Little Christmas Miracles. Barbara Hannay

I had nine years to make it right and never did. I was too afraid to cross him.” The tears spilled down her cheeks now as she said, “And after he died, I was too distraught and depressed to make the move. I thought I had more time…”

      Richard reached out and took her hands in his, rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumb. Her skin was soft and firm, and he realized as he looked at her just how lovely a woman she was. Elizabeth Anderson had once been in the Dallas social scene, a benefactor, an organizer, a supporter of the arts. She had a closet full of designer gowns and suits for the variety of functions she’d attended and chaired. But in the last eighteen months she’d spent most of her time right here in this room. Had he done enough to help her through her hard time?

      He could certainly help now.

      “You know, Mom, the incident had nothing to do with you.” Funny, he thought, how they referred to it—“the incident.” As if giving it a generic name made it more ephemeral, less real. But the day Susan walked out couldn’t have been more real. He remembered it as if it were yesterday, though it was almost a decade ago. It was the day everything changed.

      Susan and their father, James, had always butted heads. He was an autocrat and Susan a free spirit—a doomed combination. When James laid down a law, he expected it enacted, but his sister had a hard time conforming; she was confident and eager and resented her father’s strict hand. But that didn’t deter James. He tried to control everything: her clothes, her friends, her studies. But the day he’d tried to control her heart was the end. He’d found out she was seeing a young man behind his back, a young man from a working-class family who was studying to become a teacher. Kevin Astin was far from the rich, privileged, connected man James had wanted for Susan. He gave her an ultimatum: ditch him or get out.

      Susan opted for the latter. In an hour she’d packed her bags and left Highland Park for good. In nine years she hadn’t ever been back.

      She moved to Florida with Kevin, whom she married almost immediately. And a year later they had Toby. The nephew Richard had never seen until yesterday.

      In the intervening years he’d spoken to Susan twice, and his mother never, both fearful of James Anderson’s wrath. Not that he’d ever been physical with them; but his disapproval took other forms, equally distasteful. Somehow it had just seemed easier to agree with him, or at least conform to him.

      Richard realized he was equally to blame. Nothing, no one, should have kept him from his sister, kept Elizabeth from her daughter. But there was nothing either of them could do now, except pray for forgiveness. And care for Toby.

      He told his mother all that, and she listened to him. After a while her tears stopped, her sobs turned into steady, even breathing. She held his hand and almost mystically he could feel her pain exiting. He knew nothing could ever erase the agony she’d suffered, but Elizabeth was on the way to recovery.

      They talked about Susan, about what they remembered, about what they’d heard of her recent life at the funeral. Richard realized this felt more like a funeral than what they’d endured in Florida. This was a memorial to Susan Anderson Astin, who would live forever in their hearts, where she belonged.

      Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Richard. But I do know what I intend to do.” She stood up and looked around. “I intend to get out of the prison I’ve made of this room and start living again. The way Susan would want me to. And I intend to care for her son.”

      “That’s the Elizabeth Anderson I know.” Richard hugged her and she held him tight, conveying her gratitude in the maternal embrace.

      “Now, Mom, I have to get to the office. I’ll try my best to get home in time for dinner.” For the first time in over a year, when he closed her bedroom door he knew his mother would be okay.

      And so would he.

      He walked back downstairs to the kitchen, where their cook, Delores, ruled. Now nearing fifty, the Mexican-American woman had worked for the Andersons for decades, as had her husband, Albert.

      “Delores, I’m going to the office for a couple of hours. If the nurse or the child needs anything, please take care of them.”

      “Yes, sir, Richard.”

      Richard’s law firm was located downtown, very close to their neighborhood, Highland Park, an exclusive area. It only took a few minutes to reach the parking garage connected to the building where the law firm had offices.

      As expected, he found a pile of messages and mail on his desk that his secretary had sorted and opened for him. After dealing with those matters, he asked his secretary to gather the partners in his office for a quick briefing. Then there was a list of phone calls to be returned. By the time he’d finished half the calls, he put aside the rest of them for the morning and packed up to go home.

      He’d probably already missed dinner. Normally he made it home for dinner at least three nights a week, or else his mother ate her meal upstairs in her suite.

      Tonight, when he got home, he found the dinner table set for four. “No one’s eaten yet?” he asked Delores as he came in.

      “Your mother requested we wait for you.”

      “The boy didn’t get too hungry?”

      “No, sir. I gave Toby and Molly a snack about five.”

      “Thanks, Delores. Please call them down to dinner.”

      He carried his briefcase to his office, stepped into the connecting bath and washed his hands. Then he came back to the dining room.

      Molly and Toby were standing there, seemingly unsure of where they should sit.

      “Good evening. I hope your afternoon was relaxing?”

      Molly nudged the boy. He said, “Yes, sir.”

      “Good, Toby. And you, Molly? Did you have a pleasant afternoon?” He was determined to show no prejudice to her.

      “Yes, I did, Richard, thank you. We’re all unpacked and we’ve familiarized ourselves with the house and your staff. They’re all very nice.”

      “Yes, we’re most fortunate,” Richard said with a smile. “But it doesn’t sound like your afternoon was very restful.”

      Molly raised her gaze to his. “Neither of us needed rest. Toby was curious about his new home. Albert even gave us a tour of the backyard after we unpacked.”

      “Weren’t you cold? I noticed you didn’t wear a coat on the trip.”

      “No, neither of us has a coat because it didn’t get that cold in Florida. But Albert promised to drive us to a store to buy coats tomorrow.”

      “Good. I’ll be glad to pay for them.”

      “If you insist, you can pay for Toby’s. I’ll pay for mine.”

      Richard frowned. He wasn’t used to such resistance.

      “Richard?” His mother stood at the door of the dining room.

      He crossed over to take her hand and lead her to the table after kissing her cheek. “Hello, Mother. It was kind of you to wait for me to get home.”

      “I wanted our first meal to be a family one,” Elizabeth Anderson said.

      “Then let’s all sit down,” he suggested. He showed his mother to the seat at the head of the table. He indicated Toby and Molly should take the two seats to her left. As they did so, he sat in the chair to his mother’s right.

      Once they were seated, Elizabeth rang the small bell sitting beside her plate. Almost immediately, the kitchen door opened and Louisa entered with a tray. She carefully set a bowl of soup in front of each of them.

      Toby leaned over to Molly and whispered, “What is this?”

      Richard, hiding a grin, said, “It’s broccoli cheese soup, Toby, one of my mother’s favorites.” He was feeling relieved that