Finding Father Christmas Read online

  Thinking of the line that Andrew delivered in the performance—”Come in, come in, and know me better, friend”—I saw myself as the trembling Scrooge, standing on the doorstep of Christmas Present. All this bounty was being opened to me, and yet I couldn’t come in. Not all the way. I couldn’t enter. It wasn’t mine to receive.

  Julia looked up at me with a different sort of “ooh!” expression. This one was along the lines of “Uh-oh, I forgot something!”

  “Our stockings,” she said. “I didn’t look for my stocking.”

  My eyes went to the fireplace. No stockings hung there. They were the only key Christmas item missing from this cozy setup.

  “You’re right. There are no stockings hanging by the fire. Maybe Santa Claus—I mean, Father Christmas—forgot to bring them this year.”

  “You silly! Father Christmas doesn’t hang our stockings by the fire. He hangs them on our bedposts.”

  “Oh. Well, then let’s sneak upstairs and see if Father Christmas remembered to hang a stocking from your bedpost.”

  “No. I was the one who put the stocking there.” Julia gave me a don’t-you-know-anything look. “Father Christmas comes and puts the sweets in my stocking. I hope I get a Lion Bar this year. They’re my favorite. Do you like Lion Bars?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever had a Lion Bar.”

  I could tell by her amazed expression she thought I had come from Jupiter because Jupiter had to be the only place in the universe that didn’t have Lion Bars.

  “If Father Christmas didn’t put a Lion Bar in your stocking and if he put two in mine, I’ll give you one of mine,” Julia said.

  Stroking her soft cheek I whispered, “Thank you.”

  Together we retraced our trail upstairs with more noise than we had managed on our way down. Julia raced to her room. I followed, still not sure if I was aiding and abetting a wild little tradition-breaker running free in the Whitcombe household.

  When Julia pushed open her bedroom door, she gave a happy squeal, and I knew that Father Christmas had plumped up her stocking. I also heard another bedroom door open farther down the hall.

  Assuming either her brother or her parents were up and about, I slipped back into my guest room and closed the door. I didn’t want to be in the way.

  To my surprise, Father Christmas had visited my room while I was downstairs with Julia. On one of my bedposts hung a long red sock. My name had been written with curling letters on a piece of white fabric, which was attached to the top of the stocking.

  I sat on the end of the bed and examined the stocking. I had never had a Christmas stocking before. The gesture of sweet hospitality was almost too much to swallow. In the toe of the stocking was a mandarin orange that made a nice bulge and added a fresh, sweet scent to the room as I emptied all the goodies onto the top of the down comforter.

  Along with the orange, my treats included a purple pen attached to a notepad, six pieces of candy (four hard pieces and two chewy), the highly praised Lion Bar (a chocolate candy bar), and a small bag of cashews.

  Snuggling back under the covers, I started with the chocolate bar, remembering all the times my mother and I had dined on chocolates for our Christmas morning breakfast. The Lion Bar had a strip of caramel inside. My mother would have liked that. One bite, and I knew why it was Julia’s favorite.

  I moved on to the cashews and the two chewy pieces of candy. The orange I saved for last. I sucked each wedge slowly, savoring the fresh taste in my mouth. Glancing up, I caught my reflection in the large mirror above the dresser across the room. Positioning the orange slice just right, I spread my lips and flashed a wide, orange-toothed smile at my reflection.

  The image made me laugh. I kept smiling and realized it had been a long, long time since I had laughed. A happy thought settled on me. Could it be that after all these years of winter in my life, it was finally, at long last, Christmas?

  I dared to believe it could be so.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Remaining under the cozy down comforter, I smiled to myself, thinking of being here on Christmas morning and not alone in a London hotel room. Father Christmas had brought me something else for Christmas—being here, in this place, with these people. And I felt blissfully young.

  Decisions regarding some strategic conversations would have to take place eventually. But for now I could linger, open my gifts of Christmas morning ever so slowly, and relish the lavishness of it all.

  That’s what I told myself as I lounged in the puffy comfort of the guest bed, gazing outside at the sunlight on the new-fallen snow.

  A soft tapping came on the bedroom door. It was more like a patting than a tapping. I guessed it was Julia and called out, “Come in!”

  Instead of Julia, Ellie’s curious face appeared when the door opened. “So you are awake. Good morning and happy Christmas!”

  “Happy Christmas to you, too.”

  “Julia said you showed her the snow and the presents under the tree.”

  “I hope that was okay.” I sat up in bed.

  “Yes, yes, of course it’s okay. I told you to feel at home, and that’s exactly what we want you to do.” Ellie’s hair had returned to its natural brunette shade, sans sparkles of any kind. She was wearing a plush white robe and fluffy slippers on her bare feet. The ensemble was quite a departure from the Sugarplum outfit of the evening before.

  “I’ve come to see if you would like to join us downstairs around the tree.”

  I hesitated, still not sure how it could be okay for me to crash another one of their parties. “I think I’ll stay here,” I said. “But I would like to go to church with you later.”

  “Lovely!” Ellie surveyed the combat zone on my bed where all the food items had been annihilated quickly.

  “Thanks for the stocking,” I said, feeling shy. “I loved it, as you can see.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure Father Christmas would be pleased to know how much you enjoyed the gifts he left for you. Now, would you like a cup of tea, or perhaps some hot chocolate? I always make hot chocolate for the children before they open their gifts.”

  I smiled and nodded. “I can come down to the kitchen and get it.”

  “No, no, no! You stay right where you are. I’ll bring it to you.”

  Ellie backed up and closed the door behind her before I could protest. I was still having a hard time believing her generosity. What woman with a husband and two children wouldn’t consider a stray houseguest to be a burden on Christmas Day? Especially a houseguest who was a stranger?

  Ellie returned with a red Christmas mug on a tray and served it to me while I was still in bed. Along with the cocoa she had brought a small croissant, a slice of well-toasted wheat bread, and a little dish of orange marmalade. I felt foolish, like a child being showered with kindness on a day she had faked an illness to play hooky from school.

  “Come downstairs whenever you wish.”

  “Thank you.”

  With a flutter of her hand Ellie closed the door, but the end of her long robe got caught. Giggling, she opened the door, pulled up her robe and, with a swish, closed the door again. She may have washed away all the sparkles in her morning shower, but from where I sat, she still appeared to be a Sugarplum Fairy.

  I leisurely finished my breakfast in bed and then slid back under the inviting comforter for a little doze. I was beginning to see how my mother could so easily fall into nap mode on Christmas after our breakfast of chocolates. So much chocolate at one time may release lovely endorphins, but that much sugar on an empty stomach could cause a lull, and that’s exactly what it did to me.

  The sleep I swam into was soothing. I dreamed of Ellie and Edward wanting me, inviting me to dine with them. The table was heavy with all sorts of wonderful things to eat. The laughter echoed off the walls, and Julia came over and climbed into my lap.

  I woke and stretched. I had slept for probably only ten or fifteen minutes, but the nap had rejuvenated me. I reached into my shoulder bag bes
ide the bed and pulled out the blue velvet pouch with the golden tassels. The photo was still there. I stared at it and knew I hadn’t imagined any of this. It was the same photo as the one sitting on the mantel downstairs.

  My birth certificate had been locked up long ago in a home safe in the closet of my San Francisco apartment. The folded-up playbill lay in the velvet pouch. I had a look at it and ran my eyes over words I had read many times.

  “Lake Shore Community Theater Presents Shakespeare’s THE TEMPEST.”

  My mother’s name was listed beside the role of Miranda. It would have been so helpful, so obvious, if the name “James Whit-combe” appeared next to one of the other characters’ names. It would have all been there in black and white, and I could explain how my mother had fallen for one of the other actors, who happened to be James Whitcombe, and nine months later I had made my grand entrance onto the stage of life.

  But like every other detail of my mother’s life, this one wasn’t that easy or that obvious.

  I studied the playbill one more time. At the bottom of the paper, in small print, I read the words, “With a special thank you for the support given by the Society of Grey Hall Community Theatre.”

  Sitting up more fully, I read the fine print again. The Society of Grey Hall Community Theatre was the name on the plaque in front of Grey Hall where the performance had been held last night. I hadn’t made the connection then.

  In front of me was another small clue. Had James Whitcombe been involved in the Society of Grey Hall Community Theatre? Andrew said Sir James had contributed much to this community with his status and dedication to the theater. Had his involvement led him to the US and to this small-time community theater performance of The Tempest?

  How was the Lake Shore Community Theater connected to the Grey Hall Community Theatre? Lake Shore group was in Michigan. I was born in Michigan and somehow ended up on the West Coast soon after. Did my mother have family in Michigan, or was she simply passing through when she joined the theater group?

  It seemed that with each clue I uncovered, I picked up another string of questions. Many of those questions would never, could never, be answered. Other answers seemed to be so close, so nearly within my reach.

  Tucking the photo and the playbill back into the blue velvet bag and setting it on the nightstand, I decided to venture downstairs and find a way to begin my very necessary conversation with Edward and Ellie. The evidence was mounting. I needed to say something.

  I found the Whitcombe family poetically gathered around the tree. A fire blazed in the hearth. From where I stood, all the gifts appeared to have been opened. Julia was busy brushing the long hair of a new doll, and Mark, who looked tall for a twelve-year-old, stood beside his father, who was trying to fit together a control box of some sort.

  “They don’t exactly make this easy, do they?” Edward asked.

  Ellie leaned closer. “Do you need the instructions?”

  “I can get them, Father. Are they in the box?” Mark looked up and noticed my slow entrance. “Hallo. Are you Miranda?”

  “Mark, mind your manners,” his father said. “You should walk up to our guest, offer your hand, and introduce yourself.”

  Bounding past the patches of cast-aside gift wrap, Mark followed his father’s instructions and came skidding up to me with a free-spirited expression that I was sure he inherited from his mother. “I am ever so pleased to make your acquaintance, madam. I am Master Mark Robert Whitcombe.”

  “Mark, don’t be pert,” Edward said.

  “I’m not Pert. I’m Mark.”

  He received a stern look from across the room.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mark.” I shook his outstretched hand. “My name is Miranda.”

  “My sister said you’re from America, but you’re not a film star.

  “She’s right. I am an American, but I’m not a movie star.”

  “Are you an actor, then?”

  “No, I’m not an actor.”

  “Do you know any actors?”

  “Yes, I have met a few.”

  “Really? Any ones that I would know?”

  “No, none you would know.”

  “Mark, I have this put together now. Will you come have a look?”

  Like a gazelle, the lanky twelve-year-old bounded across the room and eagerly took the controls from his father. Mark pressed a button, and out from under the camouflage of gift wrap a remote-controlled truck rumbled across the floor, heading directly for the wall. Mark used his whole body as well as his thumbs to urge the rolling vehicle to make a turn toward the center of the room.

  “Well done, Mark,” Ellie said.

  “This is brilliant!” Mark directed the truck around a leather chair as the revved-up vehicle made a louder humming sound.

  “Make it go up the wall, Markie.” Julia was on her feet, watching the new toy do its stuff for the small audience.

  “It doesn’t go up walls. Just on floors. Don’t get too close, Ju-Ju. Step back.”

  Ellie motioned for me to come closer to where they gathered around the tree. “If you dare,” she said with a smile.

  I slid onto the end of the sofa and took in the full view of the tree. Julia came over and sat beside me, showing me her new dolly and chattering about all the doll’s special features, including its pony. She hopped off the couch, went for the unwrapped pony under the tree, and showed me how the doll could fit on the pony. Then Julia galloped around the room with her new toy.

  Ellie shuffled the wrapping paper into a mound. Edward looked over at me and said, “Did you sleep well, Miranda?”

  “Yes, very well, thank you.”

  “Glad to hear it. I understand you’ll be joining us for church this morning.”

  “Yes. I hope what I’m wearing is okay for church. My luggage is still in London.”

  “What you’re wearing will be fine,” Ellie said. “You might need a warmer coat. I have several you’re welcome to choose from to borrow.”

  “Thanks. I do need a warmer coat.”

  Edward seemed to be studying me. “If you don’t mind, may I ask you a personal question, Miranda?”

  “Certainly.”

  “How is it that you came to visit Carlton Heath? Our little town isn’t exactly one of the usual tourist sites.”

  My heart beat faster. This was the opening I needed. I just hadn’t prepared what to say. “1, urn, I came here because—”

  “Didn’t Katharine say you were going to meet someone?” Ellie inserted. “Or did she say you were trying to find someone?”

  “Yes,” I said plainly. “I was trying to find someone.”

  “And how did that turn out?” Ellie asked.

  This was it. This was the moment to tell Ellie and Edward who I was and why I was here. I drew in a deep breath and sat up straight.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Before a full sentence could tumble off my lips, everyone turned to the front window, where the driveway was visible. Up to the front of the house came a large farm horse wreathed in a harness of loud jingle bells and saddled with a big red sack of wrapped gifts. Holding the reins was a merry rounded fellow with a long, flowing snowy white beard and a long robe.

  “Father Christmas!” Julia shouted, leaving her doll and pony and rushing to the front window. “It’s Father Christmas!”

  Mark stopped pushing the buttons on the remote control and hurried to the window. Edward and Ellie exchanged surprised glances. I stood for a better view, and for the blink of a moment, I almost believed.

  “Father Christmas! Father Christmas!” Julia beat her flat palm against the front window.

  “Come on, Ju-Ju.” Mark was already sprinting toward the door.

  Ellie and Edward followed, and I was right behind. We stepped into the crisp air. Pillowed snowdrifts lined the rounded drive. As Father Christmas strode toward the children, he hitched up his robe to reveal argyle socks that I knew had to belong to Andrew.

  “H
appy Christmas, one and all!” Father Christmas’s booming voice caused a layer of peaceful snow to quiver off a nearby tree branch and sift its way to the ground.

  Bright-eyed and full of glee, Julia gave a little hop that landed her in the snow in her yellow ducky slippers. “Hallo, Father Christmas! It’s me, Julia!”

  Father Christmas came close and cupped her chin in his gloved hand. “And so it is!”

  “We already got our presents,” she proclaimed. “We’ve opened them. I already ate the Lion Bar. They’re my favorite. Did you come back because you have more presents for us?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  If Mark recognized Andrew, he was to be commended for keeping a straight face and playing along for the sake of his sister. However, it seemed that Mark may have been convinced that the larger-than-life man who stood before him was Father Christmas.

  “I understand you have been a most helpful chap this year,” Andrew said, doing a fair job of masking his Scottish accent.

  Mark nodded.

  “That’s very good. Very good indeed. I happen to have a special gift here for a young man such as yourself. Young Mark, this present is for you.” He reached into the red sack tied to the saddle of the old horse and handed Mark a long box that was wrapped in gold foil and tied with a big red bow.

  “And for you, young Julia… ” He hesitated, and she shivered with excitement, giving two little hops. “Ah, yes, here it is. A gift for a special young lady who has also been a good helper to her mother this year.”

  “Thank you, Father Christmas!” Julia took from him a box also wrapped in gold with a red ribbon.

  “I have another gift here for the master of the house and his lovely wife.”

  “That’s my mum and dad! Mummy, you get a present, too!”

  The smiles on Edward and Ellie’s faces as they received the gold box were more than pleasant expressions. Both of them seemed touched by what Andrew was doing for their children. The couple slipped their arms around each other, and Ellie rested her head on Edward’s shoulder.