What to do? What to do? Through the darkened windshield, coated in snow, Miranda could see a ribbon of colors from the Christmas lights garlanding the house. So merry and cheerful looking. Inviting even. Except that Mr. Scrooge himself lived inside. No way did Miranda want to go back in there and ask for help. Even if he did give her permission to plug into an outlet and recharge, she had no idea how long it would take until she could get out of here. And she was just not ready to crawl back to him.
The sensible thing seemed to be to call a tow truck and get the RV towed into the RV park where she could hook up to electric and get everything recharged. She had no idea what that might cost, but since she still had Joy’s credit card, she figured she could use that. And maybe the RV’s insurance had towing on it. She pulled her phone from her purse to call. But then she remembered. Her phone, like the RV’s batteries, was dead.
14
Miranda leaned her head into the steering wheel with a thump, trying to decide what to do. After the tongue-lashing she’d just given Emily’s father, it would be extremely difficult—and humbling—to go knock on the door and ask for help. Except that it was so cold in here . . . and getting colder. She fumbled through the dark until she found Joy’s afghan, then wrapped it around herself. Sitting there in the chilly darkness, she felt like a fool. A cold, stubborn fool.
Then suddenly she remembered something that Joy had told her early on in the trip. Miranda had been teasing about how the weather could get bad and they would slide off the road and freeze to death before help came.
“Not for a few days,” Joy had told her lightly. “The motor home’s forced-air system heats on either propane or electricity. You just flip the thermostat switch and, presto, you’re warm. At least until the propane tank runs out.”
Miranda hopped up and made it over to where the thermostat was located by the dinette table, but unable to see anything, she had no idea what she was doing. And then she remembered that Joy had a number of scented Christmas candles in jars sitting around the RV. Joy enjoyed lighting them in the evenings—for atmosphere. Miranda searched around until she found a lighter and using its light, she eventually found all three candles and lit them. The illumination was surprisingly helpful.
She carried the cinnamon-scented candle to the thermostat and soon had the furnace switched over to propane. Before long, the RV was becoming rather cozy. Feeling victorious, she put the teakettle on and was soon sipping a cup of soothing tea and telling herself that things really could be worse. Of course, she knew that she’d have to plug in the motor home, but to do so, she’d have to unplug the Christmas lights first. And imagining Emily’s disappointment to see their house going dark and bleak, Miranda just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet. She would wait until she was certain that Emily had gone to bed. Around nine or maybe even ten. And if the RV remained plugged in all night, perhaps it would start up in the morning. She could only hope.
In the meantime, she had food and warmth and she could even take a hot shower if she wanted. Of course, she didn’t have clean clothes to put on afterward. Not her own clothes anyway. But there were still a couple of bedazzled jogging suits in the closet. She heated a can of beef and barley soup on the stove, wondering what was going on inside the house. As she got out some crackers and sliced some cheese, she wondered if they even knew she was still here. Would they even care? Well, Emily would. But Marcus would probably rather just forget about the woman who’d broken into his home and turned his quiet world upside down. She didn’t think he’d care to know she was still here.
Tucked away like she was on the far side of the garage, Marcus would have to venture out a ways to spot the RV, now camouflaged with snow. But if he did find her here, would he be angry? Would he tell her to get off his property? Wield a shotgun? Call the police? Maybe it didn’t matter.
As she ate her soup and crackers and cheese, she tried to understand why Marcus had gotten so fixed in his ways. Why did he really want to be Eba-sneezer Scrooge—as Emily had called him? Couldn’t he see the joy in his daughter’s eyes? Surely he must feel some guilt for denying her Christmas for the past several years? Or maybe it was of no concern to him. Maybe he was just a mean, selfish man. Poor Emily!
As much as she wanted to believe Marcus Wheeler was just an old Scrooge, she felt fairly certain he was not. She’d seen him with Emily—clearly concerned for her safety and relieved that she was okay. No, he wasn’t an ogre.
Miranda looked at the clock and was dismayed to see it was just a little past seven. Too early to pull the plug on Emily’s Christmas lights. But she could take a shower. She could get ready for bed. By candlelight, she took a leisurely shower in the tight space. She helped herself to Joy’s lavender soap and lotion and then she perused Joy’s closet for another jogging suit, settling on the burgundy one and knowing that Joy would approve.
Although it was after eight when Miranda settled back on the couch, she felt doubtful that the lively Emily would be in bed yet. She attempted to read by candlelight, but unable to focus in the flickering light, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. When she awoke it was nearly ten. Feeling it would be safe to unplug one of the strings of lights, she went outside and waded through several inches of snow. Fumbling to find the RV cord, she hurried to get it connected.
Back inside the RV, she shook off the snow and turned on a light. Ah, electricity . . . so nice when you needed it. Now she’d be able to restore power to her phone. Grabbing the dead phone and charger, she headed to a nearby outlet. She turned on some Christmas music too and suddenly the RV felt much more inviting. With the luxury of illumination, she decided to wash up the dinner things and give the little galley kitchen a good scrub. She was just drying the countertop when she heard a pounding on the door.
“Who is it?” she called in a shaky voice.
“It’s me—Marcus!”
The urgency in his voice made her open the door without hesitation. Was something wrong? Was it about Emily? She turned on the exterior light and pushed open the door, and there he was with his hair and shoulders coated with snow and a grim expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I want to know.” He peered curiously up at her.
“Huh?”
“May I please come in out of this weather?”
She frowned, then stepped aside to let him in. “Okay.”
He stomped his feet as he entered, making the RV rock slightly and reminding her that she hadn’t put down the stabilizing jacks.
“What do you want?” she demanded as he closed the door and stared at her. He was so tall that his head was just an inch or so from the low ceiling.
“I didn’t realize you were still here.” He brushed snow from his hair, making it curl around his ears.
“I’m sorry—I couldn’t help it.”
“I saw the colored lights go off a bit ago and I grew concerned. I came out to check on it and there—”
“You mean you actually cared that the Christmas lights weren’t on?” she retorted. “I figured you’d be glad.”
His face grew grim. “I know, I know . . . You probably think I’m worse than the Grinch who stole Christmas.”
“Or Eba-sneezer Scrooge,” she told him.
His face cracked into a half smile. “Emily’s been talking to you.”
She just nodded, zipping the glitzy burgundy hoodie up higher and wishing, once again, she had her own clothes to wear. But really, why should she care?
“Look, I realize I behaved badly.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I wanted to apologize earlier, but I really thought you’d left.”
“I wanted to leave,” she admitted. “But the RV battery is dead. I must’ve left something running inside here and it was without power all day—plus it was pretty cold. I would’ve called a tow truck when I discovered it, but my phone is dead too.”
“Oh?” His expression seemed slightly sympathetic. But perhaps it was only because he felt bad that she was so totally in
ept.
“You see, I had plugged the RV in when I got here,” she explained, “but Stan must’ve pulled my cord out to plug in the lights.”
“Uh-huh?” He still looked slightly skeptical. Like she was making this all up.
“And I didn’t want to unplug the lights until Emily went to bed. And, of course, by then it was too late and I knew I’d have to stay put until morning.”
“I see.” He rubbed his chin as if not sure what to make of her. Perhaps he thought she was a “squatter” hoping to take up permanent residency.
“Sorry,” she said quietly.
“Sorry for what?” He studied her closely, waiting for her to respond.
“To still be here. That really wasn’t my intention.” For some reason she felt really sad now—or maybe just pathetic. But she felt close to tears. Standing there in Joy’s funky jogging suit in a borrowed motor home—how much more pathetic did it get? She felt useless and helpless and hopeless . . . not to mention practically homeless. “I’ll leave as soon as I can tomorrow. Hopefully first thing in the morning.”
“You’re going to drive this big thing in all that snow?” He actually seemed concerned now. “You think that’s safe?”
“I’ll drive very slowly.” She explained how she planned to use the flashing emergency lights as she crawled into town and to the RV park where Joy had made a reservation. “Then I’ll stay put until the roads are cleared. Maybe through Christmas since I really don’t have anyplace to be this year . . .” She instantly regretted disclosing this much information. Seriously, how much more lame could she make herself sound?
“Why not stick around for a bit? At least until the snowplows clear the roads. Judging by how hard it’s coming down right now, that might take awhile.”
“Really?” She looked doubtfully at him.
“Why not? Emily was pretty upset when she found out you’d left without even saying goodbye. It took awhile to calm her down.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Miranda bit her lip. “I should’ve spoken to her before I left. But I, uh, I was a little upset.” She looked down at the white clumps of snow melting into the carpet on the floor.
“Emily wouldn’t even go to bed until I promised to take her to town to look for you tomorrow—so she could say goodbye.” He shrugged. “If you stick around awhile we won’t have to.”
Miranda sighed. “Yeah, it’s not likely I could get out of here very early in the morning anyway.”
“Then don’t.”
Miranda didn’t know what to say. Was his offer sincere generosity? Or simply pity? Maybe he felt guilty for his earlier abruptness. Or more likely this was just a pretense of hospitality for his daughter’s sake . . . so he could tell her that he’d tried to make amends.
“Look,” he said in a somber tone. “I read the letter that Emily wrote to Christmas Joy—expressing how sad she was that Santa never stopped at her house.” He shook his head. “Well, it really got to me. I had no idea that Emily really believed in Santa Claus. And I never realized how much she’d been missing Christmas these past few years. She never told me any of that. She always acted like everything was okay. But I suppose it’s because she was used to it. Ignoring Christmas is all she’s known . . . since she was three.”
“Except that Emily pays attention to what other kids are doing during the holidays.” Miranda remembered some comments Emily had made while they were making cookies. “She has friends at school, you know. They talk about things related to Christmas.”
“Yeah . . . I know. When Emily told her teacher that we don’t celebrate Christmas, he wondered if maybe we were Jewish.”
“I’m sure that seemed a reasonable explanation.”
“After reading Emily’s letter, I read the card that your friend Joy wrote to me. She was kind but direct.”
“That sounds like Joy.”
“Her card instructed me to open the big box immediately.” He let out a raggedy sigh. “So I did . . . and that got to me too.”
Miranda folded her arms across her front, studying him for a long moment as they stood face-to-face in the small space by the front door. Was this really the same guy who’d tried to bite off her head a few hours ago? He seemed so different.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s up with me.” He made a sheepish look. “I mean, I was a total jerk earlier. I really am sorry about that.”
Miranda glanced at the nearby sofa and chair. “Do you want to sit down? To talk?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” She sunk down onto the sofa, pulling her legs up under her. “You’re welcome to visit my home. Be it ever so humble.”
“Thanks.” He sat down in the chair across from her. “Emily’s asleep now so she won’t miss me.”
“I’m curious about the contents of the big box that Joy wanted you to open tonight.”
“You don’t know what it is?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“A nativity set. A really nice one with realistic-looking ceramic figures and a wooden stable. Ironically, it’s almost exactly like the one my folks had when I was a kid. Not sure where that one went. A lot of stuff got lost after my folks split up. But when I saw how excited Emily became when I opened it up—how much she loved setting all the pieces up with me—that’s when it hit me. I’ve been robbing her of Christmas traditions.”
Miranda felt a wave of relief. “Joy will be so thrilled to hear that, Marcus.”
“So I really did want to thank you. And more than that, I want to sincerely apologize.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” she assured him. “Your reaction was probably pretty natural. I’m sure it was a shock to walk into your home and find a stranger with your child. And I’m sure you felt blindsided by our Christmas intervention.”
His dark eyes twinkled. “I guess I needed an intervention.”
“Well, I’m hugely relieved to hear you’re no longer mad.” She suppressed a weary yawn. “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not going to have me arrested for trespassing and hauled to jail in the middle of the night.”
“Hardly.” He slowly stood. “Emily was so happy tonight. Well, except for the fact that you left so abruptly. But she’ll be relieved to discover you’re still here in the morning. You won’t leave before seeing her, will you? That would really make me look bad.”
“I won’t leave without telling her a proper goodbye. I promise.”
“Will you be warm enough out here? Good for the night?”
“Yes.” She waved a hand. “As you can feel, it’s rather toasty.”
“Very cozy and homey.” He reached for the door but didn’t open it.
She glanced around the motor home and smiled. “It is kind of sweet.”
“Thanks for hearing me out, Miranda. And no hard feelings, right?”
“No hard feelings,” she assured him.
“And thanks for coming—for the much-needed intervention.”
“No problem.” She watched him. Was he actually stalling?
“And thanks for giving me a second chance.” He grinned. “Don’t take this wrong, but I’m glad your RV got a dead battery. Emily will be too. How about joining us for breakfast in the morning?”
“Okay.” She tried not to appear overly excited. “Sounds good.”
“Probably not much before nine though.” He opened the door, letting a blast of cold air inside. “Since it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, I’ve decided not to go in to work. And I wouldn’t mind sleeping in.”
She nodded eagerly. “You and me both. I’ve been up since around five this morning. Sleeping in sounds lovely.”
“Well, I’ll let you get to bed then.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, lighting up his entire face in a way that sent an unexpected yet pleasant shiver down her spine. “Sleep well, Miranda. And thanks again,” he called as he stepped outside, solidly closing the door behind him.
Miranda felt strangely hopeful as she clicked the lock into place. She
also felt slightly stunned—as if she should pinch herself. Had that conversation actually happened? Had Marcus really appreciated everything after all? Was his apology really genuine? Or was she simply asleep and enjoying a sweet dream?
15
Miranda woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. Groggily grabbing it up, she unplugged it from the charging cord and croaked out a sleepy hello.
“Hello? Is this Miranda Fortner?”
“Joy!” Miranda exclaimed. “It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“Oh, it is you. You didn’t sound like yourself, dear. Did I wake you?”
Miranda looked at the wall clock to see that it was already 8:30. “Yes, but I should be up by now. I didn’t realize it was so late already. This bed in the motor home really is comfortable.”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad you like it. Are you still in Flagstaff? Or did you get out of there before the snow flew? I got worried when I saw the weather on the news this morning. I thought I better find out how you were doing.”
“I’m still here.”
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry about that. Are you completely snowed in at the RV park? I heard they got nearly a foot of snow in places around there.”
Miranda peeked out the window to see that the snow did look rather deep. “Actually, I didn’t make it to the RV park yesterday.” She explained about the dead battery.
“Oh, my. I was worried about that battery in the cold weather. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, dear. But you’re connected to power now?”
“Yes. I think I should be able to get out of here today. After the roads are plowed, I’ll head into town.”
“That’s good. Now tell me about the Wheeler family. How did it go with Emily’s father?”
Miranda relayed the details of last night’s late visit, and Joy was elated. “See, dear, I knew you could manage it just fine. Probably even better than if I’d been there.”
“I don’t know about that.” Miranda stretched sleepily. “But I did get an invitation to breakfast. In fact, I should probably get dressed.” She chuckled as she looked down at the silky pajamas she’d borrowed from Joy, then quickly explained about her duffle bag being stolen and how she’d helped herself to Joy’s limited wardrobe.
The Christmas Joy Ride Page 11
