The Color of a Christmas Miracle: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Color of Heaven Series)

by Julianne MacLean

  “I hope so.” I finished my dinner and set the empty plate on the coffee table. “Normal sounds great. I just want to go back to the way things were, when we were excited about starting a family together, and we were affectionate with each other. Remember last Christmas? I was so happy and he seemed happy, too. But then again, I thought I might be pregnant. It wasn’t quite so magical on New Year’s Eve when I realized I wasn’t.”

  Bev sighed and touched my hand. “But now you have a plan. Maybe, by this time next year, you’ll be as big as a barn, waddling around in stretchy maternity pants, eating for two.”

  I chuckled. “One can hope.”

  Bev was quiet for a moment. Then she set her empty plate on the coffee table and patted Leo, who had strolled over to sniff her plate. She set it on the floor to let him lick it. “Listen, I’m sorry for not being there for you today. I know it was a big deal and I promised I would come.”

  She seemed like she wanted to confess something.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Bev stood up, collected our plates, and carried them to the kitchen while Leo trotted after her.

  Though it caused me some discomfort physically, as I was still sore from the procedure, I rose from the sofa to follow, and found her rinsing our plates at the sink and loading them in the dishwasher. By then, Leo was lying down by the back door.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she said when she noticed me standing there. “That’s why I’ve been a bit…out of touch the past few weeks.”

  “How to tell me what?” I asked.

  Recognizing that I was slightly hunched over, Bev gave me a sympathetic look. “Oh gosh, Claire. You didn’t need to get up. I was going to come straight back. I thought I’d make us some tea.”

  “Well…you can’t walk out of a room with a cliff-hanger like that and expect me not to follow.”

  Bev closed the dishwasher door and rested her jean-clad hip against the counter. She stared at me for a moment, then without warning, burst into tears.

  I rushed forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, God. What’s wrong? It can’t be that bad.”

  She straightened and labored to collect herself. “I just didn’t know how to tell you,” she sobbed.

  My stomach exploded with dread as a number of horrific possibilities dashed through my mind. Did Bev have a terminal disease? Was Mom dying? Or had Bev seen Wes somewhere with another woman, cheating on me?

  “Why?” I asked. “You know you can tell me anything.”

  Bev let out a miserable laugh as she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “It just seems so unfair. For the past year you’ve been telling me how badly you want to have a baby, but you kept hitting roadblock after roadblock, and you were so disappointed every month when it didn’t happen.” She paused.

  “Go on,” I said.

  She struggled to take a breath, moved to the table and sat down. “I don’t exactly know where to begin. Okay. A while ago, I met this guy at a party and we really hit it off. He was good looking and…well, you know I never do that sort of thing, but he looked so great in his faded blue jeans. I went back to his hotel afterwards—

  “His hotel?”

  Bev tried to make light of it. “He was from Ontario, here for a conference, and… Oh, it’s hard to say this out loud, but…we spent the weekend together and…” She let out a breath. “Oh, God. I’m pregnant.”

  I blinked a few times, not sure I’d heard her correctly. “You’re pregnant? Who is this guy? And I thought you were on the pill.”

  “I was,” she replied, “but I haven’t been for a while. Not since Jeff and I broke up. I knew I wasn’t going to be intimate with anyone else until I was back in a committed relationship, but I’ve been single for a long time, and then… Oh…I don’t know what happened, Claire. He was great, but it was totally irresponsible of me.”

  “Did you use any protection at all?” I asked, shocked that this could have happened to my baby sister who had always been such a goody-two-shoes. Her longtime boyfriend Jeff had been her high school sweetheart, and they’d been together for six years. Until recently, he was the great love of her life and the only man she had ever been with. Ever.

  Until Mr. Handsome-Party-Pants came along.

  “Of course we used protection,” she replied. “But evidently, it’s only 97% effective.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Humor me, please. I just want to make sure I understand what happened. He didn’t pressure you, did he? Or force himself on you? Because if that’s what happened—”

  “Goodness no,” she replied, waving a hand through the air and leaning forward on her elbows. “It was totally consensual. Actually, I was the one who suggested we go back to his hotel. I don’t know what came over me. You’re probably shocked.”

  I swallowed uneasily and sat down on a kitchen chair across from her.

  Wow. My sister hadn’t even wanted to get pregnant. She’d used protection but it had happened anyway. Meanwhile, I’d been taking my temperature and dragging my husband to the bedroom at exactly the right time each month and…nothing.

  It was pretty unfair. But it wasn’t Bev’s fault.

  I lifted my gaze. “How far along are you?”

  “Two months.”

  Two months?

  I stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “Me neither,” she replied, “but we haven’t seen as much of each other lately, since you’ve been going to yoga classes with Angie. You don’t call as often as you used to, so there just wasn’t an opportunity. Besides, I was embarrassed that I had gone home with a guy I barely knew. I was mortified, to be honest. Then, when I realized I was pregnant, I couldn’t come to you, because I knew how hard you’d been trying. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to have it.”

  I shot her a look. “What?”

  She gestured toward me. “See? That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d freak out if you knew I was actually considering not having it.”

  I buried my face in my hands, then looked up again. “Of course I would have freaked out! Because you have to keep it, Bev. When you think about how desperately I’ve wanted to get pregnant, and how hard it’s going to be for us…you can’t just throw a blessing like that out the window.”

  She rested her forehead on the heel of her hand, and I could see how stressed she was, and it was obvious that she she’d been struggling with this issue for a while.

  “Everyone isn’t you, Claire. Every woman isn’t going through what you’re going through. Some of us have very different issues to deal with.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “God, this is so messed up.”

  We sat in silence, neither of us saying a word.

  Finally, Bev dried her eyes and stood up to put the kettle on to boil. Leo continued to sleep on the floor by the back door.

  “All that aside,” she said. “At the end of the day, what matters is that I finally figured out what was best for me. I knew I had to have it, no matter what the future held. I even considered the possibility of asking you to adopt her—or him. I thought maybe it was some kind of divine intervention… That I’d be able to give you what you want. But as the days and weeks passed, I realized I couldn’t possibly give up my baby. Not for anyone. I want to have her and keep her and raise her. Even if I have to do it alone, I’ll find a way.”

  It was unbelievable, what my sister had just revealed to me. And even though it was unfair, I understood that this was the way the world worked. Sometimes life is unfair, but all we can do is figure out a way to get through the hardships and keep on living—and loving the people who are important to us.

  I stood up to join Bev at the counter, where she was dropping teabags into a couple of mugs. “You won’t have to do this alone,” I said. “I’ll be there for you. You know that, right?”

  She nodded and hugged me.

  When we stepped apart, I said, “I can’t imagine what you must have been going through. Have
you told Mom?”

  “Not yet.”

  I let out a breath. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine about it. You’re twenty-five years old. It’s not like you’re in high school—and I promise, I’ll have your back.”

  Bev hugged me again. “Thanks sis.” Then she turned to pour the boiling water into the mugs.

  “What about the father?” I asked. “Does he know?”

  “No,” she replied, “and I don’t intend to tell him. It was just a wild weekend, and then he went back to Ontario.”

  “You haven’t spoken to him since?”

  “We texted a few times,” she said, “but I didn’t want to push for any kind of commitment after he left. And I really don’t know him that well, so I’m not comfortable about bringing a stranger into my life who might turn out to be a terrible father figure for my child.” She regarded me sheepishly. “That’s probably selfish.”

  “No, it’s not,” I replied. “It’s responsible, and I understand. But he probably has some legal rights. You might want to talk to a lawyer.”

  Bev shook her head with regret as she picked up her mug, took the teabag by the string and bobbed it up and down. “I never imagined anything like this would ever happen to me, but I have to admit, I’m not sorry.” She met my eyes. “I’ve had time to think about it, and I want to have this baby. Even if it’s challenging and difficult as a single mom…” She laid her hand on her belly. “This little person is a part of me now, and I’m already in love. I never knew I could feel like this.”

  I exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. And maybe some day we’re going to look back on this moment and say, ‘That was the best Christmas ever—the year all the miracles happened.’”

  “You think so?”

  “I do, because I have a good feeling about where things are going from here. Last year, I had no idea how hard it was going to be, but now, here we are. You’re going to have a baby, and I have an amazing doctor who’s going to circumvent my blocked fallopian tubes and help Wes and me start a family. As far as I’m concerned, this is already the best Christmas ever.”

  We moved back into the living room, where the white tree lights were reflecting like starlight in the front window. I smiled at Bev as we sat down.

  “I can’t wait to be Auntie Claire to your beautiful baby. And you’ll get to be Auntie Bev when my turn comes around. I can just see us now, taking our babies for walks together in our strollers, and commiserating when they start school and leave the nest. They’ll grow up together as cousins, and we’ll always be together.”

  Bev began to cry again, but this time, with happy tears as Leo trotted in and rested his chin on her lap. “You’re the best sister ever. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  I felt blissful and alive, because with Bev’s news, I’d already received a precious gift, even though Christmas Day was still a week off.

  It was true that life didn’t always go according to plan, but I was ready to do whatever it took to conceive a child and restore my marriage to what it was. There were only good times ahead. I had modern medicine on my side to overcome the obstacles that stood in the way of Wes and me having a family together. And I had a sister who was about to walk side by side with me during her pregnancy—and mine—if I was about to be blessed with such a gift. Christmas was only one week away, and I never felt more full of hope.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The holidays arrived, and Wes and I took part in all the usual family festivities: turkey dinner at my parents’ home on Christmas Eve, followed by a second meal at the Radcliffe mansion overlooking the sea at St. Margaret’s Bay. We spent the night there, and woke up Christmas morning to open gifts with his family.

  Sadly, it was not a white Christmas. It rained throughout the night, but that did not detract from the holiday merriment. There was much laughter and excitement as we dove into the presents and started ripping and tearing at the paper and gift bags.

  That year, Barbara gave me a lovely jeweled pendant on a delicate gold chain—an oval-shaped emerald surrounded by diamonds, which must have cost a small fortune. She had purchased it in the Caribbean during one of their recent vacations, and she told me that she’d thought of me the moment she laid eyes on it. It was an exquisite piece, and I stood up to hug her in front of the tree.

  I should mention that something had come up at the dinner table the night before: the question of when Wes and I were going to start a family.

  “Will this be the year?” Barbara asked as she raised her wine glass to her lips and spoke with a twinkle in her eye.

  Wes put his arm around me and pulled me close. He told her that we were working on it, and that we hoped to have some good news soon.

  Everyone buzzed with delight and good wishes. It was a happy moment.

  When Wes and I returned home in the evening on Christmas Day, the house was dark, and there were no outdoor lights to turn on because we just hadn’t gotten around to stringing them up.

  The temperature had dropped to below freezing, and it was an overcast night with no snow on the ground. We rushed inside, and the house was like an icebox. We removed our boots and gloves, turned on the heat, then flicked on some lights.

  There were no toy helicopters to play with that night after we finished unpacking. All we did was sit on the sofa to watch CNN. Then we felt guilty for not making more of the fact that it was Christmas Day, so we watched It’s a Wonderful Life.

  When we went to bed, Wes apologized for being distant over the past few weeks, but he admitted that he’d felt smothered by all the pressure to conceive a child. He then confessed that he felt a weight had been lifted with the knowledge that it would make no difference if we made love during the crucial week of ovulation or not—or any other time for that matter. He told me he’d been suffering a bit of “performance anxiety” lately.

  I felt terrible about that, and when he suggested that we take a break from sex until the new year, I agreed.

  Despite what you might think, I did not feel rejected by his request. In all honesty, I understood exactly where he was coming from, because I’d been putting a lot of pressure on myself as well—to light candles and wear sexy nighties and make sure “it” happened, whether or not we were in the mood.

  I couldn’t deny that I felt a sense of relief that he wanted to take a break, and start again in a week or two.

  Also, it was the most intimate conversation we’d had in a long time. For months, I had been feeling as if we were growing more and more apart. We’d barely been communicating, but now, my husband was finally opening up to me and admitting his true feelings.

  All I wanted, moving forward, was for us to feel connected again, and I believed, in that moment, that we had made progress.

  I wished it could have been all roses and sunshine after that, but unfortunately, on the first day of school in early January, we came home at the end of the day and got into a terrible argument that started a snowball rolling.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In a way, I blame myself for how our fight started, because I had spent the holidays planning how and when we would begin IVF treatments with Dr. Walker—without ever talking to Wes about it.

  In my defense, I had wanted to give him the time and space he needed and not put any more pressure on him. For that reason, I didn’t mention my hopes, dreams and plans until after we returned to work in the New Year.

  As it happened, for reasons of his own, Wes had decided not to bring up our fertility treatments during the holidays either. We simply didn’t talk about it. We just tried to have a good time and be like a normal married couple.

  We went out dancing with Scott and Angie on New Year’s Eve, and drank lots of Champagne. We had a blast and I thought everything was on the upswing. I was simply biding my time until Wes and I could dive into the IVF treatments, full throttle.

  I understand now that I had allowed myself to be blind—perhaps because the element of communication I
had desired in our relationship was nowhere to be found. We were both maintaining a façade. We were pretending to be happy, and I didn’t realize that each of us was each keeping our true, honest thoughts and feelings to ourselves. The “disconnect” between us was deeper than ever.

  * * *

  “I’m not going to ask my parents for money again,” Wes said as he stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room.

  “But they have so much of it,” I replied, finding it ridiculous that he was resisting the idea. “Your parents want us to have children as much as we do. I’m sure they would be happy to help us out. Remember when your mom gave me your sterling silver baby cup last Christmas? I’m certain she’ll be totally on board. She’ll be thrilled that we came to her and disappointed if we don’t. Seriously, Wes, it would be pocket change to them.”

  He shot me a heated look. “The fact that they have money to spare is not the point.”

  “What is the point, then?” I asked. “Because I thought it was us having a child. I’m willing to do anything to make that happen. Aren’t you?”

  He whirled around to face me. “The point is, Claire, that when I was young, my father pushed me to go to law school or medical school or whatever. He just wanted me to do something he could brag about—and I resisted just to spite him, and he knew it.” Wes threw up his hands. “I actually would have enjoyed law school, but I couldn’t bring myself to follow his advice or do what he told me to do. I was determined to prove that I had a mind of my own, and I wanted to disappoint him. It gave me great satisfaction.”

  My head drew back in disbelief as I followed Wes from the living room to the bedroom, because I couldn’t see how his career choice and teenage conflicts with his father had anything to do with our struggles to have a child today.