Author's Note: This story takes place at Christmas 2004, and it tells of Jack's return to his family after captivity. The initial story is told in
three parts---through the eyes of Abigail, Jack, then Jennifer. There's an epilogue that follows, and then the story shifts to the followup, now called New
Day.
Christmas Miracle - Abigail
Abigail Deveraux sat on the edge of her bed, tears streaming from her eyes as she shook with silent sobs. Across the room, hanging on her closet door, was a white dress, trimmed with white fur, and a circle of tinsel was set on the doorknob. Through her tears, Abby looked at that dress and hated it. She hated everyone and everything. It was Christmas Eve, and her daddy was gone…again.
Last Christmas had been the hardest of her life. Her dad's death had thrown her life into turmoil, and it was only the announcement of her mom's pregnancy, one final gift to them from her father, that had given Abby any hope at all in her life. Then came the events of the past year, which culminated with the stunning knowledge that her dad had been alive all that time. For an all-to-brief, dazzling moment, Abby had known happiness again, only to have it brutally stolen from her when she discovered that her dad had not survived the final rescue effort. Only the birth of her baby brother gave Abby any joy at all.
Baby Jack was the only thing holding Abby together anymore. She didn't care about school or her grades, she didn't care about her friends, and she didn't even care about her mother. She just wanted her daddy. And if she couldn't ever have him again, she was going to hold tightly to his baby to love and care for, no matter what her mother said or did. Abby didn't care one bit; nothing mattered except the last spirit of her dad, alive and well in her little brother.
Her baby brother. Abby swiped a hand across her streaming eyes and thought about him. He was so little and so blissfully unaware. He was too little to know the awful pain that she now knew so well. And, what was worse, he would never know the daddy who had loved them so much. Abby would tell him, of course, all about their daddy. How loving and sensitive and funny and exasperating he was. How sweet and silly. She would tell Little Jack all the stories she was now writing down about their dad, in a desperate attempt to keep him alive in their hearts. She would look after her little brother, just as she knew her dad would have wanted. The one thing missing from Abby's equation was her mom. Abby was so distressed over the events of the previous months that she could barely even look at her mother, let alone talk to her. Try as she might, she could not get past the knowledge that her mother had chosen to spend those precious missing months with her dad without telling her anything. And now it was too late. Her mom had tried to explain, but Abby wouldn't hear it. It was too late. Her daddy was gone, and the only chance she might have had to capture those last sweet memories was gone with him. As far as Abby was concerned, her mother could beg and plead all she wanted, but she'd never achieve forgiveness.
They had had words, she and her mother. Jennifer had expected that Abby would be coming to Christmas Eve service with her and Baby Jack, but Abby had belligerently refused. The only one Abby was more angry with than her mother, was God. She had prayed so hard for so long, and God had not heard her. And now, by some cruel joke, her father had been alive and had been kept from her. She had lost him all over again. No, she would not set foot in God's house this year, or ever again. Abby replayed her final argument with her mother in her head, as the sobs slowly began to diminish.
"Abby, Sweetie, are you ready to go?" Jennifer had called from outside in the hall. "We can't be late this year." Abby had flung open the door to find her mom juggling the baby in her arms as he squirmed. She had felt a spurt of meanness as her mother had looked at her in shock. "You're not even dressed yet," Jennifer had said, stunned.
"I told you," Abby had said in a cool voice. "I'm not going." Her eyes flashed at her mother in defiance.
Jennifer shook her head as if she weren't hearing correctly. "What do you mean, you're not going? This isn't open for discussion. We are expected. You know how important this evening is." Normally, Christmas Eve alone would have been enough to bring the Deverauxs to church, but this year it was imperative. The church's annual Christmas Eve tradition was to have a family with a newborn child act out a living Nativity to the final strains of "Silent Night." Despite the pain and sorrow in her family's life, Jennifer had accepted the offer on behalf of their family. She was to play the part of Mary, and Little Jack would represent the Christ Child. Everyone in the parish knew the circumstances of the Deveraux family, and rather than have a stand-in for Joseph, it was quietly decided that the part would remain unfilled. Even Abby was given a role to play; her angel dress and halo were hanging in her room, waiting for the evening's worship service.
"I'm not going," Abby had insisted, in that same frozen tone. "You can't make me, anyway." She relished the additional look of shock in her mother's eyes at that unveiled threat.
"Abigail, get dressed," Jennifer had demanded, trying to quiet the wiggly baby and her own frantic heartbeat, as well.
"NO!"
In the end, Abby had won the round, as Jennifer, in desperation, scooped up Little Jack and told her daughter that she had to leave. "I'll send someone back for you," Jennifer had promised, her heart torn between sorrow and anger. "I don't know who----Uncle Mickey, maybe----but I'll send someone for you." And Jennifer had gone, with Little Jack still putting up his own fuss about it.
Abby was now reduced to quiet sniffles, but she wasn't any less heartbroken over the turn of events in her life. Somewhere in her, she would have liked to been a part of the evening's event; she would have looked pretty in that lovely white dress, and she would have reached a loving hand out over her baby brother, as an angel might do. But it was out of the question. She could not go into that church and march down the aisle, while people sang joyous Christmas carols, knowing that her father's place with them would be vacant. More tears slipped from her eyes as she missed her father with an overwhelming ache of loneliness. Abby took her eyes off the beautiful dress and then, as though by a will not her own, she looked at it again and decided to put it on, just this one time.
Silently, with tears still streaming, she changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt and into the exquisite dress. Reaching behind to tie the sash, she brought her hands back around front and smoothed the shimmering skirt. Moving sideways a few steps, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Then, she leaned forward and removed the halo from its perch, placing it, instead, on top of her lightened hair. She studied herself in the mirror, with a frown. Some angel, she thought, as another tear or two slipped out of her reddened eyes. Her hair was a mess, her face looked awful. Abby thought she looked as ugly as she felt. It certainly was a good thing she had decided to stay home. At that moment, Abby doubted she would ever leave her room again.
From somewhere through the house, Abby heard a sound. At first it was faint, but pronounced enough to grab her attention. It sounded as if there were someone moving about downstairs. Had her mother returned to continue their battle? Had she lived up to her words and someone was here to try and retrieve her? Abby remembered her mother's parting promise that she would send someone for her.
We'll just see about that, thought Abby in a burst of anger. Forgetting the angel dress she was wearing, Abby marched with determination out of her room and down the stairs to tell her mother's designated escort that she had no intention at all of joining them for this or any other event. As she took the last step, Abby looked into the living room and opened her mouth to let loose her tirade. Except that as her eyes connected with those of the stranger in the living room, her voice was suddenly silenced. Abby stared hard. She blinked. And then she let out a moan, as the tears began to course again…
...to be continued...
Next time: The story continues, through Jack's eyes.
Christmas Miracle - Abigail
Abigail Deveraux sat on the edge of her bed, tears streaming from her eyes as she shook with silent sobs. Across the room, hanging on her closet door, was a white dress, trimmed with white fur, and a circle of tinsel was set on the doorknob. Through her tears, Abby looked at that dress and hated it. She hated everyone and everything. It was Christmas Eve, and her daddy was gone…again.
Last Christmas had been the hardest of her life. Her dad's death had thrown her life into turmoil, and it was only the announcement of her mom's pregnancy, one final gift to them from her father, that had given Abby any hope at all in her life. Then came the events of the past year, which culminated with the stunning knowledge that her dad had been alive all that time. For an all-to-brief, dazzling moment, Abby had known happiness again, only to have it brutally stolen from her when she discovered that her dad had not survived the final rescue effort. Only the birth of her baby brother gave Abby any joy at all.
Baby Jack was the only thing holding Abby together anymore. She didn't care about school or her grades, she didn't care about her friends, and she didn't even care about her mother. She just wanted her daddy. And if she couldn't ever have him again, she was going to hold tightly to his baby to love and care for, no matter what her mother said or did. Abby didn't care one bit; nothing mattered except the last spirit of her dad, alive and well in her little brother.
Her baby brother. Abby swiped a hand across her streaming eyes and thought about him. He was so little and so blissfully unaware. He was too little to know the awful pain that she now knew so well. And, what was worse, he would never know the daddy who had loved them so much. Abby would tell him, of course, all about their daddy. How loving and sensitive and funny and exasperating he was. How sweet and silly. She would tell Little Jack all the stories she was now writing down about their dad, in a desperate attempt to keep him alive in their hearts. She would look after her little brother, just as she knew her dad would have wanted. The one thing missing from Abby's equation was her mom. Abby was so distressed over the events of the previous months that she could barely even look at her mother, let alone talk to her. Try as she might, she could not get past the knowledge that her mother had chosen to spend those precious missing months with her dad without telling her anything. And now it was too late. Her mom had tried to explain, but Abby wouldn't hear it. It was too late. Her daddy was gone, and the only chance she might have had to capture those last sweet memories was gone with him. As far as Abby was concerned, her mother could beg and plead all she wanted, but she'd never achieve forgiveness.
They had had words, she and her mother. Jennifer had expected that Abby would be coming to Christmas Eve service with her and Baby Jack, but Abby had belligerently refused. The only one Abby was more angry with than her mother, was God. She had prayed so hard for so long, and God had not heard her. And now, by some cruel joke, her father had been alive and had been kept from her. She had lost him all over again. No, she would not set foot in God's house this year, or ever again. Abby replayed her final argument with her mother in her head, as the sobs slowly began to diminish.
"Abby, Sweetie, are you ready to go?" Jennifer had called from outside in the hall. "We can't be late this year." Abby had flung open the door to find her mom juggling the baby in her arms as he squirmed. She had felt a spurt of meanness as her mother had looked at her in shock. "You're not even dressed yet," Jennifer had said, stunned.
"I told you," Abby had said in a cool voice. "I'm not going." Her eyes flashed at her mother in defiance.
Jennifer shook her head as if she weren't hearing correctly. "What do you mean, you're not going? This isn't open for discussion. We are expected. You know how important this evening is." Normally, Christmas Eve alone would have been enough to bring the Deverauxs to church, but this year it was imperative. The church's annual Christmas Eve tradition was to have a family with a newborn child act out a living Nativity to the final strains of "Silent Night." Despite the pain and sorrow in her family's life, Jennifer had accepted the offer on behalf of their family. She was to play the part of Mary, and Little Jack would represent the Christ Child. Everyone in the parish knew the circumstances of the Deveraux family, and rather than have a stand-in for Joseph, it was quietly decided that the part would remain unfilled. Even Abby was given a role to play; her angel dress and halo were hanging in her room, waiting for the evening's worship service.
"I'm not going," Abby had insisted, in that same frozen tone. "You can't make me, anyway." She relished the additional look of shock in her mother's eyes at that unveiled threat.
"Abigail, get dressed," Jennifer had demanded, trying to quiet the wiggly baby and her own frantic heartbeat, as well.
"NO!"
In the end, Abby had won the round, as Jennifer, in desperation, scooped up Little Jack and told her daughter that she had to leave. "I'll send someone back for you," Jennifer had promised, her heart torn between sorrow and anger. "I don't know who----Uncle Mickey, maybe----but I'll send someone for you." And Jennifer had gone, with Little Jack still putting up his own fuss about it.
Abby was now reduced to quiet sniffles, but she wasn't any less heartbroken over the turn of events in her life. Somewhere in her, she would have liked to been a part of the evening's event; she would have looked pretty in that lovely white dress, and she would have reached a loving hand out over her baby brother, as an angel might do. But it was out of the question. She could not go into that church and march down the aisle, while people sang joyous Christmas carols, knowing that her father's place with them would be vacant. More tears slipped from her eyes as she missed her father with an overwhelming ache of loneliness. Abby took her eyes off the beautiful dress and then, as though by a will not her own, she looked at it again and decided to put it on, just this one time.
Silently, with tears still streaming, she changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt and into the exquisite dress. Reaching behind to tie the sash, she brought her hands back around front and smoothed the shimmering skirt. Moving sideways a few steps, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Then, she leaned forward and removed the halo from its perch, placing it, instead, on top of her lightened hair. She studied herself in the mirror, with a frown. Some angel, she thought, as another tear or two slipped out of her reddened eyes. Her hair was a mess, her face looked awful. Abby thought she looked as ugly as she felt. It certainly was a good thing she had decided to stay home. At that moment, Abby doubted she would ever leave her room again.
From somewhere through the house, Abby heard a sound. At first it was faint, but pronounced enough to grab her attention. It sounded as if there were someone moving about downstairs. Had her mother returned to continue their battle? Had she lived up to her words and someone was here to try and retrieve her? Abby remembered her mother's parting promise that she would send someone for her.
We'll just see about that, thought Abby in a burst of anger. Forgetting the angel dress she was wearing, Abby marched with determination out of her room and down the stairs to tell her mother's designated escort that she had no intention at all of joining them for this or any other event. As she took the last step, Abby looked into the living room and opened her mouth to let loose her tirade. Except that as her eyes connected with those of the stranger in the living room, her voice was suddenly silenced. Abby stared hard. She blinked. And then she let out a moan, as the tears began to course again…
...to be continued...
Next time: The story continues, through Jack's eyes.


