The Christmas Joy Ride (14 page)

“What do you do to get it ready?” Emily asked. “Can I watch?”

“I thought you wanted to make a snowman.”

Emily shrugged. “I can do that afterwards.”

“Well, you better get your coat,” Miranda told her. “It's cold out there.”

“You don't have a coat,” Emily pointed out.

Miranda grinned. “You're right. But that's because my stuff got stolen.”

Emily's eyes grew wide. “Your stuff got stolen?”

“Just my clothes,” Miranda said. “No big deal.”

“But you still have that.” Emily ran her hand along a sleeve of the green bedazzled hoodie. “It's really pretty too.”

Miranda laughed, confessing that she'd borrowed it from Christmas Joy. Emily pulled on a purple parka and led the way outside, continuing to pepper Miranda with funny questions. As she unlocked the RV, Miranda could see that Marcus had already cleaned the snow off all the windows for her. Was he just being kind—or trying to get rid of her as quickly as possible?

“Do you have kids?” Emily asked as Miranda began to rearrange things, preparing the motor home for the trip into town.

“Nope.” Miranda turned off all the lights and everything electrical. She was taking no chances with the battery.

“A husband?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have a mom and dad?” Emily peered curiously up at her.

“Yes, I do. And I have two sisters and one brother and several nieces and nephews too.”

“Why don't you go home to have Christmas with them?”

“It's too far away. And most of them live in different towns anyway. They don't usually get together.” Miranda emptied water from the teakettle, stowing it below the sink.

“Where will you be for Christmas?” Emily asked with a concerned brow. “Will you go be with Christmas Joy?”

“No. Christmas Joy is in Phoenix. I think it's too snowy to get there safely. So I'll be staying in the RV park in town.” She made a forced smile. “Where I expect to meet some new friends and—” To her relief she was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. She hurried to open it, and there was Marcus wearing a puffy black jacket and a bright smile.

“Got the driveway all cleared for you,” he announced. “And the snowplow just went by too. The road to town is all cleared.”

“That's great,” she said. “I was just getting the motor home ready to go. Emily was helping.”

“Do you think your battery is charged?”

“One way to find out.” She went for her purse, removing the key ring.

“Because I can give you a jump if you need it. I have an old pickup we can use.”

“What's a jump?” Emily asked as she followed Miranda up to the front.

“A way to charge a dead battery,” Marcus called from where he was waiting outside.

Miranda turned the key and the engine churned to life. “Don't need it,” she called out.

“Want me to unplug your cord?” he called back.

“Yes! Thanks!” Leaving the engine running, she ran around to show him where to stow the coiled extension cord.

“Are you really leaving?” Emily made a sad little frown.

Miranda stopped by the door and, bending down, she gave Emily a long, tight hug. “I do have to go, sweetie. But first I want to tell you what a very special girl you are. And I want to wish you the very best Christmas
ever
.” She whispered in her ear, “And don't forget the gift you got your dad yesterday. You put it in your room, right?”

Emily's eyes grew wide. “Yeah—that's right. I almost forgot.”

Miranda felt a lump growing in her throat as she stood and extended her hand to Marcus. “Thank you for your hospitality and a really great breakfast,” she said as she firmly shook his hand. “I wish you a very merry Christmas too!”

His expression was hard to read as he continued to clasp her hand, but he was clearly uncomfortable. Or maybe he just wanted her to get moving and didn't know how to say it.

“Thanks again, Miranda.” He released her hand. “For all you did. I really do appreciate it. And please tell Christmas Joy thank you too.”

“Oh, yeah!” She slapped her forehead. “I nearly forgot. One more thing. Christmas dinner. Emily had written that she wanted to have a real Christmas dinner, so Christmas Joy ordered all the fixings to be delivered on Christmas Day. I think the restaurant is called Lauretta's. I was supposed to call and confirm the delivery time, but I forgot.”

“That was very generous of Christmas Joy,” Marcus said quietly. “But you don't need to call. I can do that. Thanks.”

Miranda gave him a big smile as she went up the RV steps and opened the door. “You're very welcome. And you two have a fabulous Christmas!” She waved and went inside, pulling the
door closed and trying not to break into tears. Why was she so emotional today?

She got in the driver's seat, released the brakes, and put the RV in gear. With her eyes fixed straight ahead, she cautiously pulled forward. She saw Marcus and Emily standing together along the edge of the driveway. Forcing another bright smile, she made a cheerful wave and continued slowly down the driveway. Determined not to cry, she turned onto the freshly plowed main road and drove carefully toward town.

B
y noon, she had the motor home all set up at the RV park. And with the help of the manager, she'd even shoveled the snow away and put up the awning. She'd noticed some of the other RVs with their awnings out and a woman had explained that it helped maintain a semi snow-free zone outside the door. Miranda had even dug out a couple of camp chairs and a little folding table to set beneath the awning, giving her campsite a very friendly look. And, of course, she turned on the Christmas lights too. All in all, the Christmas Joy bus looked very welcoming and merry.

Miranda wished she felt as merry as her motor home looked, but as she walked toward town, she was determined to get into a better state of mind. After all, the sun was out, the sky
was bluer than blue, and the white snow was glistening like diamonds. What was not to like about this place?

She'd already called Joy and thanked her for her unexpected generosity. In typical Joy fashion, Joy had brushed it off. “Go out and buy yourself some new clothes—and some good snow boots. Replace what you lost,” Joy had advised her. “And then just have some good fun, dear. The best way to thank me is to make this a really great Christmas for yourself. Nothing would make me happier.”

So Miranda promised to do her best. And after she'd walked to town and deposited the check in her previously diminished account, she shopped with carefree abandon. She hadn't done anything like this in years. She picked up whatever she liked and if it looked good and felt good when she tried it on, she simply bought it—without fretting over the expense. She even had the salesgirl put her soggy suede boots in a bag while she wore her new snow boots out of the store. She was tempted to put on the pretty parka too, but with the sun shining brightly, she didn't really need it. Loaded down with bags filled with a variety of clothes and shoes, she decided to head right back to the RV.

She would have to do her grocery shopping later. Hopefully before the next snowstorm, which was predicted to hit around sundown. Before it came, she would gather enough provisions to get her through Christmas . . . and maybe another day or two beyond that. Just until she decided on her next move. As she walked, she felt strangely removed from the rest of the world.

This disconnected feeling had first hit her as she was driving to town. To be honest, it probably had more to do with leaving Marcus and Emily behind than anything else. Not that she particularly wanted to be honest. That might hurt too much. And to be fair, it was also related to the fact she no longer needed to deliver the RV to Joy in Phoenix. Yes, that was because the
RV now belonged to her, but it still left her feeling slightly lost. Even the fact that her time was now her own—to do with as she pleased—brought no real comfort. She didn't like this feeling of being cut loose and set free. As hard as it was to admit it, she wanted to belong somewhere . . . to someone. But it hurt too much to really think about that.

As she lugged her bags and bundles back to the RV park, she wondered about where to go next. She wasn't ready to return to Illinois just yet. Maybe she would simply stick around here for a while. She knew there were plenty of sites to visit in these parts—from the Grand Canyon to the beautiful red hills of Sedona. She might as well just stay put until after the New Year. What difference did it make anyway? Who would really care? Who would miss her?

With its colorful lights, her festive-looking motor home was easy to spot from a distance. But as she got closer, she spied someone sitting in one of her camp chairs. Now that was interesting. Perhaps she'd already made a friend. She certainly needed one. But as she approached her RV space, she realized it was Marcus.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in wonder.

“Looking for you.” He stood with an uneasy smile. “Hope you don't mind . . . I kinda made myself at home.”

“That's okay.” She shuffled the bags, trying to reach the key she'd slipped into her back pocket without dumping everything.

“Looks like you've been doing some serious shopping.” Marcus reached for a couple of her bags, allowing her a free hand to dig out the key.

She quickly explained about her stolen duffle bag and loss of clothes, then slipped the key in the door and opened it, tossing her bags inside. She pointed to the green hoodie that she was still wearing and really getting tired of. “This is actually Christmas
Joy's. I had to borrow her clothes until I could replace my things.” She took the remaining bags from him, tossing them inside with the rest. And, closing the door and feeling decidedly nervous, she turned to look at him.

“Seriously, Marcus, what are you doing here? Did I forget something at your place? Or are you afraid I ran off with the family silver?” She made a teasing smile.

“No, of course not.”

“What's up then?”

“I know I probably look like a stalker. But I promise I'm not.” He pointed to the camp chair he'd just vacated. “Mind if we sit down?”

“Not at all.” She flopped down in the other chair, then suddenly looked all around the campsite. “Hey, where's Emily?”

“Emily's best friend called after Emily and I finished making our snowman. Lucy invited Em to go ice-skating this afternoon. I just dropped her off, and Lucy's mom will drop her home by four.”

“How nice for her.”

“Yes. Emily is definitely having a very good Christmas this year. It's about time.” He nodded somberly.

“And you?” Miranda asked. “Are
you
having a good Christmas too?”

He frowned. “I guess so . . . I should be. But I'm still feeling a little unsteady.”

“That's probably from being blindsided by our holiday intervention yesterday,” she teased. “But I'm sure you'll recover in time.”

He made a half smile. “I think I've already recovered from that.”

“Then what seems to be troubling you?” She leaned forward to peer into his face. “Because, if you don't mind me saying so, you do seem troubled, Marcus.”

He let out a long sigh. “Yeah . . . I guess I am.”

She leaned back, waiting for him to explain himself, but instead of speaking, he just sat there like an exasperating bump on a log. After a couple of long minutes, with only the sound of a nearby dog barking incessantly, she couldn't stand it any longer.

“I've been thinking about your situation, Marcus.” She paused just in case he wanted to jump in and take over. Although he looked curious, his mouth remained tightly closed. So she continued, hoping to perhaps prime his pump. “I realize that it must've been really hard to lose your wife . . . especially during the holidays. At first I didn't really get it, but after thinking it through, I can understand how that would turn you against Christmastime.”

“Did anyone tell you
how
Gillian died?” he asked suddenly. “Did Camilla tell you? Or your friend Joy, perhaps? It wouldn't surprise me since it seemed like Joy knew all about me somehow.”

“Joy's very intuitive. And very into Christmas. But she didn't tell me anything.” Miranda paused. “All I know is that you lost your wife during the holidays . . . and you haven't celebrated Christmas since. And I don't mean to overstep my bounds—although it's a little late for that—but I felt it was wrong to deprive Emily of Christmas.” The truth was she'd thought it was downright selfish on his part.

“Oh?”

“But now that I've gotten to know you—even just a little—well, it's plain to see that you're very close with Emily. I can tell how much you love her. And she adores you. Even as Eba-sneezer Scrooge, she loves you dearly.”

“She's a very gracious little girl. Very forgiving.”

“That was my general impression.” Miranda paused again. She didn't want to push him too hard, but it seemed like he was
here for a specific reason—like he needed to get something off his chest. “Look, Marcus, if you want to talk, I'm a pretty good listener.” She leaned back again, waiting.

“I guess I do need to talk.” He ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair with a perplexed expression, as if searching for the right words. “Four years ago today . . . it was the day before Christmas. Christmas Eve. Emily was three and a half—a delightful bundle of energy. My wife, Gillian, had been working from home since Emily's birth. She actually worked for my accounting firm. But I still worked in town. It's imperative that I'm available in the office. Anyway, because I was in town, Gillian had asked me to do the Christmas shopping that year. She'd given me a very specific list a few weeks earlier. But it had been a really busy month for the firm. I'd just taken on some new clients. Big clients. Anyway, I'd been distracted. As a result I'd procrastinated on the shopping.” He sighed. “Shopping has never really been my thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I spent all morning on Christmas Eve scrambling to get everything on Gillian's list. I brought the stuff home in the afternoon and Gillian was less than impressed. Oh, I'd gotten some of it right. But apparently Emily really wanted a particular kind of Elmo doll—I can't even remember what the toy actually did anymore. The little red guy either talked or walked or performed open-heart surgery, or something equally fabulous—to a three-year-old anyway. According to Gillian this Elmo was a huge deal and without it, Christmas would be ruined.”

Marcus leaned forward with his hands dangling lifelessly between his knees. “When Gillian realized I'd gotten the wrong Elmo, she was not happy. And she told me I should've known better.” He sighed. “Come to think of it, I did know better. But the store I'd gone to was sold out of them. And the kid helping me assured me that they'd been out of them for weeks.”

“Those are the kinds of toys you have to get early,” Miranda told him. “I know because my sister does all her Christmas shopping before Halloween. She claims the best kids' stuff is always gone by Thanksgiving.”

He just nodded. “Anyway, Gillian was pretty upset and even though I told her it was pointless, she was determined to straighten it all out herself.”

Miranda felt a chill go down her spine as she surmised where this was going. Was it worth the emotional turmoil to replay it all now? Did Marcus really need this? But unable to think of a graceful way to stop him, she just sat there, watching helplessly as Marcus's face creased with old pain.

“I've never really told anyone this, Miranda. I'm not totally sure why I feel like I must tell you now, but I do.” He sighed. “I didn't want her to go to town. It seemed senseless. And we got into a nasty little fight. Fortunately, Emily was napping. But Gillian was so insistent that Emily had to have that doll that she stormed off.” He pressed his lips tightly together and his eyes glistened.

“And that's how she died?” Miranda asked in a quiet voice.

He slowly nodded. “Car wreck . . . just a mile from the house. I remember hearing the sirens and feeling sick inside . . . somehow I knew it was her. I wished it had been me.”

“I'm so sorry.” Miranda felt a lump in her throat.

“The driver of the semitruck fell asleep at the wheel. Head-on collision. Gillian died instantly.”

“Oh . . .” Miranda just shook her head as she let this soak in. “No wonder you turned against Christmas, Marcus. It makes sense to me now.”

“Looking back I can see how unfair it was,” he said. “Unfair to a little girl who'd lost her mother . . . and then lost Christmas too. I feel really badly about it. I was selfish.”

“But at least it's behind you now,” Miranda reminded him. “You saw how happy Emily has been. You two should have lots of wonderful Christmases ahead.”

“Yes . . . thanks to Joy's contest and your intervention.” He made a sad smile. “Thanks.”

“Is that why you're still struggling? Do you feel guilty about enjoying Christmas after the way you lost your wife?” Miranda was trying to wrap her head around this but knew it was complicated.

“No . . . not exactly. I actually made my peace with Gillian a couple years ago, but by then I'd pretty much given up on Christmas. It was just easier to ignore it.” He shook his head.

Miranda felt slightly lost trying to figure out why he was here. Why did he feel such a need to tell her all this? And how was she supposed to deal with it?
How would Joy handle it?
Of course, Joy would say something positive and uplifting and hopeful. And that's what Miranda should do too. “So from now on your Christmases will be so much better, Marcus. You and Emily are about to have your best Christmas ever. You should be feeling very happy.” She gave him her brightest smile.

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” she said confidently.

His expression lightened considerably. “How about
your
Christmas, Miranda? How is it going to be?”

“My Christmas?” She shrugged.

“Emily asked me to come talk to you about coming home with us for Christmas,” he said suddenly.