. "Help me, please!"

  Oh, Mom. . . Murphy. . . where are you?

  * * *

  "ANYTHING
?" Murphy had to yell into the cell to be heard over the storm howling across Route 1.

  Teddy's voice sounded faint and faraway. "Nothing yet, Murph, but we've got all cars out searching. She'll turn up."

  Same story from Dan Stein's local contact and from Scotty and Caroline and the guys from the rescue squad. He hesitated calling Sam but it had to be done.

  "I'm heading down toward the mall," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I bet she's there doing some last-minute shopping."

  He disconnected before Sam had a chance to hear the fear building inside his gut. Patty wasn't shopping at the mall. The mall was closed. The roads were damn near impassable and he hadn't seen a bus in hours. Every thought he had was nightmarish.

  Murphy climbed out of the car to take one last look around before driving back toward Rocky Hill but the blinding snow was disorienting and he turned back. He was struggling to make his way back to his car when he heard a noise. He stopped, tilting his head to listen. Nothing. Must be his imagination.

  "Help please help me. . . Murphy. . ."

  You're going crazy, O'Rourke. Hearing voices. . .

  "Murphy. . . I'm cold . . ."

  His entire body jerked as if he'd run headfirst into a cattle prod. His heart hammered wildly inside his chest.

  "Patty!" His voice roared out above the scream of the storm. "Patty, I'm here!"

  Her voice was muffled, indistinct. He called upon Boy Scout training and Army boot camp and God in heaven to help him find her. The landscape was like an Arctic tundra. Snow-blind, he pushed his way toward the voice in the distance.

  And then he saw it. A tiny scrap of red in the ocean of whiteness.

  "Murphy," she said, running into his arms. "What took you so long?"

  Rough tough Murphy O'Rourke, meanest reporter in New York, lowered his head and cried.

  * * *

  "IS MOM GOING to yell at me?" Patty asked as Murphy eased the Blazer onto her street.

  "Probably," said Murphy, wiping sweat off his forehead with his forearm. "It won't mean a thing, though."

  "It's because she loves me, right?"

  "You know it. She loves you more than anything in the world."

  Patty's lips curved into a smile. "She loves you too."

  Murphy almost ran off the road. "She tell you that?"

  The little girl shook her head. "She didn't have to. Some things I just know."

  "Yeah, well, let's wait and see." He and Sam had been on a rocky road the past week. She may have decided life with him didn't sound like such a good idea. Not that he'd pay any attention, mind you. He intended to become part of Sam's and Patty's family and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

  The street looked like a Christmas card come to life. Snow blanketed everything and continued to fall. Yet, despite the blizzard conditions, candles still burned in front of one house on the entire block. Sam's house. Next to him Patty clasped her hands together in delight. "My candles," she said in a hushed whisper, "My Christmas Eve candles!" She looked at Murphy, and the smile she gave him was pure little girl. "I think everything's going to be okay."

  * * *

  SAM WAS STANDING near the Christmas tree, looking out the front window when she heard the unmistakable sound of her Blazer plowing its way up the snowy street.

  "Oh, dear God, please," she whispered, her face pressed against the icy glass as she peered through the swirling snow outside. "Please bring my little girl home." The world was no longer the safe haven of her childhood; it was rougher and more dangerous. A place where little children's faces peered from milk cartons and families prayed for a miracle.

  She waited, her heart pounding violently at the base of her throat, as the sound grew closer. Her legs trembled and her hands grew colder than the falling temperature. The endless hours of waiting, of praying, of lighting the candles and hanging the stockings, and pretending there would be a happy ending on this holiest of nights had taken their toll and as the familiar vehicle approached, the roaring inside her head intensified, rivaling the sound of the storm.

  She knew somehow that God was listening to her prayers, that He had sent Murphy O'Rourke into their lives for a reason—to love them and protect them and share the good times and the bad. The Blazer cautiously made its way up her driveway with Murphy at the wheel. Her eyes swam with tears. The passenger seat was empty.

  Or was it?

  "Patty!" Her daughter's name was a cry from the heart as the girl opened the car door and jumped out. Sam raced out of the house and flew down the snowy steps.

  Sam hugged Patty so tightly the child's words were muffled against Sam's sweater.

  "I'm sorry!" Patty cried. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  Sam tried to sound stern but managed only to sound relieved. "Where on earth were you going, Patty? What were you trying to do?"

  Patty's bright blue eyes glanced from Sam to Murphy then back again to Sam. "Captain Donovan," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "I wanted to talk to him, I thought . . ."

  Her words drifted away in the wind and Sam cupped her daughter's chin, forcing Patty to meet her eyes. "You thought what, honey?"

  "You and Murphy. . . I thought that maybe if I went away to that school Captain Donovan talked about then you and Murphy could—"

  She looked up at Murphy who was listening intently to the exchange. "There's nothing more important than you, honey. There's nothing on earth I care more about than your happiness."

  "I thought maybe if I went away you wouldn't have to work so hard." Her cheeks reddened. "Maybe then you and Murphy could go anywhere you want."

  Murphy crouched down near them. "Running away doesn't solve anything, Patty. You should have talked to us. Maybe we had the answer all along."

  "The buses stopped running," Patty said, sniffling, "only halfway and then I got lost."

  "Why didn't you call?" Sam asked, kissing her soundly and administering another bone-crushing hug. "Don't you know that I'm here for you no matter what?"

  "I lost my money in a snowdrift," said Patty, "and then I tried to find my way back but the snow made everything all white and the same."

  "Tell me about it," said Murphy, tugging fondly on one of Patty's braids. "If it weren't for this head of red hair, I might never have found her."

  Sam looked over at Murphy, at that dear and handsome face, and saw her future reflected in his eyes. "I'll never be able to thank you," she said, wishing she knew the right words to convey the powerful rush of primal emotions taking root inside her heart. "I—"

  "Mom," said Patty, once more her practical, brilliant little girl, "can we talk inside. It's freezing out here!"

  * * *

  A FEW HOURS LATER, Sam tucked the afghan around her sleeping little girl and kissed the top of her head.

  "She looks like an angel, doesn't she?" She turned to Murphy who was sitting in front of the fireplace in the living room.

  "You look like an angel," he said, motioning for her to sit down next to him. "I don't think I'll ever forget the look on your face when Patty climbed out of the Blazer."

  Sam snuggled up next to him. "I owe it all to you, Murphy. You saved her life."

  Was she imagining it or did her hero actually blush. "I wouldn't go that far, Sam."

  "I know you saved my life."

  "Your life was just fine. You didn't need anyone to save you from anything."

  She swallowed hard. This wasn't the time for anything less than total honesty. "You saved me from being lonely, Murphy. I didn't think I could fall in love."

  He met her eyes. "Past tense?"

  "Past, present and future. I love you, Murphy O'Rourke. God help me, but I do."

  "I love you, Sam." Murphy's words were the first Sam heard as Christmas Day came to Rocky Hill. "I love you and I love Patty and the best present you could give me is to say yes."

  "Yes," said Sam as love and happiness and hope filled her heart to overflowing. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

  He laughed and held he
r close. "You haven't heard the question yet."

  She pulled away a fraction and looked up at him. "You're asking me to marry you, right?"

  "That's right."

  Her breath caught for an instant. "You won't be going overseas?"

  "Not on your life."

  "Your job—what will you do?"

  He gave her a sheepish, but extremely self-satisfied grin. "Meet Murphy O'Rourke, managing editor of the New York Telegram (print and digital), and stalwart citizen of Rocky Hill, New Jersey."

  She laughed despite herself. "You mean, you're going to be a commuter?" Dashing, dynamic Murphy O'Rourke riding New Jersey Transit. It was definitely the season of miracles.

  "A commuter," he said, gathering her closer to him. "Life is full of surprises."

  "No more Paris nights and London weekends," she said softly. "Any regrets?"

  He looked at Patty, sleeping, then met Sam's eyes. "Only that I didn't meet you a long time ago."

  "We still have plenty of time, Murphy." She kissed him on the lips. "But not if you don't ask me officially."

  Grinning he dropped to one knee before her. "Will you marry me, Sam?"

  "Yes!" She threw herself into his arms. "I can't think of anything on earth I'd rather do."

  * * *

  THE SIGHT OF GROWN-UPS kissing usually made Patty giggle and look away, but not tonight. She watched from under the afghan as her mom and her almost-dad kissed each other by the light of the fire and started to plan a lifetime of happiness for the three of them.

  Two tiny packages rested under the tree, wrapped in shiny paper of gold and silver. Halves of the same heart. One inscribed "Mom." And the other inscribed "Murphy," but not for long. The day after Christmas she'd ask her mom to take her to the mall where she'd have the jeweler inscribe "Dad" right there for the whole world to see!