Kathleen Creighton - One Christmas Knight

“It’s okay,” she chirped. “You can go on in. She’s been waiting for you.”

He nodded his head, took a big breath, and tapped on the door. A voice-like Mirabella’s, and yet not quite hers-said breathlessly, “Yes-come in!”

The wide hospital-room door swung open and a woman he didn’t know stood there beaming at him. She had shiny brown hair cut short but in a way that nicely suited her features, and greenish-blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. And although the two didn’t have one single feature in common that he could see, he knew this woman was Mirabella’s mother. In some strange way he couldn’t put a finger on, she just reminded him of her.

In a hushed and excited voice, like someone trying not to wake a sleeper, she said, “Hello-you must be Jimmy Joe. The front desk phoned to let us know you were on your way. Oh, I’m just so happy to meet you. Bella,” she called softly over her shoulder toward a partly drawn curtain, “you have a visitor.” And then back to Jimmy Joe again, taking his hand and towing him inside. “Please, come in. I’m Ginger, by the way-Bella’s mom.”

“Ma’am,” Jimmy Joe mumbled politely. As the door whisked shut behind him it occurred to him that he’d never felt so awkward in his life, or more conscious of the quarterinch of stubble he was wearing on his face. Why hadn’t he thought to bring something-flowers, maybe, or a baby gift?

And then Ginger was pulling back the curtain, and there she was. And he suddenly remembered how he’d thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life before. And forgot he’d ever held her naked body in his arms, massaged her feet or whispered love words into her sweat-damp hair. It was all he could do to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth long enough to mutter, “Hey, there, Marybell, how’re you doin’?”

“Man, that is a sight for sore eyes. ”

I-40-Texas

“Other than the fact that my insides feel like jelly, I’m fine,” snapped Mirabella, and she could just see her mother’s eyebrows arching at the way she sounded, so brusque and cranky. So typically Mirabella.

She didn’t mean it, of course; she almost never did. No one knew that sometimes it was simply the only way she could get a word out without her voice shaking, or how important it was to her pride and self-esteem that she always appear calm and completely in control.

Even more so now, considering the state of near panic she’d been in the last time she’d seen Jimmy Joe. And considering that not ten minutes ago she’d been in a similar state just because she couldn’t shower and wash her hair.

“What am I going to do? I look like hell!” she’d hissed in a burst of tearful hysteria that was completely foreign-and consequently utterly bewildering to her. “Mom-quick-let me have your brush! Do you have any lipstick? Oh, no…I’ve lost my hair thingy. I look like a wet cat. Oh, God, I can’t let him see me like this!”

“Bella,” her mother had said, laughing in amazement, “since when do you care? Besides,” she’d added dryly, “I imagine the man has just seen you looking a lot worse.”

“That was different,” Mirabella had snapped, feeling free to behave like an unreasonable and obstinate child as long as there was no one but her mother to witness it.

It was only now, looking up at Jimmy Joe’s face, that she knew how right she’d been. It was different. Unavoidably and inevitably, everything had changed.

He hadn’t, of course; he still looked like a young Robert Redford-an unshaven one, to be sure-lean and blond, dimpled and adorable. His eyes were just as kind and his smile every bit as sweet as she remembered. It wasn’t he who had changed, she realized; or her, either, for that matter. What was so different was the way things were between them.

They were like…strangers. It was hard even to remember now, the closeness, the incredible bond they’d shared. She hadn’t imagined it-she knew she’d been pretty much out of it for a lot of the time, but she wasn’t wrong about that. It had been real. Never in her life before had she known, or even imagined she could know, such a sense of oneness with another human being. It was as if she’d found a part of herself she hadn’t even realized was missing. But now the piece was lost once more, and how would she ever again be able to delude herself into believing she was whole?

They were like strangers, but worse than that-strangers with memories in common of time spent together in abnormal intimacy, both physical and emotional; of things said that could not be unsaid; of secrets revealed that would never be forgotten. It was only natural that there should be awkwardness between them, Mirabella told herself sadly. She should have expected it.

What she couldn’t have expected was that it would hurt so much. She ached inside in places that didn’t have anything to do with having just given birth to a child. She ached as though her heart had been torn in two.

“What’s all this?” he asked with a frown, waving a hand at the plastic bag dangling above the head of her bed, at the tube leading from it to a needle stuck into the back of her hand and held in place with a crisscross of white tape.

She glanced down at it and dismissed it with a shrug. “Nothing-some fluids and antibiotics. I guess I was a little bit dehydrated. The antibiotics are just as a precaution.”

“Where’s the baby? She doin’ okay?”

Mirabella smiled; it had become a reflex, automatically triggered by any mention of her daughter. “Amy’s fine. They’ve got her in the nursery, doing all the tests they usually do on newborns. But yeah…she’s fine. Weighs five pounds six ounces. In another month, she’d a’been a chunky little seven-pounder.”

“Like her mother,” Ginger added, smiling smugly. “All my babies were seven pounds plus.”

“Well,” said Jimmy Joe. “I sure am glad to hear that.” He shifted and cleared his throat, looking even more uncomfortable, if that was possible, rubbing at the back of his neck in that embarrassed way he had. “Uh…hey, listen, I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything. I meant to get you some flowers, but…”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Mirabella murmured, feeling her face grow warm. God, how awkward this was. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Then for a moment there was silence, as both of them struggled to find something else to say. She felt as if she was suffocating.

“They say how long they’re gonna keep you here?”

She lifted the hand with the needle in it. “I don’t know. I guess until this is done. I think they might want to keep Amy overnight, just to be on the safe side. I don’t know what I’m going to do, though. I mean-”

Her mother interrupted with, “Now, honey, I told you not to worry about that.”

“Mom flew in this morning,” Mirabella explained. “So I guess Amy and I’ll just go back with her, as soon as the doctors say it’s all right. But I don’t know what I’m going to do about my car…all the Christmas presents… Everything’s still out there in that damn snowbank.” She gave a strangled gurgle of laughter; she was damned if she was going to shed another tear-not while he was here.

Jimmy Joe was rubbing his neck again, looking ashamed of himself the way he always did, she was beginning to realize, when he’d done something to be particularly proud of. “Don’t need to be worrying about that. Got it all taken care of.” He lapsed into hopeful silence. When he saw he was going to have to do a little more explaining, he coughed and looked pained.

“You maybe don’t remember it, but the fella helped us out on the radio last night? Guy’s name is Riggs. Anyway, he said he had a service station. I figured I’d stop in, you know, just to say thank-you to him for everything he did. Turns out he’s got a nice little garage out there on old 66 just west of Vega-has a wrecker, too. Anyway, I gave him your keys and told him to go pick up your car, soon’s the road clears up some more. He’ll keep it for you until you can get back here for it, no problem.” He patted his pockets, reached into one and pulled out a business card, which he handed to her with another of those embarrassed little coughs of his. “So-you can just give him a call when you feel like it. It’s all taken care of.”

Mirabella usually hated it when people-men especially-tried to take charge of her life. But instead of feeling resentful, she felt a curious melting sensation inside. Fighting against an urge to weep and sniffle, “Oh, Jimmy Joe…” like a swooning belle, instead she scowled fiercely and demanded, “What about all my stuff? All my Christmas presents are in the trunk of my car.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bella!” her mother exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You and that new granddaughter are all the Christmas presents your dad and I need! What is the matter with you?”

It was a question people asked her a lot, for some reason. But now it brought her even more dangerously close to tears. What was the matter with her? She should be just about the happiest woman in the world. She’d just had a baby; a beautiful, healthy baby, the baby she’d always wanted-she’d already convinced herself she’d really wanted a girl all along. So why was she still wishing for something she didn’t have? Especially when it was something she’d come to terms with long ago.

Thoroughly ashamed of herself now, she made a gallant effort to brighten up, although faking cheeriness wasn’t something she excelled at. “Thanks… ‘Preciate it,” she said grudgingly, and felt her heart bump when Jimmy Joe grinned at her use of the favorite truckers’ acknowledgment, as if it was a private joke they’d shared.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself up on the pillows. “You going to see Amy before you leave?”

His smile grew tender. “Sure am. Yeah…thought I’d stop by on the way out.”