Kissing Father Christmas

by Robin Jones Gunn

  Peter had straightened up, studied hard, and gave up his hooligan ways. In his words, God had renovated him. The only hint left of the rogue he used to be could be seen in the way he took center stage in social gatherings. He didn’t have to be stoned or drunk to be funny.

  The way he saw it, he had made so many people cry. Being in a crowd was his chance to make people laugh.

  My heart felt an awful pang when Peter told me in the car that Molly’s birth mother had overdosed five years ago.

  “So you see,” he had said, “Molly is my responsibility completely. She always will be. I can’t pretend otherwise.”

  A tap sounded on the bedroom door. Katharine entered quietly, bringing motherly warmth into the room with her. She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hand over my hair that covered my shoulder.

  Neither of us spoke. With Katharine, it seems, words are only her secondary means of communication. Certainly Andrew, in true MacGregor fashion, had made his opinions known to Katharine about what an ideal match Peter and I were. I felt I needed to offer someone in the family some sort of explanation as to why Peter hadn’t come inside with me.

  “It ended poorly,” I whispered.

  “Che-che-che.” Her calming sound, like the cooing of a nesting bird, settled on me.

  “He’s determined that he doesn’t need me,” I went on. “But he does. More than he knows. All he has to do is ask. That’s all. Just ask. It’s not fair. But not for the reasons he thinks it’s not fair.”

  I stopped before I leaked too many details. It felt natural, however, to pour out my thoughts to Katharine. She listened quietly and breathed over me like a gentle breeze.

  I pulled myself up to a sitting position and gathered my hair with both hands, twisting it up into a knot on the top of my head. “I hope I didn’t delay the Christmas Eve party for everyone else. Have you started opening presents yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Well, let’s get started, then.” I tried to sound chipper.

  Katharine reached over and rubbed my cheek with the soft backside of her fingers. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her presence was comfort enough.

  Linking arms, she and I joined my other relatives in the living room. I gladly accepted a glass of my uncle’s hot Christmas cider. Ian and Miranda began passing gifts around. I hoped the small presents I’d brought for each of them from Minnesota would be up to par with the way they gave gifts. It was socks and bow ties for both Ian and Andrew and lotion and candles for Katharine and Miranda.

  Miranda handed me a box with a silver bow. I undid the wrapping and lifted out the handsome leather case of watercolors she’d seen me admiring at Harrods.

  “Miranda! I almost bought this.”

  “I know. I could tell you liked it.”

  “I love it. Thank you so much.”

  Andrew took a look at the variety of paint colors all lined up inside in prim little rows. “You should be able to paint not only Whitcombe Manor but all of Carlton Heath with this assortment.”

  I felt my throat tightening. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now that Peter had made it clear that it was not possible for him to be friends with me. His friends were my relatives. How could I return to this small village in the spring or at any time and not be the source of division?

  “Who is ready for some more of my famous Christmas cider?” Andrew asked. He kept the spirits bright for the rest of our Christmas Eve at Rose Cottage. When he and Katharine drove me back to Whitcombe Manor, I was grateful that he didn’t try to offer advice or ask any questions. Instead, he talked about how his visit had gone at the hospital with Ian. The two of them had some ideas on how to expand their appearance next year by adding the Rochester Carolers to the agenda.

  I kissed them both good-bye and was able to make my way to my upstairs bedroom undetected. I closed the door quietly and pulled the drapes wide open. It made the room much colder but I didn’t mind. I wanted to look out and see the faint dots of twinkling stars above the treetops. I wanted the stars to look down on me the way they’d looked down the night of Ian and Miranda’s wedding when Peter kissed me.

  I pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped myself up in its warmth. Positioning my cocooned self by the window, I gazed down on the shadowy garden. I wanted Peter to be standing there, ready to toss a pebble at the window or hold out his hand, inviting me to dance.

  But he wasn’t there. All that remained were shadows of what had been.

  If Peter’s firm declaration tonight was going to end the fairy-tale dreams I’d held on to for us, then on this night of all nights, I wanted to look out at the stars, close my eyes, and dream one last dream. I told my timid heart to go ahead and remember what it felt like when Peter had slipped my hand into his pocket and the thrill of hope flowed unhindered between us.

  I stood alone by the window, just one more person in this weary world, quietly rejoicing and longing to once again hear the angels’ voices.

  I didn’t wish upon a star as I stood there, gazing into the night sky. I didn’t dream a fairy-tale dream. I did something real. I prayed. I prayed for Peter because in my heart I had only one true Christmas wish on this O Holy Night. I wanted Peter’s soul to feel its worth.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A steady, muffled thumping sound roused me from my deep sleep.

  “Yes? Who is it?” I squinted in the brightness of the morning light that was flooding into the room.

  “It’s me.”

  The sweet and squeaky voice could only belong to one person.

  “Come in, little mouse!”

  Julia scampered across the wood floor in her nightgown and bare feet. “It’s Christmas morning!”

  “Yes, it is.” I pulled myself up into a sitting position.

  Julia had a Christmas stocking in her hand and a delighted smile on her face. “What did you get in your stocking?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t checked yet.”

  Julia went to the post at the foot of my bed where a stocking was waiting for me as well. I’d noticed it the night before when I went to bed but didn’t check it for goodies. Julia handed me my stocking and I patted the comforter, indicating that she should come sit with me.

  She climbed up on the tall bed and poured out the contents of her stocking and then my stocking’s loot a few inches away. With her arm she marked a crease in the comforter between the two piles as if to ensure that we wouldn’t get our goodies mixed up.

  “You got a Lion Bar, too! Look! We both got one. Lion Bars are my favorite. We can eat them now. Do you want to eat yours now?”

  “Before breakfast?”

  “Of course, silly. It’s Christmas! We always eat what’s in our stockings before breakfast. Markie already ate his. I saved mine so I could eat it with you.” She bit into the prized candy bar and looked prim as a princess, sitting cross-legged on the end of my bed. Her hair had gone fuzzy and her closed lips turned up in a grin as she chewed merrily.

  I followed her lead and bit into my crumbly candy bar. I looked around the lovely guest room and reminded my bruised little heart that this was the day I was letting go. I’d do so privately and quietly. Prudence would be proud of my decorum.

  About an hour later, after I’d taken a little extra time getting ready for the day, I joined the Whitcombes in the drawing room around the Christmas tree.

  Ellie had tea and toast for us and said we’d have a small feast before noon so why spoil it with a heavy breakfast?

  “When Margaret lived here,” Ellie told me in a low voice, “I never would have gotten away with breaking the tradition of a formal Christmas dinner. She was keen on everyone sitting around the table. I am, too. It’s just easier for me to serve quiche with sausages and pastries instead of making a ham with all the trimmings along with the Christmas pudding.”

  “But we still have Christmas crackers,” Julia chimed in. She’d been tuned into what Ellie was saying even though she was across the room with
a wrapped gift in her lap, patiently waiting for a full audience before opening it.

  I remembered Julia explaining to me what Christmas crackers were when Julia pointed them out at Harrods and Ellie said they already had ones for this year at home. They were small paper tubes that were gift wrapped with twists at the ends. Julia had described to me the way they snapped when each end was pulled at the dinner table and a small gift would float out.

  I was glad they had kept that tradition. I was curious to see how it played out. The predominant Christmas tradition with my parents was the Swedish bread, the yule kaka. I tried to calculate the time and wondered what my parents were doing right then.

  What will my mother say when I return home and tell her I can’t return here in the spring? What will Ellie say when I tell her?

  I brushed aside the discomforting thoughts and sat in an open chair beside the Christmas tree and waited for Julia to open her gift from me. The winter sunlight was making an effort to come through the clouds and filter in through the window behind the tree. Every time it broke through I could feel a bit of warmth.

  Julia recognized the purple notebook immediately and squealed when she looked inside to see the drawings of Princess Julia.

  “You can color the pictures any color you want,” I said. “Except the pink macaroons on page three. You must color those pink.”

  Julia came over and threw her arms around me with an appreciative hug. “Thank you, Anna. I really love this. Look, Daddy. It’s a book about Princess Julia. That’s me!”

  I sipped my cup of tea and gazed out the window. I wondered if it would work for me to take a lot of photos of the manor before I left. If I took enough, from enough different angles, I might be able to do some nice drawings for Ellie. I wouldn’t have to return in the spring but I could still keep my word and deliver the much-anticipated sketches.

  “We’ve all opened our gifts from you,” Ellie said. “So kind of you. I love the apron. It’s perfect.”

  “Here, Anna.” Julia handed me a beautifully wrapped gift. “This one is for you.”

  “Thank you.” I put aside the thoughts about taking lots of photos. I knew I could talk it all through with Ellie later. My alternative plan shouldn’t be announced on Christmas Day.

  The gift was a beautiful blue-and-white scarf. Julia announced that she helped her mother pick it out for me. For someone who dressed in her own quirky, eclectic way, Ellie certainly had accurate taste when it came to selecting gifts for others. I put the scarf around my neck and watched Mark open a gift from his parents. I noticed the wrapped-up book I’d created for Molly was still under the tree, right where I’d put it the day before.

  I decided to nonchalantly remove the book and not leave it under the tree. It seemed best to take it home with me. I could always mail it to her for her birthday or simply leave it in the box under my bed along with the other two copies. Miranda was the only one who knew about it. If I asked, I felt confident that she wouldn’t say anything.

  With the wrapped book in my hand, I made an excuse about needing to go upstairs for something. As soon as I stepped into the entry hall, the chimes sounded for the front door.

  “Anna?” Ellie called from the drawing room. “Are you still there? Would you mind answering the door for us?”

  “Sure,” I called back. I pulled open the heavy wooden door and saw Peter standing under the arched entry in the alcove.

  “Happy Christmas,” he and his family said. When Peter saw that it was me, he quickly lowered his gaze.

  I was at a loss for words because after last night, I didn’t think Peter would show up this morning. And if he didn’t come, I had wondered if his family would still come.

  But they were here, with a tray of appetizers and several gift bags in hand with lots of white tissue paper sticking out the top.

  Peter’s parents stood behind him, waiting to be invited to come in. Molly stood next to Peter, holding his hand. She was wearing brand-new, shiny Christmas shoes and they were red!

  “I hope we didn’t come too early,” Peter’s mom said.

  “No, your timing is just right. Please. Come in. Edward and Ellie are in by the Christmas tree with the children.” I nodded my hello to Peter’s mother and father.

  Molly entered, looking up at me as if she was trying to figure out who I was and what I was doing at the Whitcombes’ home.

  I leaned over and smiled at her. “Hello, Molly. I’m Anna. I like your shoes very much.”

  “I have red shoes.” She held up a foot to show me.

  “Yes, you do. They are beautiful red Christmas shoes.”

  Molly saw the gift I was still holding and must have recognized her name that was written in large letters on the gift tag.

  She looked up at me and excitedly asked, “Is that present for me?”

  I hesitated for a moment. I could feel Peter looking at me. Molly’s eyes were fixed on the present.

  “Yes.” I handed it to her. “Yes, this is for you. Merry Christmas.”

  She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. “Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome.” I bit my lower lip. I didn’t know if I’d done the right thing by giving it to her. But it was the red shoes that got to me. I knew she would be elated when she opened the book and saw that Molly the little lamb also had red shoes.

  I let my gaze slide over to Peter, who was taking the book from Molly and adding it to the other gifts in his hands. “We’ll open this later, all right, Molly?”

  “I want to open it now.”

  “I know.” He patiently and firmly held on to the gift. “After we sit by the Christmas tree with the others, we’ll all open our gifts, okay?”

  Molly released her grip on the book when she saw Julia coming into the entry hall with the purple coloring book. “Molly, look what I got. We can color it together. It’s a Julia the Princess coloring book that Anna made for me.”

  “I have red shoes.” Molly held out her foot to show Julia.

  “Those are beautiful,” Julia said appreciatively. “I’ve never seen such beautiful red shoes in all my life.”

  Molly grinned. “They are red.”

  “I see.” Julia took Molly by the hand. “Do you want to color with me? All my special colored pencils are up in my room. Come on. Let’s go.”

  The two girls made a cute but humorous team, trying to charge up the stairs while holding hands. Molly wanted to stop on each stair and look down to admire her shoes.

  Peter had slid past me. He took the tray of appetizers from his mother and headed for the kitchen. He still hadn’t made eye contact with me. I took that to mean that this was the way it was going to be. Today we would have to move about in the same circles, share in the same conversations, dine at the same table but he and I would not be friends. I felt the same anger return that had sizzled in me in the car last night.

  Even complete strangers look at each other in an encounter like this. I didn’t expect you to kiss me, but come on, Peter. If you’re going to show up here, you can at least look at me.

  The door chimes sounded again. This time it was the MacGregor clan waiting on the doorstep. Katharine had a large basket of food slung over her arm and Andrew carried in a stack of wrapped gifts. Miranda had an equal amount of gifts and food. Ian toted the largest open box of all. It appeared to be brimming with more food.

  “We didn’t want to run the risk of any of us succumbing to malnutrition on this happy day,” Ian said.

  I laughed. As flustered as I’d felt around Peter, I now felt back at home with “my people” as Miranda had called them. It was going to be a happy Christmas no matter what. I was determined to do my part to make it so.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Once the formidable MacGregor clan was inside, they made themselves at home, dropping off food in the kitchen and gifts in the drawing room before gathering by the fire with the rest of the guests. I followed Miranda into the drawing room and stood back as she slid several wrapped gifts un
der the tree.

  Peter’s parents were seated on the love seat, in a formal, nice posture. Ian and his parents had taken the sofa and Edward and Ellie were seated near the fire. Peter was standing by the hearth, the way Ian had when he’d made the announcement about their upcoming secret blessing.

  “I wonder if I might say something.” Peter cleared his throat.

  Miranda and I were standing beside the tree. I glanced around the room, trying to gauge everyone’s expression to get a hint as to what was going on.

  Peter looked over at me for the first time that day and made eye contact. I felt a fluttering sensation in my heart.

  “I want to say something important to all of you. I had a long conversation with my parents last night.” Peter nodded to his parents as if giving them a final chance to stop him.

  Neither of them said anything. I thought his mother looked as if she might cry.

  “The thing is, the time has come for me to make some changes in my life. They’re overdue. Long overdue. I didn’t sleep much last night. I have been wrestling with a number of issues.”

  Peter nodded at his mother again. “As a wise woman told me, ‘A heart at peace gives life to the body.’ My heart has not been at peace for some time.”

  Miranda inched closer to me and gave my arm a squeeze.

  “I’ve come to the conclusion that in order for me to have that peace, I need to tell all of you the truth. The thing is, you see, is…well, it’s Molly.”

  I held my breath.

  “You have all known Molly as my sister. The truth is, in fact, that she’s my daughter.” He paused as if waiting for the room to draw in a collective gasp.

  No one flinched. Katharine exuded her naturally placid expression as if she’d figured that out long ago. Andrew let his lower lip jut out slightly and then gave a nod. A few pieces seemed to fall into place for him upon receipt of that information.

  None of the Whitcombes seemed startled in the least. They’d been a family that had weathered enough shock of family secrets when Miranda showed up. They had nothing but grace and understanding for anyone who was trying to set things right. Grace and peace did reside under this roof.