Three Christmas Wishes

by Sheila Roberts

  Would it be letting him down to divorce his daddy? If Mike kept shipping out, the poor kid wouldn’t see much of him even if they were married. Still, what would it solve to divorce Mike? She’d be just as alone. Or even more so...

  She didn’t know why she was entertaining such thoughts. She didn’t want to dump her husband.

  But she didn’t want to go on like this, either. She picked up her cell phone and checked her email. Something had come in from Mike.

  Can hardly wait to see you and our son! Love you both more than I can say.

  “Prove it,” she muttered, then typed,

  Enough not to leave us again?

  Wait a minute. The navy screened stuff, didn’t they? She decided to be more cryptic. She deleted her question and wrote,

  You know what you need to do to prove it.

  There. That said it all. Talk was cheap. The best way to show he loved her and the baby would be to commit to them. She looked down at her son. Perfect skin, beautiful little face. Mike was going to fall in love with him just as she had.

  The baby finished nursing and now he was gazing up at her intently, like a newcomer to the planet trying to figure out the customs and language of the natives. “You’ll catch on,” she assured him. “We’ll all figure this out.”

  His eyes were drifting shut. So were hers. She put him back in his bassinet and climbed under the covers. Sleep. All she wanted was to sleep.

  An hour later the phone rang again. “Hi, sweetie, it’s Mom. Were you awake?”

  “Barely.” What was with everyone calling her at the crack of dawn? Okay, so it wasn’t the crack of dawn anymore but close enough.

  “I figured you’d be up by now. Would you like some help with the baby today?”

  Jo had to smile. So much for worrying about overloading her mother. Mom couldn’t get enough of her first grandson. “Sure.”

  “All right. I’ll come over around eleven thirty. I made some goodies for you to stick in the freezer.”

  She’d really lucked out in the mother department. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  “I know,” Mom joked. “Meanwhile, see if you can get some rest.”

  “I will,” Jo said, and the minute she ended the call, she turned off her phone. There. If anyone was having a clothing emergency or a meltdown, she’d be having it without Jo.

  She looked at her baby, who was lying on his back with his eyes shut. “Someone needs to put your picture on a baby food jar,” she murmured. He was so beautiful. Just like his daddy.

  She’d met Mike at Christmas. His parents were new in town back then. They’d recently bought the hardware store and he’d come home from college for the holidays to help out. He’d found her in the grocery store, in the Christmas goodies section. She’d decided to decorate her presents with candy canes and had picked up a box. She’d also been hovering over the Andes Mints, thinking about buying some of those, too, so she and Mom could bake chocolate mint cookies.

  “Go ahead, get ’em,” had said a low voice behind her.

  She’d turned around and there he was, six feet of gorgeous with dark brown hair and brown eyes and a killer smile. The Sugar Plum Fairy had started fluttering around in her tummy.

  “Live it up, it’s Christmas,” he’d added.

  “I think I will,” she’d said and grabbed a couple of boxes. “These make great icing for chocolate cookies.”

  “Yeah?”

  “My mom and I make them every year at Christmas.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe I should come by your house and sample some. Unless you’ve got a boyfriend who’d beat me up,” he’d said with a cocky grin. As if he had to worry about anyone beating him up. The guy looked like he could be on the cover of a fitness magazine.

  She’d had a boyfriend. But she’d known the minute she saw Mike that the other guy was going to be history. She’d felt this crazy connection. It was as if the Ghost of Christmas Future was whispering, “This is the one.”

  He had been the one. They’d chatted in the store and then gone to Java Josie’s for peppermint lattes. She’d not only canceled her date, she’d canceled the boyfriend. Then she’d invited Mike to her house that very night. He’d hung out with her family, suffering through card games and a third degree from her dad. After he’d left, Dad had given him the thumbs-up and so had Harold. The women in the family had all been pushovers. Like Jo.

  Well, she wasn’t a pushover anymore. She had a child to raise, and Mike would have to be around to help. “Call me demanding,” she said, “but that’s how it’s got to be.”

  She burrowed under the blankets and went to sleep. Mr. Sandman must have been a navy guy because he decided to make her pay for her unpatriotic attitude. Suddenly she found herself on an island somewhere in the Pacific, hugging two terrified children to her legs. One was a boy, who looked a lot like pictures she’d seen of her husband as a child. The other was a little girl with the same blond hair she’d had when she was five. And they were being bombed. With giant chocolate Santas.

  A woman who looked suspiciously like her mom raced past her, crying, “Run for your life! The North Pole is attacking!”

  And there went her mother-in-law, crying, “Where’s my son in this hour of need? If only he hadn’t listened to that awful wife of his.”

  “I’m not awful!” Jo hollered. But her voice was lost in the noise of exploding Santas.

  Here came her sister, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and fleecy pajama bottoms with penguins on them. She was covered in chocolate and staggering. “We’re unprotected!”

  “What do you mean we’re unprotected? Where’s Mike?”

  “He’s at the local bar getting drunk on peppermint Schnapps, same place he’s been every day since you messed up his life.”

  “I didn’t mess up his life.”

  “Yeah, you did. You made him quit the navy.”

  “He needed to! He needed to be with his family.”

  “Duck,” hollered Riley and pulled Jo and the kids into a huddle just as an enormous chocolate Santa fell and exploded next to them, pelting chocolate all over them.

  “This is ridiculous. I’m dreaming,” Jo insisted as a shower of miniature candy canes rained down on them.

  “Mama, I’m scared,” cried her son.

  “I want my daddy,” the little girl wailed.

  “You don’t have a daddy anymore,” Riley snarled. (Riley never snarled!) “Your coldhearted mother divorced him because he wouldn’t stick around and change diapers.”

  Jo pulled away from Riley. “You’re not my sister. My sister would never wear pajama bottoms out in public. I taught her better.”

  “You’re right, I’m not.” And with an evil grin Riley morphed into a seven-foot-tall chocolate Santa. “Would you like your picture taken with Santa? Before I...EAT YOU!”

  The children shrieked and ran away in opposite directions.

  “Ha! Even your children don’t want to be with you now. You’ve ruined their lives,” chortled Chocolate Riley.

  Jo scooped a candy cane off the ground and hurled it like a giant sword.

  “Ha, ha, missed me,” Chocolate Riley taunted. “And now, you ungrateful, selfish bitch, I’m going to smother you.” With that, she melted into a river of chocolate lava and poured herself over Jo.

  “Noooo!”

  Jo awoke tangled in her blankets and sweating. Okay, that was nothing more than her subconscious wanting her to feel guilty. Well, she wasn’t going to, darn it all.

  Suddenly she didn’t have much of a craving for chocolate. She sure hoped Mom wasn’t bringing over those chocolate mint cookies.

  Sadly, she did. Jo took one look at them and shuddered.

  “Aren’t you feeling well, honey?” Mom asked.

  “I’m fine,” Jo insiste
d. “Just...tired.”

  “That’s to be expected.”

  “And stressed.”

  “That’s hardly surprising, either,” Mom said. “You’ve just had a baby. You have a lot to adjust to.”

  “Alone,” Jo added, in the mood for a pity party.

  “You won’t be alone much longer.” Mom gave her a hug. “Mike will come back and everything will be wonderful.”

  Would it? Jo didn’t know. One thing she knew for sure. She didn’t want to go to sleep again for a long time.

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m afraid,” whispered Little Jenny.

  “That’s right,” cackled the Creepy Crumbly Confidence Stealer. “Be afraid. Don’t raise your hand in class.”

  Marvella Monster hated it when the Creepy Crumbly Confidence Stealer stole girls’ and boys’ confidence. She stomped across the classroom and gave Creepy a whack with her big, blue tail. “That’s enough out of you.”

  Creepy rubbed his crumbly ugly face and took a step back, but not before whispering to Jenny, “You don’t really know the answer. You just think you do. And you don’t know that Ben Fordham will call. In fact, he probably won’t.”

  “What?” Little Jenny looked confused.

  The Creepy Crumbly Confidence Stealer lowered his crumbly brows. “Wait a minute. Who’s Ben Fordham?”

  Do you mind? Marvella snapped. We’re working here.

  Yikes! When had Ben Fordham sneaked into her story? This was no time to be thinking about him, especially with such a defeatist attitude. Noel gave herself a mental shake and went back to work.

  “You can do anything you set your mind to,” Marvella told Jenny.

  How does that apply to Ben Fordham?

  Marvella threw up her blue hands. I can’t work like this. Go...do something. Come back when you’re ready to be useful.

  Marvella was getting awfully bossy lately. But she had a point. Noel shut her laptop and returned to the real world. Since no plan B had presented itself yet, she needed to get back to flattering Ben Fordham some more.

  She wasn’t exactly dressed to see anyone. She was in her usual work attire—fuzzy pajama bottoms, an Old Navy top and her Hello Kitty slippers, so she decided to give him a call and see if he’d like to try dinner again. This time she’d take him out. She hoped he liked burgers, since that was all she could afford.

  She picked up her cell and called his office.

  His secretary answered. “Fordham Enterprises.”

  “Is Ben Fordham in?”

  “He’s in a meeting. May I take a message?”

  “Just tell him Noel called.”

  “All right.”

  The woman didn’t sound very sincere. Maybe she recognized Noel’s voice. Still, short of saying, “Promise?” there was nothing Noel could do to guarantee that his secretary would give him her message.

  “Thanks,” she said and did the phone call equivalent of slinking away. The minute she disconnected, she realized she hadn’t left her phone number. That wouldn’t do. He knew where she lived but he didn’t have her number. She called back.

  “Fordham Enterprises.”

  “This is Noel again.”

  “He’s still in a meeting,” his secretary said, her tone of voice adding, pest.

  “I forgot to leave my phone number.”

  “What is this regarding?”

  Okay, somebody was definitely sounding a little adversarial now.

  You shouldn’t have called back, said the Creepy Crumbly Confidence Stealer.

  Great. Bad enough that she had Marvella constantly whispering in her ear lately. Now she was hearing from the villains in her stories? But old Creepy Crumbly had a point. She looked like an idiot.

  For heaven’s sake, she’s just an employee, cried Marvella. Tell her to shape up or you’ll have her fired.

  Marvella talked to people like that, but Noel didn’t. I certainly won’t, she informed Marvella. But what should she say? “It’s personal.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line followed by an abrupt, “All right.”

  Noel recited her number and hoped the message would get delivered. She had her doubts. The secretary ended the call, leaving Noel to sit there, drumming her fingers on the table. She picked up her cell again and checked the time. Ten thirty. Everyone deserved a midmorning coffee break. She’d go out, after all. She’d swing by Java Josie’s and pick up some coffee for Ben Fordham. Maybe Ginger the barista knew how he liked his coffee. Yes, that was a good plan. She needed to get out more, and this was much better than sitting around hoping his secretary would give him her message.

  She showered and dressed in the skinny jeans she’d borrowed from Jo, along with a black sweater. Oh, yes. Jewelry. On went the borrowed necklace. She pulled on her boots, grabbed her loaner coat and went out to do some serious buttering up.

  The day was clear and the skies were blue. She had a perfect view of the Olympic Mountains as she drove from her quiet neighborhood of older homes down the hill toward downtown. Whispering Pines was one of many small, picturesque towns on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, situated along Case Inlet. Travelers often stopped on their way to the beach towns on Washington’s coast to get a bite to eat at the Olympic View Café or The Rusty Saw. Sometimes people would stay at Waterside House, the town’s one B & B, to enjoy the scenery or play a round of golf at The Pines Golf Course.

  In spite of that, it remained a quiet burg. Most of the people who lived there owned a local business, worked remotely with an occasional foray into the city, or enjoyed retirement. Traffic jams were rare and townspeople never got their grocery-shopping done without running into one or two acquaintances or fellow church members.

  Noel had grown up in this town and she still loved living here. It wasn’t as hip as Seattle or as rich as Bainbridge Island, but it was comfortable. Whispering Pines almost had it all—family, friends, food and lattes. And now with the nearby mall, there was the added joy of department stores. (Macy’s, Kohl’s and Penney’s!)

  As far as Noel was concerned the only thing lacking was a bookstore. The Book Nook had closed two years ago, and it had been a sad day when that happened. She’d worked there since high school and Suzanne Selfors, the owner, had hosted a book-signing party for her when her first Marvella book was published. Suzanne was now living in New York with no plans to return, but Noel still nursed the hope that someone would take that empty space and turn it into a book-lovers’ heaven again. Meanwhile, though, there was still the Whispering Pines Library, where her mother worked part-time, and when she wanted to purchase a book, she could at least do it online.

  So life here was good. This was where she wanted to stay, where she wanted to get married, raise a family, live happily-ever-after. And the only house where she could envision living happily-ever-after was the one she was in now.

  As she waited at one of the three traffic signals in town she checked her makeup. Lookin’ fine. She practiced a smile. Was it flirty enough? She wasn’t very skilled at flirty smiles. She tried again and cocked her head. Gave her hair a shake, letting the long red locks shimmy. Okay, that was pretty good. She’d have to make sure she did that.

  The signal changed and she drove down Pine toward Ben Fordham’s office. There was Riley’s grandma, Mrs. MacDonald, coming out of Tease, her white locks freshly coiffed. Noel tooted her car horn and waved, and Mrs. M smiled and waved back.

  She drove past Wellness Drugs, where her sister Aimi worked as a cashier, past the bank, past Doggie Style Pet Grooming. Every parking space along the street was taken and on the sidewalks people rushed from shop to shop, trying to finish their holiday errands.

  She wouldn’t be doing much shopping now. Thanks to the latest development with the house she was pinching her pennies even tighter. Most of her presen
ts this year would be homemade. She sure hoped her mom and sister would like the scarves she’d started knitting for them. (Yarn had been fifty percent off at The Yarn Barn.) She knew Dad and Uncle Bill would love the blackberry liqueur she had stewing in the pantry in her big glass jar. Made from berries she’d picked in August and then frozen. She’d gotten plenty of scratches picking them, but now she was glad she’d let Mom talk her into a neighborhood berrying expedition. She’d probably never master the art of baking pies but she could manage mixing crushed berries and vodka.

  She turned onto the street where Ben Fordham’s office was—and saw him leaving. Crud. He was on his way somewhere. He wouldn’t be able to talk to her now. She slumped down behind the wheel.

  What are you doing? Marvella demanded.

  He’s going somewhere. He doesn’t have time to talk.

  You’re chickening out, Marvella sneered. Do you have a brave cell anywhere in your body? How’d you ever think of me, anyway?

  Good question.

  He’s getting away. Are you just gonna sit here or are you gonna do something?

  Do something. She’d follow him. Maybe he was going into town to run some errands. She could bump into him. That would be better than coming to his office, anyway. More natural. He started his big truck and it varoomed to life. Then he made a U-turn and drove down the street right past her. She slumped so low she nearly got stuck.

  You’re pathetic, Marvella said in disgust.

  She was not pathetic. She was, well, she wasn’t sure what she was. She whipped a U-turn herself and followed him.

  He pulled up in front of Java Josie’s and parked. Ah, a perfect place for a chance encounter. See? she told Mavella. I know what I’m doing.

  Marvella grunted and then went away.

  Noel walked into the coffee shop and was enveloped in warmth, probably body heat considering how many people were in there. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who thought a midmorning coffee break was a good idea. The aroma of coffee beans danced around her nose, and the chatter of voices and hiss of steam wands greeted her.