The Christmas Joy Ride

by Melody Carlson

  Although Stan had planned to go home to “let the females do the decorating,” he continued to stick around, curiously watching as the bins were opened and decorations were unpacked. Miranda was impressed with the quality of the ornaments and things. It all seemed surprisingly well suited to the southwestern-style home. She’d been equally surprised at the Wheeler house. It was actually very attractive and not the sort of place where a guy would emerge in overalls sporting a shotgun, although she could be wrong. She figured that Joy must’ve gotten some kind of heads-up, because everything she’d packed seemed just perfect. But as she helped to direct Camilla and Emily, Miranda realized that many of these things had been the same decorations Joy had been using in her own beautiful home in recent years.

  “It’s all so pretty,” Camilla said as she opened another bin.

  “Our house is going to be beautiful,” Emily declared as she hung a big silvery glass ball on the tree.

  “I hope your dad won’t mind,” Miranda said cautiously. She was still a little worried about how Mr. Wheeler was going to react to this Christmas invasion of his lovely home.

  “Daddy is Mr. Scrooge,” Emily told her.

  “Emily,” Camilla put a little warning tone in her voice. “That’s not nice.”

  “It’s true. Everyone calls him that. Eba-sneezer Scrooge.”

  “I think you mean Ebenezer.” Miranda suppressed a giggle.

  “Yeah. Ebenezer.” Emily nodded. “I saw the Mickey Mouse movie about it.”

  “What’s this?” Stan asked as he peeked in a box containing exterior lights.

  “You’re still here?” Camilla teased. “Thought you said this was ladies’ work.”

  “You planning to hang these outside?” He held a neatly wrapped strand of lights up to Miranda. “Around the house?”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Emily danced happily around. “The house is going to be all lit up outside. Just like a real Christmas house!”

  “That’s right.” Miranda nodded. “Lights outside.”

  “That’s man’s work,” Stan told her. “You’ll need a ladder and—”

  “I have a six-foot stepladder on the back of the RV and everything else we need,” she told him.

  “Well, I better take care of it for you.” Stan picked up the box and headed for the door.

  By three o’clock, the decorating was completed. Even the exterior lights had been hung along the eaves and around the front door and front windows. When Stan plugged them in, Emily was ecstatic. Miranda took a short video of Emily doing her happy dance all up and down the front of the house. “If no one minds, I’ll send this to Joy later on,” she told Camilla. “And now I should probably take Emily shopping like Christmas Joy asked.” She sighed at the RV. “I can’t imagine finding a parking place in any kind of shopping area—not on December 23.”

  “Why don’t I give you girls a ride?” Camilla offered. “Then you can leave your big rig right where it is.”

  “Would you do that?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Miranda hugged her. “Thank you so much!”

  As Camilla drove them to town, the sky was becoming a thick cover of pale gray. “Looks like that snow the weatherman has been promising is coming,” Camilla said.

  “Snow!” Emily exclaimed. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever!”

  Despite the weather forecast, Miranda was feeling a huge sense of relief. And it was twofold. For one thing, the decorating had been completed before Emily’s dad got home. Miranda’s big fear had been that the unsuspecting father would show up while the place looked like it had been hit by a holiday hurricane. But they’d managed to finish up and stash all the boxes and bins in the garage, and other than looking like a “real Christmas house,” as Emily kept saying, everything was nice and neat. But the other reason she was relieved was related to Camilla and Stan. They had been so helpful, such good neighbors. As far as Miranda could tell, they seemed to be very good friends with Mr. Wheeler, making it impossible to imagine that Emily’s dad would be anything but grateful for this holiday intervention. Especially when he saw his daughter’s face. At least she hoped so.

  13

  Just as Miranda and Emily went into the outdoor store where Emily was certain they could find the perfect gift for her dad, Miranda’s phone chimed. She paused by a stuffed and mounted wolf to see a text from Rick. Joy had stabilized enough to be transported to Phoenix and was en route there. Miranda texted back, thanking him for the update and saying she would be keeping Joy in her prayers. Then, since her phone battery was almost dead, she turned it off, reminding herself to get it recharged when they got home.

  “That is great news!” She briefly explained to Emily that Joy was doing better. “Now, what should we get for your dad?”

  “Last time we went camping, he lost his favorite pocketknife,” Emily explained. “I want to get him one just exactly like it.”

  “Do you know what kind of knife it was?” Miranda asked as they walked through the store.

  “It was red with a little cross on it,” Emily told her.

  “A Swiss Army knife?”

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. But he said he’d had it for a real long time.”

  When they found the correct department, Miranda asked to see their Swiss Army knives. The salesman laid a selection on the counter and Emily carefully examined all of them. Finally she pointed to the one she thought was just like her dad’s. “See,” she explained to Miranda, “it’s got tweezers. Daddy used those if I got a splinter.”

  “Then we’ll take that one,” Miranda told the salesman. She turned to Emily as he was wrapping it for them. “Do you want to get him anything else?”

  “Nope.” Emily firmly shook her head.

  Miranda smiled. “Okay, looks like we can get home and start baking Christmas cookies now.”

  Emily’s eyes lit up. “The kind with colored frosting?”

  “That’s right. And you’ll be in charge of the frosting part.”

  “Cool!”

  Miranda laughed. “Yeah, cool.”

  As they left the store, snowflakes were starting to flutter down. Emily did a happy dance the whole two blocks to where Camilla’s car was parked. By the time they were on their way home, Miranda felt like doing the happy dance too. Emily’s enthusiasm was contagious. And hearing the little girl’s squeal of pure joy when she spotted her colorfully lit up house through the heavily falling snow made Miranda burst into laughter. She couldn’t wait to tell Joy about it.

  “Emily’s dad will be home in less than two hours,” Camilla told Miranda as she dropped them in the driveway. “He’ll stop by our house as usual to pick up Emily, but I’ll let him know she’s already at home.” Camilla’s eyes looked slightly concerned. “Anything else you want me to tell him?”

  “No way!” Emily exclaimed. “Don’t tell Daddy anything at all. I want him to be really, really surprised.”

  Miranda felt a bit uneasy but nodded to Camilla. “Okay then. This is Emily’s show . . . let’s do it her way.”

  “Come on,” Emily tugged on Miranda’s hand. “Let’s go make Christmas cookies now—before Daddy gets home!”

  Miranda thanked Camilla for the ride and wished her a merry Christmas before she followed Emily back into the house. The cookie dough and frosting that Miranda had left in the kitchen were nicely thawed, and after a brief search unearthed a rolling pin, they were rolling out the dough. “Here are the cookie cutters Christmas Joy sent for you.” Miranda produced the red tin containing a variety of holiday shapes. “Go for it.”

  Emily let out another shriek of delight as she examined the shapes, galloping the reindeer across the counter and flying the angels through the air. After a little while they finally got the first pan into the oven. Miranda was trying not to be obsessed by the clock, but she really wanted to be done with this before Emily’s dad got home. It wasn’t that the kitchen was a mess, but it wasn’t as tidy as it had been, and Miranda was determined to l
eave his house in the best shape possible.

  “Your daddy is really good at keeping house,” Miranda said as she slid in the second cookie pan.

  “He doesn’t do that,” Emily said as she put her muscles into rolling the last clump of dough flat. “We got a housekeeper. Rose comes on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

  For some reason Miranda felt relieved to hear that Emily’s dad wasn’t some kind of compulsive neat freak who would throw a fit if his otherwise perfect house was a bit out of order.

  “What do you think your dad will do when he sees what we’ve done?” Miranda asked as she scrubbed off the counter where they’d been rolling out the dough.

  When Emily didn’t answer, Miranda turned to see her face. But she was so intent on decorating the cookies with frosting . . . Maybe she hadn’t heard the question. Or maybe it was a question better left unanswered.

  When the last batch of cookies were out of the oven and everything except the frosting area was cleaned up, Miranda remembered the final instructions Joy had written out—the things she needed to do when Emily’s dad got home. Worried that she might forget something, Miranda had torn this page from the notebook and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. She studied the last bit now.

  She was supposed to greet Marcus and give him the copy of Emily’s letter to Christmas Joy. And before she left, she was supposed to give him the box marked “To Marcus, from Christmas Joy” as well as the Santa suit. She was supposed to do the last two things in private.

  Miranda patted the pocket of the elflike velour hoodie she’d borrowed from Joy. Emily’s letter was still safely tucked in there. And the gift for Marcus as well as the Santa suit were safely stashed in the laundry room. While she was really curious what was in the rather heavy big box, she was even more curious what Joy thought Marcus—the man who refused to celebrate Christmas—would do with an old Santa suit.

  However, she knew that was none of her business. It was something that Marcus would have to sort out for himself . . . with his daughter. Miranda could only hope and pray that it would all go well. And knowing Joy—and her ability to bring happiness to others—Miranda figured it would all work out okay.

  She glanced out the kitchen window to see the snow was really getting heavy. Hopefully she’d be able to make it safely to the RV park in town. If nothing else, she would put on her emergency flashing lights and just drive very slowly. Hopefully other motorists would be understanding. And once she got the RV set up, she would just stay put until the roads got cleared. Because the RV park was right in town, she knew that she could walk to get anything she needed. And it might even be fun to be holed up during a snowstorm. Plus it would feel good to just stay put a few days . . . and rest.

  “What’s going on in here?” a deep voice boomed from somewhere in the house.

  “Daddy!” Emily yelled so loudly that Miranda dropped the cookie sheet she was putting away, making a sharp bang that sounded like a gunshot.

  “Emily?” the voice called out in alarm.

  “In here!” Emily jumped down from the stool she’d been perched on, running and leaping into the arms of a tall, dark-haired man who rushed into the kitchen. “Welcome to the Christmas house, Daddy! Isn’t it wonderful!”

  “What is going on?” he demanded as he looked into his daughter’s face with concern. “What happened? Furthermore, how did it happen?” Now he spotted Miranda standing—or perhaps cowering—by the sink. She felt just like the proverbial deer in the headlights. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Miranda.” She nervously reached into the pocket of the bedazzled green hoodie, suddenly wishing she’d worn something a bit more stylish . . . or even taken a shower. “And this is for you.” She handed the stunned but attractive man the rumpled letter. “Emily wrote in to a contest. To the Christmas Joy website and—”

  “Camilla helped me,” Emily explained with excitement. “And we won, Daddy! I didn’t even know we won until today. Camilla kept it a secret ’cause she knew I might tell you. And that would spoil everything.”

  “Camilla was in on this?” He looked skeptical and confused . . . and, Miranda had to admit, strikingly handsome. His wavy dark hair had a few tinges of silver and his jawline was firm.

  “Yeah. Did you see the Christmas Joy bus outside?” Emily asked. “And Christmas Joy couldn’t come ’cause she’s sick. But now she’s better. And she sent us Miranda. Miranda is Joy’s helper.” Emily held up a messy-looking cookie with sticky fingers. “And we made these. Want some?”

  “Not right now.” Marcus eased Emily down to the floor, still looking perplexed and slightly aggravated.

  “I know you must be, uh, surprised,” Miranda began apologetically. “But maybe if you read Emily’s letter it would make more sense.”

  “Maybe . . .” He looked seriously irked as he ripped open the envelope.

  “And I have something else for you too.” Miranda stepped backward, making her way to the laundry room as he frowned down at the letter. Relieved to be out of his kitchen, she partially shut the door and leaned against the washing machine, trying to steady herself. It wasn’t that he was angry exactly. Or maybe he was. But she just felt so embarrassed—as if she’d been caught trespassing. None of the other Christmas Joy visits had felt anything like this. And the sooner she got out of here, the better!

  She picked up the two boxes Joy had prepared for Marcus and then remembered something. For some reason these were supposed to be given to him privately. But how? She peeked out the cracked open door to see he was still reading the letter. Was the letter really that long? Or was he just studying it?

  Feeling impatient, Miranda poked her head out far enough to spy Emily licking green frosting from her fingers. Seeing an opportunity, Miranda called out. “Hey, Emily, I think you should go to the bathroom and give your sticky hands and face a really good scrub. Okay?”

  “Huh?” Emily looked up from her frosting-covered hands.

  “Remember, Emily. It’s almost Christmas,” Miranda warned. “Santa is watching.” Then seeing Marcus’s disapproval, she wished she hadn’t said that. But it was too late. And like magic, Emily had disappeared.

  “I’m supposed to give you these,” Miranda said quickly, carrying the two boxes into the kitchen. “But not with Emily watching,” she said quietly.

  “What?” He stared at the boxes she was thrusting toward him. “Why?”

  “They’re for you. From Christmas Joy.”

  “I don’t understand what’s going on. Why have you invaded my privacy and my home? Who gave you—”

  “You read Emily’s letter, didn’t you?” she said a bit sharply. “Your precious daughter has been missing out on Christmas for—well, for years now. And she wrote in to the contest that my good friend Joy Jorgenson held a few weeks ago. Joy, who is nearly eighty-six years old and being transported to a Phoenix hospital with a heart condition right now, just wanted to give Emily the best Christmas ever. I’m sorry if it’s upset your apple cart, but for Emily’s sake, I’m glad.”

  Marcus didn’t say a word, just stared at her as if she were an alien—and maybe she was. Miranda planted her hands on her hips, staring right back at him—and wishing he was just a little less good-looking. “I hope you’ll wake up and decide to do what’s right by Emily. It’s high time you made your daughter’s Christmas a happy one.”

  “I don’t know why you think you’re the expert on what my daughter does or does not need, or why you think you can walk in here and—”

  “I’m here because Christmas Joy sent me!” Okay, she knew that sounded ridiculous as she glared up into his handsome face. “And your daughter is a perfect delight. And she is not getting any younger, you know! Someday you’ll be sorry for all the things you missed out on with her. Things like Christmas!” Miranda was backing toward the laundry room as she spoke, hoping to make a fast escape through the garage. “I’m sorry we caught you off guard. But maybe it was the only way to do this.” She pointed to the cabinet above the dryer
. “There’s a box hidden up there. For tomorrow night. Don’t forget! Now if you will please tell Emily goodbye for me, I’ll get out of your hair. Goodbye!”

  Miranda turned and ran through the laundry room and then into the garage. She paused for a moment, almost expecting him to call out or attempt to stop her—to apologize for his abominable behavior. But when he did not, she continued on outside, stepping out into the blustery snow. It took her a moment to get her bearings and figure out where she’d parked the RV. But the rainbow-colored Christmas lights helped her find the way. And now, of course, the RV was coated with several inches of snow. She knew she’d have to clean off some windows in order to see to drive, but she wanted to disconnect the electric and get the engine running first. However, when she went around to where she’d plugged the RV in earlier, she was dismayed to see that the cord had been unplugged and the Christmas lights now illuminating the house were occupying the outlet.

  She felt a wave of concern as she hurried inside the darkened motor home. Joy had mentioned the need to connect to electricity to keep the batteries charged during cold weather. For times when it wasn’t possible to connect, it was imperative to make certain everything in the RV was turned off so as not to drain the batteries. Had she even done that? In her hurry to get to decorating with Emily, and assuming that she would be recharging all afternoon, she hadn’t turned off anything.

  Miranda put the key in the ignition and whispered a prayer as she gave it a turn. There was a brief rumbling sound and then silence. She tried again. Nothing. The battery was dead.