The Christmas Joy Ride (15 page)

“Really? Emily sent you?” The breeze picked up and Miranda shivered in the cold.

“That's right.” He nodded, but his expression was impossible to read. Was he waiting for her reaction?

Miranda realized that while they'd been talking the brilliant
blue sky had been replaced by dull gray clouds and a wind was turning the air chilly and brisk. The thin velour hoodie was not cutting it.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “Want to go inside?”

Seeing he still had on his warm-looking down jacket, she stood. “I'll just grab something warmer and we can stay out here.”

He nodded and, relieved for this short reprieve, she hurried inside. As she ripped open a shopping bag, she tried to guess where Marcus was headed with this sudden invitation. Was he trying to entice her back as Emily's new friend? Or was there something more going on here? She shook out the brown parka she'd just bought, running her hand over the faux fur collar. She yanked off the tags and slipped it on, relishing its luxurious warmth. Maybe she shouldn't question Marcus's reasons. Did they matter right now? She could just accept the invitation and figure it out as she went. What was the harm in that?

Or maybe not. Miranda took a peek at her new coat in the mirror behind the dinette table. Nice. Suddenly she knew that it could be very foolhardy to listen to her heart instead of her head with this. At this stage in life, she knew better. Warning herself to be careful, she headed back out of the RV.

“That looks warm and cozy,” Marcus said as she sat back down.

“It is.” She ran her hands down the smooth surface. “Kind of a Christmas present to myself.”

“It looks great on you.” He smiled approvingly.

“Well, I think it's really sweet that Emily wants me to spend Christmas at your house, Marcus. But I'm just not sure it's a good idea. I think I'll have to pass.”

His smile faded. “Why?”

She shoved her hands in her pockets. “You want the truth?”

He nodded. “I was honest with you, Miranda. Please, be honest with me.”

She took in a deep breath, wondering if she was ready to be that honest. Still, it was better than getting hurt. “The truth is that I know what it feels like to love someone who doesn't love you back, Marcus. Been there. Done that. Don't ever want to do it again.” There, she'd said it, laid it out there—take it or leave it, like it or not, it was the truth.

“Huh?” Marcus looked confused.

“You asked me to be honest. That's just what I'm doing.”

“Can you explain it a bit more? I'm not quite following you.”

“You see, my ex-husband pulled me in with his charm and good looks. I fell for him. But less than two years after we got married, he cheated on me. He broke my heart, leaving me to pick up the pieces. And trust me, even though our marriage ended a couple years ago, there are still a lot of pieces.”

“I think he sounds like a big jerk.”

She smiled sadly. “Pretty much so.”

“But you still love him?”

“No way!” She firmly shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Then I'm confused. What are you really saying here?”

“I'm saying that I've learned the hard way to be careful with my heart.”

Marcus slowly nodded, as if the light was starting to come on. “And you're worried that I might hurt you somehow? Like your ex did?”

“No, not exactly. I'm more afraid that I might hurt myself.”

“How so?”

She took in another deep breath, closing her eyes. Was she a fool to be this honest with a man she barely knew? A man she was strangely attracted to and wanted to know better? Maybe it was stupid to risk everything like this. But he'd asked for
honesty. And she knew what was going on inside her. The way she'd felt last night in the RV, the way she'd felt at breakfast this morning. The way she felt right now.

Miranda knew that she was on thin ice. But she opened her eyes, looking directly into his. “I'd be risking a lot of hurt to accept your invitation, Marcus. Spending more time with you, maybe even falling for you . . . then finding out that you'd only brought me home to entertain your daughter for Christmas. I just can't let myself go through that.” She felt her eyes growing moist.
Please, no tears
, she told herself.
Be strong.
“I can't do it.”

“Miranda,” he said softly. “I would
never
do that to you.” Now he reached over and grasped her hand, looking right into her eyes. “I realize you barely know me, but I'm not that kind of guy. I'm really not.”

She returned his gaze, almost afraid to breathe.

“The truth is, I haven't been with anyone since Gillian's death. I mean, I've had a date or two—set up by well-meaning friends—but I haven't had real feelings for a woman.” He leaned closer. “Not until I saw you.”

“Huh?” She blinked in disbelief.

“Yesterday I walked into my house—which looked nothing like my house, I might add—and I saw this beautiful woman, looking a lot like Santa's elf in a sparkly green top and radiant wavy red hair, baking cookies with Emily in my kitchen.” His eyes twinkled. “You took my breath away, Miranda. And that's the truth.”

“Really?” She let out a little gasp, but then remembered something. “Then why were you so harsh yesterday? You were so angry at me. It felt terrible.”

He made a sheepish smile. “I think it was because I felt so confused. Here this woman has invaded my home, she's with my daughter and trying to shake up my world. That in itself
was maddening. But at the same time I'm totally attracted to her. That just made me mad at myself. And I guess I took it out on you.”

“I guess I can understand that. And you did apologize.” She took in a deep steadying breath. “Still, this is all so sudden. It feels like my head is spinning.”

“I understand.” He nodded. “And if you need character references—I can get them for you. I want to reassure you that I'm not some kind of disingenuous cad. Talk to Camilla and Stan if you want.” He waved his hand. “Or anyone in this town. A lot of my friends think I'm a real stick-in-the-mud. And I'm hopelessly old-fashioned. I do not go around asking women to spend the holidays in my home. Seriously, I can hardly believe it myself. But I just can't bear to let you go, Miranda.”

Miranda felt a little light-headed. “You can't?”

“I give you my word of honor,” he said, holding up his hand like he was taking a pledge. “So will you please reconsider our invitation? I'm sorry I didn't present it better in the first place. It was cowardly to put it all on Emily. I obviously want you to join us for Christmas even more than she does. Please, say you will, Miranda.”

“I think I'd like . . . well, I'd love to,” she said quietly.

He leaned forward, gently holding her face in his hands, and tenderly kissed her forehead. Now she really felt even more dizzy. But despite the icy wind and the snowflakes starting to swirl all around them, she felt warm and cozy inside.

F
ollowing a brief but honest discussion of some general relationship expectations, and taking into account the blizzard-like weather forecast, Miranda conceded to be an overnight guest in the Wheeler home—sleeping in the guest room. It was a huge relief to know that their standards were aligned with each other. That took a lot of pressure off. Marcus made it clear that he just wanted to get better acquainted. So did Miranda.

Just the same, she still felt like pinching herself as Marcus drove them to his home. They'd stopped by his favorite store to do some grocery shopping, gathering some goodies for their upcoming Christmas Eve party, but they kept it quick because Marcus wanted to be home before Emily got dropped off.

The snow was coming down hard by the time they were lugging bags into the house. Miranda deposited her hastily packed belongings in the attractive guest room, which was located (thankfully) on the opposite end of the house, well away from Marcus's and Emily's rooms. Then she hurried back to help him put things away in the kitchen. She couldn't believe how relaxed and comfortable she felt around him—especially considering the short time they'd known each other. But it was like they were old friends . . . and something more too.

As she put a carton of eggnog in the fridge, she remembered something her mom used to say to her and her sisters. “When the fellow is right, you should know it immediately. It just goes click in your heart.”

Okay, Miranda still had a bit of healthy skepticism, but she also knew this wasn't how it had been with Jerrod. There had been no click. Jerrod had caught her eye by exerting a lot of charm and persuasion. For some reason he'd been determined to win her attention, and she'd eventually given in. What a mistake that had been. A mistake she wouldn't make again.

As she neatly folded a shopping bag, she noticed Marcus staring out at the fast-falling snow. He had his cell phone in his hand and a frown on his face. “Are you worried about something?”

Before he could answer she realized he was concerned about Emily. They'd gotten home about fifteen minutes before four and now it was nearly four thirty. She should've been dropped off by now. “Do you think Lucy's mother is just driving really carefully? Because of the snow?”

“Yes . . .” He turned away. “That's probably it. I'd call Lucy's mom, but I don't like to distract her while driving.”

As she folded the other bags, he continued to pace nervously.

“Is it possible they brought her home early and no one was
home?” Miranda suggested. “Would she have gone to Camilla and Stan's?”

He looked uncertain. “Maybe . . .”

“Want me to call over there? That way you can keep your phone free in case Lucy's mom is trying to call.”

“Sure.” He nodded eagerly. “Good idea.”

Miranda pulled out her phone, relieved to see she had kept Camilla's number from yesterday. Camilla answered and, sure enough, Emily was there. “Sorry, we lost track of time,” Camilla explained. “I told Emily to call her daddy, but Stan and I got caught up in trying to teach her how to play Monopoly.”

“That's okay.” Miranda waved to Marcus. “She's with them,” she mouthed.

“I'm on my way to get her,” he called as he grabbed his coat and dashed out the door.

While Marcus picked up his daughter, Miranda realized she felt an even greater sense of reassurance. She really believed in this man. She could see how much he loved his daughter—how deeply he cared. The more she got to know him, the more she respected his character, and the more she felt herself falling.

Marcus and Emily were loudly singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” as they burst into the house, but they got stuck after “eight maids a-milking.” Miranda racked her brain to get them through the next five verses, which still got badly jumbled between eleven and twelve, until they all wound up laughing so hard that it was useless.

“I invited Camilla and Stan for Christmas dinner tomorrow,” Emily told her dad.

“Good girl.” He turned to Miranda. “Did you know that Joy ordered a dinner for eight?”

“For eight?” Miranda chuckled. “Maybe she wanted you to have leftovers.”

“At least we'll have five people,” Emily told them. “That's almost as good as eight.”

“In our case, it's even better,” Marcus assured her.

They spent the evening letting Emily call the shots for what she called “a normal Christmas Eve” night—doing everything from drinking eggnog and eating snack food to watching, of course,
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
.
Finally they hung up Emily's Christmas stocking—a gift that Joy had tucked in one of her magical bins. Marcus hung it on the far edge of the fireplace to prevent the big crackling fire from scorching it.

“I don't think there will be anything in it,” Emily said with a doubtful expression.

“Why would you say that?” Miranda asked.

“Because on our way home from ice-skating, Lucy's big sister Belinda told us a secret.”

“What kind of secret?” Marcus asked.

“Belinda said there's no such thing as Santa Claus,” Emily proclaimed sadly. “It's all make-believe.”

“What?” Marcus acted astonished.

“Well, Santa never brought me anything.” Emily folded her arms across her front with a slightly defiant expression.

“That was my fault.” Marcus knelt down to look into her face. “I made him stay away. And I'm really, really sorry.”

“You made him stay away?” Emily frowned up at him. “Why?”

“Because I was really dumb, Emily. And I was mad. What can I say?” He held up his hands. “Except that, like I told you last night, I'm really sorry. Remember, you said you forgave me. Do you still forgive me?”

She smiled, then gave him a big kiss. “Yeah. It's okay, Daddy. I forgive you.”

“So what do you think about Santa now?” Miranda cau
tiously asked Emily. She knew that there was still a box of gifts that Joy had specially prepared for Emily. Safely stowed in the laundry room, they were supposed to be placed in Emily's stocking and under the tree after she went to sleep.

“I don't know.” Emily's brow creased as if thinking hard. “Belinda
is
ten years old. So she should know.”

“How did Lucy feel about what her sister told you?” Miranda asked.

“Lucy got real mad and she told her mom. And then her mom got real mad too. She told Belinda she better not expect to find anything from Santa,” Emily declared, “if she doesn't believe in him.”

“And what did Belinda say about that?” Marcus asked.

“She seemed kinda worried. And then she told us that maybe she was wrong. Maybe Santa was for real.”

“I think maybe she was wrong too,” Marcus told Emily.

Emily nodded. “Yeah . . . maybe so.”

“Do you still want to put out cookies and milk for Santa?” Miranda asked. This was something they'd talked about at great length while baking yesterday.

“Yeah, we better do that.” Emily turned to Marcus. “Can we put out some carrots for the reindeer too? Just in case they're hungry.”

By nine o'clock Emily had set out cookies and milk and carrots and had on a pretty pink nightgown and fuzzy slippers. “Well, you know what they say,” Marcus told her. “Santa won't come if you don't go to bed.”

“Do you
really
think he's coming?” she asked with wide eyes. “For real, Daddy?”

He shrugged. “I guess we'll find out, won't we?” He swept her up into his arms. “Now give Miranda a good night kiss and it's off to bed for you.”

Emily dropped a sweet little kiss on Miranda's cheek and was promptly flown off to bed. After a few minutes, Marcus returned with a slightly worried expression.

“Did you get her convinced that Santa's really coming?” Miranda asked.

His mouth twisted to one side. “I'm not sure. She seemed pretty skeptical. Can't blame her when you consider how Santa's skipped her these last several years.”

“Well, then it sounds like Santa really owes her.” Miranda gave him a sly look. “I'm thinking that might be why Joy sent the old Santa suit.”

He chuckled. “Really? You think I should suit up? And then what?”

“Remember, I told you about the box of Santa gifts? I put them on a high shelf above the dryer.”

“You think I should dress up and deliver them?”

She tried to act nonchalant as she shrugged. “It's up to you.”

“She was so worn out, I'm sure she'll be asleep soon. What would be the point?”

Miranda shrugged again. “I don't know. She seemed pretty excited to me. I bet she'll be awake for a while. I remember how I'd try to stay up when I was her age, hoping to spot Santa.”

“Okay, then let's both make a big deal about saying we're tired and telling each other good night and then we'll retire to our rooms.” He lowered his voice. “But when it's all over with, you better come back out here. I'm not really ready to call it a night yet. Are you?”

She laughed. “Not yet.”

“Because I want to spend the rest of the evening getting to know everything about you, Miranda. I want to hear about your childhood and your favorite film and what kind of books you like and—”

“Yes, yes,” she said eagerly. “Later!”

They went through the whole routine. Standing in the hallway near Emily's door, they talked of being tired, told each other good night and noisily trekked off to their separate rooms. Of course, Miranda couldn't bear to miss out on this. And so after a few minutes, she slipped off her shoes, pocketed her iPhone, and tiptoed out of her room. She crept out into the great room where the tree was still lit and the fireplace was still crackling and the lights were turned down low. Perfect. Positioning herself in a shadowy corner behind the drapes in front of the double French doors, she had a perfect view of the room. Her phone was on silent and in camera mode in the hopes of snagging some pics to send to Joy. Then, suppressing the urge to giggle like a child, she waited . . . and waited.

Finally, she heard a noise coming—but not from the direction of Marcus's bedroom like she'd expected. Instead she turned to see a red-suited character stomping through the front door. Snowflakes were dusted all over the surprisingly realistic costume. Even the fluffy white beard looked real. And the sound of bells jingling added to the authenticity. It was all perfect. She blinked and looked again, almost convinced it really was Santa! She raised her phone and snapped some pictures.

“
Ho, ho, ho
,” he said as he walked into the room. “What a beautiful, beautiful tree! High time too!” He approached the fireplace with what looked like a pillowcase filled with gifts over his shoulder. Miranda guessed that the rest of the pillow was stuffed under the red velvet jacket. “Ho, ho, ho,” he said again, a bit more loudly this time.

Just then something small and pink caught Miranda's eye. She spied Emily lurking in the hallway, crouched down by the wall and watching the spectacle with enormous eyes, being as quiet as a mouse. Miranda got a shot of this too.

“This looks like little Emily's stocking.
Ho, ho, ho!
I brought lots of goodies for this good little girl. Her daddy banned me from this house, but those days are gone now. And since little Emily's been waiting patiently, she's going to get some good stuff.” He paused to fill her stocking full, and then he set the rest of the gifts beneath the tree, chatting to himself as he did so. Meanwhile Miranda snapped photos, knowing some would be useless but many would be good.

“Yum-yum. Cookies and milk!” He plopped down in the easy chair and, with his back to Emily, he slipped the cookies into the front of his suit and took a big swig of milk. “Best cookies ever,” he declared heartily. “And carrots for my reindeer too. What a thoughtful little girl.”

He stood and saluted the tree. “A merry Christmas to all,” he said, “and to all a good night.” And then making a few more ho-ho-ho's, he hurried out the front door. Emily stood up, just staring into the room with a stunned expression before giggling softly, dashing back to her room, and quietly shutting the door behind her.

Miranda wasn't quite sure what to do, but decided it couldn't hurt to sit quietly by the tree and wait. It was also a good time to forward the pictures to Joy. Writing some fun captions—and wishing Joy a happy birthday—Miranda happily hit Send. As she sat there waiting for Marcus to return, she couldn't help but chuckle at the scene she'd just witnessed. It was like something right out of an old movie, and she knew that Joy would love it. Not even ten minutes passed before Miranda noticed that Joy had emailed back.

Oh, Miranda, you have made my day. Or my night. Or both. The photos of Marcus dressed in George's old Santa suit are priceless. Thank you so much for sharing!
And thank you for helping me to finish my Christmas Joy Ride. I have a feeling that your joyride is just about to begin, and I couldn't be happier for you. I am settling in nicely here. It's wonderful being with my boys and their families. And the weather is amazing. I hope you will come visit me soon. Bring that darling girl Emily with you. And Marcus too if you can.