A Christmas Miracle

Over the next few weeks, Lizzie secured herself a line of credit at the bank and found a small furnished bachelor apartment not far from the university. I was sorry to see her leave and insisted she could stay with me as long as she liked, but she was determined to get her own place and live independently for a while.

We continued to talk on the phone every night and spent time together on the weekends, and she maintained contact with her mother through regular texts and phone calls. Mrs. Reynolds admitted that she had called J.J. and fully intended to visit him, but she was keeping it secret from her husband.

"You are not going to believe this," Lizzie said to me when I met her for lunch at the hospital after one of my physio appointments. "Mom started seeing a therapist. She told me this morning. She's been trying to get Dad to go for counseling, too, but of course he won't do it."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I asked as I dug into my salad.

"It doesn't surprise me either," Lizzie replied, "but I wish he'd budge on something. Even just to show us that he's not made of stone."

"Maybe your mom will be able to talk him into it after everything that's happened lately," I suggested.

When the time came for me to return to work, I was beyond ready. I had to see a therapist and he asked me all sorts of questions about my thoughts and feelings since my return to work and I answered everything honestly, though I never made any reference to what happened to me during my stay in the hospital.

My wounds had healed well and I felt fit and strong, though I knew I'd be kidding myself if I thought I could chase after a suspect and leap over a chain link fence anytime soon. I didn't do much of that in Middletown anyway.

"That's good, kid," Bert said when I mentioned this to him, "Now, we'll both move at the same speed."

I was just finishing my shift on a Thursday when a panicked text came in from Lizzie. "Nick...You there? Please answer..."

I quickly typed a reply: I'm here. Call me.

Within ten seconds, my phone rang. I quickly swiped the screen to answer it. "What's wrong?"

She spoke quickly in a strained voice. "Mom just called me. She said she and Dad had a huge argument and she's locked herself in her bedroom. She wants to leave but she doesn't know if he'll let her. I'm worried. She was whispering the whole time."

"Did he hit her?" I asked. "Was there any sort of physical altercation?"

"No, but she said she doesn't feel safe. She's afraid to come out of her room. She asked me to come and get her but you are closer. Can you go?"

I grabbed my keys off the desk and headed out. "I'm on my way right now."

"I'll come with you, kid," Bert offered. "Just in case things get out of hand. I'll give Nearville's sheriff a call to let him know we're stepping in his town."

"Thank you, Bert."

We pulled into Dr. Reynolds's driveway, quickly got out of the car, and rang the doorbell. When no one answered, I banged five times with the edge of my fist.

"Dr. Reynolds! Are you home?"

His car was in the driveway and there were lights on inside the house.

I listened carefully for voices but heard nothing until the sound of footsteps approached. At last the door opened. Dr. Reynolds, dressed in jeans and a navy golf shirt, greeted me with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

His gaze raked disapprovingly from the brim of my police hat to the badge pinned on my shirt, then down to my gun belt and black boots.

"Your wife called Lizzie and asked to be picked up. Lizzie couldn't leave the hospital so she asked me to come instead."

"My wife doesn't need a ride anywhere," Dr. Reynolds replied.

I noticed his right hand flexing and fisting. "Where is your wife, sir?"

"She's upstairs."

"Could you ask her to come down please? I'd like to speak to her."

Dr. Reynolds glared at me intensely. "This isn't any of your business, Nick."

"Well, since your daughter asked me to stop by and check on her mother, I think that makes it very much my business. Mind if I come in?"

His brow furrowed. "Yes, I do mind."

I held his gaze steadily in mine. "Let's not make this any more difficult than it has to be. I need to see Mrs. Reynolds. She called for assistance and said she didn't feel safe. If we can just clear that up, I'll get out of your way."

I caught sight of something over the doctor's shoulder. It was Mrs. Reynolds descending the stairs with a suitcase. Dr. Reynolds turned around. "Where are you going?" he asked her.

She set the suitcase down in the wide foyer and went to fetch a coat off a hook in the back hall. "I'm leaving you."

Dr. Reynolds strode toward her. I immediately stepped inside. Bert followed me.

"No, you're not," Dr. Reynolds harshly said. "You can't leave me."

Mrs. Reynolds donned her coat and began to button it. "Yes, I can. It's my choice and I'm leaving with Nick."

"But we're not done talking about this."

"We've been talking about it for weeks, Bruce," she said. "Years, in fact." She picked up her suitcase and started walking toward me at the door. "You know I want us both to visit J.J., but you won't even consider it. It's not fair. And now, somehow you managed to kick Lizzie out of our lives too. We always do what YOU want us to do, but you never bend an inch for us. It's your way or the highway. And today I'm taking the

highway."

"Joan, wait..."

"And I've asked you a thousand times to come to therapy with me, but you won't do that either."

He followed her to the door. "I don't need a therapist."

She stopped and whirled around. "So you've said. But I think you need it more than anyone. You broke our family. I'm just in therapy to help me figure out how to cope with you!"

He grabbed hold of her arm but she roughly shook him off. "Don't you dare touch me, Bruce!"

He blinked at her in shock as she turned and followed me out the front door and down the steps. We walked quickly to the squad car and got in.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she tried to buckle her seatbelt. "Yes. Thank you for coming to get me, Nick."

"It was no problem." I waited until she was buckled in before I backed out. "Do you know where you want to go? Do you have friends or family you'd like to call, besides Lizzie?"

"My family lives in Boston," she replied. "I was thinking I might go to a hotel for tonight."

"You don't have to do that." I glanced in the rearview mirror. Dr. Reynolds was watching us from outside on the covered veranda as we pulled away. "You can stay at my place until Lizzie gets home. Then I'll take you over there."

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the headrest. "Thank you, Nick. That's very kind of you."

As we drove out of Nearville, I glanced at her with concern. "Are you sure you're all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

She lifted her head and looked at me. "No. That's at least one thing I can honestly say: He's never laid a violent hand on me. But I've never felt a hundred percent confident that he wouldn't eventually lose his temper with me." She gazed out the window. "He was pretty angry today, because I didn't back down this time."

I gave her a moment to collect herself. "You can stay at my place as long as you need to, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Thank you, Nick," she said, looking straight ahead, "but I'll be booking a flight this evening to reunite with my son. I don't know what it'll mean for my marriage, but surprisingly, I don't really care. All I want to do is see my son. I've let him down long enough."

CHAPTER 23

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, I arrived home to a telephone message from J.J. which included an invitation for Lizzie and me to join him and his family for the long holiday weekend. It wasn't easy to tell my own mother that we wouldn't be coming to her place after all, but she understood when I explained the situation. Her new husband's family would be there, so she wouldn't be alone. And we promised we'd come for leftovers the day after we returned.

Lizzie and I boarded a plane and flew to what turned out to be an intimate and emotional family gathering with Mrs. Reynolds, who had been staying with her son and Meg since the day after she left. There were tears and laughter, endless conversations about the past and future and, of course, delicious Thanksgiving fare.

Later in the day, while everyone was stretched out on the sofa digesting the meal, I smelled coffee brewing, so I went into the kitchen to find Mrs. Reynolds scrubbing a pot at the sink. She asked if I'd like a cup of coffee.

"I'd love one," I replied.

She withdrew two mugs from the cupboard. "You and Lizzie seem to be getting along well," she said as she poured.

"Better than well," I replied. "I can't imagine what my life would be like right now if I hadn't met her."

Mrs. Reynolds grinned at me. "I'm glad you're happy. She is happy with you too."

"For the most part we are, but I have to be honest, Mrs. Reynolds. I'm having some trouble dealing with the way things have turned out."

She inclined her head. "How so?"

I paused. "I'm a family man. You were like a second mother to me when I was kid. J.J., Wendy and Lizzie were like family to me, too, and it's killing me to think that I might have played a part in the problems between you and your husband. I know I'm not your husband's favorite person in the world, and maybe if it weren't for me, you would never have moved out. It seems that ever since the day I walked through your door, your whole world has been exploding."

"In a good way," Mrs. Reynolds said. "And it's hardly your fault that I've left my husband. That's been building for years."

I nodded. "I just don't want Lizzie to lose her family. She hasn't spoken to her father since the night he and I got into a scuffle in your kitchen."

Mrs. Reynolds sat down at the table. "You know, I thought after she stood up to him and walked out, Bruce might finally see the light and stop being such a hard-liner, but he didn't. He just couldn't."

I swirled the coffee around in my cup. "I'm sorry to hear that, because the main reason I came in here to talk to you was to tell you that..." I paused for a moment and lowered my voice even further. "I know this might seem a bit sudden, but I want to marry Lizzie."

Mrs. Reynolds sat up straighter in her chair. "I haven't proposed or anything. But when that day comes, I'd like to ask both you and your husband for your blessings. I just don't know if I'll ever get that from him. I'll accept it if I have to, but there must be some hope with you. And if Lizzie says yes to becoming my wife, I want her to know that she'll have family with her on her wedding day, that at least you'll be there to help her pick out a dress and someone will be able to walk her down the aisle."

Mrs. Reynolds smiled. "Nick Wallace, if you get down on one knee to propose to my daughter, you can be sure I'll be there for dress fittings and helping her choose flower arrangements and whatever else she needs. I couldn't be happier to hear this, Nick, because I know you're a good man. I've always known it.

"You were like a second son to me. You have my blessing ten times over. How's that?"

I swallowed hard over a dense lump in my throat. "It's pretty darn good, Mrs. Reynolds."

She rose to her feet. "And I think it's time you started calling me Joan," she said with a smile as she held out her arms.

CHAPTER 24

As Christmas approached, I couldn't seem to shake the overwhelming urge to drive past the Reynolds' household.

There was nothing festive. The cottage looked as if no one had lived there in months. The front veranda hadn't been shoveled since the blizzard, but there were fresh tire marks in the snow, which suggested that Dr. Reynolds was still coming and going from the hospital.

I drove by late one night and saw his car parked out front. In an upstairs window, a television cast an eerie, flickering glow.

I drove home, called Lizzie to tell her what I had seen, and suggested we at least send her father a Christmas card.

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "We should. Why don't we pop by tomorrow night? I'll bring some sugar cookies and a present I made for him."

I agreed it was the right thing to do, and I hoped we'd be given a better reception than last time.

Knowing it was rare for Lizzie's father to arrive home from work before 7:00 p.m., we showed up at 8:00. Unfortunately, the house was dark and his car wasn't in the driveway.

"We probably should have called," Lizzie said with disappointment. "But I was afraid he'd tell us not to come. Let's go inside anyway. I still have my keys. We can drop this off in the kitchen and leave the card and my present."

Then I took note of the snow-covered veranda. "Why don't you wait here for a minute while I clear off the steps?"

I returned to the car to grab the shovel out of my trunk and quickly established a path to the front door. She opened the front door and we kicked the snow off our boots before letting ourselves in.

Looking around, I noticed that even with Mrs. Reynolds gone, everything was still tidy and spotless. There wasn't a single dirty dish in the sink or a jacket left draped over the back of a chair.

Lizzie appeared and set the cookies on the counter. "There's no Christmas tree," she said. "No decorations anywhere. Mom always took care of that stuff and made Christmas so beautiful. It seems very sad and lonely."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"I don't know. There's an artificial tree in the attic. That's where all the decorations are. We could set it up."

"How do you think your father would feel about that?"

Lizzie sighed. "I have no idea. He's always been such a mystery to me." She thought about it for a few seconds, then turned to me. "I wonder what Wendy would do in this situation."

"I'm pretty sure she would want us to set up the tree."

"I think so too," Lizzie replied. "Let's get to it then. I'll make us some hot chocolate."

I kissed her on the cheek and asked for directions to the attic.

By 11:00, the tree was set up and decorated in the front parlor.

"It's lovely," Lizzie said, stepping back to admire our work.

"I'm going to take a picture." She went to get her phone out of her purse, returned and snapped a photo. "Maybe I'll send this to Mom."

"The only thing that's missing are gifts under the tree," I said.

"You're right." She lowered her phone to her side. "Just my present. It's kind of sad."

"We could come back tomorrow and bring something," I suggested.

"Yes. Maybe." She checked her watch. "It's late. Dad could be working all night for all we know. We should probably go."

Without another word, we made sure to turn off all the lights in the house, even the ones on the Christmas tree, gathered up our belongings and left.

As we drove home through the brightly lit city, we talked about our plans for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which included dinners with my family. Since it was late, Lizzie agreed to stay over at my place.

We were still discussing options when there was a sudden urgent knock at the door.

CHAPTER 25

"It's your father," I said to Lizzie as I peered out the front window.

Lizzie, dressed in pink silk pajamas, fuzzy slippers and a fleecy red Santa Clause robe, rose up on her tiptoes to look over my shoulder. "Do you think he's angry? Maybe he didn't want a Christmas tree this year."

"I don't know but I think we should answer it."

She agreed and followed me down the stairs.

We opened the door to find Dr. Reynolds standing stiffly in a tailored black overcoat and blood-red scarf.

"Hi, Dad," Lizzie said hesitantly.

"Hello," he replied, his breath visible on the chilly winter air. "I know it's late, but I noticed your lights were on."

I cleared my throat and opened the door wider. "It's no problem. We were up. Would you like to come in?"

Looking distinctly ill at ease, he nodded, stepped inside and followed us up the stairs.

"Can I get you anything, Dr. Reynolds?" I asked. "Coffee? A soda? Scotch?"

He didn't look at me. "A Scotch please, Nick. Thank you."

So far, it was the most civil conversation I'd ever had with the man in my whole life.

"As long as you don't mind the cheap stuff." I went to the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the cupboard over the stove, while Lizzie took her father's coat and scarf and invited him into the living room to sit on the sofa.

I poured Scotch on the rocks for all three of us and carried them in.

"Thanks," Dr. Reynolds said.

"You must have worked late tonight?" Lizzie asked, glancing curiously at the Christmas box he'd set on the coffee table.

"Yes." He took a deep swig of the Scotch. "I came home and saw the cookies, the decorations, the Christmas tree. That was very kind of you two."

I suspected it took a lot for him to cough up those words.

Lizzie tucked her legs up under her. "I hope you didn't mind. I still had a key so I let myself in. Then we thought the house seemed too quiet. It needed a little Christmas spirit."

"It did," he replied, never quite meeting her gaze.

I found myself letting out a slow breath as I leaned back in the leather chair.

"It has definitely been very quiet at the house," he explained, taking another gulp of Scotch and finally setting the glass down on the table. "I still can't believe your mother's gone. Sometimes I come home from the hospital and I imagine that she had come back. I can smell her perfume or I think I smell cookies, but she's never there. It's um..." He paused. "It's been unsettling to say the least. Especially now, at Christmas. She always made everything so special."

I said nothing while Lizzie touched her father's knee. "I'm sorry it turned out this way, Dad. It's not what any of us wanted."

He lifted an eyebrow and looked down at the floor. "Either way, you can't deny I had this coming."

"How do you mean?"

Of course Lizzie knew exactly what her father was referring to, but I understood that she wanted to hear it from him.

Dr. Reynolds twisted his wedding ring around on his finger. "You know I wasn't the easiest father in the world. I demanded a lot. J.J. had it the worst."

"It was hard sometimes," she gently said.

He shut his eyes, cupped his forehead in a hand and shook his head. "I know. I've been talking to someone," he admitted. "Your mother was after me to do that for years and... Well, after she left..."

"Do you mean a therapist?" Lizzie asked.

He nodded. "I'm starting to realize that I've needed structure and rules in the house because I want to avoid the sort of conditions I grew up in. It was basically pure chaos."

Lizzie and I remained quiet and her father continued. "There were days when my father used to come home drunk, take one look around at the mess and the noise with a wife and six kids all living in a rundown shack, and he'd fly into a rage. My poor mother couldn't keep up with all the housework and we did our best to help out, but it was never enough."

He picked up his drink and held it in his hands.

"You didn't want to be like him," Lizzie said. "That's why you set all those rules, so that you would never come home to chaos."

Dr. Reynolds swallowed hard. "But I was like him... at least with J.J.. What was I thinking? To believe you can avoid chaos where children are concerned, and Lord knows, J.J. was a handful. He was always strong willed, even as a toddler. He constantly tried to push me and test me. For a long time I thought he was put here on this earth just to bring me down. The harder I'd fight against it, try to keep things in order, the more like my father I became." He gritted his teeth and took another swig of Scotch.