17
Following a brief but honest discussion of some general relationship expectations, and taking into account the blizzard-like weather forecast, Miranda conceded to be an overnight guest in the Wheeler home—sleeping in the guest room. It was a huge relief to know that their standards were aligned with each other. That took a lot of pressure off. Marcus made it clear that he just wanted to get better acquainted. So did Miranda.
Just the same, she still felt like pinching herself as Marcus drove them to his home. They’d stopped by his favorite store to do some grocery shopping, gathering some goodies for their upcoming Christmas Eve party, but they kept it quick because Marcus wanted to be home before Emily got dropped off.
The snow was coming down hard by the time they were lugging bags into the house. Miranda deposited her hastily packed belongings in the attractive guest room, which was located (thankfully) on the opposite end of the house, well away from Marcus’s and Emily’s rooms. Then she hurried back to help him put things away in the kitchen. She couldn’t believe how relaxed and comfortable she felt around him—especially considering the short time they’d known each other. But it was like they were old friends . . . and something more too.
As she put a carton of eggnog in the fridge, she remembered something her mom used to say to her and her sisters. “When the fellow is right, you should know it immediately. It just goes click in your heart.”
Okay, Miranda still had a bit of healthy skepticism, but she also knew this wasn’t how it had been with Jerrod. There had been no click. Jerrod had caught her eye by exerting a lot of charm and persuasion. For some reason he’d been determined to win her attention, and she’d eventually given in. What a mistake that had been. A mistake she wouldn’t make again.
As she neatly folded a shopping bag, she noticed Marcus staring out at the fast-falling snow. He had his cell phone in his hand and a frown on his face. “Are you worried about something?”
Before he could answer she realized he was concerned about Emily. They’d gotten home about fifteen minutes before four and now it was nearly four thirty. She should’ve been dropped off by now. “Do you think Lucy’s mother is just driving really carefully? Because of the snow?”
“Yes . . .” He turned away. “That’s probably it. I’d call Lucy’s mom, but I don’t like to distract her while driving.”
As she folded the other bags, he continued to pace nervously.
“Is it possible they brought her home early and no one was home?” Miranda suggested. “Would she have gone to Camilla and Stan’s?”
He looked uncertain. “Maybe . . .”
“Want me to call over there? That way you can keep your phone free in case Lucy’s mom is trying to call.”
“Sure.” He nodded eagerly. “Good idea.”
Miranda pulled out her phone, relieved to see she had kept Camilla’s number from yesterday. Camilla answered and, sure enough, Emily was there. “Sorry, we lost track of time,” Camilla explained. “I told Emily to call her daddy, but Stan and I got caught up in trying to teach her how to play Monopoly.”
“That’s okay.” Miranda waved to Marcus. “She’s with them,” she mouthed.
“I’m on my way to get her,” he called as he grabbed his coat and dashed out the door.
While Marcus picked up his daughter, Miranda realized she felt an even greater sense of reassurance. She really believed in this man. She could see how much he loved his daughter—how deeply he cared. The more she got to know him, the more she respected his character, and the more she felt herself falling.
Marcus and Emily were loudly singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” as they burst into the house, but they got stuck after “eight maids a-milking.” Miranda racked her brain to get them through the next five verses, which still got badly jumbled between eleven and twelve, until they all wound up laughing so hard that it was useless.
“I invited Camilla and Stan for Christmas dinner tomorrow,” Emily told her dad.
“Good girl.” He turned to Miranda. “Did you know that Joy ordered a dinner for eight?”
“For eight?” Miranda chuckled. “Maybe she wanted you to have leftovers.”
“At least we’ll have five people,” Emily told them. “That’s almost as good as eight.”
“In our case, it’s even better,” Marcus assured her.
They spent the evening letting Emily call the shots for what she called “a normal Christmas Eve” night—doing everything from drinking eggnog and eating snack food to watching, of course, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Finally they hung up Emily’s Christmas stocking—a gift that Joy had tucked in one of her magical bins. Marcus hung it on the far edge of the fireplace to prevent the big crackling fire from scorching it.
“I don’t think there will be anything in it,” Emily said with a doubtful expression.
“Why would you say that?” Miranda asked.
“Because on our way home from ice-skating, Lucy’s big sister Belinda told us a secret.”
“What kind of secret?” Marcus asked.
“Belinda said there’s no such thing as Santa Claus,” Emily proclaimed sadly. “It’s all make-believe.”
“What?” Marcus acted astonished.
“Well, Santa never brought me anything.” Emily folded her arms across her front with a slightly defiant expression.
“That was my fault.” Marcus knelt down to look into her face. “I made him stay away. And I’m really, really sorry.”
“You made him stay away?” Emily frowned up at him. “Why?”
“Because I was really dumb, Emily. And I was mad. What can I say?” He held up his hands. “Except that, like I told you last night, I’m really sorry. Remember, you said you forgave me. Do you still forgive me?”
She smiled, then gave him a big kiss. “Yeah. It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you.”
“So what do you think about Santa now?” Miranda cautiously asked Emily. She knew that there was still a box of gifts that Joy had specially prepared for Emily. Safely stowed in the laundry room, they were supposed to be placed in Emily’s stocking and under the tree after she went to sleep.
“I don’t know.” Emily’s brow creased as if thinking hard. “Belinda is ten years old. So she should know.”
“How did Lucy feel about what her sister told you?” Miranda asked.
“Lucy got real mad and she told her mom. And then her mom got real mad too. She told Belinda she better not expect to find anything from Santa,” Emily declared, “if she doesn’t believe in him.”
“And what did Belinda say about that?” Marcus asked.
“She seemed kinda worried. And then she told us that maybe she was wrong. Maybe Santa was for real.”
“I think maybe she was wrong too,” Marcus told Emily.
Emily nodded. “Yeah . . . maybe so.”
“Do you still want to put out cookies and milk for Santa?” Miranda asked. This was something they’d talked about at great length while baking yesterday.
“Yeah, we better do that.” Emily turned to Marcus. “Can we put out some carrots for the reindeer too? Just in case they’re hungry.”
By nine o’clock Emily had set out cookies and milk and carrots and had on a pretty pink nightgown and fuzzy slippers. “Well, you know what they say,” Marcus told her. “Santa won’t come if you don’t go to bed.”
“Do you really think he’s coming?” she asked with wide eyes. “For real, Daddy?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” He swept her up into his arms. “Now give Miranda a good night kiss and it’s off to bed for you.”
Emily dropped a sweet little kiss on Miranda’s cheek and was promptly flown off to bed. After a few minutes, Marcus returned with a slightly worried expression.
“Did you get her convinced that Santa’s really coming?” Miranda asked.
His mouth twisted to one side. “I’m not sure. She seemed pretty skeptical. Can’t blame her when you consider how Santa’s skipped her
these last several years.”
“Well, then it sounds like Santa really owes her.” Miranda gave him a sly look. “I’m thinking that might be why Joy sent the old Santa suit.”
He chuckled. “Really? You think I should suit up? And then what?”
“Remember, I told you about the box of Santa gifts? I put them on a high shelf above the dryer.”
“You think I should dress up and deliver them?”
She tried to act nonchalant as she shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
“She was so worn out, I’m sure she’ll be asleep soon. What would be the point?”
Miranda shrugged again. “I don’t know. She seemed pretty excited to me. I bet she’ll be awake for a while. I remember how I’d try to stay up when I was her age, hoping to spot Santa.”
“Okay, then let’s both make a big deal about saying we’re tired and telling each other good night and then we’ll retire to our rooms.” He lowered his voice. “But when it’s all over with, you better come back out here. I’m not really ready to call it a night yet. Are you?”
She laughed. “Not yet.”
“Because I want to spend the rest of the evening getting to know everything about you, Miranda. I want to hear about your childhood and your favorite film and what kind of books you like and—”
“Yes, yes,” she said eagerly. “Later!”
They went through the whole routine. Standing in the hallway near Emily’s door, they talked of being tired, told each other good night and noisily trekked off to their separate rooms. Of course, Miranda couldn’t bear to miss out on this. And so after a few minutes, she slipped off her shoes, pocketed her iPhone, and tiptoed out of her room. She crept out into the great room where the tree was still lit and the fireplace was still crackling and the lights were turned down low. Perfect. Positioning herself in a shadowy corner behind the drapes in front of the double French doors, she had a perfect view of the room. Her phone was on silent and in camera mode in the hopes of snagging some pics to send to Joy. Then, suppressing the urge to giggle like a child, she waited . . . and waited.
Finally, she heard a noise coming—but not from the direction of Marcus’s bedroom like she’d expected. Instead she turned to see a red-suited character stomping through the front door. Snowflakes were dusted all over the surprisingly realistic costume. Even the fluffy white beard looked real. And the sound of bells jingling added to the authenticity. It was all perfect. She blinked and looked again, almost convinced it really was Santa! She raised her phone and snapped some pictures.
“Ho, ho, ho,” he said as he walked into the room. “What a beautiful, beautiful tree! High time too!” He approached the fireplace with what looked like a pillowcase filled with gifts over his shoulder. Miranda guessed that the rest of the pillow was stuffed under the red velvet jacket. “Ho, ho, ho,” he said again, a bit more loudly this time.
Just then something small and pink caught Miranda’s eye. She spied Emily lurking in the hallway, crouched down by the wall and watching the spectacle with enormous eyes, being as quiet as a mouse. Miranda got a shot of this too.
“This looks like little Emily’s stocking. Ho, ho, ho! I brought lots of goodies for this good little girl. Her daddy banned me from this house, but those days are gone now. And since little Emily’s been waiting patiently, she’s going to get some good stuff.” He paused to fill her stocking full, and then he set the rest of the gifts beneath the tree, chatting to himself as he did so. Meanwhile Miranda snapped photos, knowing some would be useless but many would be good.
“Yum-yum. Cookies and milk!” He plopped down in the easy chair and, with his back to Emily, he slipped the cookies into the front of his suit and took a big swig of milk. “Best cookies ever,” he declared heartily. “And carrots for my reindeer too. What a thoughtful little girl.”
He stood and saluted the tree. “A merry Christmas to all,” he said, “and to all a good night.” And then making a few more ho-ho-ho’s, he hurried out the front door. Emily stood up, just staring into the room with a stunned expression before giggling softly, dashing back to her room, and quietly shutting the door behind her.
Miranda wasn’t quite sure what to do, but decided it couldn’t hurt to sit quietly by the tree and wait. It was also a good time to forward the pictures to Joy. Writing some fun captions—and wishing Joy a happy birthday—Miranda happily hit Send. As she sat there waiting for Marcus to return, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene she’d just witnessed. It was like something right out of an old movie, and she knew that Joy would love it. Not even ten minutes passed before Miranda noticed that Joy had emailed back.
Oh, Miranda, you have made my day. Or my night. Or both. The photos of Marcus dressed in George’s old Santa suit are priceless. Thank you so much for sharing! And thank you for helping me to finish my Christmas Joy Ride. I have a feeling that your joyride is just about to begin, and I couldn’t be happier for you. I am settling in nicely here. It’s wonderful being with my boys and their families. And the weather is amazing. I hope you will come visit me soon. Bring that darling girl Emily with you. And Marcus too if you can.
All my love, dear girl!
Christmas Joy
Miranda had just shut down her phone when she heard footsteps in the kitchen. She went out to see Marcus dressed in his normal clothes, casually getting a ginger ale from the fridge. “Oh, are you still up?” he asked innocently. “I couldn’t sleep. Decided I needed a little nightcap. You want something too?”
“Sure.” She decided to play along in case Emily was eavesdropping in the hallway. “I’m kind of hungry too. And speaking of hungry, did you notice that the Santa snack and carrots are gone?”
“Really?” Marcus acted shocked as they went into the other room, exclaiming over the fact that it appeared Santa had come already.
Miranda glanced down the hallway to Emily’s door, but it was still soundly shut. “That was amazing,” she quietly told Marcus. “I could’ve sworn you were really Santa. Very believable.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “What? Me, Santa? Are you imagining things?”
“Oh, very funny.” She poked him in his flat, firm belly. “And the pillow was perfect,” she whispered. “Very convincing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said innocently.
She laughed. “Oh, you’re good. Very good.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “You’re very good too, Miranda.”
“Merry Christmas,” she told him happily.
“It is, isn’t it?” He grinned. “I’m pretty sure Emily is right. This really is going to be the best Christmas ever.”
Miranda could not disagree. She couldn’t remember a Christmas where she’d ever felt this happy . . . and hopeful . . . and loved.
Melody Carlson is the award-winning author of over two hundred books, including Christmas at Harrington’s, The Christmas Pony, A Simple Christmas Wish, and The Christmas Cat. Melody has received a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in the inspirational market for her books. She and her husband live in central Oregon. For more information about Melody, visit her website at www.melodycarlson.com.
Other books by Melody Carlson
Christmas at Harrington’s
The Christmas Bus
The Christmas Shoppe
The Joy of Christmas
The Treasure of Christmas
The Christmas Pony
A Simple Christmas Wish
The Christmas Cat
MelodyCarlson.com
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The Christmas Joy Ride Page 14