A Christmas Visitor

by Thomas Kinkade

  He moved closer and took Miranda’s hands in his. “But even if I could forgive her for trying to trick me, I could never be happy with Lisa again. I couldn’t think about anyone but you, Miranda. As soon as I remembered the truth, I knew I had to come back to you.”

  He gazed down at her, a tender light in his dark eyes. Before she could say a word he pulled her close and kissed her. Miranda melted against him. Though they had held each other this way before, this time it was very different. There was no shadow, no cloud. He was free. His past was no longer a mysterious question.

  It was the reunion Miranda had dreamed of but believed would never happen in a million lifetimes. When they finally parted, she had one more question for him.

  “So those nightmares, they turned out to be nothing after all. Why do you think you kept having dreams like that?”

  “They weren’t exactly nightmares, or even chronic guilt feelings, or whatever Dr. Carter said. I was remembering images from the book I wrote—a mystery set in Boston. I had been working on it so long, spent so much time in that world, that somehow it was what surfaced in my dreams, instead of my real life.”

  He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head. “You seem relieved to hear I don’t have a shady past, Miranda. I was hoping to hide out in your studio again.”

  Miranda hugged him. “That would be fine with me. You can stay here…forever.”

  MOLLY WAS HOME BY NOON ON NEW YEAR’S DAY. MATT had come early to the hospital to pick her up. When she hobbled up the path, she saw a bunch of balloons tied to the railing on the front steps. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for balloons until the baby is born?” she asked.

  “The girls are so happy you’re all right, they can’t wait to see you,” Matt said.

  She couldn’t wait to see them either and when she came in the door, the three of them nearly knocked her off her feet with hugs and kisses.

  “Jill, I swear you got taller,” Molly said, flopping down on the sofa. “Didn’t she grow again, Matt?”

  “Mom, it was only five days. How could I get taller?’ Jill already had Molly’s crutches and was testing them out.

  “It was a spurt. You had a growth spurt,” Molly said, feeling extra motherly.

  Sam and Jessica and their two boys had brought Jill home from Vermont, and Matt had persuaded them to stay and celebrate New Year’s Day. Her parents had called the hospital last night, and were coming later, too, to check on her. It was going to be a full house.

  Jessica was in the kitchen but Matt dragged her back out to the living room.

  “Nobody’s cooking. We’re just having takeout. Pizza, wings, Chinese food, the works.” He stared at Molly. “I mean it, too.”

  Molly raised her hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I love the works. Let’s get out every menu in the junk drawer.”

  “Pizza…and a football game. The perfect start to the new year. All right,” Sam said. He was already watching a game and had only come out for a break, to say hello to his sister. He carried a plastic bowl in each hand, one filled with pretzels, the other with chips. He set them down on the coffee table, oblivious to Molly’s daggerlike stare.

  Then she sat back and sighed. She had learned her lesson. Life was too short.

  The doorbell rang and Matt rose to answer it. Molly heard Betty in the foyer and Matt’s New Year’s greeting.

  “…and there was all this food in the shop, left over from different parties. I thought you guys might like some of it, so you won’t have to shop or cook.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you, Betty,” she heard Matt say. “We’re going to order out, but we do have a big crowd here. We’ll have an even bigger spread at halftime,” he said with a laugh.

  Molly saw Matt head for the kitchen with two big shopping bags while Betty came into the living room. She gasped at the sight of Molly on the couch.

  Betty walked over and gazed down at her sympathetically. “Look at you. Are you all right?”

  “This is nothing. You should see the other guy,” Molly said automatically.

  Betty grinned and held out a bunch of flowers. “For you.”

  “Gee, thanks…These are pretty.”

  “You’re welcome. Can I sign your cast?” Betty asked.

  “If you can find any room. The kids have been playing tic-tac-toe on it for a while.”

  Betty took a marker and signed her name and added a “get well soon” message. “This is going to slow you down some,” Betty said, looking over the hunk of plaster. “How are you going to run the shop?”

  “Over the phone,” Matt answered for her as he came back into the room. He glanced at Molly, as if expecting an argument, but she didn’t say a word. He spotted the flowers and took them from her.

  “Thank you, Betty. Let me put these in a vase.” He left the room again, leaving the two friends alone to talk.

  “So, you just got back from Mrs. Norris’s New Year’s Day brunch,” Molly guessed. “How did it go?”

  “Perfectly. She introduced me to this woman who organizes a big hospital fund-raiser every year. She wants to meet with us.”

  Molly didn’t say anything, just smiled. Of course Betty would make new business contacts everywhere she went. She was a natural at that.

  Betty sat down and took a pretzel from the plastic bowl on the coffee table. “Guess what else? This really nice man was chatting me up the whole time, and he asked me out on a date. Very attractive professional type, not too old, not too young.” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  Molly could see Betty was excited. She felt happy for her.

  “It was a nice surprise,” Betty added. “I had no idea I could meet men doing this.”

  “I didn’t mention that? It’s definitely a perk.”

  Betty laughed and leaned closer. “So it looks like you and Matt sorted everything out?”

  “We had a long talk last night. Turns out I was way off base about Alex. She’s in a serious relationship. I felt like an idiot…a relieved idiot,” Molly corrected herself.

  Betty smiled. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”

  They heard a raucous cheer from the family room. “Sounds like the Patriots are winning,” Molly said.

  “Want to join the party?”

  “Why not? Hand me those crutches, will you?” Molly sat up and maneuvered her way to the edge of the couch. Betty handed her the two crutches and helped her up.

  “Gee, Molly. I really feel bad for you. What a time to break a leg.”

  Molly sighed. “I think it’s just God’s way of putting the brakes on. I wasn’t really listening before. In a strange way, I think the accident was a sign. Know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I do,” Betty said, guiding her toward the back of the house. “I have a good feeling about the new year, Molly. And I’m glad I’m here, spending New Year’s Day with you.”

  “Me, too,” Molly said. “We didn’t have much of a celebration last night in my hospital room. So this is really our New Year’s party.”

  Betty gave her a look of mock horror. “You do realize there are plastic bowls of chips in there? And dip made from sour cream and soup mix. And any minute now, there will be greasy wings and non-gourmet pizza.”

  “Yeah,” Molly said happily. “And it may just be the best party of all.”

  * * *

  ON WEDNESDAY, THE SECOND DAY OF THE NEW YEAR and the first official workday, Carl Tulley set to work, putting away the rest of the Christmas decorations, and Ben began work on his January schedule. With the holidays over, he wanted to spend more time visiting the local nursing home, and he had promised to organize a new drive for the community food bank.

  He looked up from his desk as Carl entered his office. “’Scuse me, Reverend,” Carl began. “There’s some folks in the sanctuary, say they’re looking for the statue and want to know what’s happened to it. I told them it was put away, but they said they need to talk to you about it.”

  Ben sighed. Perhaps he would have to p
ut some notice in the newspaper. He couldn’t be answering these questions every day.

  He walked into the sanctuary, preparing some official explanation. Then he saw that the visitors were Marie-Claire and Gerald. They sat in the last pew, patiently waiting for him.

  “Why, hello,” he greeted them. “Happy New Year.”

  Gerald rose and shook his hand. “Happy New Year, Reverend. We didn’t want to bother you, but we’re looking for the statue. The sexton says it’s been put away in storage somewhere?”

  “Back in the basement,” Ben explained. “I’ve had some correspondence with a bishop in France. From the parish in your village, Marie-Claire,” he added. “The church has been rebuilt on the same site. They even used some of the original stones. I’m making plans to send the statue back home. They’ve missed her.”

  The couple looked at each other and smiled. “Perhaps we could accompany it,” Gerald said. “We’ve been planning to go back to France soon anyway.”

  “We came here today to ask if you would marry us in this church, in the sight of the statue,” Marie-Claire explained. “But now that it’s going back to France, to the place where it protected us, that would be even better.”

  “Yes, it does seem even better,” Ben said. “It seems ideal. My sincerest congratulations on your engagement. That is good news.” He shook Gerald’s hand again and hugged Marie-Claire. “I wish you every happiness.”

  He had a feeling his good wishes weren’t even necessary. These two seemed to be destined to be with each other, their union blessed from above.

  Ben walked the pair out and they parted on the green, making plans to get in touch once they settled their travel plans.

  Ben walked toward town on a path that edged the harbor. He paused and gazed out at the blue-gray water and turquoise sky. Seagulls cried and wheeled above, swooping down and up again, like white kites in the wind.

  Did the statue possess miraculous powers? Ben still wasn’t sure.

  He did believe there was a grand design to all experience, a pattern so vast and complex, one could hardly discern it from close-up, everyday life. It was like trying to view a huge mural with your nose pressed against the wall.

  As for the angel, the way it had surfaced after all these years from the boxes in the church basement—if its only purpose had been to reunite Marie-Claire and Gerald, then it truly had worked a miracle.

  Ben was willing to grant it at least that.

  EPILOGUE

  ON THE MORNING OF JULY FOURTH, MOLLY’S WHOLE family went into town very early. They set up folding chairs at the edge of the Village Green to watch the annual reenactment. One of the first battles of the American Revolution had been fought in Cape Light. Every year, the local history buffs loved to dress up and play it out all over again—the ragtag Colonial army battling the British redcoats. Everyone in the town gathered to watch.

  The girls all spotted friends and ran off to meet them. Matt and Molly sat together. Matt drank coffee and Molly sipped herbal tea. “I’m not sure that Chinese food we had last night agreed with me,” she said. “I seem to have some heartburn.”

  “Not uncommon at your stage. Your stomach is pushed up by the baby, and the acid—”

  Molly raised her hand. “Too much information, Doc. I’ll just live with it. In a week this will all be over.”

  July eleventh was her due date, and at her last exam the doctor had said that everything appeared to be right on schedule.

  Matt took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You’ve done great. It won’t be long now.”

  “I can’t wait for this baby,” Molly admitted. She rubbed her huge stomach with her hand. Tests had revealed the baby was a girl. Molly was thrilled. If Matt was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He seemed eager to have another daughter, joking about his harem.

  Everything was ready for the baby. Her room, her toys, her cute little clothes.

  Everything except her name, which they couldn’t agree on.

  It was getting down to the wire, but Molly hoped they could negotiate it in the next few days. She wanted to know by the time the baby was born.

  “Look, they’re starting…” Matt stood up and pointed to the far side of the green. The first shots were fired, and Molly covered her ears from the popping sound. A row of redcoats marched across the green in formation while colonists hid behind rocks and trees, then jumped out and fired their muskets.

  Molly stood up, shading her eyes. Her brother Sam was out there, as usual, running around in a three-cornered hat and brandishing a musket. She teased him about it mercilessly, but never missed a chance to watch him battle the British, dressed like Paul Revere.

  “Do you see Sam?” she asked Matt.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Wait…I think I see him. Over to the left, by the boat rack?”

  Molly turned to look and felt a deep, unmistakable pang. It took her breath away.

  She grabbed Matt’s arm. “Honey…I think it’s starting.”

  He nodded, without looking at her. “Yes, it’s started. It’s well under way.”

  Gunshots fired, a fierce popping sound. A fife and drum duo marched by, the drummer’s head wrapped in fake bandages.

  “Matt, I mean my labor has started.”

  “Your what?” He finally turned to look at her. His face went pale. “Your labor? For pity’s sake, Molly, why didn’t you say something? Quick, where are the girls? Wait, let me fold up these chairs.…Oh, leave the chairs, we’ll get them later…”

  Molly put her hand on his arm. “Matt, calm down. I have a long way to go. We have plenty of time.”

  “Not necessarily, Molly. This isn’t your first. Your labor could go very quickly.”

  “That’s true. But I’m not going to have the baby right here.”

  “I’ll say you’re not. Come on.” He stuck a chair under his arm, stepped over the rest, and bustled her off toward the car. The green and the nearby parking lot were packed, and everyone seemed to be walking in the opposite direction. It was hard to work their way through the crowd. Molly kept a sharp lookout for her girls. They all had cell phones, so she could call them from the car and round them up that way if necessary.

  Luckily, Molly spotted Jessica. “Jess, we’re on the way to the hospital. The girls are around, but they don’t know what’s going on. Can you round them up and watch them for a while?”

  “Absolutely. Oh, I’m so happy for you.” Jessica ran over and gave Molly a quick hug. “Good luck.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Matt insisted. “If we can get her there in time.”

  Molly rolled her eyes at him. “We’ll get there in time.”

  When they reached the car, Matt insisted that she sit in the back. “You’ll be more comfortable if you need to stretch out, and it’s safer back there.”

  She didn’t like sitting in the back with him in the front, but it was necessary. Her labor pains were getting stronger and coming much closer together than she remembered with either of her other children.

  They drove out of town and reached the highway. It was over an hour to Southport Hospital. Molly hadn’t thought much of the drive before, but suddenly it seemed like a long way.

  “Are you all right, honey?” Matt asked, turning to check on her.

  She nodded, gritting her teeth. “I’m okay.”

  “Should I try to time your pains?”

  “I’d rather not know,” she admitted. She tried some breathing exercises, but they didn’t seem to help much. “Just get us there.”

  “I’m trying, honey.” He had no sooner said the words than the traffic slowed and came to a complete stop.

  “Oh no…Is there an accident?”

  Matt shook his head. “I think it’s just beach traffic.”

  Molly’s head flopped back against the seat. She didn’t want Matt to know, but her labor pains were starting to come very close together. She closed her eyes and willed herself to hang on. She didn’t want to end up a headline in the newspapers: Woman Give
s Birth on Highway! How incredibly tacky. It wouldn’t be good for business.

  It felt like the longest ride of her life, but finally the hospital came into view. Matt drove to the emergency entrance and practically carried her through the door. “My wife is having a baby. I mean, really having a baby. Like, immediately!”

  Nurses came to help Matt. They put Molly in a wheelchair and took her up to the maternity wing. She waited in a small labor room only a few minutes before the doctor on call examined her. “You’re almost fully dilated, Mrs. Harding. It won’t be long now.”

  Molly turned to Matt and gripped his hand. “This is it. She’s here…”

  “I can’t believe it,” Matt said. He had tears in his eyes and brushed them away with the back of his hand.

  Molly wanted to kiss him, but her legs were set up to push and she could barely move.

  It all seemed a blur after that. She did whatever the doctor—and her body—told her to do. She felt Matt beside her, hovering, stroking her hair, holding her hand while she squeezed his fingers so hard, she was sure he was going to scream out in pain, too.

  Finally, she heard the baby’s first cry and saw the doctor lift her in the air. “Here she is. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Just like her mother,” Matt said, his voice filled with awe.

  A nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket and set her down on Molly’s chest. Molly held her close and ever so gently kissed the top of her tiny head.

  Then it was Matt’s turn. He cradled the infant in his strong arms, tears of joy running down his handsome face. “Oh…she’s amazing,” he breathed.

  “Yes, she is,” Molly agreed.

  Molly was wheeled into a recovery room, and Matt followed. A few moments later, the baby was brought in. A nurse handed her down to Molly. “She can stay for a few minutes, then I have to wash her up and make her an ID bracelet.”