My Christmas Valentine

Miracles

♥ Megan ♥

The supermarket car park was almost as busy as my bakery. Trolleys rattled, people hurried past with lists in their hands, and a row of plastic reindeer stood near the entrance with tinsel around their necks. I pulled my scarf tighter and waited for Amy to lock her car.

“I warned you,” she said as she dropped her keys into her bag. “Shopping this close to Christmas is a full contact sport,”

“I survive December in a bakery,” I said. “I can handle a few trolleys,” Amy laughed while she hooked her arm through mine.

“Come on, then. Let us find food for an army,” she remarked as we headed inside. Once inside, warm air and Christmas music hit us at the same time. A huge cardboard display of chocolates greeted us, with a sign that promised festive savings. Children pointed at it with wide eyes while tired parents tried to steer them away. I grabbed a trolley and handed it to Amy.

“You have the list,” I said. “You drive,” she pulled a folded page from her bag and studied it, her brow furrowing in that familiar way.

“Ok,” she said. “We need everything for Caleb’s parents on Christmas Eve, my parents on Christmas Day, and then whatever you and Shane want for your quiet day,”

“I can handle our part,” I said. “You focus on the families. Shane will eat anything that is not nailed down,” Amy chuckled.

“Caleb too,” she said. “At least we know the food will not go to waste,” we started in the fresh produce aisle. I reached for bags of carrots while Amy picked out potatoes, checking each one like it had personally offended her. The trolley slowly filled with vegetables, herbs, and lemons. “How are you holding up?” she asked as we moved on. “Bakery still standing?”

“Barely,” I said, but I smiled. “We are busy, but it is good busy. People keep ordering the same peppermint brownies. I think half of Rockland is addicted,”

“They are,” she said. “Caleb asked if you could keep a tray aside for him on Christmas Eve,”

“I will hide one in the back,” I said. “You can tell him he has an unofficial brownie tab,” we reached the meat section next. Amy stared at the rows of turkeys and roasts, then looked back at her list. “Do you want turkey or something else?” I asked.

“My parents want turkey,” she said. “Caleb’s mother asked for a gammon. I want a nap,”

“We will build you a throne in the middle of the living room,” I said. “You can rule from there while everyone eats,” she huffed out a laugh but didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tightened on the trolley handle. “Are you ok?” I asked with concern. She nodded, then shook her head.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Just…give me a minute. I am trying to pick a turkey and a moment,”

“That sounds ominous,” I said. She took a breath, then looked at me with eyes that suddenly shone a little too bright.

“Megan,” she said quietly. “I need to tell you something, and if I don’t do it now, I might burst,” her tone was a mixture of dread, nerves, and excitement. My mind suddenly raced through different possibilities. Bad news, good news, something in between.

“Tell me,” I said, my voice soft. She glanced around, then pushed the trolley a little closer to the side so people could pass.

“I am pregnant,” she said. For a second, the word didn’t register. And then it did, and everything in me seemed to light up at once.

“Amy,” I said. “Are you serious?” she nodded, lips trembling into a smile.

“We had the test, then the scan. The doctor said it is early, but everything looks ok so far. I have been walking around with this secret, and it felt like it was going to spill out in the queue for tomatoes,” I covered my mouth with my hand, then dropped it and hugged her instead, careful of the trolley between us. She clung to me, and for a few seconds, the supermarket faded into background noise.

“That is amazing,” I said into her hair. “I am so happy for you!” when we pulled back, her eyes shone.

“I am happy too,” she said. “And terrified. And tired. And hungry. Sometimes all at once,”

“That sounds normal,” I said. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Caleb, obviously,” she said. “And our parents. I know Caleb told Shane…I was going to wait until we had lunch with the girls next week and with a cake…but I had to tell you,”

“Pregnancy news in the turkey aisle works for me,” I said. “There will still be cake. I will handle that,” she laughed, then pressed a hand lightly to her stomach, almost without thinking. “How far along are you?” I asked.

“About eight weeks,” she said. “That is why I look like I ate one extra cookie, not like I am carrying a whole person. But I feel it. My body feels different. The smell of some things makes me want to lie down on the floor,”

“Tell me what smells to avoid,” I said. “I will keep them out of the bakery when you visit,” she smiled, then wiped at her eyes.

“Caleb cried when he saw the scan,” she said. “He pretended he didn’t, but he did. He keeps touching my shoulder like I am made of glass,”

“That sounds like him, too,” I said. My chest felt full. “You are going to be amazing parents,”

“I hope so,” she said. We finally chose a turkey and a gammon, added them to the trolley, and moved on. As we walked, we slipped into easier conversation, the kind that drifted between jokes and plans. She talked about baby names, half serious and half teasing. I promised to veto anything that sounded like a dessert. She asked about Shane, about his mysterious New Year plan. I told her he was up to something, but I didn’t know what. By the time we reached the baking aisle, the trolley looked like it belonged to someone stocking an entire village. Flour, sugar, tins of tomatoes, boxes of crackers, and packets of spices. Amy stared at the shelves with a kind of focused panic.

“Do you need help with dessert?” I asked. “Or are you going to pretend you don’t know a baker?”

“I am absolutely going to bribe a baker,” she said. “I want to enjoy Christmas this year, not spend the whole day trying not to burn pudding,”

“Consider it done,” I said. “Part of my present to you. I will handle dessert. You handle not fainting in the gravy,” we both laughed. At the tills, the queues stretched back into the aisles. We joined one and inched forward slowly, the trolley wheels turning with small squeaks. Amy checked her list again, ticking items off with a pen. I let my gaze wander over the people around us. Families, couples, people on their own with small baskets. A teenager in a Santa hat. An older man arguing with a self-checkout machine. It felt like the whole town had decided to shop at the same time. And then I saw him.

Brendan Hank.

He stood a few metres away near the row of trolleys, one hand on the metal bar, the other holding his car key. Dark coat, familiar shoulders, the same way his hair fell across his forehead when he didn’t bother to push it back. For a moment, my brain refused to catch up with my eyes. It had been over a year. He should have been in another city, another life. Brendan looked up. His gaze met mine. The world didn’t tilt, but my stomach did.

“Megan?” he said. The sound of my name in his voice dragged the past straight into the present.

♥ ♥ ♥