A Christmas Miracle

by Anna Adams

  “Okay.” He settled the lid again. “If it doesn’t work, bring it back.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  They agreed on a price, and Sam wrapped the box in Santa-covered tissue and then tucked it into a deep shopping bag. Fleming hoped her mother would be busy when she returned. She carried the bag with its handles over her arm as she lugged a gallon of milk back to the store.

  She managed to stash the train beneath the front counter before her mother came out of the rear.

  “You remembered the milk,” Katherine said. Then she stopped, looking around. “But where’s your coffee?”

  “I forgot. I’ll just have another hot chocolate after you make it.”

  “Good for the waistline.” Katherine hugged her. “I worry you haven’t been eating enough. You look as if you’re losing weight.” She started back toward the kitchen area. “You took a long time picking up the milk.”

  “I walked a little first,” Fleming said, uncomfortable with lying, but more reluctant to admit she’d been buying Jason something else that might have more meaning.

  “You needed a little break from my advice?”

  “Not at all.” Fleming followed her and hugged her from behind, maneuvering around the now-open milk container in her mother’s hand. “I’m so glad you and Hugh came home.”

  Katherine’s smile warmed Fleming from the inside. “Thanks, honey. Hugh says I should give you more space, and he keeps reminding me my name isn’t on the deed anymore. He thought you might be afraid I didn’t trust you with the details of running the store.”

  “It’s not that. I came so close to failure, I don’t want you to worry that I’m inept and I’m going to throw away this place that means so much to both of us.”

  “I would love it if I could come back and work for you someday, after Hugh retires and we move here.”

  “You really think he’s willing to do that?”

  “We both plan on it. The condo is comfortable and handy, but I miss these mountains just as you would, and Hugh feels as if this could be his home, too.”

  “Then I’d love for you to come home to Mainly Merry Christmas when Hugh’s ready.”

  “Good. And we’ll both remember that I’ll be working for you this time around. I’m glad that’s settled.” Katherine looked back from pouring milk into a huge saucepan on the stove. “Do you mind if I ask what you think of the next few months?”

  Fleming would welcome her advice. “I worry about January’s takings, but I’ll do my best to hang on and take stock of my position in, say, April, and then again in July. I don’t want to lose everything if I do end up in trouble again. I’d probably try to sell before that happened.”

  Her mother’s smile signaled approval. “I’m glad to hear you take a pragmatic approach. That sounds like a plan.”

  “I might talk it over with Jason. He’s offered to help me with changes to make the business more profitable.”

  “I’d take him up on it. His father wasn’t like him, you know. He would have foreclosed on all the loans Mr. Paige gave out. He wouldn’t have given a second thought to the families that kind of loss would affect.”

  “He might have if the town’s economy was in danger.”

  “You should ask Jason about that.” Katherine huffed. “I’m surprised Robert sent his son back here. If you’d asked me what I thought he might do, I’d have said he would have foreclosed on everyone and then closed the bank.”

  Fleming passed her mother the box of rich, dark chocolate she used to make her cocoa. “That sounds suspiciously like the man Jason describes.”

  “He describes his father to you?”

  “Do you know they owned a house here? No one else has ever lived in it since they left. Robert just walked away and changed the locks so that Jason’s mother could never get back inside.”

  Katherine broke up chunks of chocolate and eased them thoughtfully into the double boiler. “I heard she left him for his best friend after they went to New York.”

  “She did,” Fleming said, realizing too late that she was revealing how close she and Jason had become through talking about their families. Her mother didn’t seem to notice.

  “I forgot about the house, and I was so busy I guess I never noticed none of them came back. The Maclands all moved to New York at one time. We thought they just felt too big for Bliss with their success.” She stirred the chocolate with a silicon spoon. “Not that the town grows as quickly as they did. You can understand they’d want something bigger.”

  “I guess.” Fleming had wanted something bigger herself until she’d gone to school in Washington, DC. After she’d graduated, she couldn’t get back fast enough to her beloved mountains with their smoky mists and steamy, verdant green summers.

  The bell over their door rang as someone new came in. Katherine glanced that way. “We should get back to work.”

  “Yes.” Fleming went into the store, glancing at the shelf beneath the counter where her train waited. She couldn’t help hoping her mother wouldn’t notice her new gift for Jason.

  It was a train meant for building a family tradition. Maybe if she gave it to him he’d understand she was giving him a piece of what their future Christmases could be. If they could be together.

  Or she could guard her heart and leave that train right where it was, rather than risk the most painful rejection ever.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE NEXT DAY, Katherine and Hugh went out in the car to wander the mountains. Fleming managed to hide her relief at having some privacy. Jason hadn’t shown up for caroling the night before. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that they hadn’t been able to talk. She wrapped the train for him and waited for courage to arrive.

  People were in and out of the store, but tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and the ornament and Christmas gewgaw business appeared to have leveled off. Late in the evening, Fleming saw Jason stroll by, talking on his phone. He nodded her way with a smile that literally took her breath away, but when she smiled back, he stopped in his tracks.

  His gaze seemed like a mirror of hers, warm, reluctant, resolute. Longing.

  She wasn’t wrong. He kept his eyes on her for as long as he could, until he’d passed the window.

  Fleming gave him a few minutes. If she didn’t go to him now, she might never be able to. Tomorrow, he’d be with his family. For all she knew, he might already have cleared his desk to leave right after the new year. That had been his original plan.

  Breathing hard, trembling as she felt her pulse banging like a gong inside her body, she picked up the train and started toward the door of the store. Reflected in the glass, the package looked big and festive. She was about to take Jason a Christmas gift in his hotel room, and anyone—everyone—could see her intentions.

  If she waited to find a shopping bag, she might lose her nerve. She locked the store and marched through the snow. Once upon a time her mother would have cautioned her that a lady didn’t chase a man down and ask him to love her.

  But a lady might have to if she was afraid he’d leave town and never come back.

  Jason was rebuilding his house here—shouldn’t she wait for him to come to her?

  No, she had to know.

  At the hotel, the reception desk was empty. She sped up the stairs, holding her box in front of her like a shield.

  She knocked on Jason’s door and barely managed to stand still. He opened it, already having shed his jacket and tie.

  “Fleming.” He looked down at the box. “What have you done?”

  She swallowed. “I have a gift for you.” She held it out. “And a question.”

  He opened the door wider. “Come on in. I have something for you, too.” He went to his desk and got a small, rectangular box.

  “Thank you,” she said, her insi
des too twisted to manage more. “I had a speech.”

  “Why did you need one?” He closed the door behind her. “Can I take that? It looks heavy.”

  No. She gripped it in front of her, thinking she should have let Christmas Eve come and go, to see if Jason changed his mind on his own about leaving her behind. That would have been right.

  Not this. Not begging for his attention.

  She handed him the gift. “I thought it would be perfect for you.”

  “Should I open it? No, not until you open yours.”

  “I need to talk to you first.”

  He came closer, setting the box down. “What’s wrong? Has something happened at the shop? Are you all right?” He ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Tell me, Fleming.”

  “I...” The words wouldn’t come. She’d tried to tell herself for so long that she couldn’t be with him. Now, the time had come when he’d spoken of leaving, and she couldn’t accept it. “I care about you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want you to leave. Or at least not to stay gone forever. I brought you this because I wondered if you could think of caring for me. If you could consider what life might be like in Bliss, if we cared for each other.”

  He froze. “Fleming.” He stepped back, opening the box, but not really seeing it. “I do care about you,” he said. “I haven’t wanted to, because your life is here and mine is not. I might not be enough for you.”

  She didn’t understand. He’d thought about her in the same way? “You are enough.”

  “I work long hours, in a lot of different places,” he said. “I don’t want to repeat my parents’ mistake. My father’s business demanded his time, and my mother got fed up with it. She felt so neglected and isolated that she left. How could I risk letting that happen to you?”

  “Nothing happens that we don’t choose,” Fleming said. “I’ve been afraid, too. I love every inch of Bliss, every voice I hear, every leaf on every tree, I’ve been safe here. In fact, I’m terrified I’m not sophisticated enough, well-traveled enough, or interesting enough for you. But we meet on a level of understanding I never expected to have with any man, and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Fleming, I’ve had relationships in the past. I’ve believed they would last, but I never committed. It’s not in me. I want us to be together, but I can’t promise you forever.”

  He touched her again, his hand smoothing her hair back from her face. He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. Tenderly, he took her mouth and kissed her in a way that felt like a contradiction of everything he’d just said.

  But she knew he was offering only right now. This minute, maybe the next, or even a few months.

  It wasn’t enough for her.

  “No.” She pulled away from him. “I had to ask,” she said, her heart breaking. Shame washed over her as she thought about everything she’d said. She’d bared her soul to a man who didn’t care for souls. “But I think I misunderstood who you are—not that you ever lied to me. I’m not blaming you.”

  Jason stared at her. His hands flexed. “I’ve thought of this,” he said. “I’ve wanted to tell you how happy you make me every time you laugh. How you made me believe in Christmas again. How your joy becomes my joy when you’re singing or playing with the children in your shop or even just trying to think of a way to sell one more glass Santa. But nothing lasts, Fleming. You and I would not last. Your life is here. I’d feel buried alive here.”

  “Your grandparents have lasted,” she said, “and they threw everything aside so you’d have an example of love to believe in.”

  “Real life made a bigger impression on me than the million-to-one shot that two people could find love without eventually destroying each other.” His regret was a sadness that enveloped her. “My grandparents are the exception.”

  He sounded as certain as he had about the facts and figures that meant she’d been on the verge of losing Mainly Merry Christmas.

  She’d thought that had been her worst fear. Now she knew the truth. She’d fallen in love with Jason Macland, sometime between making ornaments and building steps and talking about the experiences that had honed them into the closed off, lonely people who’d met in his office.

  She would love Jason all her life, and she wasn’t enough for him.

  “Goodbye,” she said, and walked out of his room. Out of his life.

  Love was all or nothing for her.

  * * *

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing up here today?”

  Jason turned from staring at the train, still in its open box, in the middle of the living room in his abandoned house.

  Teresa stood in the doorway. She looked worried about him.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he answered.

  “I was thinking about the Christmases you and your father and I shared while we still loved each other.” She came into the room, sliding her hand over the wall. “You’ve been working. I noticed the new stairs out front, and there’s primer on this plaster.”

  “I had this crazy idea that I could renovate the house,” he said. “This room had the least damage, so I cleaned the walls and started priming.” He’d been avoiding Fleming, even before her visit to his hotel room. He’d already known he was in too deep.

  He hadn’t known her mom and stepfather were in town, and that she’d been missing carol practice, too, until someone asked him why they’d both quit.

  “You’ve started making the house beautiful again.” Teresa eased closer, as if she were afraid of his possible reaction. “What’s with the train?”

  “It was a gift,” he said. The card lay on top of the cars, the words Fleming had written taunting him.

  “It’s cute. Does it run?”

  “I think so. It seems to need a tree.”

  “I love that tradition,” his mother said. “We used to have one under the tree when you were a baby. It fascinated you.” She frowned. “Did your father give it to you? I hear he’s in town.”

  Jason had been avoiding him, too, as well as the rest of the family. He felt like a fraud. “Fleming gave it to me. The woman who owns the Christmas shop.”

  “I thought you were interested in her. The way you looked at each other made me think—”

  “Do you need something? Is that why you’re here?” He cut her off midsentence. He and Teresa had enough problems of their own. There was no need to bring Fleming into it.

  “Jason, are you all right?”

  He looked at her for a moment. She sat down and started taking pieces of the train out of the box.

  “No, I’m not all right,” he said. He’d hurt the woman he loved. Even if it was for her own good, he hated himself for the pain he’d caused Fleming.

  “Because of Fleming?”

  “Yes. And our family, and the way I am.”

  His mother began to piece the train track together. There was plenty of it. “Help me,” she said. “Come down here, and tell me about the way you are.”

  “You’re not my mother now.”

  “I am,” she said, “whether you like it or not. I don’t think either of us knows how to start over, but maybe we can begin by being friends. Friends listen. You help me with this track and I’ll listen to you.”

  He didn’t talk at first. They simply set up the track in a circle that spread around half the room.

  “So what are you like, Jason?”

  He thought for a moment. “I’m honest.”

  “And you hurt that girl? She wanted you, but you don’t want her?”

  “I love her,” he said. “Right now, I can’t think of anything except how much I love her. I don’t want to spend another day without her. She makes me feel as if life is good and right.”

  Teresa lifted her gaze, her eyes not as bright a blue
as he remembered. “That sounds horrible. I can see why you’re upset.”

  “It won’t last. Fleming has been sheltered in these mountains all her life, and she believes in fairy tales. I live in a different world, and I know how it works.”

  “You have expertise in the ways people can hurt each other.” His mom crawled over the track, back to the box, and took out the first train car. “You could choose not to hurt her.”

  “You and Dad planned to lie and cheat and divorce?”

  “And make you believe you weren’t lovable? Neither of us—not even your father—planned that. He was obviously trying to protect you even if hurting me was the bonus he got. He didn’t trust me with you because I wanted a man’s love more. At least I thought I did, until it was too late to make things right.”

  “I’m glad you told me that, and I wish I’d waited to hear it when we spoke before, but it doesn’t fix anything.”

  She set the locomotive on the track and hooked up the other two cars. Then she folded her hands with a frown. “What was I thinking? We have no power.”

  “We can’t will that train to run, and I can’t will life to be what I want,” he said. “I can’t pretend I believe in forever.”

  His mother came back to him. She sat in front of him, crossing her legs. “I had about five good years. No, three. Three amazing, happy, beautiful, unbelievable good years that were like every fairy tale you refuse to believe.”

  “And then they ended,” he said. “I remember how they ended. For all of us.”

  “Because your father didn’t pay attention, and I was not kind. I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted. I demanded, because I thought I had the right, just like I did with you in that letter. I get mean when I’m angry.”

  “I don’t respond to mean.”

  “I know, and I hate to be ignored. I was afraid you’d send me away me, just the way your father did.”

  “Mom, you couldn’t expect him to welcome you fresh from his best friend’s arms.” He’d called her Mom. She didn’t seem to notice, and he decided to accept it. She was his mother.