Home for Christmas

by Holly Chamberlin

  Molly leapt from her seat. “I’ll get it,” she said, hurrying from the dining room.

  “Could it be?” Jill said, looking to Nell.

  “I know I shouldn’t but . . .” Nell got up from the table and tiptoed to the little hall between the dining and living room, from where she had a view of the front door. She was just in time to see Molly open the door to Mick Williams.

  “I brought a present from my mother,” he said without preamble. “She knows how your mother loves her fruitcake.”

  Without a word Molly threw herself into his arms. Mick held her tightly, narrowly avoiding dropping the fruitcake onto the floor.

  “Who’s that?” Stuart whispered, and Nell jumped. She hadn’t noticed that everyone had followed her and were also witnesses to the scene.

  “Molly’s boyfriend,” Jill told him softly.

  “I knew it,” Felicity whispered. “Christmas magic.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said!” Molly cried. “I do love you, Mick! I love you with all my heart. I’ve been so confused and scared, but I want to tell you everything I’ve been thinking and make it all right.”

  Though Nell couldn’t see Mick’s face as he took Molly’s hand, she was sure it beamed with pleasure and relief. “Good,” he said. “Because together I know we can solve any problem we run up against.” Suddenly, Mick looked down at Molly’s hand in his. “You’re wearing my grandmother’s ring.”

  “Oh,” Molly said. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “I want you to have it, Molly. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “My mom expects me back for dinner, but why don’t I come by after. We can talk.”

  Molly nodded. “I’d like that, Mick.”

  “He’s leaving!” Jill hissed. “Hurry!”

  Nell and the others scooted back to their seats in the dining room. Stuart’s chair scraped the floor as he sat and he mouthed “Sorry.” Eric held his fork and knife aloft as if about to dig into his meal. Jill’s fixed smile looked more like a rictus of death. Felicity began to whistle under her breath. Nell folded her arms across her chest, then unfolded then, then folded her hands on the table.

  A moment later Molly was standing in the doorway to the dining room. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed, not only, Nell guessed, from the cold air that had come in along with Mick.

  “Who was it?” Felicity asked, widening her eyes in a ridiculous attempt to look innocent.

  “You know very well who it was,” Molly said. “Do you think I didn’t hear you all whispering behind me? And I’m sure Mick could see you!”

  Nell unfolded her hands and put them on her lap. “Sorry, Molly. We didn’t mean to—”

  “Yes, you did, and it’s fine, really. I’m so happy right now I could burst!”

  “Don’t do that,” Nell instructed. “Sit and eat.”

  Molly dropped into her seat next to Eric. “I’m suddenly ravenous!”

  “Didn’t I tell you to believe in miracles?” Felicity said to her sister.

  “You did,” Molly admitted, “but it’s not always easy.”

  “I think it’s time for a toast,” Nell announced.

  Eric raised his glass. “To Christmas in Maine!”

  Next, Jill raised her glass. “To Christmas with the three Kings!”

  “To being home for Christmas!” Felicity proclaimed.

  Stuart looked to Jill. “To my mother, to whom I owe every good thing in my life.”

  “To my friends and family,” Molly said, “who helped me survive these last horrible days. Your turn, Mom.”

  “To an absolutely perfect Christmas,” Nell announced. “Cheers!”

  Chapter 38

  It was nine o’clock on Christmas night. Jill and Stuart had gone home laden with leftovers. Felicity was watching a movie in her bedroom. Mick had come by for Molly as promised. Eric and Nell were standing in front of the tree in the living room; it was the first time they had been alone all day. The fire in the grate was still crackling away. The aroma of fresh pine mixed with the lingering scents of warm apple and pumpkin pie. Nell had never felt so utterly content as she did at that moment.

  Eric nodded toward the picture of Molly and Felicity with Santa Claus that had pride of place on the mantel. “That picture is worth a thousand words,” he said.

  “I think it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten from my children,” Nell told him. “But there was another wonderful gift as well. Joel made a surprise visit yesterday. He wanted to be sure he hadn’t done or said anything to make Felicity change her mind about spending next Christmas with him in Switzerland. She assured him that he was innocent. But the best thing about the visit was that Molly and her father reconciled.”

  “You’re right,” Eric agreed. “Reconciliation is a pretty wonderful Christmas gift.”

  Nell smiled up at him. “And you’re being here with me and the girls is also a gift.”

  “As it is for me as well.” Eric suddenly reached into his jacket pocket, took out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Nell. “Here,” he said.

  Nell took the paper, unfolded it, and scanned the few lines written in dark blue ink. It was a moment before her mind registered what it was she was reading.

  “I wrote this,” she said, looking back to Eric in wonder. “I wrote this for you.”

  “I know.” Eric enfolded her hands in his and held them to his chest. “I’ve kept everything you ever wrote for me,” he said softly. “Your poems, your letters, even little notes. Nell, I have something to confess. I asked my publisher to schedule the reading at the Bookworm specifically because I knew you lived in Yorktide. I wanted to see you again.”

  Nell shook her head. “Why now?”

  “It was something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Eric admitted, “but I suppose I had to work up the courage first. There was always the chance you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. There was always the chance that you were still happily married with no time for reminiscing with a former boyfriend.”

  “What if I hadn’t come to the reading?” Nell asked. Her heart was pounding so hard now she could barely hear her own words over the sound of it.

  “I would have sought you out. Nell,” Eric went on, “you know I’ve never been good at doing things the way they probably should be done, but so much time has been wasted and you’re not married any longer and . . . The thing is, I’m still in love with you.”

  “Oh, Eric,” Nell breathed. “I’m still in love with you, too.”

  A smile of delight broke out across his face. “Maybe this sounds corny, but I believe it was fate that brought us together in the first place and fate that brought us back to each other after all these years.”

  “Not corny,” Nell told him. “Beautiful.”

  Eric clasped her hands more tightly. “Look, here I go jumping the gun again, but I don’t want to be apart from you any longer. What I’d like is to move to Yorktide, but only if it’s what you would like. After all, I can write from anywhere, and besides, I’m tired of New York. What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think,” Nell said, tears brimming in her eyes, “that I would like that very much. A leap of faith on my part is long overdue.”

  And then their lips met in a kiss Nell realized she had been waiting and hoping for since the last time she had laid eyes on Eric all those years ago. Finally, after what seemed like both an eternity and an instant, they drew apart. Nell took Eric’s hand and led him to the couch, where they sat curled together, Eric’s arm around her shoulder, her hand clasped in his.

  “I was so worried you wouldn’t feel the way I do,” Eric said softly. “Revisiting the past is risky.”

  “But sometimes you have no choice. When I saw you at the Bookworm that night . . .” Nell shook her head. “I was so scared to be there, but I just couldn’t stay away.”

  “You did have a choice, Nell. And you chose to be brave.”

  “All right,”
Nell agreed with a smile. “I chose to be brave. And it was worth the risk.”

  “Do you think the girls will be okay with our being together?” Eric asked.

  “I do,” Nell said. “They’re pretty amazing people. And Eric? I managed to write a few lines of poetry last night. They’re not great,” she added quickly, “but they’re not terrible, either. And I’m signing up for a poetry course at the community college.”

  “That’s fantastic news, Nell,” Eric said. “Very little could make me happier. Will you allow me to read your work as it progresses?”

  “Yes. It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation for what you’ve done for me this Christmas.”

  Eric laughed a bit embarrassedly. “What have I done other than deceive you about why I came to Yorktide?”

  “You’ve given me the gift of myself,” Nell told him earnestly.

  Eric gently pressed his lips to her forehead. “You had yourself all along. Maybe I just reminded you it was there.”

  “Either way, I want you to be honest in your criticism of my work like you were back in the old days. Here,” Nell said, returning the piece of paper on which so long ago she had written a poem for Eric. “It was meant for you.”

  “Thank you. Wait, I almost forgot. I have something else to show you.” Eric took an envelope from the same jacket pocket in which he had stowed the poem and handed it to Nell. She opened the envelope and withdrew a four-by-six-inch photograph. It was the photo she so ardently wished she still possessed.

  “This has always been my favorite picture of the two of us,” Eric told her.

  Nell wiped a tear from her eye. “Mine, too. In fact, I thought about asking if you remembered this day. I felt sick when my mother told me she had thrown away a box of my things that included this picture.” Gently Nell put her hand against Eric’s cheek. “But now I have you in the flesh, not just in my mind’s eye.”

  They kissed again, and it was with greater reluctance than each had felt a few moments earlier that their lips finally parted.

  “I should go,” Eric said. “I’m thinking you and the girls have a lot to talk about.”

  They made plans to meet the following morning, and after another kiss Eric took his leave. Nell watched at the window as he got into his car and slowly made his way down the drive the girls had shoveled earlier that day. Only when his car was out of sight did she turn to the lighted tree and all the other Christmas decorations with which she had festooned her home. A laugh of sheer joy burst from her. She felt almost dizzy with happiness and the sense of possibility. Why had she wasted so much time assuming only a grim future awaited her when all along she might have been imagining into existence a future filled with pleasure and productivity? I guess I can toss that newspaper photo of Eric, she thought, now that he is mine once again. But no. She would keep the photo as a reminder of the exact moment her future had begun to open up before her.

  Eric had been gone about ten minutes when Nell heard the front door open and shut. It wasn’t long before both of her daughters joined her in the kitchen.

  Felicity sniffed. “I’ve seen It’s a Wonderful Life about a million times, and every single time I cry like crazy at the end.”

  Molly hefted a large red bag onto the table. “The rest of Mick’s gifts,” she said with a grin.

  “I can’t wait to see them!” Felicity cried.

  “In a bit,” Molly said, looking shrewdly at her mother. “I want to hear about Mom and Eric.”

  “What makes you think there’s something to tell?” Nell asked, barely managing to hide a smile.

  “Mom. I read the inscription in the book of poetry Eric gave you.”

  “What inscription?” Felicity asked.

  “Mom will show you later,” Molly promised.

  Nell took a deep breath. “It’s all very simple,” she said. “Eric told me that he purposely came to Yorktide to see me. He still loves me, and I still love him. He’s going to relocate so that we can be together.”

  “OMG!” Felicity cried. “And I said that nothing new or exciting ever happens in Yorktide. I was so wrong!”

  Molly took her mother’s hand. “I’ll admit it was a little disconcerting seeing you with another man today, especially one so obviously in love with you, but it was also a good thing. You deserve to be happy, Mom. And you know what? Remember a few days ago when you asked us what we’d do if we had to create a gingerbread cookie that represented you, and neither of us could come up with anything? We said that you were ‘just Mom.’ But that’s wrong. You’re not just our mother, you’re a person in your own right with your own thoughts and feelings and talents. I’m sorry it took so long for me to understand that.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Felicity said. “If I had to create a gingerbread cookie Nell King I’d make her in the shape of a really big heart.”

  Nell laughed. “Would I at least have a face?”

  “Of course! And you’d have hands and in one of your hands you’d be holding a book of poems and in the other a cookie tin or maybe a glue gun.” Felicity turned to her sister. “Okay, now I want to hear about Mick. Did he like the money clip?”

  “Yes,” Molly said. “And we had a really good talk. We realized that it had been a while since we’d taken the time to talk to each other about the important things in our lives. You were right, Mom. I should have trusted Mick to understand the anxiety I was feeling.”

  “And?” Felicity prodded.

  “And next week we’re going to that cool antique place in Portsmouth, Market Square Jewelers, to shop for an engagement ring, something vintage to go with his grandmother’s wedding ring. Oh, and the wedding will be next fall, at the farm.”

  Felicity squealed and threw her arms around her sister. “I had so better be your maid of honor!”

  “Of course,” Molly assured her.

  When Felicity finally let go of her sister, Nell gave Molly a hug of her own.

  “I’m so happy for you, Molly,” she said. “I really am. So what made Mick come to the house earlier, besides to deliver the fruitcake? It must have taken a lot of courage.”

  Molly smiled. “He said he had to see me no matter what. When he told his mother where he was going, she said it was about time he claimed the love of his life. And there I was thinking Mrs. Williams must hate me.”

  “So, what were the other gifts Mick had for you?” Felicity asked. “I’m dying to know.”

  “An antique milk pail for day eight,” Molly said. “I left it by the door for now. Some of them can be pretty dinged up, but this is in really good shape. For day nine, ladies dancing, a Beyonce t-shirt. Then for day ten, lords a-leaping, there was an articulated toy man, the kind with the string you pull to make his arms and legs jump. Day eleven, a CD of Irish pipe music, and for day twelve, a tin soldier with a drum. Totally sweet.”

  “So, what was the big surprise he talked about?” Felicity asked.

  Molly grinned. “You’re not going to believe this. He bought two tickets to Hamilton! That’s Broadway! New York City! And we’re going in June, right after graduation, which is a crazy busy time for him, but he said he knows how much I want to see the play and that I mean more to him than even the farm.”

  Nell smiled. “Now that’s saying something!”

  “I know! And he’s booked us an apartment in Tribeca through Airbnb. It’ll be like being a New Yorker for two days. It’s very exciting.”

  “Even though you think people who choose to live in a big noisy city are crazy.”

  Molly blushed. “Forget everything I’ve ever said about everything. I’m starting over from this very day. This is a new and better me.” Molly shook her head. “I can’t believe I was so scared of settling down. I’m happy with Mick. I’m happy here in Maine. How can happiness be wrong?”

  “It can’t be wrong,” Felicity said firmly.

  “I agree,” Nell said. “Happiness looks like all sorts of things, Molly. You have to choose your own picture of happiness and stick with i
t.”

  “You’re right, Mom. Hey, do you know what I found out tonight? Mick has always wanted to go to Bora Bora! He never talked about traveling before. I was wrong when I said I knew him thoroughly. There are all sorts of things about Mick I don’t know, and I want to know them.”

  “What if you don’t want to go to Bora Bora?” Felicity asked. “What then?”

  “I’ll go with him anyway. He’s my best friend.”

  “Loving someone involves compromise,” Nell said. “Compromise has gotten a bad rap in the past years. Selfishness has been raised as a goal. But compromise isn’t a bad thing in a relationship, as long as you’re not the only one doing the compromising.”

  Molly nodded. “I agree. And I’m going to visit Mrs. Williams tomorrow and apologize for having hurt her son. Honestly, in spite of her encouraging Mick to fight for me, I’m a bit scared.”

  “She’ll understand,” Nell assured Molly. “Why don’t you take her a pomander ball? And a few glitter balls. And maybe some cookies. And I’ll call her to thank her for the fruitcake.”

  “You know,” Felicity announced, “in some ways this has been the best Christmas ever.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “Yeah, in spite of my almost ruining my life by walking away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She turned to Nell. “Well, the best thing aside from having you as my mother.”

  The miniature grandfather clock on the mantel of the fireplace in the living room struck midnight. “Another Christmas come and gone,” Nell said a bit wistfully.

  “There’s always next year, Mom,” Felicity said, linking her arm through her mother’s.

  “And the one after that. Hey, maybe when Mick and I get married we could have Christmas Eve dinner at our house for the two families. It could be the start of a new tradition.” Molly looked slyly at Nell. “Mom and Eric on one side of the table . . .”

  Nell smiled. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “And I’ll use your great aunt Prudence’s platter to serve the roast beef.”

  “Speaking of food, I’m hungry,” Felicity announced.