Winter Miracle Page 12

  The bartender places the whiskey down in a glass that’s none too clean, but considering the room I’ve come from, I doubt it matters.

  I kick the whiskey back, welcoming the burn down the back of my throat it provides.

  “You stuck here too?”

  I face the guy sitting to my right. I wasn’t paying attention at first, but on closer observation he’s definitely not a local, not with Ray Bans and a gold chain direct from Miami Beach. “Something like that, I reply.”

  He extends his hand. “Bill Greyson.”

  I take it. “Dane Carr.”

  He notices my jacket. “You were in the air show, right?”

  I tap the bar for another whiskey. “That’s right.” I note the G&T he’s drinking.

  “Must be a hell of a thing flying one of those machines.”

  “It is. How about you? How did you end up in the fine town of Merit, Michigan?”

  “Passing through. It’s a long story. You’re better off watching paint peel than listening to me try and explain it.”

  I smile, looking around. “I guess we had the same idea, showing up here.”

  ‘Bill’ scans the room, shifting closer and lowering his voice. “Between you and me, I can’t wait to get back on the road and away from these fucking snowbillies.” He pulls back. “Where you from?”

  “All over,” I shrug, my next whiskey arriving.

  “Ah,” Bill nods, “a man with a story.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I can relate.”

  I sense a story of his own coming, the too-long-to-tell-it story he mentioned.

  “You see,” says Bill, adding a flourish with his hand and almost knocking over his G&T in the process, “I got evicted from my place, bought a big ol’ RV and just hit the road.”

  “Wow,” I reply, trying to summon enthusiasm.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s great, man, living on the road. I’m free!” he laughs. “And you’re a travelling man yourself?”

  I stare down into my whiskey. “I guess so, but…” I pause for a moment, thinking. “When the ice storm came through, this girl in town put me up.”

  “A girl?” queries Bill. “I got shacked up with this fucking war vet. Couldn’t go a damn minute without telling me about his leg and the nips and the ‘god damn government.’ Drove me crazy. I’ve never been so happy to see the inside of a motel room again.”

  I’m barely paying attention, verbalizing my thoughts as if in a trance. “I suppose you’d say I’m not really travelling; more like running.”

  “From what?”

  I shake my head, sliding my whiskey from hand to hand on the bar. “From a mistake, a mistake I made a long time ago.”

  Bill places his hand on my shoulder. “We all make mistakes, buddy.”

  “No,” I tell him. “This wasn’t like that. “I knew this girl. I got her pregnant.”

  “Shit, man. Once, I—”

  I cut him off. “She wanted to have the baby. I didn’t, couldn’t imagine myself with a kid, you know? I was a fucking bad-ass, a player.” I have no idea why I’m telling this guy these things, why I’m talking about it at all. It’s been years, but now I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

  I look at him. “I thought about the kid, couldn’t get it out of my head, but by the time I changed my mind she’d already had it ‘taken care of.’ She didn’t even ask me. I mean, it was my fucking kid too, right? I should have had some say.”

  Bill seems a bit put off, removing his hand like I’ve suddenly developed leprosy. “Hard break, brother, but onwards and upwards, hey? There’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

  I shake my head, staring at the bar. “I couldn’t face her after that, her parents, the small-town vitriol because everyone in town knows everyone else’s god-damn business. So, I enlisted, if for nothing but to escape it all, to get as far away as fucking possible from that place.” I swallow down the whiskey in one shot. “I’ve been running ever since.”

  Bill doesn’t reply. He shifts away ever so slightly and laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah. Sure thing. I hope the next town turns out better for you, man.”

  He stands, taking out his wallet and slapping down a twenty nervously. “See you around.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, but he’s already headed for the front doors, no doubt having decided that was enough awkward conversation for one day.

  I can’t blame him.

  I close my eyes, try to force away the pain I feel even now thinking back to those times. I open them and notice the bartender watching me from the other end of the bar, the other locals eyeballing me just as hard. They’ve been listening to every word. I don’t snap at them, smash a glass or pick up a pool cue. I simply stand, pay, and leave.

  I come through the doors into the blinding light of day and with it more thoughts about the girl I left behind, about the child I never had but for a brief moment wanted. It hurts. It still fucking hurts no matter how far I go, how far I fly. The heavens themselves can’t help me.

  I walk lost through town, hands deep in my jacket pockets.

  People have started to come out again, the town moving on as the ice melts.

  The imposing brick structure that is the First Bank of Merit stops me in my tracks. I stand before it watching people coming out and going in, business as usual.

  Am I really happy like this? I wonder. I used to think so.

  More people come and go.

  What’s going to happen after the next town, and the one after that, and the one after that one?

  A man emerges in a white collared shirt. I notice something affixed to it. He’s making his way down the stairs when another man calls to him from the bank doors. “Sheriff!”

  The Sheriff turns.

  “One more thing,” calls the man.

  The Sherriff makes his way back up the stairs, the two men conversing. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying.

  I don’t know why, but I reach into my pocket and take out the check from my last gig with the Red Devils. I stare down at the figures, at the official-looking typeface.

  Before I know it, I’m walking up the stairs, nodding at the Sheriff as he passes me on his way down.

  I walk inside and join the line, still staring at the check. I’ve got savings, money stashed away.

  No. It’s a crazy idea.

  It starts to snowball nonetheless, an even crazier thought on top of the first.

  It can’t hurt to ask, though, right?

  “Next!” the teller calls.

  I step up to the counter and place the check down.

  Just fucking do it, I tell myself.

  “How can I help you today?” the girl beams, hands tidily placed on the counter.

  I give her my best smile. “I’d like to see the manager, please.”

  She looks around nervously. “Ah, I’m sorry, but Mr. Pemberton is unavailable.”

  The suited man I saw talking to the Sheriff appears behind her shoulder. “I’m the manager. Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” I smile. “I’ve got a question about a property under foreclosure.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  HALEY

  December twenty-second comes and goes without so much as a bluster. No one has come for the house, but I try my best not to let hope percolate. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that we’ll be moving on.

  If that’s the case, why haven’t you gone to claim the bus tickets yet? I ask myself.

  Our bags are packed. We can leave any moment, so what am I waiting for?

  Maybe it’s just nerves.

  Maybe it’s more.

  I’m sick of this tug-of-war in my head. Whatever it is, I just want to get on with it.

  Town is bustling now that the ice has started to clear away and with it the cold winds that had turned the shrubs around the square into cotton balls.

  It’s Christmas Eve now, everyone making last-minute dashes to the few stores we have in town, kids on skates and sleds, par
ents with wagging fingers ready to warn them off.

  Andy’s clapping his hands together in the stroller, happy to be outside. If he wasn’t strapped in I’m sure he’d been running out there to play with everyone else.

  The door to the Goodwill store chimes as I enter. Magda, one of the few people in town who has been generous to me all these years, waves at Andy. “My, aren’t you turning into a big boy!” she coos.

  I pull up to the counter. “Too many treats, I’m afraid.”

  Magda leans over and ruffles his hair. “Oh, not for this one. Goodness me, he’s cute as pumpkin pie and just as delicious.”

  I haul up a bag of my old clothes onto the counter. “Thought I’d drop these off before we head out of town.”

  Magda straightens up. “You’re leaving for the holidays?”

  “For good, actually.”

  “Oh, I see.” She examines the clothes without questioning me further. “Well, these will come in mighty handy. Thank you.”

  “And thank you for your kindness.”

  Magda waves it off, looking down at Andy. “You know I’d do anything for this one.”

  I thank her one last time and turn the stroller around, heading back out into the crisp air.

  It’s strange. I keep wondering if I’ll run into Dane again. I have a feeling it’s the only reason I’m out at all, on the off chance he might be wondering by.

  And if you did see him? What would you do?

  I don’t know. He drives me crazy. It would be hard to decide if I’d give him a piece of my mind, my foot, or… something else.

  A hot flush runs upwards from my toes, holding around my core. I miss being in his arms, his embrace. I miss his stupid leather jacket direct from Top Gun and his chiseled, damn perfect jaw. I miss his coffee-making and his love-making and the way he made Andy smile.

  I cut through the center of town, helpless to avoid that curious air of anticipation that comes with Christmas Eve, the inevitable buzz.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell Andy. “Momma’s going to put on a real nice spread tonight. I might even pull out some of that ice cream I’ve been saving.”

  It’s overshadowed by a tinge of sadness when I realize I don’t have any presents for Andy, not that he cares, but it would have been nice to give him something other than cuddles and kisses.

  The bustle thins out when I make my way into the streets near home. There’s the odd gaggle of kids building a snowman or having a snow fight, Andy once again keen to join in on the action.

  I’ve always wanted a brother or sister for him to play with. I don’t want him to be an only child like I was, doted on and fussed over. I want him to be part of a team, to share a bond with someone other than his crazy mother.

  I’m a block away when I spot a car parked outside the house.

  My heart sinks. Oh, no. Not today. Not today of all days.

  My heart beats faster. I don’t know whether to speed up, slow down, or simply get the hell out of here.

  You can do this.

  I swallow away the fear and keep going, don’t show any signs of distress.

  But the car pulls away from the curb, continuing on past.

  I bring my hand up to my chest, stopping for breath.

  Get a grip, Haley.

  Inside, I put Andy down for his afternoon nap and go about preparing dinner. It’s a dismal affair of canned beans on toast, day-old potato mash, and baby food, most of the groceries Dane bought having been used up. But we do have the aforementioned half-tub of chocolate mint chip ice cream for dinner, plus paper party hats I made out of an old magazine. We’re quite the odd couple as we sit at the dining table, Andy fisting his spoon trying to trowel in as much ice cream as he can.

  I wipe his face down with a wet wipe. “You’re a grub. You know that?”

  And I swear he shrugs his shoulders and dives his spoon back into the bowl.

  I look around at the house and smile. I really am going to miss this place.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing just about sends me through the roof.

  I wipe my own mouth with a napkin. “Coming,” I call.

  My heart begins to thump again as I pad across the carpet, one hand reaching for the doorknob.

  Surely they wouldn’t. Not on Christmas Eve.

  My worst fears are confirmed when I open the door and find Sherriff Fallon standing there.

  It’s twilight outside, the street lights starting to switch on.

  The Sherriff spins around to face me, smiling, and dips his head. “Haley, how are you?”

  I hold onto the door for support. “Fine, Jerry, and you?”

  He scratches his head. “Well. Very well, thank you.” He sees Andy over my shoulder. “I see the little one’s enjoying himself.”

  Andy’s sitting there with ice cream dripping off his chin, his spoon raised guiltily.

  I swallow down a lump in my throat before speaking again. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  Jim breathes out long. “It’s about the house.”

  My chest tightens until I’m sure there’s a bear trap inside. I feign ignorance. “Oh?”

  But I know what’s coming. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been dreading for days.

  You’re at peace with this. It’s okay.

  The Sherriff extends his hand. “I’m going to have to ask for the keys to the house.”

  I let go of the door and look around, even though I know full well where they are. I pretend to discover them on the small table beside the door, picking them up loosely. “Here we go.”

  I hold them in my hand—more than keys, more than a house, but memories, and I’m about to lose them. I’m about to lose it all.

  “The keys, please, Haley?” says the Sherriff, his hand still extended.

  I take a deep breath and hand them over, once again holding onto the door for support. The last thing I want to do is collapse in a puddle in front of the Law. No, I can be strong, even faced with this.

  The Sherriff looks down at the keys in his hand. “I remember when your folks moved into this place.”

  I don’t know how to reply.

  “It’s always been a beautiful home,” he continues, “the perfect place to raise a family.”

  “I just hope its next owners keep it that way.” I smile, the initial shock starting to wear off and a calm, strangely peaceful sensation falling over me.

  The Sherriff smiles himself, jiggling the keys in his hand before looking right and handing them to someone unseen. “She’s all yours.”

  I crane my head around the side of the door to see.

  I don’t believe it.

  “Dane?”

  Dane steps up beside the Sherriff. “Haley.” He smiles, holding the keys.

  I’m in shock. “What…?”

  He holds up the keys, his aqua eyes bright. “I bought the house, baby. It’s ours now.”

  If my heart beats any faster it’s going to freaking explode. “Ours?” I repeat.

  The Sherriff steps aside as Dane gets down on one knee in front of me, placing the keys into his jacket pocket, but withdrawing something else—a small white box with a silver ribbon around it.

  No. No. No. What. Is. Going. On?

  It couldn’t possibly be…

  My hand’s shaking as I hold the door, my legs licorice. He can’t.

  Dane undoes the ribbon, opening the box to reveal a vintage ring, the silver band running around to a tapered diamond. I don’t think he knows it, but it’s just like my mother’s ring, the one she sold to put food on our table.

  He’s smiling as he watches me take it in. “I’m not big on speeches. Hell, I can hardly spell, but what I do know is that I want to hold hands with you, teach Andy how to ride a bike, build a fire, eat cereal on the floor when there’s a perfectly good table beside us… all of that craziness. And I want you, Haley, and everything that comes with it. It’s quick, I know, unexpected, sure, but that’s how I live. I know what I want, and what I want is you as my
wife. Haley Walker, will you marry me?”

  I don’t know how many seconds pass while I stand there with my jaw slack, hands trembling.

  Jerry, hands in his pockets, is laughing. “Well, you going to leave the boy hanging there, Walker, or what?”

  “Dane!” calls Andy behind me.

  I rush forward into Dane’s arms, both of us knocked to the ground. “Yes!” I laugh, kissing him, tears of joy falling from my face, the emotional rollercoaster that’s been carrying me finally reaching its apex. I cry and kiss him, laughing and smiling, the Sherriff watching on with amusement as we roll on the porch.

  “You kids take it inside now,” he says. “I don’t want to have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

  Dane helps me to my feet, reaching to shake the Sherriff’s hand. “Yes, sir, and thank you.”

  Jerry nods. “My pleasure.”

  He heads down the stairs to his patrol car, chains fitted to the tires.

  We watch him reverse out, hand in hand, but I’m still breathless.

  I wrap my arms around Dane’s neck and breathe him in. He lowers his head to lock me in a deep, all-consuming kiss. It’s only when Andy begins to bash his spoon against the table the spell is broken.

  Dane walks us over to him. “Well,” he says, crouching down to Andy’s level, “how do you feel about me being your daddy, little man?”

  “Dada!” Andy repeats, dropping the spoon and reaching for Dane with his hands opening and closing.

  Dane lifts him out of his chair with one arm, cradling him into his side, the three of us a family, the house we’re standing in no longer in danger.

  I can’t stop the tears. I try to wipe them away but they keep coming. “I’m such a mess.”

  Dane kisses me on the forehead. “A beautiful mess.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DANE

  It’s done. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it, but knowing Haley and Andy have the security they need, that I can be part of something more than myself, is incredible. No, it’s liberating.

  It’s late when we finally get Andy to sleep, the two of us retreating to the master bedroom.