Christmas Miracles Page 16

  She spoke quickly in a strained voice. “Mom just called me. She said she and Dad had a huge argument and she’s locked herself in her bedroom. She wants to leave but she doesn’t know if he’ll let her. I’m worried. She was whispering the whole time.”

  “Did he hit her?” I asked. “Was there any sort of physical altercation?”

  “No, but she said she doesn’t feel safe. She’s afraid to come out of her room. She asked me to come and get her but I don’t have my car here. Can you go?”

  I grabbed my keys off the desk and headed out. “I’m on my way right now.”

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Still in uniform, I pulled into Dr. James’s driveway, quickly got out of the car, ran up the steps and rang the doorbell. When no one answered, I banged five times with the edge of my fist. “Dr. James! Are you home?”

  His car was in the driveway and there were lights on inside. I listened carefully for voices but heard nothing until the sound of footsteps approached. At last the door opened.

  Dr. James, dressed in jeans and a navy golf shirt, greeted me with a frown. “What are you doing here?” His gaze raked disapprovingly from the brim of my police hat to the badge pinned on my shirt, then down to my gun belt and black boots.

  “Your wife called Holly and asked to be picked up. Holly couldn’t leave the hospital so she asked me to come instead.”

  “My wife doesn’t need a ride anywhere,” Dr. James replied.

  I carefully scrutinized his expression, searching for signs of duplicity or agitation, and noticed his right hand flexing and fisting. “Where is your wife, sir?”

  “She’s upstairs.”

  “Could you ask her to come down please? I’d like to speak to her.”

  Dr. James glared at me intensely. “This isn’t any of your business, Josh.”

  “Well, since your daughter asked me to stop by and check on her mother, I think that makes it very much my business. Mind if I come in?”

  His brow furrowed. “Yes, I do mind.”

  I held his gaze steadily in mine. “Let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be. I need to see Mrs. James. She called for assistance and said she didn’t feel safe. If we can just clear that up, I’ll get out of your way.”

  Though I was still standing on the porch with the screen door between us, I caught sight of something over the doctor’s shoulder. It was Mrs. James descending the stairs with a suitcase.

  Dr. James turned around. “Where are you going?” he asked her.

  She set the suitcase down in the wide foyer and went to fetch a coat off a hook in the back hall. “I’m leaving.”

  Dr. James strode toward her. I immediately pulled the screen door open and stepped inside.

  “No, you’re not,” he harshly said. “You can’t leave.”

  Mrs. James donned her coat and began to button it. “Yes, I can. It’s my choice and I’m leaving with Josh.”

  “But we’re not done talking about this.”

  “We’ve been talking about it for weeks, Robert,” she said. “Years, in fact.” She picked up her suitcase and started walking toward me at the door. “You know I want us both to visit Riley, but you won’t even consider it. It’s not fair. We always do what you want us to do, but you never bend an inch for us. It’s your way or the highway. And today I’m taking the highway.”

  “Margie, wait…”

  “And I’ve asked you a thousand times to come to therapy with me, but you won’t do that either.”

  He followed her to the door. “I don’t need a therapist.”

  She stopped and whirled around. “So you’ve said. But I think you need it more than anyone. I’m just in therapy to help me figure out how to cope with you!”

  He grabbed hold of her arm but she roughly shook him off. “Don’t touch me, Robert!”

  He blinked at her in shock as she turned and followed me out the front door and down the steps. We walked quickly to my car and got in.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she tried to buckle her seatbelt. “Yes. Thank you for coming to get me.”

  “It was no problem.” I waited until she was buckled in before I backed out. “Do you know where you want to go? Do you have friends or family you’d like to call, besides Holly?”

  “My family lives in New York,” she replied. “I was thinking I might go to a hotel for tonight.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I glanced in the rearview mirror. Dr. James was watching us from outside on the covered veranda as we pulled away. “You can stay at my place until Holly gets home. Then I’ll take you over there.”

  She closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the headrest. “Thank you, Josh. That’s very kind of you.”

  As I drove out of the neighborhood, I glanced at her with concern. “Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She lifted her head and looked at me. “No. That’s at least one thing I can honestly say: He’s never laid a violent hand on me. But I’ve seen him do it to others, you and Riley included, so I’ve never felt a hundred percent confident that he wouldn’t eventually lose his temper with me.” She gazed out the window. “He was pretty angry today. We’ve never fought like that before. It was partly my fault, I suppose, because I didn’t back down this time, but if I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing. I just wish he had agreed to see Riley. Or at least to go and talk to someone about all this.”

  I gave her a moment to collect herself. “You can stay with me as long as you need to, Mrs. James.”

  “Thank you, Josh,” she said, looking straight ahead, “but I’ll be booking a flight to Montana this evening and leaving the city as soon as I can. I don’t know what it’ll mean for my marriage, but surprisingly, I don’t really care. All I want to do is see my son.”

  The Holiday Season

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Josh Wallace

  Two weeks before Thanksgiving, I arrived home to a telephone message from Riley which included an invitation for Holly and me to join him and his family for the long holiday weekend. It wasn’t easy to tell my own mother that we wouldn’t be coming to her place after all, but she understood when I explained the situation. My sister Marie would be there with her husband and kids, so she wouldn’t be alone. And we promised we’d come for leftovers the day after we returned.

  On Thursday evening, Holly and I boarded a plane and flew to Billings for what turned out to be an intimate and emotional family gathering with Mrs. James, who had been staying with Riley and Lois since the day she left Boston. There were tears and laughter, endless conversations about the past and future—and of course delicious Thanksgiving fare…a slow-roasted turkey dinner with all the trimmings, giant servings of carrot cake, pumpkin pie and ice cream, and indulgent hours spent in front of the television watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

  Later in the day, while everyone was stretched out on the sofa digesting the meal, I smelled coffee brewing, so I went into the kitchen to find Mrs. James scrubbing a pot at the sink.

  Grabbing a dish towel, I took the pot from her to dry it before she had a chance to set it in the rack.

  “Thanks Josh,” she said with a smile as she emptied the water out of the sink, then removed her yellow rubber gloves and set them on the counter.

  When I finished drying the pot, she asked if I’d like a cup of coffee.

  “I’d love one,” I replied.

  She withdrew two mugs from the cupboard. “You and Holly seem to be getting along well,” she said as she poured.

  “Better than well,” I replied. “I can’t imagine what my life would be like right now if I hadn’t met her.”

  Mrs. James grinned at me, and the memory of those kind eyes from my boyhood made everything feel perfectly right…exactly as it was meant to be.

  Well, almost…

  “Those are nice words, Josh,” she said. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
>
  Leaning against the counter, I crossed one ankle over the other, glanced over my shoulder to listen for the others, and lowered my voice. “For the most part we are, but I have to be honest, Mrs. James. I’m having some trouble dealing with the way things have turned out.”

  She inclined her head. “How so?”

  I paused. “I’m a family man—you know that. My mom and stepdad are everything to me, and you were like a second mother to me when I was kid. Riley and Leah were like family to me, too, and it’s killing me to think that I might have played a part in the problems between you and your husband. I know I’m not your husband’s favorite person in the world, and maybe if it weren’t for me, you would never have moved from Sycamore Street. But it seems that ever since the day I walked through your door, your whole world has been exploding.”

  “In a good way,” she said. “And it’s hardly your fault that I’ve left my husband. That’s been building for years.”

  I looked down at my shoes and nodded. “I just don’t want Holly to lose her family. She hasn’t spoken to her father since the night he and I got into a scuffle in your kitchen.”

  Mrs. James sat down at the table. “You know, I thought after she stood up to him and walked out, Robert might finally see the light and stop being such a hard-liner, but he didn’t. He just couldn’t.”

  I swirled the coffee around in my cup. “I’m sorry to hear that, because the main reason I came in here to talk to you was to tell you that…” I paused for a moment and lowered my voice even further. “I know this might seem a bit sudden, but I want to marry Holly someday.” Mrs. James sat up straighter in her chair. “I haven’t proposed or anything. She needs to finish school and I don’t want to rush into anything, but when that day comes, I’d like to ask both you and your husband for your blessings. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get that from him. I’ll accept it if I have to, but there must be some hope with you. And if Holly says yes to becoming my wife, I want her to know that she’ll have family with her on her wedding day, that at least you’ll be there to help her pick out a dress and someone will be able to walk her down the aisle.”

  Mrs. James smiled. “Josh Wallace, if you get down on one knee to propose to my daughter—if and when that happens—you can be sure I’ll be there for dress fittings and helping her choose flower arrangements and whatever else she needs. I couldn’t be happier to hear this, Josh, because I know you’re a good man. I’ve always known it—even when you were little and you came into my kitchen to ask for popsicles in the summer.

  “Back then I thought maybe one day you and Leah might end up together, but now that she’s gone and you’re with Holly, nothing could be more perfect. I still remember how you held her in that rocking chair when she was born. Something in me fell in love with you that day and I wished you could have been a second son to me, too. Now—if she gives you the answer you want—you will be, and I can’t imagine a more wonderful gift of hope for Christmas. So there. You have my blessing ten times over. How’s that?”

  I swallowed hard over a dense lump in my throat. “It’s pretty darn good, Mrs. James.”

  She rose to her feet. “And I think it’s time you started calling me Margie,” she said with a smile as she held out her arms.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  It was not a nightmare that woke me one cold December night when a blizzard raged outside my bedroom window. I felt no fear or panic when my eyes fluttered open. The dream was, to the contrary, strangely comforting.

  A young and happy Leah ran through a field of dandelions on a hot summer evening. The summer season was coming to an end, however, and the bright yellow wildflowers had turned to seed. They floated upwards through the air like twinkling snowflakes as she ran toward the setting sun. I was tempted to follow, but I knew she didn’t want me to. She just wanted me to watch her run to the other side.

  I woke up, rose from bed and looked out at the storm.

  * * *

  “Do you ever dream about Leah?” I asked Holly the following night as we spoke on the phone, each of us lying in our beds.

  “Sometimes,” she replied. “It’s usually something out of the past, like getting up for school and eating breakfast with her at the table in the old kitchen before the remodel. She was twelve years older than me. In many ways she was more like a mother than a sister.”

  “What was the kitchen like?” I asked, feeling curious about so many things.

  “It was horrible,” Holly replied with a grin. “The countertop was an ugly shade of green and there was wallpaper on the walls with bright yellow flowers.”

  I tried to imagine it. “What else do you dream about?”

  “Concerning Leah?” She paused. “I don’t know… There were some nightmares before she died. I once dreamed she was locked in a cage in our attic, screaming at me to let her out. At the time I thought it was because of her illness. She was essentially locked in her body and couldn’t communicate or do anything for herself. That was difficult. Or maybe that had some connection to Riley being in prison. Who knows?”

  Holly told me more about the hardships her family had endured during the last few months of Leah’s life—which ended with a desperate rush to the hospital when she developed pneumonia in her final days.

  “I wish you were here right now,” I said before we hung up.

  “Me, too,” Holly replied. “Remind me… Why did I get this apartment again?”

  I chuckled. “Because you wanted to be independent.”

  “Oh yeah, that.” She sighed into the phone.

  * * *

  Sometime during the night, I dreamed of the kitchen Holly had described—with the green countertops and bright yellow wallpaper.

  Leah sat at the table drinking a glass of milk, then she stood and wandered aimlessly through the house and into the front parlor.

  The house was quiet. Empty and dark.

  A Christmas tree, without decorations or gifts, stood in front of the window. She sat down on the floor in front of it and wept.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  As Christmas approached, I couldn’t seem to shake the overwhelming urge to drive past the James’ household on a regular basis. Sometimes I would drive by in the mornings on the way to work. Other times I checked on the house in the evenings when the street was lit up with colorful outdoor lights and life-size models of Santa Clause in his sleigh.

  There was nothing festive, however, about the big red Victorian set back from the road. It looked as if no one had lived there in months. The front veranda hadn’t been shoveled since the blizzard, but there were fresh tire marks in the snow each morning, which suggested that Dr. James was still coming and going from the hospital.

  I drove by late one night and saw his car parked out front. In an upstairs window, a television cast an eerie, flickering glow.

  I drove home, called Holly to tell her what I had seen, and suggested we at least send her father a Christmas card.

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “We should. Why don’t we pop by tomorrow night? I’ll bring some sugar cookies and a poinsettia.”

  I agreed it was the right thing to do, and I hoped we’d be given a better reception than last time.

  * * *

  Knowing it was rare for Holly’s father to arrive home from work before 7:00 p.m., we showed up at 8:00. Unfortunately, the house was dark and his car wasn’t in the driveway.

  “We probably should have called,” Holly said with disappointment as she shifted the big, red leafy plant on her lap. “But I was afraid he’d tell us not to come. Let’s go inside anyway. I still have my keys. We can drop this off in the kitchen and leave the card. You take the plant. I’ll take the cookies.”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt, took the plant out of her hands and carried it to the front walk.

  “What a gorgeous night,” she said, stopping to look up at the stars. “It’s so quiet. There’s not a single breath of wind.”

  I looked up as well and inhaled the fresh wintry a
ir.

  “It’s so romantic,” she added. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so happy.”

  “Even though things haven’t turned out so well with your father?” I asked.

  She pulled her gaze from the stars to look at me. “I remain ever hopeful. Maybe the cookies will make a difference.”

  “They are delicious,” I replied with a grin. Then I took note of the snow-covered veranda. “Why don’t you wait here for a minute while I clear off the steps?”

  I set down the plant, returned to the car to grab the shovel out of my trunk and quickly established a path to the front door. She found the right key and we kicked the snow off our boots before letting ourselves in.

  “It’s freezing in here,” she said, shivering as she switched on a light.

  We removed our boots and coats. While I carried the poinsettia into the kitchen, she went to crank up the heat on the register.

  Looking around, I noticed that even with Margie gone, everything was still tidy and spotless. There wasn’t a single dirty dish in the sink or a jacket left draped over the back of a chair. No slippers that someone might have kicked off under the table.

  It was disconcertingly quiet.

  Holly appeared and set the cookies on the counter. “There’s no Christmas tree,” she said. “No decorations anywhere. Mom always took care of that stuff and made Christmas so beautiful. It seems very lonely.”

  “What do you want to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. There’s an artificial tree in the attic. That’s where all the decorations are. We could set it up.”

  “How do you think your father would feel about that?”

  Holly sighed. “I have no idea. He’s always been such a mystery to me.” She thought about it for a few seconds, then turned to me. “I wonder what Leah would do in this situation.”