The Christmas Night Miracle

by Mortimer, Carole

  ‘No, of course not,’ she snapped impatiently. ‘What happened earlier was the result of overheated emotions,’ she dismissed with what she hoped was conviction, because she wasn’t sure what it was the result of, only that she would never be able to forget it. ‘You said we could leave? Does that mean I’ll be able to phone the local garage, after all?’

  ‘It means I’ve just walked down to the main road and back.’

  ‘You have?’ she gasped.

  ‘I have,’ he drawled. ‘And pretty damn slippery it is, too. But I think I may be able to drive my Range Rover down the half a mile or so of this lane, and then the main road has been cleared, so I should be able to drive the two of you the rest of the way to your parents’ house.’

  Meg’s eyes widened at this suggestion. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,’ she protested without thinking, a blush colouring her cheeks as his brows rose speculatively. ‘I mean, I really can’t put you to all that trouble.’

  ‘And the alternative of having you and Scott remain here isn’t putting me to any trouble?’ he scorned.

  Well, when he put it like that…!

  ‘I wasn’t meaning for us to remain here,’ she came back sharply, accepting that she and Scott had probably been a nuisance to him since they arrived.

  Although he had seemed to be getting on with Scott well enough earlier. That was before he had kissed her, Meg reminded herself, something he obviously deeply regretted if he was willing to attempt driving in the dangerous conditions to get rid of her.

  She frowned. ‘But if the main road is cleared now, perhaps I can order a taxi.’

  ‘Will you get real, Meg?’ Jed rasped his impatience. ‘The half a mile down to the main road is almost suicidal, and even though the main road is cleared now, there is more snow forecast for later on today.’

  ‘There is?’ She groaned her dismay.

  ‘There is,’ he confirmed hardly. ‘Now the way I look at it is we have a small gap in the bad weather during which I can attempt to get you and Scott to your family in time for Christmas. Take it or leave it.’

  She had to take it. Of course she did. Except that she was no longer in any hurry to get to her parents’ house, not now that she knew that Sonia and Jeremy were going to be there too.

  She swallowed hard. ‘I don’t want to put any of us in danger just for the sake of waiting a while.’

  ‘Believe me, Meg, you’re in more danger staying on here than we are attempting that ten-mile drive,’ he rasped self-derisively.

  What did he…? Surely he didn’t mean…? He did, one look at those penetrating blue eyes told her.

  ‘If you could transfer Scott’s presents from my car to your Range Rover without Scott seeing you, I’ll go and pack our things,’ she told him evenly.

  ‘I had a feeling you might,’ Jed drawled, his throaty laugh following her up the stairs.

  Well, she hadn’t exactly handled that well, had she? Not that she had ever made a pretence of appearing cool and sophisticated; it simply wasn’t her.

  The fact that she had Scott, that all of her time the last three and a half years, when she hadn’t been working, had been spent taking care of him, meant that she hadn’t had much chance for a social life of her own, except the occasional cup of coffee with another young mother. Oh, she had dated before Scott was born, but she couldn’t say any of those men had remotely prepared her for a man like Jed Cole.

  If anyone could be prepared for a man like him.

  He was older, more assured, probably a lot more experienced too, than any of the young men she had previously dated.

  Not that she was dating Jed Cole, she mocked herself derisively. But she was attracted to him, had responded to his kiss, had felt a surge of pleasure at his touch, had no idea where that desire might have taken them if Scott hadn’t interrupted them when he did.

  But it was just as well that he had interrupted them now that Jed had offered to actually drive them to her parents’ house.

  Not an ideal arrangement, in itself. After the things she had already told him about her family, her mother’s lack of interest, the fact that neither of her parents had ever met Scott, her twin sister Sonia, Meg didn’t particularly want to introduce Jed to any of them. Something she would have no choice about once he had driven them to her parents’ home. She could hardly expect him to just turn around and drive back to the cottage without so much as offering him a hot drink.

  Oh, well, seeing as she had no choice in the matter anyway, perhaps it was a small price to pay for finally reaching her destination.

  Although she wasn’t quite so sure about that half an hour later as Jed struggled to keep the vehicle from sliding off the lane and into the hedgerow at its side, his face grim with concentration, Meg tense beside him as she sat in teeth-clenched silence, Scott the only one unconcerned by the danger—he had fallen asleep several minutes ago, obviously tired from his earlier exertions building the snowman.

  But Meg understood now why Jed had been gone so long on his walk this morning, with drifts five feet high or so on some sides of the lane, only Jed’s skilled driving keeping them from disaster.

  In fact, she discovered shortly when Jed had turned the Range Rover onto the main road, she had kept her hands so tightly clenched during that hair-raising journey that she had imprints of her nails in the palms of her hands.

  ‘Phew,’ she breathed her relief, glad she didn’t have to do that again.

  Although the same couldn’t be said for the man at her side, she knew, when he returned in a couple of hours or so.

  ‘This is better, isn’t it?’ She relaxed slightly in the leather seat, actually able to see the road ahead now, huge piles of snow cleared to bank its edges.

  No wonder she had got so lost the evening before.

  ‘Slightly,’ Jed muttered, his face pale from the strain of battling with the slippery lane.

  Meg took the silence that followed as an indication that he didn’t want to talk any more but concentrate on his driving.

  She had no argument with that, couldn’t think of anything to say, anyway, that wouldn’t sound trite. Besides which, the nearer they got to the village of Winston, the more she could feel her own tension rising.

  The truth was, she would have been so much happier remaining in London for Christmas, just Scott and herself, as it usually was. Added to which, she was sure her mother wouldn’t have issued the invitation at all—she hadn’t any other year—if Meg’s father hadn’t recently been ill.

  A heart attack.

  Her father had suffered a heart attack two weeks ago, only a mild one according to her mother, but even so she hadn’t let Meg know at the time, only telephoning her on Sunday with that news and the invitation.

  She didn’t understand her mother. Never had. Had always found her emotionally distant, her father by far the easiest of her two parents to relate to as she’d been growing up, although his job as a civil servant working in London had meant she’d really only seen him at the weekend, and once she and Sonia had gone to boarding school at thirteen she hadn’t even seen him then.

  But if Sonia had been her mother’s daughter, then Meg had definitely been her father’s, and she had been deeply hurt that her mother hadn’t bothered to let her know of his illness sooner. To which her mother had replied, ‘There was nothing you could do, so there was no point in bothering you.’

  She really was that duckling amongst swans that Jed had mentioned last night, had to admit that as a child she had sometimes wondered if they could possibly be her real family at all; if not for her twin she would seriously have doubted it.

  ‘We’re entering Winston now,’ Jed told her grimly some time later. ‘You’ll have to give me directions from here.’

  Meg felt her nervous tension return as she told him to turn right out of the town, a fluttering sensation in her stomach at what lay ahead.

  For Scott’s sake this visit had to go well, and she was more than willing to play her part, if only sh
e could be sure the rest of the family would do the same. Because if they didn’t, this could be a very short visit indeed.

  ‘Here?’ Jed rasped incredulously as she told him to turn into the driveway to the left.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed woodenly, deliberately not looking at him, knowing he couldn’t help but notice the grandeur of the imposing house and grounds they were now approaching down a driveway that had been totally cleared of snow.

  But even though she wasn’t looking at him she could feel Jed’s narrowed gaze on her for several long seconds, probably wondering how this single mother, with a hire car for transport—a damaged hire car that the company had agreed to have towed away as soon as the weather cleared, and only a holdall with her own and Scott’s clothes in for their short stay, could possibly come from a family of such obvious wealth.

  She might even have found his incredulity funny if she didn’t feel quite so nervous about facing them all again.

  Oh, she heard from Sonia from time to time, as both of them lived in London, awkward conversations where they said nothing of any importance. She had even met her sister for coffee once or twice while Scott had been at playschool—all right, once!—but she couldn’t claim that either of them had enjoyed the experience, too much between them left unsaid.

  And their lifestyles were so totally different, Sonia with her socialite friends and showcase house, and Meg with her other young-mother friends and often untidy apartment, so they weren’t likely to meet socially either.

  She could feel Jed’s gaze on her again, so intense now it was impossible to withstand.

  ‘What?’ she prompted irritably.

  ‘This is where you were brought up?’ he rasped disbelievingly.

  Meg looked out the window as the house loomed closer, a huge four-storey mansion in mellow stone that was bigger than the whole building she lived in, and that housed eight flats.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed heavily. ‘Look,’ she continued irritably as his silence seemed brooding, ‘my mother was a Winston before she married my father. The Winstons had the manor here for generations, the village is named for them, then they built this house a couple of hundred years ago.’ She was babbling again, she knew she was, but Jed’s silence made her feel uncomfortable. ‘My mother was an only child, and so when her parents died she inherited.’

  ‘Was it lonely living out here so far away from the rest of the village?’ Jed frowned as he looked round at the bleak, unpopulated landscape.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed huskily, ‘apart from Sonia, it was very lonely.’ Once again this man had surprised her with his perception.

  Because he had guessed perfectly last night when he’d talked of the older and younger twin, and now, instead of envying her this obviously privileged background, he was commenting on how lonely it must have been.

  She blinked back the sudden tears caused by his understanding of the situation. ‘Wasn’t it lonely on your parents’ farm?’

  ‘With two younger brothers and too many cousins to count?’ He snorted dismissively.

  It sounded wonderful to Meg, the sort of childhood she would have wished for Scott but knew he would never have.

  Jed was still scowling as he brought the Range Rover to a halt in front of the house. ‘No wonder you decided not to come back here to bring Scott up.’

  Meg gave a brief, humourless laugh. ‘Believe me, it was never an option.’ Her mother barely managed to remember Scott’s birthday, and when she did the gift was usually a cheque pushed inside his card, very useful to a child of three.

  Jed’s mouth tightened. ‘I don’t think I’m going to like your mother very much.’

  She wasn’t sure her mother was going to like him, either. There was only room for one bluntly autocratic person in the Hamilton household, and her mother was definitely it.

  She gave a rueful smile. ‘You don’t have to stay too long,’ she assured sympathetically. ‘In fact, if you would rather not go in at all I shall perfectly understand.’ Although strangely, after previously wishing Jed didn’t have to meet any of her family, now that they were here she was reluctant to see him go. His bluntness was preferable by far to the cold lack of welcome she knew she would find within.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ he came back scathingly as he switched off the ignition. ‘I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

  Meg wasn’t quite sure she trusted that glint of challenge she could detect in those deep blue eyes, but, to be honest, she was too grateful not to be entering the lion’s den on her own after all to question his motives.

  ‘Is this Granma and Grandad’s house, Mummy?’ Scott had predictably woken up at the soothing throb of the engine being switched off.

  She turned to give him a reassuring smile. ‘It certainly is, darling.’

  His eyes were wide as he looked up at the imposing house. ‘It’s big, Mummy,’ he said uncertainly.

  ‘It won’t look half as big once you’re inside,’ she said with more hope than conviction.

  Perhaps she should have tried to prepare Scott more for this meeting with her family, but how did you even start to explain to a three-year-old that his grandmother could be a cold autocrat, that his grandfather was too mild to stop her, and that his aunt Sonia—Meg didn’t even know how to begin to tell him about his aunt Sonia.

  She would just have to hope that the subtle nuances of any adult conversation would go way over his innocent head.

  As it was she approached the wide oak front door with all the enthusiasm of the condemned man approaching the block.

  ‘Cheer up, Meg,’ Jed encouraged teasingly, obviously feeling no such trepidation as he moved lightly up the steps beside her. ‘It may never happen.’

  He had no idea.

  ‘You ring the doorbell of your own parents’ home?’ he questioned incredulously as she did exactly that.

  ‘Well…yes.’ She grimaced, sure things were much more relaxed on his parents’ farm.

  He really didn’t have any idea.

  She could hear the click of heels on the hall tiles now, her hand tightening involuntarily about Scott’s as she prepared herself to face her mother.

  ‘Sonia, I didn’t expect you back just yet—’ Her mother’s voice dried to a halt as, having opened the door fully, she realized her mistake. ‘Margaret.’ She frowned at Meg. ‘I thought you were going to ring me and let me know when you were arriving?’ She looked down her patrician nose.

  ‘I was. I should have.’ But she had totally forgotten that promised telephone call in the rush of leaving the cottage.

  Not that her mother had needed the warning to correct any defects in her appearance. As usual her mother looked perfect, her dark hair styled, her make-up and lipstick applied, the cream cashmere sweater she wore with a black skirt perfectly tailored to her slim figure.

  Meg glanced awkwardly at Jed, shaking her head slightly as he mouthed ‘Margaret?’ at her, a name she had detested since childhood, deciding at eight, after reading Little Women, that she wanted to be called Meg instead; only her mother refused to use it.

  ‘There wasn’t time,’ she apologized awkwardly as she turned back to her mother. ‘I didn’t think—’

  ‘The oversight was my fault, I’m afraid, Mrs Hamilton,’ Jed cut in smoothly as he moved forward slightly to make his presence known.

  If he was expecting that to change her mother’s demeanour he was in for a disappointment, Meg thought with a wince as her mother’s gaze moved past her to Jed Cole, those eyes only becoming more coldly blue, her expression more frosty, if that were possible.

  God, this was awful. Worse than she could possibly have imagined. She should never have come. Wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

  Instead, as if programmed, she made the introductions. ‘Jed, this is my mother, Lydia Hamilton. Mother, this is—’

  ‘Jerrod, Jerrod Cole,’ he cut in harshly as he took the limpness of her mother’s hand in his much larger one. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lydia,’ he add
ed derisively.

  And no wonder, Meg frowned, a transformation having come over her mother’s face, the coldness fading from her eyes to be replaced with incredulity, a slight paleness to her perfectly defined cheekbones.

  ‘I…’ her mother swallowed, looking at Jed uncertainly now, as if she weren’t quite sure of herself. ‘Do you mean the Jerrod Cole who wrote The Puzzle?’

  ‘Of course no—’

  ‘I’m flattered that you’ve heard of me, Lydia,’ Jed cut smoothly across Meg’s denial.

  Meg stared at him disbelievingly.

  Jerrod Cole.

  Jed was Jerrod Cole?

  Well, of course her mother had heard of Jerrod Cole; probably the whole of the western world had heard of him. His book, The Puzzle, had been at the top of the best-seller lists for the last nine months, a film of the book was already in production.

  But Jed couldn’t be that Jerrod Cole.

  Could he?

  He really hadn’t meant to just dump the truth on Meg like that. Margaret? She didn’t look anything like a Margaret. He hadn’t intended telling her he was Jerrod Cole at all. But Lydia Hamilton’s attitude towards her youngest daughter had infuriated him so much he had just wanted to wipe that self-satisfied coldness from her unwelcoming face. And telling her exactly who he was had seemed the best way to do that.

  He had never actually disliked anyone on sight before; usually it took him at least ten minutes or so. But Lydia Hamilton’s behaviour towards Meg, the way she hadn’t even looked at Scott, her own grandson, just made him want to shake the woman. And telling her his identity had certainly done that.

  Although a quick glance at Meg showed him that she was as stunned by who he was as her mother, also that she wasn’t at all happy with this development, staring at him now as if she had never seen him before.

  Which, in fact, she hadn’t. Not as Jerrod Cole, anyway.

  But, damn it, Meg hadn’t recognized him when she’d come to the cottage, and, considering anonymity was the reason he was staying at the cottage in the first place, he wasn’t going to go around advertising the fact he was the author Jerrod Cole, now was he?