A Christmas Visitor

by Thomas Kinkade

“Molly, are you awake? I brought you some ginger tea.”

  Molly sat up. She couldn’t believe it. The last person she wanted to see right now—Alex Cole. Oh, well. Some things, it seemed, just couldn’t be avoided.

  Molly leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. “Come on in. I’m awake now.”

  Alex walked in, holding out the mug of tea. “It’s an old wives’ remedy, but it seems to work. Neutralizes the stomach acid.”

  Molly could barely look at her. She felt so embarrassed to be such a basket case.

  She picked up the tea and took a sip. It tasted good. A little spicy, but it had a pleasant scent, one that didn’t bother her stomach.

  “This isn’t bad. Maybe it will revive me.” She tried to get up, but started to feel sick again.

  Alex helped her settle back on the bed. “Just rest, everything is going well. Your guests are having a great time.”

  “Gee…thanks. I hope someone is taking a video.”

  Alex laughed. “I’ll make sure it’s covered. You’ve had a lot of morning sickness with this pregnancy, haven’t you? Matt told me.”

  Molly winced at the thought of them talking about her.

  “Yeah, morning, noon, and night,” she admitted. “I had some with the girls. A few crackers and ginger ale would do the trick. But nothing seems to work this time around. This baby is a tough one. Guess it takes after me,” she added ruefully. “They can send people into outer space. You would think someone could figure out a cure for morning sickness. If men got pregnant, believe me, the best scientific minds would be working on it, night and day.”

  “You have a good point.” Alex smiled. “No one quite understands the cause. There are probably many different triggers. Stress is a factor,” she added. “You probably need to relax.”

  “I probably do. But it’s hard with a houseful of people downstairs. On Christmas Eve no less.”

  Alex nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry. But look at it this way: maybe you feel awful at the moment, but I know plenty of women who would trade places with you in a heartbeat. They’d do anything to be in your shoes, having a baby.”

  Having Matt’s baby? Is that what she meant?

  Molly didn’t answer. She couldn’t help wondering if Alex counted herself among those women. Molly took another sip of her tea. “Thanks for thinking of me. I guess I’ll try to rest now.”

  “I hope you feel better soon,” Alex said and left.

  Molly turned out the light. Her stomach seemed to settle in the darkness.

  She had been acting perfectly awful tonight. Totally ungrateful for all the good things in her life. Maybe her centerpieces weren’t the most important thing in life. Maybe even serving pâté out of a plastic tub wasn’t cause for great heartbreak. She knew Alex was right. She ought to consider herself lucky and count her blessings, instead of fretting over every tiny, meaningless thing that had gone wrong.

  This baby was a blessing, as Matt had told the girls. She needed to remember that instead of being so petty.

  If only she wasn’t stuck upstairs, unable to budge off the bed, while her husband was downstairs, entertaining with Dr. Gorgeous by his side.

  What a Christmas…

  * * *

  THE POTTER TRIBE INVADED RIGHT ON TIME, ARRIVING at the orchard the afternoon of Christmas Eve and filling the house from top to bottom. Sophie, who looked forward to this mayhem every year, was in her glory. She had stationed herself at the stove and started cooking when the first group arrived at lunchtime and hadn’t stopped since.

  Miranda was having a harder time of it. She was glad to see everyone and was doing her best to take part in all the talking and joking, but she felt as if everything was happening at a great distance. It took all her energy just to act “normal,” and keep from drifting off into her own sadness. Of course, all her cousins were curious about “the amnesia guy,” but whenever the conversation came around to him, Sophie would find a way to change the topic, making light of it, as if men with amnesia sought shelter at her home every day. Miranda was deeply grateful.

  Greg arrived at about five o’clock. He stumbled through the door with shopping bags of presents, a bouquet of flowers for her grandmother, and a box of fancy chocolates.

  He kissed Miranda on the cheek and gave her a quick, sharp hug. “Gee, I missed you. I’m glad you asked me to come tonight.”

  “I’m glad you came,” Miranda said, and hugged him back. She was happy to see him. There were a few cousins at the party her own age, but they were all married now with children, and Miranda felt out of sync with their lives. Now at least she had Greg here. There were no sparks, no lightning, but being near him gave her a warm, comforting feeling.

  For the past few days she had wondered if she and Greg would be able to get back on track now that Adam was gone. She knew that she would never feel what she felt for Adam. But maybe that’s all right, she reasoned. Maybe things with Greg are fine just the way they are. I’m never going to find anyone like Adam, so that means I need to try again with someone else.

  Her cousin Sylvie nudged her out of these thoughts. “You need to look out for your guy,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Miranda asked, misunderstanding at first, thinking Adam needed her help.

  “Your dad’s got Greg cornered in the living room,” Sylvie told her. “Looks like he’s giving him the third degree. You really ought to rescue him.”

  “Thanks, Sylvie,” Miranda said. She rushed into the living room where, sure enough, her father had Greg nearly pinned against the wall. Her dad, she noticed, was the one doing nearly all the talking.

  “Miranda,” her father said as she drew near, “it seems Greg here has some pretty interesting projects going on, challenging field engineering. Big money to be made if you get hold of some of the government contracts.” He turned back to Greg. “So you’re a partner in the firm?”

  “I’m a senior projects engineer, Mr. Potter, not a partner.”

  Greg glanced at Miranda. He seemed to be dealing with this interview well, secretly finding it amusing.

  Miranda felt her face redden. Her father could be so pushy at times. She loved her dad but they didn’t get along very well. A successful attorney, he was extremely status-conscious. He judged people—especially the men she had dated—by their title, income, or the type of car they drove. He had badly wanted his children to be successful in what he called “the real world,” and Miranda knew she had never come close to hitting the mark.

  Her father smiled at her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Miranda, your grandmother tells me you’ve started your own business, and it’s doing well.”

  “So far,” Miranda said cautiously. She had an idea of where this was leading.

  “Well, if you really want to make a go of it, you’ve got to get proactive and plan for the future,” her father said. “You ought to be thinking about hiring staff, selling a line to the department stores. Debra knows all the buyers at Neiman Marcus. Should I ask her to set up a meeting for you?”

  Debra, another status-conscious attorney, was the woman her father had been seeing lately.

  “Dad, I don’t think my jewelry is suitable for Neiman Marcus,” Miranda said, trying to keep a straight face. “And I’m not quite ready to hire a staff. A good part of the appeal is that all the pieces are made by me, personally.”

  He scratched his forehead and gave her a look. That “my kids just can’t get out of the box” look she’d come to know. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “If that’s the way you want to handle it. I’m just relieved that you finally saw the light about acting. That was a losing proposition for you, Miranda. But you’d never listen to me.”

  Miranda took a deep breath. She was in a fragile emotional state as it was, and now her father was pushing her over the top.

  “I don’t think so, Dad. I’ve just had an offer for the role of Cordelia in King Lear. The New City Theater Company is staging a production. It will run through the summer out i
n Provincetown and then tour for about nine months.”

  “Really. I had no idea you were even auditioning anymore.” Her father stepped back and sipped his drink, his eyes widened in surprise.

  “I wasn’t going to every audition in the world anymore, just a select few. I liked this role. I guess it worked for me.”

  “Seems so. Well…bravo,” he said graciously.

  She suspected he thought she’d made this all up, just to save face, to prove him wrong. She glanced at Greg, who also looked startled. She hadn’t told him about the call, wanting to tell him in person.

  “So…that’s news.” Greg stared at her. “And you’re taking it?”

  “I’m not sure. They’ve sent a contract. I need to let them know in a few days, right after Christmas.” Her father had finally drifted away, snagged by her aunt to carve the turkey.

  Miranda moved closer to Greg. “I was waiting until later to tell you. I thought we should talk about it in person, not just over the phone.”

  He nodded. “Sure, I understand. I was wondering if you had heard anything, but since you didn’t mention it, I thought it had been a rejection and you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Miranda touched his arm. “I do want to talk about it. There’s a lot to consider.”

  Aunt Evelyn appeared in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready,” she called out. “The food is set up in the kitchen, just grab a plate and some silverware, and find a place to sit down.”

  Miranda glanced at Greg. “We’d better get in there. I know for a fact we’re quite a few chairs short. In a minute, it’s going to feel like a game of musical chairs in there.”

  Greg laughed and put his arm around her shoulder. “Perfect, just the cozy family Christmas I imagined.”

  EVERYONE HAD EATEN HIS FILL OF SOPHIE’S DELICIOUS cooking. Miranda was loading plates into the dishwasher while her grandmother put out a big pot of coffee and started setting out desserts on the dining room table. Greg had been helping in the cleanup effort—one of the only men in sight, Miranda noticed, as the rest were in the living room, gathered around the TV—when Aunt Evelyn put him in charge of guarding the desserts from eager little hands.

  He faced Miranda with a mock grim expression. “It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.”

  “Good luck,” she said, sending him off. He really was a good sport and seemed to fit in perfectly with her raucous, often eccentric family. Which was saying something.

  “He’s a very nice fellow,” Aunt Evelyn whispered to Miranda once he had gone into the dining room. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

  Miranda felt cornered. Not that she would ever deny Greg was “nice.” But she was sure her aunt meant something more by this conversation. “Oh…I’m not sure. Just a few months. Not that long,” she added.

  Evelyn smiled at her. “Well, that’s long enough to know sometimes. If it’s right.”

  Miranda nodded numbly. She had known Adam for just a little over three weeks. And she had known it was right almost from the start.

  Her father suddenly appeared. “That fellow you found in the orchard, the guy with amnesia. They’re going to have a news story about him. Come on in, quick.”

  “Really? Let’s go see.” Sophie wiped her hands on a dish towel and herded her daughter and granddaughter out into the living room.

  Miranda stood back as her relatives talked and laughed all around her.

  “Next up, an amnesia victim who wandered miles from home is reunited with his family. Wow, what a Christmas story that is,” the newscaster added.

  A moment later a picture of Adam appeared on the screen. Eric, Miranda reminded herself, though she found it almost impossible to think of him as anything but Adam. He looked different on TV but also the same. He was certainly dressed well and had a different haircut. He smiled into the camera, and she thought he looked happy.

  “A man who was found in an orchard in northeast Massachusetts with no memory of his prior life was reunited with his fiancée after being missing for almost three weeks. Eric Copeland is celebrating his homecoming in Portland, Maine, and slowly regaining his memory.”

  “It’s nice to hear a happy story for once,” the other newscaster said.

  “Yes, that one does have a happy ending. His doctor predicts a complete recovery. He’s a lucky man. We hope he’s having a great holiday. And we hope you are, too,” the news anchor said before signing off.

  “I didn’t realize he was so young. And handsome,” Evelyn said. “I pictured him older somehow.”

  “Oh, he was young. A few years older than Miranda, I guess,” her grandmother answered. “A nice young man, too. You could just tell.”

  “I think you both took a great risk having him here,” Miranda’s father cut in. “I wouldn’t have permitted that if I had known what was going on.”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you, Bart,” Sophie said to her son.

  “Well, you’re just lucky nothing happened and he didn’t turn out to be some unstable type. All’s well that ends well, I guess.”

  It hadn’t ended well at all, Miranda thought. Not for her.

  The unexpected sight of him brought tears to her eyes.

  She turned to see Greg standing beside her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of sympathy for her and his own hurt. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Want to go outside and get some air?”

  Miranda nodded. She led the way to the mudroom where they slipped on their jackets and stepped outside.

  It was a clear, cold night and a thin layer of snow crunched under their footsteps. Miranda breathed in the chilly air, trying to clear her head and hold back her tears.

  Greg took her hand but didn’t say anything. She felt herself walking aimlessly, then realized they were headed up the hill behind the house, to the place where she had found Adam.

  They reached the top of the hill and Greg stared out at the view. “Wow, this is breathtaking. I don’t think I’ve ever been up here before.”

  That’s because I never brought you here, Miranda realized, feeling a little guilty. Why hadn’t she ever thought to show Greg her favorite place in the world? She would have shown Adam if he hadn’t already known about it.

  “Greg…”

  “Miranda…” They both spoke at once.

  “You go first,” she said.

  He looked at her for a moment then said, “I know the past three weeks have been hard for you. I know there was something between you and…Eric. I’m not accusing you of anything, honestly. I take some responsibility here, too. I travel so much for my work, we don’t get to see each other nearly as much as I would like. My divorce has made me very cautious, I guess,” he admitted. “Some women have told me I’m distant, I don’t get close easily. If you think of it as an engineering problem,” he added with a small smile, “there was definitely a gap there for Eric—or someone else—to step in.”

  “Greg, you’re being too nice about this,” Miranda began.

  “I’m not saying that’s the only reason. But it’s true,” he insisted. “I haven’t made a commitment to you. I haven’t stepped up. So what did I expect? You’re a special person, Miranda. I’m not the only guy in the world who’s going to notice that.”

  It was very honest, even noble of him to take some responsibility for her attachment to Adam. She kept thinking she hadn’t been fair to Greg, but it was true—there was a gap there that had allowed her feelings for Adam to develop. Then again, Miranda knew that her feelings for Adam would have grown anyway, no matter what. It was actually fortunate that she and Greg hadn’t made any formal promises to each other.

  “Listen.” He took her hands and looked down into her eyes. “I don’t believe in wasting a lot of time talking about what’s past and done. I’m willing to move on if you are, Miranda. We had a chance at something good. It seems a waste to throw that all away. I don’t even care if you take that role you’ve been offered. I know I said I wouldn’t wait around for you. But I would,” he adm
itted. “We could find a way to make it work. I’m willing to try.”

  He wanted to continue their relationship, on any terms she needed. He wanted to move on and pretend Adam—the comet that had streaked across her heart—had never happened.

  Miranda didn’t know what to say. She looked up at Greg, then out at the view below. She knew with utter certainty she couldn’t do it. It would never work. It would always feel not quite right, second best, as if she had merely settled.

  “Greg…you’re such a great person. I care for you, very much. But I’m sorry. I don’t think I can just pick up where we left off and keep going, as if nothing ever happened. Something did happen to me. Inside. I feel different. Changed.”

  Greg sighed. “Please don’t answer right now. Think about it. In a few days, you might see this all very differently.”

  “I don’t think so. I think you deserve more,” Miranda said. “Someone who feels more than I do. It might work, for a time. But there would always be that gap you were talking about. I don’t want to shortchange you. I don’t want to shortchange myself.…Do you understand?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes…I do. Thanks for being honest, at least.”

  “No. Thank you. Thank you for trying. For being so understanding and patient with me. I think you’re one in a million.”

  “I think the same about you.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Then they started down the hill, walking side by side.

  “I don’t think I’ll join the party,” he said when they got to the house. “Please thank your grandmother and make some excuse for me?”

  “Of course.”

  He stepped forward and hugged her. Miranda hugged him back, clinging for a moment, but knowing she had done the right thing.

  “Merry Christmas, Miranda,” he said, stepping away.

  “Merry Christmas,” she answered. She hoped he would find happiness very soon, with someone new. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

  MOLLY CAME DOWN THE STAIRS SLOWLY, TRYING NOT to draw attention to herself. Betty was the first to spot her and called out from the living room. “Molly’s back, everyone! How are you doing? Feeling better?”