A Christmas Promise

by Thomas Kinkade

  He bowed his head and silently said grace. “Thank you, Father, for this meal. Please bless this food and forgive me for . . . for my seclusion tonight, for indulging my low spirits. Please give me the strength and peace of mind to focus tomorrow on Christmas and your gift to the world, the birth of your son, Jesus Christ. Please give me the courage and faith to get through these difficult days. . . .”

  James took a breath and abruptly ended his prayer. His talks with God were rambling on these days, he’d noticed. God’s going to think I’ve been living too long with Vera.

  He chewed mechanically, staring into space, his gaze falling on Vera’s Elvis Santa, perched on the refrigerator. About a foot high, the mechanical music box—with Santa’s outfit and beard and Elvis’s sideburns, sunglasses, and a red plastic guitar—suddenly intrigued him.

  He rose, set it in the middle of the kitchen table, and turned on the switch in back. Scratchy music suddenly drifted out of Santa’s belly and the figure began to sway from side to side. A pseudo-Elvis voice began to croon. It took James a moment to recognize the tune. . . .

  “ ‘Blue Christmas.’ Just what I needed tonight.” He let the doll sing a few more choruses then tried to shut it off. It wouldn’t go off, it seemed, until the song was over. He carried it to Vera’s utility closet, placed it among the vacuum cleaner collection, and shut the door. He could still hear the singing a little in the kitchen, but at least he didn’t have to look at it anymore.

  His eggs looked cold now, unappetizing. He wasn’t hungry anyway, just forcing himself to eat something.

  The phone rang and he wondered if he should even answer it. He expected it to be Ben, checking up on him again. His friend had tried to understand when James had begged off on the invitation to spend the holiday with the Lewises. But James had a feeling that Ben, or even Carolyn, would make one last effort to get him out of the house tonight.

  He stood listening to the ringing, thinking it might be best if he didn’t talk to anyone right now. But finally, he reached out and picked it up. “Hello?”

  “James, I’m glad I caught you in.” Matt spoke in rush. “I just got a call from a friend of mine in Southport. He’s on call tonight at the hospital there. He said a woman was just admitted who fits Leigh’s description. He was on his way to the hospital to take care of her. . . .”

  James pressed the phone to his ear, fumbling for a pencil to write things down. “Southport. Okay, what’s the doctor’s name?”

  “Dr. Dunbar. Frank Dunbar. I told him I would call you. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting in to see her. I don’t know what name Leigh gave when she signed herself in, though.”

  “I’ll find her. Thanks, Matt. Thanks a lot.”

  “That’s okay. Good luck. . . . Call me later. Whenever you can. I’ll be at Sam Morgan’s house but I’ll give you my cell number.”

  James quickly took down Matt’s number and hung up the phone. He grabbed his parka and car keys and ran out the door to his car.

  Southport was over an hour away, even with some speeding. He hoped there wasn’t any traffic left on the highway and that everyone had reached their Christmas Eve destinations by now. He thought of calling Ben, then realized he had left his cell phone in the house. He would have to call later from the hospital, from a pay phone.

  He reached the connector to the highway and headed south. His eyes fixed on the straight wide road, he whispered a quick prayer. “Please, Lord, please let everything go all right tonight with Leigh’s baby. Please let me be there in time.”

  JAMES TALKED TO ANYONE WHO WOULD LISTEN TO HIM, BUT HE WAS still told to wait outside the big double doors of the maternity ward, where large letters on a red and white sign read NO UNAUTHORIZED ADMITTANCE.

  He paced back and forth, waiting for a passing nurse or orderly who might again relay his message to someone inside. A nurse at the information desk had promised twice already that she would get in touch with Dr. Dunbar and tell him James was waiting. It didn’t help matters, James thought, that he wasn’t even sure of the name of the woman he was looking for and couldn’t quite describe his relationship to her. It was agony to have to just wait on the other side of the doors, knowing Leigh was in there and maybe even wanted to see him.

  At last the doors opened and a man dressed in green scrubs walked toward him. “Reverend Cameron? I’m Dr. Dunbar. Sorry I took so long to find you out here.”

  “How’s Leigh? Did she have the baby yet?”

  “Her labor stopped. We’re trying to induce and waiting to see what’s going on. The baby seems fine so far. She has some toxemia but we’re dealing with that.”

  James wasn’t sure what all this meant and felt too nervous to ask. “Can I see her? I mean, will you ask if she’ll see me?”

  “I told her that you’re here. She’s waiting to see you. You can go in now for a few minutes if you like.”

  James followed the doctor into the maternity ward. Leigh was alone in a small room. There were monitors attached to her arm and to her body. Her eyes were closed, her face turned toward the window. She looked exhausted, he thought, worse than he had ever seen her, and still impossibly beautiful.

  He stood at the side of her bed, afraid to wake her.

  A moment later, she turned her head and opened her eyes. “James . . .” She grabbed his hand. “How did you find me?”

  “I had some help, God’s help mostly.” The moment he said the words aloud, he knew they were true.

  Leigh didn’t respond at first. “I’m sorry, James. I never meant for you to find out about me that way. . . .”

  He took her hand and twined his fingers through hers. “We don’t have to talk now, Leigh. It’s okay.”

  But she seemed determined. “I tried to leave—for good, I mean—but I couldn’t, not without talking to you again. That first night I found a motel room, down in Spoon Harbor. I knew I was taking a chance, but I didn’t think he could find me there. I felt so sick. It was hard to travel, so I waited there. I didn’t know what to do. I called Dr. Olin . . . but hung up. I called Molly Willoughby, too, but I didn’t have the nerve to speak to her either.”

  “I’m sorry Vera hung up on you. I would have found you sooner. I had a feeling you weren’t very far.”

  She held tight to his hand, as if for courage. “I meant to go, but I couldn’t leave without talking to you. I need to tell you the truth, James.”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand. “It’s okay. Just relax. You need to have this baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She stared up into his eyes and managed a small smile. He leaned over and kissed her. “Leigh—I don’t even know if that’s your real name—I know I love you, though.”

  She lifted her head and pressed her face against his. “I love you, too. Please believe me.”

  He gazed down at her. Was he fooling himself again, seeing only what he wanted to see? No, he did love her. He was willing to forgive her and accept her for whoever she was, whatever she had done. He believed that God had brought them together for a reason, and that reason would be revealed to him in God’s own time.

  With peace in his heart, James leaned closer and gently stroked Leigh’s hair. Nothing seemed to trouble him anymore now that he’d found her again.

  HOURS LATER, JAMES SAT WAITING AGAIN, THIS TIME ON A DIFFERENT set of plastic chairs just outside another room where Leigh had been taken to recover after the delivery.

  A nurse came out of the room, leaving the door open. “You can go in now.”

  The room was dimly lit and he walked in slowly. The first bed was empty, then behind a half-drawn curtain, he saw Leigh. She was sitting up, holding a small bundle to her chest. She looked at him, her dark eyes radiant.

  “Here she is. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  James nodded, unable to speak. He moved toward the bed, wanting to see the baby but afraid to get too close. She looked so tiny and fragile, wrapped tightly in a white blanket and wearing a little pink cap.

  “It’s
all right,” Leigh said. “You can touch her.”

  The baby’s fist was curled on Leigh’s shoulder. He reached out and gently stroked the back of her hand with his fingertip. “Her skin feels like . . . like a flower petal. Look at her fingers. They’re so tiny and precious. She’s a miracle, isn’t she?”

  Leigh nodded. “It’s like meeting an angel.”

  James nodded, speechless again. “What are you going to name her? Do you know yet?”

  Leigh glanced at him. “Julia. After my mother.”

  “That’s a beautiful name.” He paused and leaned back a bit. “How about you? Do you have some other name besides Leigh I should know by now?” he asked quietly.

  Leigh looked away nervously for a moment and he was sorry he asked, but when she turned back to him and began to speak, her voice was steady and resolved. “My real name is Natalie, Natalie Weber. My mother used to call me Leigh, as a nickname, so I felt comfortable using it. You can still call me that if you like. I don’t mind. I like it, actually.”

  “Okay, I will then.” He sat down on the chair next to the bed and touched her hand. “What are you hiding from, Leigh?”

  She sighed and shifted the baby to her other arm. “I don’t know what that private detective told you, but I have a good guess. I’m not a criminal. And I’m not a—a con artist, out to steal everyone’s money.”

  “All right. What then? Tell me. I want to understand.”

  “I’m hiding from my ex-husband, James. I didn’t want him to know I was having his baby. He would come after me, and he wouldn’t just share custody. He would do everything he could to take her away.”

  To James the charge sounded extreme, but the real fear in her eyes made him hold his questions.

  “About three years ago I married a man named Martin Garret. His family is extremely wealthy. They own a huge textile mill and design studio in New Hampshire. I was working there, and Martin and I started dating. He’s older than me, nearly ten years. He had been married before, but he seemed to have good reasons why it didn’t work out, and I believed him. Maybe because I never had a father growing up, his maturity was attractive to me. He was very charming and attentive—and possessive. It bothered me sometimes but I overlooked it. I overlooked a lot of things. It was sort of a whirlwind romance. I felt like Cinderella. At first I did, anyway. . . .”

  Her voice trailed off, and James could see that it was hard for her to talk about this, hard for her to go back and remember.

  He stood up and went to the window and pulled back the edge of the shade. It was still dark outside, the first rays of sunlight just coloring the edges of the horizon.

  But it was already Christmas Day, he realized, a Christmas he would never forget. The light slowly grew stronger, the sun slowly rising, brightening the sky. He is the Light of the world, he thought.

  Love is God, working through us.

  He loved this woman and her child, and he would stand by her, from this day on, no matter what she had to say.

  Leaning on the window ledge, he turned back to face her. “What did you do at the mill? What kind of work?”

  “I’m a textile designer. I do designs for fabric and wall covering, that sort of thing.”

  “So what you told me about studying art and wanting to be a painter, that part was true?”

  “Yes, that was all true. I grew up in Dayton, Ohio, raised by my mother, and I came to New England for college.”

  He allowed himself to feel a glimmer of encouragement. Just as Ben had predicted, not everything Leigh told him had been false. “So, you and Martin were married. What happened then?”

  “We were only married a few months when Martin began to change. Well, he always had a bad temper. His moods were either high or low, and little things set him off. At first it was never me he was angry with. I told myself he was just a very passionate person. But once we were married, he began to direct his rages at me. He became . . . abusive, verbally . . . and physically.”

  James felt a stab of shock then anger. He realized he had suspected this, yet had never let himself think it through. Even now, he couldn’t bear to imagine someone hurting her.

  “So, you left him?”

  Leigh gave him a bitter smile. “I tried. His family hated the idea of us getting divorced. They kept encouraging us to stay together, to get counseling, to try harder. Martin was willing to do anything his parents said. He talked me into staying with him and we had some counseling. It would work for a while, and then the cycle of rages and abuse would start all over again. We finally separated and I started proceedings for a divorce. My lawyer said I could ask for a big settlement, but I didn’t want anything. I just wanted to get away, to start a new life.”

  James came back to the side of the bed and reached for her hand. She had been through a terrible ordeal. No wonder she’d often seemed so distant, so distrustful when they first met.

  “He made it hard for you to divorce him?”

  “Very hard. He persuaded me to come back one last time and try to make it work again. He said he was seeing a new therapist. He promised he had changed. That’s when I got pregnant. I never told him, and the first time he tried to hit me again, I ran away. I had to think of the baby.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “I didn’t have any money. Martin’s family kept control of our finances, including the salary I earned at the company. I managed to hide a little, though, for an emergency. A friend of mine, Martin’s assistant, loaned me some, too, so I could start over. Of course, as soon as he realized I was truly gone, Martin claimed I had stolen the money from the firm. He closed our bank accounts and I wrote a bad check or two. I guess I was just very naïve and in a panic at first.”

  “Where did you go? How did you manage?”

  “I went to Boston. I probably should have gone farther away, but I had a friend there who let me live with her and helped me get a job. Martin was difficult for a while, but he finally gave me the divorce. I don’t think he wanted the abuse charges to come out. Then about two months ago, somebody told him I was pregnant. He must have counted back the months and figured out it was his child, and that started it all up again. Suddenly, it was all about his baby that had been wrongfully taken from him.” She hesitated and took a sip of water from the cup on her bedside table before continuing. “Martin once told me he would never let me leave him. He would rather I was dead. I knew he and his family would use all their money and influence to force me to go back to him—or simply make up stories about me in court and figure out a way to take the baby.”

  James leaned over and kissed her forehead. “No one is going to take your baby, Leigh. That’s just not going to happen.”

  “I know you think that’s true. I want to believe it, too, James. But just think back to your own reaction. When that detective came to see you and Vera, you must have wondered about me. At the very least, you must have thought that what he said might be true. I know Vera did.”

  James sighed. He couldn’t deny it. He had doubted her. He had let himself believe the worst. “I did, Leigh. And I’m ashamed of myself. I hope someday you can forgive me for that.”

  “Oh, James, of course I forgive you. I just hope you can forgive me for lying to you all those weeks.”

  “That goes without saying. You know,” he said slowly, “there was one good thing that came out of that man visiting us. I had to face something I wouldn’t let myself see before.”

  “And what was that?”

  “That I love you. I knew it had to be love, because losing you hurt so much, and no matter what I heard about you, I still wanted you back.”

  “Well, here I am.” She smiled and glanced down at the baby sleeping in her arms. “Here we are, rather.” She touched the baby’s cheek lightly with her fingertip, then looked back up at him. “I didn’t want to face my feelings for you either,” she admitted. “I was afraid I would get too close and you would uncover my secret. But you helped me, James, more than you’ll ever know. Your
kindness and your caring, the way you worked so hard to make me smile and laugh sometimes—you’ll never know what that meant to me. . . . It saved my life.”

  James was so moved he could hardly speak. “I’ll always be with you, Leigh—you and Julia—to care for you and make you laugh. I’ll always love you, I promise you that.”

  James leaned over and put his arms around both of them, kissing Leigh deeply. And he knew he held a miracle in his arms, a new path, a new purpose to his life.

  “DON’T START YET, I’LL BE RIGHT IN.” JESSICA STALLED, ARRANGING mugs of coffee and some date-nut bread on a tray. She and Sam had agreed to open their gifts for each other on Christmas Day.

  Sam was in the living room by the tree, making a stack of the boxes he had wrapped for her. “C’mon, Jess,” he said eagerly. “I want to see if you like this diamond tiara I bought for you.”

  “A diamond tiara?”

  “Well, not exactly,” he admitted, “but I think you’ll like it anyway.”

  Jessica had a few presents for him under the tree, too. She didn’t think he would be disappointed with her choices, though the best was yet to come.

  She walked into the living room and put the tray down on the coffee table. The doorbell rang and Sam glanced at her. “Who in the world could that be?”

  “One of your buddies, looking to borrow a cordless drill?”

  “Jessica, it’s Christmas, for goodness’ sake.” Sam stalked to the front door, tightening the belt on his robe.

  Jessica followed him, her stomach doing somersaults.

  Sam opened the door and Luke greeted him. “Hey, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

  “Luke, Merry Christmas! I thought you were down in the city, with your family. . . .” Then Jessica saw Sam’s jaw drop in shock. She could tell that he had finally noticed someone else standing on the doorstep—someone considerably shorter than Luke.

  “Darrell? For goodness’ sake . . . what are you doing here?”