My husband left on an “urgent” business trip just two days before Christmas. When I learned he had lied and was actually at a nearby hotel, I drove there. But when I burst into that hotel room, I froze in tears. The face looking back at me shattered my heart and turned my world upside down.
I always thought my husband and I shared everything. Every silly joke, every little worry, and every dream. We knew each other’s quirks and flaws, celebrated our victories together, and helped each other through rough patches. At least, that’s what I believed until Christmas Day when everything I thought I knew came crashing down around me.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“Andrea, I need to tell you something,” Shawn said, his fingers drumming nervously on our kitchen counter. “My boss called. He needs me to handle an emergency client situation in Boston.”
I looked up from my coffee, studying his face. There was something different in his expression. A flicker of… guilt? Anxiety?
“During Christmas?” my eyes widened.
“I know, I know. I tried to get out of it, but…” He ran his hand through his dark hair — a gesture I’d grown to love over our three years of marriage. “The client’s threatening to pull their entire account.”
A distressed man | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve never had to travel on Christmas before.” I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug, seeking warmth. “Couldn’t someone else handle it?”
“Trust me, I wish there was.” His eyes met mine, then quickly darted away. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll have our own Christmas when I get back.”
“Well, I guess duty calls.” I forced a smile, though disappointment settled heavy in my chest. “When are you leaving?”
“Tonight. I’m so sorry, honey.”
I nodded, fighting back tears. It was going to be our first Christmas apart since we’d met.
A sad woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
That evening, as I helped Shawn pack, memories of our life together flooded my mind.
I remembered our wedding day, how his eyes lit up when I walked down the aisle, and the way he surprised me with weekend getaways. How he worked extra hours at the consulting firm to save for our dream house — the Victorian with the wrap-around porch we’d been eyeing.
“Remember our first Christmas?” I asked, folding his sweater. “When you nearly burned down our apartment trying to make a roast turkey?”
He laughed. “How could I forget? The fire department wasn’t too happy about that 3 a.m. call.”
A man laughing | Source: Midjourney
“And last Christmas, when you got us those matching ugly sweaters?”
“You still wore yours to work!”
“Because you dared me to!” I tossed a sock at him, and he caught it with a grin. “The office still hasn’t let me live it down.”
His smile faded slightly. “I’m so sorry about this trip, darling.”
“I know!” I sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s just… Christmas won’t be the same without you.”
A worried woman sitting on the edge of the bed | Source: Midjourney
He sat beside me, taking my hand. “Promise you won’t open your presents until I’m back?”
“Cross my heart.” I leaned against his shoulder. “Promise you’ll call?”
“Every chance I get. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
As I watched him drive away, something nagged at the back of my mind. But I pushed the thought away. This was Shawn, after all. My Shawn. The man who brought me soup when I was sick and danced with me in the rain. And the man I trusted more than anyone in the world.
A man driving a car | Source: Unsplash
Christmas Eve arrived, bringing with it a blanket of snow and an emptiness I couldn’t shake. The house felt too quiet and too still. I’d spent the day baking cookies alone, watching Christmas movies alone, and wrapping last-minute gifts… alone.
Around 9 p.m., my phone lit up with Shawn’s call. My heart leaped.
“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he said, his voice oddly strained.
“Merry Christmas! How’s Boston? Did you get the client situation sorted out?”
“It’s… uh… good. Listen, I can’t really talk right now. I have to go—”
A shocked woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
In the background, I heard what sounded like dishes clinking, muffled voices, and laughter.
“Are you at dinner? This late? I thought you had meetings?”
“I have to go!” he practically shouted. “Emergency meeting!”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, my hands shaking. Emergency meeting? At 9 p.m. on Christmas Eve? With restaurant noises in the background? None of it made sense.
Then I remembered my fitness tracker! I’d left it in his car last weekend after our grocery run. With trembling fingers, I opened the app on my phone.
A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Unsplash
The location pointer blinked back at me, mocking my trust. Shawn’s car wasn’t in Boston. It was parked at a hotel right in our city, less than 15 minutes from our house.
My world stopped spinning for a moment. Then everything rushed back in a tornado of thoughts.
A hotel? In our city? On Christmas Eve?
My mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last. Was he meeting someone? Had our entire marriage been a lie? The signs had been there… the nervous behavior, the quick departure, and the strange phone call.
“No,” I whispered to myself. “No, no, no.”
A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
Without thinking twice, I raced to my car and headed straight to the hotel.
The drive passed in a blur of tears and terrible scenarios. Every red light felt like torture. Every second that ticked by was another moment my imagination ran wild with possibilities I couldn’t bear to consider.
Sure enough, there sat Shawn’s silver car, right in the parking lot when I arrived.
The sight of it — the car I’d helped him pick out, the car we’d taken on countless road trips — made my stomach churn.
A silver car in a hotel’s parking lot | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I marched into the lobby, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Christmas music played softly in the background like a cruel mockery.
The receptionist looked up with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”
I pulled out my phone, bringing up a photo of Shawn and me from last summer’s beach trip. My thumb brushed across his smiling face.
“This man is my husband. Which room is he in?”
An anxious woman at a hotel reception area | Source: Midjourney
She hesitated. “Ma’am, I’m not supposed to—”
“Please, I need to know. He told me he was in Boston, but his car is right outside. Please… I have to know what’s going on.”
Something in my expression must have moved her. Maybe it was the tears I couldn’t hold back, or maybe she’d seen this scene play out before. She typed something into her computer, glancing at my phone again.
“Room 412,” she said and slid a keycard across the counter. “But miss? Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”
I barely heard her last words as I rushed toward the elevator.
An agitated woman in an elevator | Source: Midjourney
The elevator ride felt eternal. Each floor dinged past like a countdown to disaster. When I finally reached the fourth floor, I ran down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the carpet.
Room 412. I didn’t knock… just swiped the keycard and burst in.
“Shawn, how could you—”
The words died in my throat.
There was Shawn, standing beside a wheelchair.
And in that wheelchair sat a man with silver-streaked hair and familiar eyes — eyes I hadn’t seen since I was five years old. Eyes that had once watched me take my first steps, had crinkled at the corners when he laughed at my jokes and had filled with tears the day he left.
An older man in a wheelchair | Source: Midjourney
“DADDY?” The word came out as a whisper, a prayer, and a question I’d been asking for 26 years.
“ANDREA!” my father’s voice trembled. “My little girl.”
Time seemed to freeze as memories crashed over me: Mom burning all his letters after the divorce… moving us across the country. And me crying myself to sleep, clutching the last birthday card he’d managed to send — the one with the little cartoon puppy that said: “I’ll love you forever.”
“How?” I turned to Shawn, tears streaming down my face. “How did you…?”
An emotional woman in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
“I’ve been searching for him for a year,” Shawn said softly. “Learned a few details about him from your mother a few months before she passed. Found him in Arizona last week through social media contacts. He had a stroke a few years back and lost his ability to walk. I drove down to get him yesterday… wanted to surprise you for Christmas.”
My father reached for my hand. His fingers were thinner than I remembered, but the gentle strength in them was the same.
“I never stopped looking for you, Andrea. Your mother… she made it impossible. Changed your addresses and moved so many times. But I never stopped loving you. Never stopped trying to find my little girl.”
An emotional older man | Source: Midjourney
I fell to my knees beside his wheelchair, sobbing as he pulled me into his arms. His cologne, the same sandalwood scent from my childhood, wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
Every Christmas wish I’d ever made, every birthday candle I’d blown out, and every 11:11 I’d wished on — they’d all been for this moment.
“I thought…” I choked out between sobs. “When I saw the hotel… I thought…”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Shawn knelt beside us. “I wanted to tell you so badly. But I needed to make sure I could find him first. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you if it didn’t work out.”
An upset young man in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to Shawn later, after emotions had settled somewhat and we’d ordered room service.
He pulled me close on the small sofa. “I wanted it to be perfect. Tomorrow morning, Christmas breakfast, your father walking… well, rolling in… the look on your face…”
“It is perfect!” I looked between the two men I loved most in the world. “Even if I ruined the surprise. Though I might have given myself a heart attack getting here.”
An emotional woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
My father chuckled from his wheelchair. “You were always an impatient one. Remember how you used to shake all your Christmas presents?”
“Some things never change,” Shawn said, squeezing my hand.
“Remember the time I tried to convince you there was a fairy living in the garden?” Dad’s eyes twinkled. “You left out tiny sandwiches for a week.”
“I’d forgotten about that!” I laughed through fresh tears.
“I have 26 years of stories saved up,” Dad said softly. “If you want to hear them.”
“I want to hear everything.” I reached for his hand. “Every single story.”
A man sitting in a wheelchair and smiling | Source: Midjourney
I rested my head on Shawn’s shoulder, watching as my father began telling tales of my childhood — stories I’d thought were lost forever. Snow fell softly outside, and somewhere in the distance, church bells began to ring on Christmas Day.
My father’s eyes twinkled. “Now, who’s ready to hear about the time five-year-old Andrea decided to give our dog a haircut?”
“I think what we’re all ready to hear,” Shawn said with a grin, “is how Andrea jumped to conclusions and thought her loving husband was up to no good on Christmas Eve!”
A cheerful man laughing | Source: Midjourney
I groaned, but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Never,” they both said in unison, and the sound of their laughter was the best Christmas gift I could have ever received.
An emotional woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Vertigo Star Kim Novak Is Spending Her 91st Birthday with ‘Friends and Lots of Fudge’ (Exclusive)
Tuesday marks the 91st birthday for Kim Novak, the star of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 film Vertigo, who walked away from Hollywood over five decades ago.
“She’s spending her birthday having a picnic on her property with friends and lots of fudge,” says her longtime manager and close friend Sue Cameron.
Life is sweet these days for Novak, who lives quietly on the Oregon coast, surrounded by her beloved horses.
In honor of her 91st birthday, read on for an interview from 2021 in which Novak shared why she left Hollywood and found her true self.
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Over 50 years ago, Kim Novak, the enigmatic star of Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, walked away from Hollywood. The woman who had once been the No. 1 box office draw in the world put her belongings in a van and drove north, first to Carmel, California and then two decades later to Oregon, to live her life as an artist.
“I had to leave to survive,” she tells PEOPLE. “It was a survival issue.”
“I lost a sense of who I truly was and what I stood for,” says Novak in a rare interview to talk about her new book, Kim Novak : Her Art and Life. published by the Butler Museum of American Art.
“I fought all the time back in Hollywood to keep my identity so you do whatever you have to do to hold on to who you are and what you stand for,” she explains.
“I’ve never done one of those tell-all books that they wanted me to do for so long, and I thought this is the kind of book I’d like to do,” she says of her art book. “Actually, I had written my autobiography and it was almost complete but I had a house fire and the house burned down and I made no copies. I just couldn’t go through it again because I had spent so much time. But it was okay because it was a catharsis just to do it.”
After starring in Picnic (1955) with William Holden, The Man With the Golden Arm (1955) and Pal Joey (1957), opposite Frank Sinatra, and Vertigo, with Jimmy Stewart, Novak was at the height of her career but still under the control of the studio.
As she writes in her book’s introduction, “I was both dazzled and disturbed to see me being packaged as a Hollywood sex symbol. However, I did win my fight over identity. I wouldn’t allow [Columbia Pictures chief] Harry Cohn to take my bohemian roots away by denying me my family name. Novak. I stood my ground and won my first major battle.”
Cohn wanted her to change her name to Kit Marlowe, telling her that audiences would be turned off by her Eastern European roots. She refused. In the late ’50s, she defied him again when she began dating singer Sammy Davis Jr. against his wishes and she fought to live her life as an independent woman.
“There was constant pressure to be seen and not heard,” writes Novak, “especially if you had a pretty face.”
“In Hollywood a lot of people assume who you are, because of the character you play, but also just because of who they expect you to be, how they expect you to dress,” she says. “It influences you because if you’re in some gorgeous sequined gown, you can’t run along the ocean and run on the beaches.”
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“I kept feeling like I was going deeper and deeper, lost in almost like a quicksand, where it’s swallowing you up, your own personality, and I’d started to wonder who I am,” she explains. “I realized needed to save myself.”
She found peace living and painting in the Rogue River Valley of Oregon and notes, “I needed the Pacific Ocean to inspire me, the animals, the beauty.”
“I wanted to live a normal life and a life with animals,” says the actress, who had always loved drawing and painting as a young girl growing up in Chicago. She was awarded two scholarships to the Chicago Art Institute before she was spotted by a talent scout on a trip to L.A. and her life changed course.
Once she left Hollywood, Novak returned to her twin passions: art and animals. “My teachers were the animals, not just dogs and cats, but other animals, horses and llamas, whom you have to meet half way, because they’re not ready to accept humans. I had to learn to win them over,” she says. “They understand a person who’s genuine so I had to become more real and that made me rely on my inner self — and that also encouraged me to paint. Everything seemed to flow from that.”
“You learn how to count on, not how you look, which is a big thing as a movie star, especially if you were recognized because of how you look,” she adds. “That can be a difficult thing when you change — but looks had nothing to do with it.”
She met second husband, Robert Malloy, an equine veterinarian, in the late ’70s, when he paid her a house call to treat one of her Arabian horses. She called him her “soul mate.” He died last December.
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“I don’t feel 87,” says Novak. “I don’t keep tract of the time. If I did, I’d be an old lady and I’m not an old lady. I’m still riding my horse. I stay as healthy as I can.”
In 2012, Novak revealed she’d been living with bipolar disorder. “I don’t mind being open about who I am because these are all characteristics which make you who you are, especially as an artist,” she says. “Now, of course, I have medication for it but the best medicine of all is art.”
She’s proud of her favorite films, including Vertigo and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), and has fond memories, especially of her friend and costar Jimmy Stewart. Says Novak: “He didn’t let Hollywood change who he was.”
“People can remember me in movies but I want them to see me as an artist,” says Novak, whose paintings were exhibited at a 2019 retrospective at the Butler Museum in Youngstown, Ohio. “What’s great about painting is, you become the director too. No one’s telling you how to do it. You get to direct the whole thing.”
“I’ve been influenced a lot by Hitchcock in my work because he did mysteries and at first glance, I want my painting to be a mystery,” she says. “I love being the director, the producer, the actor in my paintings.”
“This is who I am. I want people to see I was not just a movie star.”
Looking back, Novak says, “I’m so glad I didn’t do the tell-all book, where you write all about your love life. That wasn’t who I was. This book tells who I am. I just needed to be free.”
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