She would have to do her grocery shopping later. Hopefully before the next snowstorm, which was predicted to hit around sundown. Before it came, she would gather enough provisions to get her through Christmas . . . and maybe another day or two beyond that. Just until she decided on her next move. As she walked, she felt strangely removed from the rest of the world.
This disconnected feeling had first hit her as she was driving to town. To be honest, it probably had more to do with leaving Marcus and Emily behind than anything else. Not that she particularly wanted to be honest. That might hurt too much. And to be fair, it was also related to the fact she no longer needed to deliver the RV to Joy in Phoenix. Yes, that was because the RV now belonged to her, but it still left her feeling slightly lost. Even the fact that her time was now her own—to do with as she pleased—brought no real comfort. She didn’t like this feeling of being cut loose and set free. As hard as it was to admit it, she wanted to belong somewhere . . . to someone. But it hurt too much to really think about that.
As she lugged her bags and bundles back to the RV park, she wondered about where to go next. She wasn’t ready to return to Illinois just yet. Maybe she would simply stick around here for a while. She knew there were plenty of sites to visit in these parts—from the Grand Canyon to the beautiful red hills of Sedona. She might as well just stay put until after the New Year. What difference did it make anyway? Who would really care? Who would miss her?
With its colorful lights, her festive-looking motor home was easy to spot from a distance. But as she got closer, she spied someone sitting in one of her camp chairs. Now that was interesting. Perhaps she’d already made a friend. She certainly needed one. But as she approached her RV space, she realized it was Marcus.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in wonder.
“Looking for you.” He stood with an uneasy smile. “Hope you don’t mind . . . I kinda made myself at home.”
“That’s okay.” She shuffled the bags, trying to reach the key she’d slipped into her back pocket without dumping everything.
“Looks like you’ve been doing some serious shopping.” Marcus reached for a couple of her bags, allowing her a free hand to dig out the key.
She quickly explained about her stolen duffle bag and loss of clothes, then slipped the key in the door and opened it, tossing her bags inside. She pointed to the green hoodie that she was still wearing and really getting tired of. “This is actually Christmas Joy’s. I had to borrow her clothes until I could replace my things.” She took the remaining bags from him, tossing them inside with the rest. And, closing the door and feeling decidedly nervous, she turned to look at him.
“Seriously, Marcus, what are you doing here? Did I forget something at your place? Or are you afraid I ran off with the family silver?” She made a teasing smile.
“No, of course not.”
“What’s up then?”
“I know I probably look like a stalker. But I promise I’m not.” He pointed to the camp chair he’d just vacated. “Mind if we sit down?”
“Not at all.” She flopped down in the other chair, then suddenly looked all around the campsite. “Hey, where’s Emily?”
“Emily’s best friend called after Emily and I finished making our snowman. Lucy invited Em to go ice-skating this afternoon. I just dropped her off, and Lucy’s mom will drop her home by four.”
“How nice for her.”
“Yes. Emily is definitely having a very good Christmas this year. It’s about time.” He nodded somberly.
“And you?” Miranda asked. “Are you having a good Christmas too?”
He frowned. “I guess so . . . I should be. But I’m still feeling a little unsteady.”
“That’s probably from being blindsided by our holiday intervention yesterday,” she teased. “But I’m sure you’ll recover in time.”
He made a half smile. “I think I’ve already recovered from that.”
“Then what seems to be troubling you?” She leaned forward to peer into his face. “Because, if you don’t mind me saying so, you do seem troubled, Marcus.”
He let out a long sigh. “Yeah . . . I guess I am.”
She leaned back, waiting for him to explain himself, but instead of speaking, he just sat there like an exasperating bump on a log. After a couple of long minutes, with only the sound of a nearby dog barking incessantly, she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I’ve been thinking about your situation, Marcus.” She paused just in case he wanted to jump in and take over. Although he looked curious, his mouth remained tightly closed. So she continued, hoping to perhaps prime his pump. “I realize that it must’ve been really hard to lose your wife . . . especially during the holidays. At first I didn’t really get it, but after thinking it through, I can understand how that would turn you against Christmastime.”
“Did anyone tell you how Gillian died?” he asked suddenly. “Did Camilla tell you? Or your friend Joy, perhaps? It wouldn’t surprise me since it seemed like Joy knew all about me somehow.”
“Joy’s very intuitive. And very into Christmas. But she didn’t tell me anything.” Miranda paused. “All I know is that you lost your wife during the holidays . . . and you haven’t celebrated Christmas since. And I don’t mean to overstep my bounds—although it’s a little late for that—but I felt it was wrong to deprive Emily of Christmas.” The truth was she’d thought it was downright selfish on his part.
“Oh?”
“But now that I’ve gotten to know you—even just a little—well, it’s plain to see that you’re very close with Emily. I can tell how much you love her. And she adores you. Even as Eba-sneezer Scrooge, she loves you dearly.”
“She’s a very gracious little girl. Very forgiving.”
“That was my general impression.” Miranda paused again. She didn’t want to push him too hard, but it seemed like he was here for a specific reason—like he needed to get something off his chest. “Look, Marcus, if you want to talk, I’m a pretty good listener.” She leaned back again, waiting.
“I guess I do need to talk.” He ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair with a perplexed expression, as if searching for the right words. “Four years ago today . . . it was the day before Christmas. Christmas Eve. Emily was three and a half—a delightful bundle of energy. My wife, Gillian, had been working from home since Emily’s birth. She actually worked for my accounting firm. But I still worked in town. It’s imperative that I’m available in the office. Anyway, because I was in town, Gillian had asked me to do the Christmas shopping that year. She’d given me a very specific list a few weeks earlier. But it had been a really busy month for the firm. I’d just taken on some new clients. Big clients. Anyway, I’d been distracted. As a result I’d procrastinated on the shopping.” He sighed. “Shopping has never really been my thing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I spent all morning on Christmas Eve scrambling to get everything on Gillian’s list. I brought the stuff home in the afternoon and Gillian was less than impressed. Oh, I’d gotten some of it right. But apparently Emily really wanted a particular kind of Elmo doll—I can’t even remember what the toy actually did anymore. The little red guy either talked or walked or performed open-heart surgery, or something equally fabulous—to a three-year-old anyway. According to Gillian this Elmo was a huge deal and without it, Christmas would be ruined.”
Marcus leaned forward with his hands dangling lifelessly between his knees. “When Gillian realized I’d gotten the wrong Elmo, she was not happy. And she told me I should’ve known better.” He sighed. “Come to think of it, I did know better. But the store I’d gone to was sold out of them. And the kid helping me assured me that they’d been out of them for weeks.”
“Those are the kinds of toys you have to get early,” Miranda told him. “I know because my sister does all her Christmas shopping before Halloween. She claims the best kids’ stuff is always gone by Thanksgiving.”
He just nodded. “Anyway, Gillian was
pretty upset and even though I told her it was pointless, she was determined to straighten it all out herself.”
Miranda felt a chill go down her spine as she surmised where this was going. Was it worth the emotional turmoil to replay it all now? Did Marcus really need this? But unable to think of a graceful way to stop him, she just sat there, watching helplessly as Marcus’s face creased with old pain.
“I’ve never really told anyone this, Miranda. I’m not totally sure why I feel like I must tell you now, but I do.” He sighed. “I didn’t want her to go to town. It seemed senseless. And we got into a nasty little fight. Fortunately, Emily was napping. But Gillian was so insistent that Emily had to have that doll that she stormed off.” He pressed his lips tightly together and his eyes glistened.
“And that’s how she died?” Miranda asked in a quiet voice.
He slowly nodded. “Car wreck . . . just a mile from the house. I remember hearing the sirens and feeling sick inside . . . somehow I knew it was her. I wished it had been me.”
“I’m so sorry.” Miranda felt a lump in her throat.
“The driver of the semitruck fell asleep at the wheel. Head-on collision. Gillian died instantly.”
“Oh . . .” Miranda just shook her head as she let this soak in. “No wonder you turned against Christmas, Marcus. It makes sense to me now.”
“Looking back I can see how unfair it was,” he said. “Unfair to a little girl who’d lost her mother . . . and then lost Christmas too. I feel really badly about it. I was selfish.”
“But at least it’s behind you now,” Miranda reminded him. “You saw how happy Emily has been. You two should have lots of wonderful Christmases ahead.”
“Yes . . . thanks to Joy’s contest and your intervention.” He made a sad smile. “Thanks.”
“Is that why you’re still struggling? Do you feel guilty about enjoying Christmas after the way you lost your wife?” Miranda was trying to wrap her head around this but knew it was complicated.
“No . . . not exactly. I actually made my peace with Gillian a couple years ago, but by then I’d pretty much given up on Christmas. It was just easier to ignore it.” He shook his head.
Miranda felt slightly lost trying to figure out why he was here. Why did he feel such a need to tell her all this? And how was she supposed to deal with it? How would Joy handle it? Of course, Joy would say something positive and uplifting and hopeful. And that’s what Miranda should do too. “So from now on your Christmases will be so much better, Marcus. You and Emily are about to have your best Christmas ever. You should be feeling very happy.” She gave him her brightest smile.
“You really think so?”
“Of course,” she said confidently.
His expression lightened considerably. “How about your Christmas, Miranda? How is it going to be?”
“My Christmas?” She shrugged.
“Emily asked me to come talk to you about coming home with us for Christmas,” he said suddenly.
“Really? Emily sent you?” The breeze picked up and Miranda shivered in the cold.
“That’s right.” He nodded, but his expression was impossible to read. Was he waiting for her reaction?
Miranda realized that while they’d been talking the brilliant blue sky had been replaced by dull gray clouds and a wind was turning the air chilly and brisk. The thin velour hoodie was not cutting it.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “Want to go inside?”
Seeing he still had on his warm-looking down jacket, she stood. “I’ll just grab something warmer and we can stay out here.”
He nodded and, relieved for this short reprieve, she hurried inside. As she ripped open a shopping bag, she tried to guess where Marcus was headed with this sudden invitation. Was he trying to entice her back as Emily’s new friend? Or was there something more going on here? She shook out the brown parka she’d just bought, running her hand over the faux fur collar. She yanked off the tags and slipped it on, relishing its luxurious warmth. Maybe she shouldn’t question Marcus’s reasons. Did they matter right now? She could just accept the invitation and figure it out as she went. What was the harm in that?
Or maybe not. Miranda took a peek at her new coat in the mirror behind the dinette table. Nice. Suddenly she knew that it could be very foolhardy to listen to her heart instead of her head with this. At this stage in life, she knew better. Warning herself to be careful, she headed back out of the RV.
“That looks warm and cozy,” Marcus said as she sat back down.
“It is.” She ran her hands down the smooth surface. “Kind of a Christmas present to myself.”
“It looks great on you.” He smiled approvingly.
“Well, I think it’s really sweet that Emily wants me to spend Christmas at your house, Marcus. But I’m just not sure it’s a good idea. I think I’ll have to pass.”
His smile faded. “Why?”
She shoved her hands in her pockets. “You want the truth?”
He nodded. “I was honest with you, Miranda. Please, be honest with me.”
She took in a deep breath, wondering if she was ready to be that honest. Still, it was better than getting hurt. “The truth is that I know what it feels like to love someone who doesn’t love you back, Marcus. Been there. Done that. Don’t ever want to do it again.” There, she’d said it, laid it out there—take it or leave it, like it or not, it was the truth.
“Huh?” Marcus looked confused.
“You asked me to be honest. That’s just what I’m doing.”
“Can you explain it a bit more? I’m not quite following you.”
“You see, my ex-husband pulled me in with his charm and good looks. I fell for him. But less than two years after we got married, he cheated on me. He broke my heart, leaving me to pick up the pieces. And trust me, even though our marriage ended a couple years ago, there are still a lot of pieces.”
“I think he sounds like a big jerk.”
She smiled sadly. “Pretty much so.”
“But you still love him?”
“No way!” She firmly shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Then I’m confused. What are you really saying here?”
“I’m saying that I’ve learned the hard way to be careful with my heart.”
Marcus slowly nodded, as if the light was starting to come on. “And you’re worried that I might hurt you somehow? Like your ex did?”
“No, not exactly. I’m more afraid that I might hurt myself.”
“How so?”
She took in another deep breath, closing her eyes. Was she a fool to be this honest with a man she barely knew? A man she was strangely attracted to and wanted to know better? Maybe it was stupid to risk everything like this. But he’d asked for honesty. And she knew what was going on inside her. The way she’d felt last night in the RV, the way she’d felt at breakfast this morning. The way she felt right now.
Miranda knew that she was on thin ice. But she opened her eyes, looking directly into his. “I’d be risking a lot of hurt to accept your invitation, Marcus. Spending more time with you, maybe even falling for you . . . then finding out that you’d only brought me home to entertain your daughter for Christmas. I just can’t let myself go through that.” She felt her eyes growing moist. Please, no tears, she told herself. Be strong. “I can’t do it.”
“Miranda,” he said softly. “I would never do that to you.” Now he reached over and grasped her hand, looking right into her eyes. “I realize you barely know me, but I’m not that kind of guy. I’m really not.”
She returned his gaze, almost afraid to breathe.
“The truth is, I haven’t been with anyone since Gillian’s death. I mean, I’ve had a date or two—set up by well-meaning friends—but I haven’t had real feelings for a woman.” He leaned closer. “Not until I saw you.”
“Huh?” She blinked in disbelief.
“Yesterday I walked into my house—which looked nothing like my house, I might add—and I saw this beautiful woman
, looking a lot like Santa’s elf in a sparkly green top and radiant wavy red hair, baking cookies with Emily in my kitchen.” His eyes twinkled. “You took my breath away, Miranda. And that’s the truth.”
“Really?” She let out a little gasp, but then remembered something. “Then why were you so harsh yesterday? You were so angry at me. It felt terrible.”
He made a sheepish smile. “I think it was because I felt so confused. Here this woman has invaded my home, she’s with my daughter and trying to shake up my world. That in itself was maddening. But at the same time I’m totally attracted to her. That just made me mad at myself. And I guess I took it out on you.”
“I guess I can understand that. And you did apologize.” She took in a deep steadying breath. “Still, this is all so sudden. It feels like my head is spinning.”
“I understand.” He nodded. “And if you need character references—I can get them for you. I want to reassure you that I’m not some kind of disingenuous cad. Talk to Camilla and Stan if you want.” He waved his hand. “Or anyone in this town. A lot of my friends think I’m a real stick-in-the-mud. And I’m hopelessly old-fashioned. I do not go around asking women to spend the holidays in my home. Seriously, I can hardly believe it myself. But I just can’t bear to let you go, Miranda.”
Miranda felt a little light-headed. “You can’t?”
“I give you my word of honor,” he said, holding up his hand like he was taking a pledge. “So will you please reconsider our invitation? I’m sorry I didn’t present it better in the first place. It was cowardly to put it all on Emily. I obviously want you to join us for Christmas even more than she does. Please, say you will, Miranda.”
“I think I’d like . . . well, I’d love to,” she said quietly.
He leaned forward, gently holding her face in his hands, and tenderly kissed her forehead. Now she really felt even more dizzy. But despite the icy wind and the snowflakes starting to swirl all around them, she felt warm and cozy inside.
The Christmas Joy Ride Page 13