The First Christmas of the Rest of Our Lives
Paige Miller's life, or at least what she knew of it, was anything but ordinary. It was hard to have a normal life with amnesia and a newborn baby, and it turned out that was just the beginning for her. Still, despite it all, she had somehow managed to find something good.
The wind rattled against the windows, and she nudged aside the curtain to peer outside. Flurries of snow spiralled through the glow cast by the string of multi-coloured lights that hung from the roof and along the porch rails. Beyond the yard, the snow-drenched seaside village was a glittering tableau. The scene was nothing short of idyllic, the sort of thing that should be on the front of a postcard.
She never could explain what it was that had brought her to Haven, Maine. Less than a year ago, she had woken up in a Pennsylvania hospital with a bulging belly and no memories of her life before that moment. The doctor's told her that she'd been in an accident and had been in a coma for three weeks. They assured her that the amnesia was just a side-effect of the head injury and that her memories would come back in time.
Two months later, when she gave birth to James Lucas Miller, Paige still had no notion of her life before the hospital apart from the records dragged up by her doctors.
She spent six more months going through scans and tests, searching for some answer for the blank slate in her head with no results. There was no family to help her – her records showed her as a ward of the state who'd bounced from home to home until she turned eighteen. No friends came to visit, and there was no mention of James' father, whoever he was. Fed up with the lack of answers, Paige packed everything she owned into a car, strapped James into the back seat, and drove.
A shrill giggle pulled Paige's attention back to the present, and she dropped the curtain. Wrapping her oversized sweater tighter around her body, she crossed the dimly lit living room and leant in the doorframe. The kitchen was flooded with light and warmth, the half-empty wine glasses on the counter island the last traces of their Christmas Eve dinner. James chattered excitedly from his high chair, waving his hands at the man bent over the dishes in the sink.
Nathan Wuornos. Of all the wonderful things she'd found since arriving in Haven, the awkward and quiet chief of police was the greatest. He had materialised next to her broken down car like an overly-sarcastic white knight, and the connection had been instantaneous. He was skittish and withdrawn at first, treating her with a strange sort of fragile reverence, like he was afraid she might disappear one day. After a while, as his walls began to come down, it was like they had known each other their entire lives.
And of course, James absolutely adored him.
"Ma!" James squealed when he spotted her, swinging a fistful of pureed squash.
Nathan glanced over his shoulder at her, and that small, sideways smile crept over his face. "Still snowing?" he asked curiously.
"Getting heavier," she answered. "No worries about a white Christmas."
"Never usually is around here," he said. He reached over with a sudsy hand to rub away a spot on James' nose and beamed when James grabbed hold of his finger, giggling. Moments like this, Paige felt something click in her chest, like a dislodged cog sliding into its proper alignment. It had felt the same way when she'd first set foot in Haven; when she'd accepted the social worker job with the city; when she'd kissed Nathan for the first time. It felt like home.
"S'pose you might have to spend the night," Nathan added, feigned casualness broken up by his grin. "Wouldn't want to drive in that weather."
Paige smirked, propping a hip against the counter. She grabbed the washrag from the edge of the sink and wiped squash from her son's face. "It's almost like you planned it," she teased.
"Jamie, I think your mom's suggesting I control the weather." Nathan grinned, leaning over to put the plate he'd been scrubbing into the drying rack. Paige's stomach lurched, accompanied by a weird, disjointed image – a cyclone cutting down through the sky - in the back of her head that was gone as soon as it'd come. It was another one of those things that sometimes happened, ever since she got to Haven. They felt like memories, but at the same time, she knew they weren't hers, really.
It hadn't taken her long to figure it out. The signs had been all over town, and although she knew people had tried to hide it, there was only so much that could be done to erase the past. She managed to piece together a lot of it on her own, but in the end, it was a faded photograph tucked into the back of Nathan's wallet that solidified it.
He was terrified when she asked about it, but Paige was an open-minded person. It was hard not to be a little flexible after amnesia and finding only the most basic information about your life as if someone had done a quick job creating an identity. That wasn't saying that she wasn't a little freaked out by the possibility that she had been someone – or a lot of someones, apparently – else before, but she was adjusting.
A hand touched her wrist lightly, and Paige looked up to see Nathan watching her, his expression torn between curiosity and concern. "Sorry, I think I had too much wine," she said, turning her hand over to squeeze his fingers reassuringly. "Getting sleepy."
There was a knowing look in Nathan's eyes, but he didn't press the subject. She had decided that she wasn't going to go searching for answers about any of her previous lives, letting them come to her on her own, and he respected that. So he nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "You want to turn in?" he asked. "I think I can handle getting Jamie into bed on my own."
"Oh please, you two would sit up playing all night," Paige said, laughing. "Then you'll both be tired and ornery tomorrow." Nathan gave her a sarcastic look. "Besides, you said something about a movie."
"White Christmas," Nathan answered. He lifted James out of the high chair, settling the toddler on his hip. "It was our family tradition. When I was a kid, we watched it on Christmas Eve every year. We don't have to-"
"No, I want to," Paige insisted. "I've never seen it, or not that I remember. It'll be fun." Something softened in Nathan's eyes, that sentimental side he tried to hide behind the monosyllabic Mainer exterior rising up. Paige smiled and lifted James out of his arms. "Go get the movie set up and I'll get Jamie in his pyjamas."
The guest bedroom was slowly morphing into a makeshift nursery; a small crib had been set up in one corner, the futon sofa was covered in baby blankets and stuffed animals, and most of the dresser was taken up by onesies and diapers and fuzzy pyjamas. She had protested, not wanting to take up his space, but he insisted that the room never got used anyway. She couldn't deny it was nice not having to worry about running out of clean clothes or diapers while she was over.
James' bedtime routine was down to a science by that point, so it didn't take Paige all that long to get him ready. She wiped the last of his dinner off him, changed his diaper, and got him into the new pair of footies with the baseballs on them that Nathan had bought for him a few weeks ago. Armed with a dummy and his favourite stuffed elephant, Paige carried the drowsy toddler back to the living room.
There was a fire crackling in the grate, bathing the cosy sitting room in warm orange hues that mingled nicely with the multi-coloured glow from the Christmas tree lights. The movie title screen was playing a cheery song, something she recognised from the radio. A faded, well-loved quilt was draped across the arm of the sofa and the wine glasses, refilled, were waiting on the coffee table. Nathan looked up from where he was crouched by the mantle, and his eyes brightened when he saw James' pyjamas.
As soon as they had settled down into the sofa, James abandoned her lap to sprawl across Nathan's chest. Nathan pulled the quilt over the top of them all, readjusting James' toy when he fussed, and then paused before grabbing the remote. Instead, he lifted a little, wrapped box and held it out to her.
"I thought we were saving presents until tomorrow?" Paige asked suspiciously.
Nathan lifted the box slightly higher when James made a grab for the bow on top. "Just this one early," he said with a small smile. "It's kinda different."
Paige's heart hammered as she took the box. It couldn't possibly be what she thought it was, right? She plucked the bow off, sticking it to the top of James' head to the amusement of both adults but not the sleepy toddler. Her hands were shaking as she peeled off the paper and opened the box.
There was a single brass key resting on a bed of white tissue.
"I'm not asking you to move in if you're not ready," Nathan hurried to explain. "Just wanted you to know you and Jamie are always welcome here. Was gonna move the futon into the office so we can set up a better crib in there for him and-"
Paige cut off the rest of his sentence by lunging sideways and kissing him. James giggled shrilly, chubby fingers grasping at their faces in an attempt to get into the middle of the affection. They were both breathing heavily by the time they parted, and Nathan blinked at her with a slightly dazed expression. Paige nestled back into the curve of his arm and fingered the house key thoughtfully.
"You know, the heat in my apartment is kind of finicky," she said. "That's not good for a baby with it being so cold here. And it really would be nice to give Jamie his own room."
Nathan's face lit like the sun had come up behind his eyes and he dragged her in for another kiss. It was only broken when Nathan was hit in the face by a stuffed elephant, and they laughed. "I think someone's feeling left out," Paige said in amusement.
"Sorry, chief," Nathan said affectionately, and he pressed a kiss to the top of James' head. "I'll make it up to you later, promise." Paige's eyes drifted to the pile of presents under the tree and didn't doubt that in the slightest; despite her protests that he was only a year old and wouldn't even remember this Christmas, Nathan insisted on going all out. Their boy was going to be spoiled rotten.
With a contented smile, Nathan turned on the movie and settled back into the sofa cushions. He draped one arm around Paige's shoulders, and the other rested on James' back, making sure the toddler didn't slide off his chest. Paige snuggled up against his side and watched the grainy vintage footage roll on the screen. The movie really was good, in a charming, old-fashioned way, and a combination of the general holiday happiness and the red wine lulled her into a hazy sleepiness.
Paige stirred near the middle of the movie and looked over at her boys. Nathan was fast asleep, head tipped down against his chest and hand spread protectively across James' back. James was curled up contentedly, one hand clutching the elephant and the other fisted in Nathan's sweater. A blissful warmth spread through her and she wondered how she could have ended up so lucky.
The answer tugged at the back of her mind, and her thoughts drifted to the photograph of the blonde woman that had recently vanished from Nathan's wallet. Audrey Parker, FBI agent & Haven PD detective. The last woman in Haven before Paige to wear the same face. She didn't know all the details – and she wasn't sure she really wanted to – but she did know that Audrey Parker had sacrificed herself to protect everyone. She had saved Nathan, and she had been involved in giving Paige the life that she had now.
Paige leant back into Nathan's side and threaded her hand with the one on James' back. This incredible life she was building and this perfect little family forming around her was all due to one person. "Thank you, Audrey Parker," she whispered into the darkness. Nathan hummed, and his hand flexed against hers in his sleep. She smiled. "And Merry Christmas."