Christmas Miracles

by MacLean, Julianne

  At 6:11 p.m., she gave birth to a beautiful, dark-haired baby girl she named Louise. I fell in love with my niece immediately, weeping tears of joy the moment I held her in my arms.

  Though I was willing to help Bev in every possible way at home during her first weeks of motherhood, our own mother insisted on coming to stay with us as well, since neither of us had any experience with newborns.

  Those breezy summer afternoons, with the four of us under one roof—three generations of women, all infatuated with a sweet little soul who had brought overflowing love into our home—were very special.

  Leo was gentle and loving around Louise. He had a knack for anticipating when she was about to wake up from a nap, and he would trot over to Bev and nudge her with his nose.

  Despite my struggles to become pregnant and have a child of my own, I felt no envy or resentment toward my sister, nor any discontent about my own situation. As far as I was concerned, my joys could not have been more bountiful, and I counted my blessings every day.

  But of course, it could not be smooth sailing forever…

  Sixty days after we buried Wes, a courier arrived at my door and delivered a large manila envelope. When I saw that it had come from a law firm in Toronto, I knew exactly what it was, and my heart sank because it reminded me that I was not as free of my old life as I had begun to believe.

  My precious new beginnings still carried relics of pain from past betrayals—not only surrounding my husband, but surrounding the woman who had pretended to be my best friend.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Not wanting to worry my mother or sister, I called Scott and arranged to have dinner with him at his house that night. I wanted to talk to him because he was smart about money and investments and legal matters, but more importantly, he knew Angie better than anyone, and I would have felt lost without his advice.

  Before dinner, while lasagna cooked in the oven, we sat down on the leather sofa in his living room, so that he could look over the documents.

  When he finished, he sat back and said, “Wow.”

  “I know,” I replied. “I’m still processing everything. But it’s pretty clear what she wants.”

  He nodded. “She’s suing you for Wes’s entire trust fund.”

  I stood up and walked to the kitchen to pour the wine that had been left to breathe on the counter for the past twenty minutes. I poured two glasses, returned to the sofa, and handed him one.

  “You weren’t even sure if she knew about the fund,” Scott said as he accepted the glass.

  I sat down beside him. “That’s right. When Wes came to see me, he told me that she didn’t know anything about it. I can only assume that he revealed it after he agreed to return to Toronto, when she told him she was pregnant.”

  Scott pointed at the papers on the coffee table. “And this is very clear that she is pregnant, just past the first trimester. She’s arguing that despite the will he wrote, he wouldn’t have wanted the money to go to you, not when he had a child on the way.”

  “That could be true,” I said. “And to be honest—as much as I dislike Angie—she’s about to give birth to his child, and it doesn’t feel right that I should be the one to receive the giant nest egg he left behind. He filed that will before he knew about the baby. And though I would love to be a millionaire, I find myself wondering… What would my father do in this situation? How would he want me to handle this?”

  Scott watched me carefully. “And? What’s the answer to that question?”

  I sighed. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I fought her over this.” I regarded Scott intently. “I never felt right about it, you know. Because I’m not even sure I would have taken him back. I probably wouldn’t have.”

  We both sat for a moment or two, listening to the soft jazz playing on his portable speaker, and breathing in the delectable scent of lasagna in the oven.

  “So what are you going to do?” Scott asked.

  I sipped my wine. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I’ll definitely talk to a lawyer. Right now, I’m leaning towards handing over the money.”

  Scott regarded me with astonishment. “Really.”

  “Yes, but I’m not just going to hand the whole kit and caboodle over to her without making sure it’s put to good use. After what she did to me—and us—I’m still angry with her and I don’t think she deserves a giant windfall like this. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but I do. What can I say? I’m only human, and I feel very little sympathy toward her, even though she lost Wes, too.”

  I paused and sipped my wine.

  “But that’s not what matters here,” I continued. “It’s the child I can’t stop thinking about. Wes’s child, who is completely innocent in all this. The money should go to him or her. So there’s got to be a way to settle with Angie somehow, to get her to agree to accept some sort of annuity to raise the child, while most of it remains in trust for when he or she reaches the age of majority.” I set down my wine glass. “I just don’t want to hand two million dollars over to Angie without any parameters, then watch her blow it on herself, on trips and shoes. Do you think she would do that?”

  Scott sat forward. “I don’t know. Maybe she would blow through some of it, but she’s not stupid. She’d want to make it last.”

  I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Sadly, two million dollars doesn’t go all that far in this day and age, especially with the cost of living in Toronto, and the cost of education if the child wants to go to university down the road.”

  Scott watched me while I turned everything over in my mind. “I have a feeling you’ve made up your mind,” he said.

  “Yes, I think I have.” I took a deep breath.

  “So that’s what you’re going to do? Give her the money?”

  I sighed heavily and nodded.

  Scott glanced over the papers. “Didn’t his mother tell you that if Angie ever came after you for the money, they would take care of it? They are the grandparents after all.”

  I considered that while I took another sip of my wine. “Barbara did say that, and she tried to convince me that Wes would have wanted me to have the money, not Angie—probably because she knew how guilty he felt over what happened. But I’m okay now. I’m alive and I’m happy. My house is totally paid off and I have my sister and her newborn baby living with me, and I love them both. Besides, it’s not up to Barbara. It’s my money now and I can do whatever I want with it. Unfortunately, Wes isn’t here to speak for himself, but I have to go with my gut. I may not have known him as well as I thought I did, but I’m pretty sure he would have wanted that money to go to his son or daughter. I don’t feel right keeping it for myself. That would feel very greedy, and I’m not a greedy person. I just want everyone to be happy. Even Angie, I suppose.”

  Scott reached for my hand and held it. “You’re an amazing person, Claire. I have to say… I’ve never loved you more.”

  I felt a spark of something exhilarating, as if my broken heart had just been pieced back together. “I didn’t know you loved me before.”

  Scott raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

  We gazed at each other tenderly in the lamplight while Johnny Matthis sang soulfully in the background.

  Sliding closer to Scott on the sofa, I rested my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and stroked my hair.

  “I do love you, Claire,” he said softly as he kissed the top of my head, “and I don’t ever want to live without you.”

  I felt an almost ferocious desire for him. “I don’t want to live without you either. I’ve felt this way about you for a long time, but I’ve been holding back, because everything’s been so complicated and painful. But now, Wes is gone and… Still, I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “I know,” Scott said, rubbing his thumb over my shoulder. “We don’t have to rush this. We can take it as slowly as you like, but I’m not going anywhere. And you might as well know…”

/>   He paused and looked down at me. I sat back slightly so that I could see his face.

  “I have every intention of marrying you,” he said. “When you’re ready.”

  My eyebrows lifted, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You are presumptuous.”

  “Not presumptuous,” he replied. “Hopeful.”

  A feeling of electricity sizzled in the air between us as I gazed into the depths of his beautiful eyes. Then he wrapped his big hand around the back of my head and slowly pulled me in for a kiss that left me breathless. His lips were warm and sweet, and he tasted like the full-bodied red wine we had been drinking.

  I wanted nothing more than to give myself over to him completely, knowing that my heart would be safe, that he would never hurt or betray me. He was the most honorable man I had ever known, and he was handsome beyond my wildest imaginings. I’d always known it, but now that I loved him openly with my whole heart, he was ten times more attractive than I’d ever dreamed a man could be.

  The timer on the oven began to beep, and I slowly drew back. “Is that supper?”

  He beheld me with desire and cradled my chin in his hand. “Do you know that you are the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth?”

  I grinned. “No, but I love that you think so.”

  The beeper went off again and he chuckled softly. “I should go and take that out of the oven before it burns.”

  “I suppose. Let me help you.”

  We both stood up and he led me to the kitchen, never letting go of my hand until he had to pull on the oven mitts. He opened the oven door and steam filtered out. The lasagna was covered with golden mozzarella cheese and fragrant fresh oregano that filled my senses. I felt positively intoxicated with happiness.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in the heady fragrance, then I went to the table to light the candles and open another bottle of wine.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Part of me felt guilty for retaining the services of a lawyer and handling the matter of Wes’s trust fund on my own without ever telling his mother about it. But I didn’t want Barbara to try and talk me out of it, which I was quite certain she would do because it had been their money, after all.

  During the few times we had spoken about Angie, it had become apparent to me that Barbara felt no affection for the woman who had lured her son away—not only from the sanctity of his marriage, but from his family home in Nova Scotia.

  That’s why she hadn’t invited Angie to the reception after the funeral service and burial. She was as angry with her as I was.

  But that was before any of us knew with certainty that Angie was carrying Wes’s child. Now it was certain. DNA tests had been performed, and it was time for me to do what I believed to be the right thing.

  Two months after I received the papers from her lawyer, just after Thanksgiving, when colorful autumn leaves lay crisp and dry on the ground, blowing in the wind, we settled out of court. I agreed to a full transfer of the principal amount of the investment funds, and Angie agreed to my stipulation that a reasonable annuity would be paid to her each year for the raising of her child. This was to be managed by an independent trustee and dispersed accordingly. As long as the funds were managed sensibly over the coming years, Wes’s son or daughter would receive the full balance that remained when he or she reached the age of majority.

  I was happy with this arrangement, and Angie seemed happy too, though I never spoke to her directly. It was all handled through lawyers.

  When everything was settled and I was no longer in possession of the money, I felt a tremendous weight lifted, but it was mirrored by an uncomfortable ache in my heart, for I had never revealed any of these proceedings to Barbara, nor had I sought her advice. I had simply made up my mind, on my own.

  I felt an intense need to speak with her and George and let them know what had transpired. I wasn’t sure how they would feel about what I had done (Bev thought I was crazy for giving up the money) but I knew that Barbara was a reasonable woman who had loved her son more than anything in the world.

  I had loved him, too. All I wanted was peace for everyone involved.

  So I sat down at the kitchen table one evening after Bev and the baby were asleep, and I picked up a pen to write a letter to my mother-in-law, longhand.

  Dear Barbara,

  I’m sorry for not calling or visiting you since the funeral, but life has thrown a few curveballs my way. The first one was a happy ball to catch, as my sister Bev went into labor at the end of July and delivered a beautiful baby girl named Louise. Mother and daughter are doing well, and Bev has been enjoying her maternity leave. She still lives with me, and I, too, have enjoyed the pleasure of being an auntie. It’s a very nice arrangement.

  But that is not why I am writing. I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything from Angie lately, but she contacted me in August to let me know that she was expecting Wes’s baby in December. Actually, she had her lawyers contact me because she wanted to challenge the will. She asserted that Wes’s true wishes had not been reflected in the will that he had written last summer, before he knew he was going to be a father. She asked that I relinquish the trust fund, so that she would have some support while raising their child alone.

  I hope you understand, but I decided that it would be best to give the trust fund to Angie’s child. I transferred the full amount a few days ago, and arranged for it to be managed by a trustee over the next twenty-one years, after which time the balance would be transferred to the child.

  I feel good about this decision, and I hope you understand.

  But there is much more I wish to say, and this is the most important reason for my letter. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have enclosed a Christmas gift box with this package, which is tied up with a red and green ribbon. This may surprise you, as it is only October and not yet the holiday season, but I didn’t want to wait.

  In it you will find the lovely silver baby cup and spoon you gave to me the Christmas before last.

  I am returning it to you now so that you may reach out to Angie and offer this to her as a gesture of love. Her due date is December 23rd, and after she delivers her child, she will return to her apartment alone. She has no parents of her own—they passed away many years ago—so it is my hope that you will welcome your grandson or granddaughter into the world with loving arms, and forgive her for the unconventional beginnings of her relationship with Wes. I have come to terms with it, and I believe in my heart that Wes was meant to love Angie and she was meant to love him, for they have created something beautiful together—a new life, something he and I were never able to accomplish during the time we were together.

  I don’t know why he was taken from us. Only God knows the answer to that question. But we all must continue to march on through life, trusting that it is unfolding the way it is meant to.

  Please take this baby cup that was so special to you after you brought Wes into the world. Get on a plane and visit the woman who will give birth to your grandchild. Love her unconditionally and forgive her for everything. I am working toward that myself.

  With deepest love and affection,

  Claire

  Chapter Thirty-five

  A month and a half later, December arrived, and all the charming Victorian homes in my neighborhood boasted outdoor lights and festive wreathes on doors. Christmas music played in the shopping malls, and there was a joyful bustle to life that only existed during the holiday season.

  Giant snowflakes fell gently from the sky as I walked home from school in my down-filled overcoat, wearing my favorite red woolen scarf and mittens, carrying my leather satchel full of end-of-term tests to mark. As I rounded the corner of my street, I spotted Barbara’s SUV parked in my driveway.

  Pausing on the sidewalk, I felt a pang of apprehension because I hadn’t heard a word from her since I’d sent the silver baby cup and spoon and informed her of my decision to hand Wes’s trust fund over to Angie. I still felt guilty about not involving Barbara and George in t
he decision, and I worried that she might be angry about that.

  Starting off again and turning into my driveway, I noted that the vehicle was empty. I could only presume that Bev had invited Barbara inside.

  When I entered the house, I found them seated in the living room next to the Christmas tree, with the silver tray and formal tea set arranged on the coffee table. Bev had set out a plate of store-bought cookies, while Louise lay in her playpen in the corner of the room, making baby noises. Leo slept quietly in the foyer.

  As always, Barbara was impeccably dressed in an expensive black pant suit and heels, with a heavy gold chain and gold button earrings, her red hair swept into the usual elegant twist.

  Bev looked up when she saw me, and I sensed her relief at my arrival. She immediately set down her teacup and greeted me.

  “Hey, look who came by. Barbara and I have just been sitting here, chatting about the American election.”

  I set down my satchel and approached Barbara, who rose from her chair to hug me.

  “It’s so nice to see you,” I said. “Merry Christmas. Let me hang up my coat.”

  While I unzipped it and moved to the front closet, I was aware of Bev gathering up the tea tray. When I returned to the living room, she was rising from the sofa to carry it to the kitchen. She shrugged as she passed by, as if to say she had no idea what, specifically, Barbara had come about.

  I joined my mother-in-law in the living room and we made small talk for a few minutes, catching up on the usual things—in particular how much we both missed Wes and how especially difficult it was to be without him during the holidays.

  Bev returned to collect Louise and explained that it was time for her feeding. A moment later, Barbara and I were left alone.

  I cleared my throat as we sat in awkward silence. Then I decided to approach the uncomfortable subject of why she was here.

  “I assume you got my letter,” I said.