Christmas Ever After

by Niomie Roland

  My baby is missing. My baby is missing.

  The words looped through her mind.

  "When — since when!" she croaked, her throat dry as dangerous scenarios ran through her mind.

  “Her absence was noticed during this afternoon’s recess…”

  My baby...my baby!

  "We have notified the police and—" the voice cut off abruptly as Trinity dropped the call and dialed Michael instead.

  He would know what to do.

  MICHAEL

  H e never thought he would be one of those high powered, opinionated people with tortured eyes and boozy breaths.

  Well, he was tortured alright — and working on his boozy breath.

  Michael didn't even bother to check his desk, instead he pursued a close acquaintance with the view in front of him — and a bottle of properly aged whiskey.

  If the old man was here, he would wince at the way he was treating good whiskey, but he was not here now and Michael had no stomach for a lecture.

  He regarded the amber liquid as he swirled it around in the stone cut heavy tumblers.

  Impressive, just like it the clients it was usually reserved for.

  Too bad such window dressing didn't take the sting of the moment away. The drink wasn't better at it, but he was working up to it, slowly but surely.

  After that stilled conversation in the kitchen where she had stated her stand he had shifted back. He had been fooled. He had worn his heart on his sleeve, even if he hadn’t come straight out and said the words he felt… I love you.

  She was leaving anyway and he didn't know how to stop it. He didn’t know how to stop the pain that he felt in every inch of him.

  It was a business deal to her, after all. He felt his heart break at the realization.

  She was still here, and even though he went out of his way to avoid her, he couldn't deny that he missed her.

  Dammit, I miss her! A sharp pain formed under his skin, waiting to erupt.

  He didn't hear the door open, but he heard the clink of the crystal and the sound of liquid pouring. He didn’t see the figure until he moved his line of vision to just beside him, silently facing his grandfather.

  "You know I still see the blood, spreading like so much water and there was nothing I could do," Michael stated conversationally, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the weather.

  "I am sorry," his grandfather said, his voice low and brimming with regret.

  "It was no one's fault but theirs, no one's," Michael answered.

  "I should have taken you away sooner, and I always second-guessed myself."

  Michael heard a tone of anguish for the first time, and he turned to look at his grandfather. “It’s not your fault. Nothing would have stopped that train wreck.”

  “You have to forgive your mom in order to move on. She was a very sick woman. Forgive her, for your sake." He didn’t understand why his grandfather needed him to forgive his mom. The woman did kill his only son after all, leaving his grandson an orphan.

  "Why?" he asked, desperate to know and understand.

  "Because if you don't, you remain that helpless boy and she remains the monster."

  He turned to the view, feeling tired and raw all of a sudden. “I get what you’re saying but it’s difficult—"

  The older man drew breath to interject but clamped his mouth shut when his grandson continued.

  "I can make sure it doesn't color everything I do, make sure it doesn't color the rest of my life."

  "That is good enough for me, boy." With that, his grandfather downed the contents of his cup and dropped the crystal glass beside the decanter, exiting the room.

  Michael swallowed his own drink in a single gulp, then returned to his chair and started to make plans.

  She was still here, and there was still time to change her mind, to make her see that going their separate ways wasn’t for the best.

  The chirp of his cell phone diverted his attention, and when he saw the caller ID, he scrambled to pick it up.

  "Hello Trinity,” he sounded almost eager, anticipating their first real conversation in days.

  "Miranda has gone missing, and they can’t find her at the school. The police have been called—"

  "What the hell?" he asked, gripping the phone.

  "The principal called a few minutes ago," she said, her voice sounding teary and heartbroken. He ached to comfort her, but it was impossible to do at the moment.

  "Since when has she been gone?" he asked, trying to take the rising panic in his own voice.

  "Since afternoon recess. I don't know what to do Michael," she admitted painfully. “Take a deep breathe Trinity, we'll find her," he replied.

  "What if…What if—" she choked on the words, but he knew what she was about to say, how dangerous it was to think them — never mind saying it out loud.

  "No, you can't think like that, keep your hopes up. I'll bring our daughter home," he promised without even noticing his words.

  He dropped the call and pushed out of his chair, his phone already out to call all available contacts in law enforcement. He couldn't allow himself to succumb to the doubts, he had to be strong for the two of them.

  He was almost at the door when the phone on his desk buzzed. He returned, pressing the call button.

  "Sir, this is security," a gruff voice explained.

  "Spit it out, I have somewhere I need to be," he demanded, impatient at the person stalling him. His daughter was missing, and he needed to bring her home.

  "There is a little girl in the lobby who says she's your daughter, sir."

  He drew out a breath of relief. “Keep her there, I’m on my way down.”

  Slamming the phone to the ground, he’d never ran so fast in his life. As the elevator took it’s time riding down, he cursed the slow movement and wondered if he should have taken the stairs.

  He burst into the lobby, adrenaline running high as he walked to the security booth.

  "Where is she?"

  "She is right—"

  The man never got a chance to finish

  "Daddy!"

  He barely turned around in time to brace himself before the small body launched at him.

  "Miranda, oh God, Miranda," he murmured as he embraced her in a fierce hug.

  "Daddy!" she called again as he pulled her back to her feet, crouching in front of her.

  "I’m so glad to see that you’re alright. How did you get here?" he asked.

  "My friend Chloe told her chauffeur to drop me here if he didn't want to get in trouble," she said in a conspiratorial tone.

  "Really," he responded, his tone easier as the panic began to leave his body. He would have a talk with Chloe’s family and the driver.

  "He didn't want to, but he was afraid Chloe’s daddy would free him," she divulged with a small smile.

  "Miranda, you know better than to ever leave the school without your mom, Celia or me. You had us severely worried!"

  Her lips trembled, and tears shivered in her eyes "I am sorry, Daddy."

  "Why, Miranda?"

  "I wanted to see you. I have not seen you in forever and my mommy wants to make me go, and I don't want to go," she replied.

  "Oh honey, I am sorry that you’re stuck in between your mom and I, and I am sorry for not being around much these past few days, but you can’t leave school and go into a stranger’s car without your mom’s consent or mine," he replied.

  "But I don’t wanna move to Seattle!" she shouted back.

  "Miranda," he tried again.

  "I don't want to go. Make Mommy stay," she insisted.

  "Sweetie, even though you don’t understand your mom’s decisions, she will always make the best decision for you because she loves you so much. Okay?" he asked, searching her eyes.

  She nodded sharply, the tears making tracks down her cheeks. He fished the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the streaks away.

  "Can I call Mommy?"

  "Sure, sweetheart. Then we
can go home," he promised.

  She finally smiled at him, which was reminiscent of the past, and his heart ached at the sight.

  "Well, hello there," Miranda turned around to find the owner of the voice.

  Michael smiled at his grandfather as he explained with relief to Trinity on the phone that Miranda was safe with him.

  “Opa,” Miranda said as she ran over to Michael’s grandfather. The old man was quite fond of her.

  “What are you doing here, honey, and how did you get here?” His grandfather asked looking down at the girl with downcast eyes.

  "I'll explain in the car," Michael said. "I have to take her home."

  TRINITY

  T he call blunted the edge of fear running through her, but only tapered the panic. She knew she wouldn’t be completely happy until her daughter was in her arms. The sound of the car in the driveway jolted her to her feet and she flew down the halls to the front door.

  "Miranda!"

  "Mommy!"

  The little girl who ran towards her was happy, healthy, and pleased with herself. Trinity wrapped her arms around her daughter and savored the fact that she was well and safe.

  "Oh, thank God," she murmured as she kissed her forehead. "Why did you leave school Miranda, you scared me half to death!"

  "I wanted to see Daddy."

  "Oh, honey," Trinity said in a low voice

  "I have not seen him since forever, and I wanted to ask him if he was leaving too," Miranda explained.

  The words drove all rational thought out of her mind, and Trinity blinked at her daughter.

  She wondered if Michael had left her too.

  What sort of mother was she to not realize that her little girl was fighting feelings of abandonment?

  "I am so sorry, honey, daddy never left you I promise," she replied softly.

  "He told me already."

  "That's right, baby girl, I'm never going to leave you ever!" Michael promised emphatically as he bent down into their little hurdle.

  Trinity turned to him sharply, the words stunning her for the second time in seconds. It was more than mere words, Michael was not saying them to pacify a child. She knew that determined look — it was the same one that had prompted her to listen to him while she was in her hospital bed. If only she was as brave as they were.

  "That is no reason to scare all of us and skip school. We were worried. I just talked to your school principal and we even called the police," she soldiered on.

  "I'm sorry, Mama," Miranda answered with a smug smile. "I just wanted to see Daddy."

  "I'm just happy you are alright."

  "I am," Miranda replied with an eye roll.

  "Don't think this is the end of it," she warned her daughter.

  The sudden chuckle startled her and Trinity's gaze travelled up to see Michael Senior. She scrambled to her feet quickly, but the older man waved her words away before she told them.

  "I believe the two of you have a lot to talk about." He gestured between her and Michael before walking to take Miranda's hand. "I'm just going to take this little hellion here for cookies and milk. If that is alright with you."

  "Yay!" Miranda called out, gleefully.

  "Yes, but no cookies," Trinity insisted. "She's on punishment."

  "Aww, Mommy," Miranda groused.

  "I have half a mind to ground you, little girl," Trinity replied evenly and that quieted Miranda.

  "Sure." Michael Senior smiled, but as they turned away, everyone caught the little wink he gave the little girl who brightened considerably.

  Trinity sighed in defeat and in the same breath remembered she was left with Michael… All alone.

  MICHAEL

  I t was the two of them in the foyer now and the silence grew into oppressive proportions

  "I'm sorry," he finally spoke.

  "Don't be, she has a mind of her own," Trinity replied, feeling tense herself.

  "A beautiful one," he replied, smiling at the happenings of the day.

  "It could have—" Suddenly she was choked and scared.

  "It didn't," he finished quickly, shaking his head to dissuade the thoughts.

  "Thank you.”

  "No, I should thank you," he answered.

  "I've done nothing.”

  "You've at least shown me that every woman is not my mother,” he confessed. “Here I was too afraid to trust women and you came and changed that. Everything about you is different and for that I am grateful, forever.”

  She started to interrupt, but he pushed on.

  He needed to get it all off his chest. "I trusted you from the moment I met you, and it didn't occur to me until now, though. The way you were so protective of Miranda, willing to put aside your health to ask about her. How you were willing to drop your misgivings to give her a home and do right by her." He took a deep breath and continued, "I just want you to know that I have admired you for that, for your charity work, and no woman on Earth means more to me than you and no one else ever will."

  Trinity smiled up at him, eyes tinged with tears that she tried to blink away in a flurry of lashes.

  "Michael, I'm tired of being strong and trying to do it by myself," she started hesitantly.

  "Let me take care of you — the both of you — do you trust me?" Michael asked, looking for the answer in her eyes.

  "Yes — I trust you because you don't lie, everything you've ever said you've done and much more," she replied.

  "So you'll stay?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, thank God…" he exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. As she went to embrace him, he pulled away for a second, confusing her. “One moment, please.”

  He fished his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. It rang for a moment and someone at the other end picked it up. He put it on speaker phone.

  "Fisher and Goldfinch law firm, Johnson Fisher speaking.”

  "Michael Harper," he said simply.

  "Mr. Harper, how can I be of service to you today?"

  "It is about the prenup."

  "Of course."

  "Destroy it," he ordered, smiling at Trinity.

  "Sir?" Confusion tinged the voice at the other end. "Sir, I will like to advise you on the legal and financial ramifications of... "

  Michael cut him off with a curt, "Destroy it now."

  "Of course, sir."

  "Why?" Trinity asked as he hung up, unable to stop the tears now.

  "Because this is more than a business deal — I don't care about the company anymore, it would mean nothing if you left me. If you take Miranda and leave, it would not be enough to keep me going,” he answered earnestly. "I love you. I love our family."

  "I love you too," she replied, her eyes heavy with unshed happy tears.

  "Not as much as I love you," he said.

  "Definitely more than you love me," she whispered before she sealed it with a kiss.

  CHRISTMAS DAY

  T he long drawn out squeal drew a laugh out of every single member of the room.

  It was Christmas morning and after all the wheedling, and cajoling Miranda had done the night before, or tried to, she had finally fallen asleep knowing she was not going to be able to open a single present before Christmas morning.

  Trinity smiled at her daughter who mock glared at the three adults who were smiling indulgently at her before she tore into another well wrapped package. The mom in her couldn't help but wince at the flurry of wrapping paper that was littering the floor.

  The wife in her was well preoccupied, in her right hand was the celebratory glass of egg nog that Celia had handed to everyone in the room before she returned to the kitchen while her left hand was ensconced in her husband's. In fact her whole left side was glued to his, his hand banding at her waist to keep her there while they laughed at their daughters antics.

  Celia was asked to not serve them but the older woman was stubborn.

  Their daughter, Michael’s wife. If she allowed herself to think about it, it was easy to get overw
helmed... She was too busy enjoying his hold on her to allow her emotions get the better of her just yet.

  But she couldn't deny that the magic was alive, three months since they had wedded and two weeks since the both had confessed their feelings to each other and she still felt the thrill of his touch.

  His words, his actions still broke her down and brought tears to her eyes, happy tears… Contented tears.

  Another squeal drew her out of her introspective mood to look at the girl brandishing a pair of cleats, wrapping paper discarded carelessly to the side, she couldn't help her sigh.

  Michael felt the exhale before he heard it and he squeezed her waist as he turned to look at her with a smile impossible to curb.

  She still shook him, her presence still destroyed as much brain cells when she was near and touching him making it a fight to keep a hold on the intensity of his emotions with her.

  He didn't want to overwhelm with what he felt, but he was grateful every day for the reality of her, both their presence in his life and the drastic turn his life had taken.

  The future of the past him had been so bleak, even now he shuddered at what would have happened if he had not had such an unorthodox thought that day at the hospital.

  He nudged her with his cheek, his smile becoming impossibly wide as she turned to him.

  "Allow her to have her fun. She deserves this."

  "Apart from the mess, I am happy," Trinity admitted, her eyes darting to the little girl who was hopping around the room

  "I think the phrase is over the moon," he mused, aware of the importance of that phrase and the reaction it would cause.

  Just as he thought, she ducked her face, her embarrassment apparent as her eyes flicked toward him and away just as quickly, a smile tugging on her lips. "Michael!"

  "Shush, you won't be able to explain that away without blushing furiously. Miranda might be clueless, but my grandfather isn't," he goaded with a large smirk full of pride, enjoying her discomfort. Last night she had used that phrase just before their daughter could have caught them in a compromising position.

  "Mind your words and your hands then," she said, all embarrassment gone as she challenged him. He responded by pulling her closer if that was even possible.