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I feel like an idiot.
I’m standing here staring at Bear’s fireplace, where there are two stockings. One marked “Bear,” and the other one, a big, fluffy, cable knit pink one with sequin trim, says “Martha.” It’s drooping with the weight of presents inside of it.
It’s too big to be for a little girl, isn’t it?
And surely he would have told me if he had a daughter.
Then it occurs to me he’s told me very little about himself.
Could he be…married?
Oh sweet baby Jesus, no.
My hand goes to my mouth. It can’t be true. Not after all that talk last night of spending our lives together. It makes no sense.
But the nervous part of my brain reminds me that I’m not all that great at dating. I might not be very good at catching a liar.
Him being married explains why he was so hesitant to talk about hi
s love life last night.
It explains why I know so little about him.
If he’s married, that means I’ve done it on the bed of another woman. It means I’ve showered in her shower, dressed myself in her man’s boxers and oversized flannel shirt. One she probably folded herself. I’m holding a huge Santa Claus mug of her coffee.
Whoever Martha is, I’ve done her wrong.
And I realize I couldn’t know, but I didn’t really probe him for facts about his personal life, did I? I accepted it at face value when he said he wasn’t married. I didn’t bother with any follow up, did I? No, I’m as much to blame as he is.
I want to run, I want to duck out of there and never see him again.
But my car, obviously, is still stuck somewhere along the highway. I peek outside. The storm has abated but the roads are still impassable.
I text Jenna: I’m in a bit of a pickle. I can’t be sure but I’m starting to wonder if he’s married. I’m sure he’s not, but I need to find out for sure. And I’m stuck at his house. I’m going to see if there are any other trucks in town that can pull my car out. Or if any cabs are running. Quite a Christmas morning I’m having. Merry Christmas, by the way.
The reply comes seconds later: Merry Christmas! Turn on the news!
I find it odd that she had no response to my new suspicions about Bear, but I turn on the news anyway because, well, she’s not just my friend but also still my boss.
I turn on the TV and find Channel 2.
The first thing I see is a shot of my car being pulled out of the snow drift along the highway. And the truck that’s pulling it out is none other than Bear Bailey’s Snow Angel.
The shot cuts to Jenna, who is holding a microphone and standing next to Bear.
“Jenna! What the hell are you doing on TV?” I shout, even though I’m the only one in the room.
The news editor has not worked in front of a camera in about ten years, but she’s still got it. This must be on a time delay or there is no way she would have been texting me a minute ago.
Jenna is speaking into the camera while Bear is looking a bit perplexed and embarrassed. “I’m here with Bear Bailey of Bear Bailey towing, who I’m told spent his entire Christmas Eve night during the weather event rescuing stranded drivers all over the city. Bear, tell us why you decided to do this.”
She shoves the mic in Bear’s face. He raises his eyebrows as if he hadn’t anticipated having to speak on camera. He smiles crookedly and I see the cute little dimple and the sweet, slightly crooked front tooth. He shrugs and his cheeks are flushed. “It’s Christmas, and it’s just something you do.”
And then I know the truth He’s not married. He’s not a liar. And I didn’t wrong anyone. Those eyes, even through the TV, reveal nothing but a pure heart. Martha is somebody, but it’s not a wife or girlfriend.
Jenna then asks him a few more questions, they show some more footage, and they even cut to a bedside interview with Liz holding her baby at the hospital. There are about half a dozen people singing Bear’s praises.
My heart explodes. I’m so proud to know this man.
