The Spirit of the Season
by MMB
Miss Parker sighed as she walked through her office door and deposited on the couch the paper sack with her soft and warm scarf that she'd received from Broots as his offering to the gift exchange. She drew her fingers through her dark hair in a habitual motion and then moved across the darkened floor to stand near her window to look out. Below her, three floors down, the manicured expanse of lawn that extended from the Centre Tower building to the sandy beach of the Atlantic Ocean was brown – with a light dusting of white from the gently floating snowflakes slowly falling from the dark and starless skies.
Another Christmas would soon have come and gone – the third one since her father, or rather the man who had raised her as his daughter, had stepped from a cruising airliner over a storm-tossed Atlantic Ocean during a stormy night. In the Blue Cove cemetery, the headstone now had both Charles' and Catherine's names and dates carved into the grey granite – but the headstone marked no final resting place for either. That fact had meant that she'd stopped visiting the spot in order to commune with her mother, and hadn't been to the spot since the formal funeral for her erstwhile father.
Her remaining family was made up of people she'd just as soon stayed far away from her. Thankfully neither of the men who claimed kinship with her was any more eager for her company than she was for theirs. The only other person that might have a call upon her heart was a small boy who had been housed in the depths of the Centre for the better part of his life, a child that Mr. Raines had recently forbidden her from removing from his underground nursery. She could go downstairs with presents that she'd brought him, spend time with him there reading to him and playing with him, and then she could go home to an empty, lonely house. At least, that would be the plan if she hadn't had somewhere else to be for a change.
The Christmas Eve party down in the cafeteria from which she'd finally escaped was winding down at last – the view of the drive into the parking structure showed that there was already a long line of cars waiting to turn onto the beachfront lane that would take the drivers ultimately home. Wanting to get out of there no less than the mob below but in no mood to battle the traffic, she sighed again and sat down in her chair and turned to look out at the falling snow and the tail lights.
She didn't turn when there was a soft knock on her office door, nor did she answer. Maybe the person would guess that she wasn't inside and simply leave to search for her elsewhere.
There was another knock and the click of the latch disengaging. "Miss Parker?"
No such luck – Sydney knew her too well, and more than likely had followed her from the party. "I'm here, Sydney," she answered finally.
"Sitting in the dark on Christmas Eve?" His tone told her of the expression that his face probably wore – and of the look that was in his eye: disapproval and, probably, concern for her emotional state of mind.
"Nothing to worry about, Freud," she reassured him and turned to look at him finally. "I thought I'd come up here, where it's nice and quiet, and wait until I could see the rush to get away was over." She jerked her finger over her shoulder toward the window.
"You didn't say what your plans were for the long weekend," he remarked, moving further into the room toward her.
"No, I didn't," she answered him simply without explanation.
"You do have plans, don't you?"
"Of course I do." There was a long silence that communicated his disbelief as eloquently as anything he could say. "I'll be fine, Syd. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."
"I'm not debating that," he replied gently, moving close enough to the dim light coming into the room from the window that she could make out his features. "I just wanted to tell you that you'd be more than welcome to spend the holidays with Michelle and Nicholas and myself…"
Miss Parker was quick to begin shaking her head fervently. "No, no – I wouldn't want to intrude on your family's visit, Sydney. Thank you for the offer, but…"
"I don't like to think of you being all alone," he insisted.
She shrugged fatalistically. "It isn't as if it hasn't happened before."
He flinched. He'd never forgiven Charles Parker for ignoring his daughter at this time of year – and often wished that she would have allowed him to at least try to make up the lack – but he could see that she had a point, considering the circumstances. Still… "Parker…"
The look of determination was almost more than she wanted to bear at the moment. She rose from her chair and came around the desk to face him. "Sydney," she told him gently, "go home to your family. I know this is a first for you – to have Michelle and Nicholas with you for the holidays – and you deserve to have the chance to enjoy them without an outsider getting in the way."
"You wouldn't be getting in the way," he complained, still not ready to let go.
She put a hand on his upper arm. "Yes," she said firmly, "I would be. The offer means a lot to me, though – I mean it," she told him sincerely, her hand smoothing down the arm of his sports jacket in an automatic motion she used to use on her fa… No! She wouldn't think of that now. "I'll be OK – I promise. As a matter of fact, I'm spending the weekend with a friend – so you see, you're worrying about me for no reason."
Sydney gazed down into her eyes in the dim light from the window and saw that she was sincere – and entertained the notion that for a change she might have plans. That boded well. "Very well," he conceded. "But if you change your mind…"
"Merry Christmas, Sydney," she patted his arm and stretched up suddenly to plant a brief and glancing kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you on Monday." She backed away a step. "Now go home to Michelle and your son. Tell them Merry Christmas for me."
It was with real reluctance that he finally nodded at her. "Merry Christmas, Parker," he intoned, not quite releasing his concern on her behalf but unable to stop himself from looking forward to several uninterrupted days with Michelle and Nicholas. For the first time in a very long time, Christmas wasn't going to be lonely for him either.
oOoOo
Jarod planted himself in the easy chair across the room from where his two brothers and sister were excitedly decorating the Christmas tree. In the kitchen, his mother was brewing some of her prizewinning eggnog, while his father was out in the shop, putting finishing touches on his projects in time to be able to wrap them and get them under the tree later that night.
Christmas, and everything it entailed, never failed to bring home the reality of having found his family at last. Ethan had slipped into the family with very little trouble – a family that included a nineteen year old carbon copy of Jarod and a sister who was beginning to make a recognizable name for herself at her newspaper. Ethan had bonded very tightly with CJ, as the younger version of himself had decided his name would be, and that bond between two young men so deeply damaged by the Centre and Mr. Raines had been the salvation of them both. Now with Jarod, they were three who could, when in each other's company, commiserate with each other in a way that others couldn't. Luckily, only one of them seemed to need concentrated help at any one time as yet – and the situation was nothing the other two couldn't handle between them.
It had been three years now that he'd been spending Christmas with his family as an intact unit – three years since the last time he'd contacted the Centre or any of those involved there on any kind of regular basis. And this night, as on every Christmas Eve since his escape, he thought about picking up the phone and calling. Miss Parker was alone now – her father dead, Mr. Raines and Mr. Lyle being the only family she had left – but he was finding it difficult to think about calling her only to throw his own good fortune in the face of her calamity. And Sydney…
"You're looking very sober for such a festive occasion, Jarod," Margaret observed from the kitchen door.
Jarod sighed and rose to walk over and give her a hug. "I know," he admitted. "I'm sorry."
"You're thinking about them again, aren't you?" she asked, knowing instinctually what the trouble was. "Your friends at the Centre?"
Jarod's dark eyes flashed in suspicion and surprise at her astuteness. "How did you know?"
Her arm tightened around her oldest son's waist possessively. "Honey, it's that time of year where we remember all our friends over the years. And these aren't exactly the kind of folks that you simply sit down and write a Christmas card to…" Her words ground to a halt. This was a discussion they'd had for three years running – a discussion that would inevitably be shut down tightly when Jarod simply walked away from it. Strangely enough, though, this year looked to be different.
"I keep thinking about calling them," he admitted in chagrin, "but my call would only hurt Parker – and she doesn't deserve to be hurt anymore."
"What about Sydney?" she asked, amazed that he was actually entertaining notions.
He sighed again and then shrugged. "I suppose I could…"
"I think you should," she told him. "You can keep the Centre from tracing the call, can't you?"
Jarod flashed a wary look at her. "Yeah, but…"
"He raised you," Margaret told him with gentle bluntness. "All those years counted for something with him – I guarantee – just as I know they counted for you." She saw that she was finally beginning to convince him. "Go on – go someplace quiet and private and at least call Sydney. Let him know that you're alive and well and happy at least – let that be his Christmas gift."
Jarod's lips twitched in the beginnings of a smirk. "Were you always this wise?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Nah," she shook her magnificent mane of red hair, now liberally sprinkled with silver salt, "you get this way when you have kids – just wait and see." She pointed. "Go on."
"What about Dad?" he asked softly. "I don't want him to feel slighted…"
"He understands," Margaret assured him. "We've talked about it many times – and trust me, he understands."
Jarod bent and gave his mother a healthy buss on the cheek and then headed up the stairs that she'd indicated. In the privacy of his bedroom, he easily could make the arrangements to his cell phone line to prevent not only the call from being traced, but identification of the number from being transmitted. He then pushed a speed dial number that he'd assiduously avoided for the past three years and waited for the call to connect.
oOoOo
Miss Parker debated with herself and then bent to plug in the Christmas lights that she'd spent the better part of the previous evening stringing around the tall north star pine tree in the corner of her living room. The tree immediately sprang to life, the hundreds of tiny lights beginning to sparkle on and off in random succession and giving the spectacle the appearance of a glistening jewel. Despite her mood, she had to smile. She'd done extremely well on the tree, even if she did say so herself – it was a shame that she didn't have at least Chris, her little brother, to share it with. She was now bereft of holiday plans, as a matter of fact – a situation with which she was all too painfully familiar. Sudden cancellations seemed to be the one constant of her holiday seasons.
Her plans had seemed so right for the season only an hour or so earlier. Tom had called a week earlier with his invitation, and tonight would have been when she'd have been packing a bag and taking off. A government representative to the Centre and other R&D firms, Tom had taken a shine to her and had invited her out several times in the last two years. Twice she'd gone out with him to dinner and dancing in Dover or Baltimore – twice he'd been charming and engaging, and she'd cautiously begun to hope that she'd finally tripped over someone who stood a decent chance of making her happy. This time he'd invited her to spend the weekend at his beachfront house near Baltimore.
She'd genuinely been anxiously awaiting a lull in the traffic leaving the Centre complex when he'd called just a few moments after Sydney had left her office to tell her that he was going to have to withdraw the invitation. His excuse, spelled out in hesitant tones and words, was that he'd just found out that his wife wasn't going to be in Europe after all – HER trip had been cancelled. He'd been apologetic and tried to promise to make it up to her somehow in the future – but all she could think of was to get him off the phone. Married! So much for having any hope at all of having finally found someone.
The idea she'd been about to make the same kind of mistake that had nearly ruined her reputation and life in the days before she'd found Thomas had almost made her ill. She'd put on her coat immediately, left her company cell phone in her company-provided briefcase locked in the bottom drawer of her desk, and fled the Centre without any regard to the number of people around her. She'd even squealed the tires on her brand-new Boxster as she'd turned onto Cove Lane past the security kiosk at the Centre gates, so anxious she'd been to put the whole reality of her existence behind her for a little while.
And so now here she was, with tree all prepared to have gifts piled high beneath its branches and children to delight in the visual spectacle – with a suitcase already packed and ready to go next to her bedroom door – and nobody with whom to share the experience or with whom to spend the time.
When her telephone suddenly began to ring garishly, she almost choked back a giggle of relief. "What?" she demanded in a somewhat less brusque and sharp voice.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Parker," stated a very familiar voice.
"Oh my God! Jarod!" she breathed, hardly believing her ears and sinking to a seat on the arm of her couch in her shock. "I thought I wasn't ever going to hear from you again."
"I had considered that," the deep voice admitted with a touch of laughter in its tone, "and decided against it."
"And you decided your Christmas gift to me would be a phone call?" She was incredulous. She whirled around quickly to check at all her windows. "Where are you?"
Jarod chuckled as if he could see her actions. "Nowhere remotely in the vicinity, I promise you," he affirmed. "That doesn't mean I would forget you during the holiday season."
She pulled her hair back with her fingers. "You're not making sense – as if that's something new…"
"Is it so much of a stretch to think that I might care enough to want to see how an old and dear friend of mine is doing at this time of year?" He sounded genuinely astonished.
"We haven't been friends for years, Jarod," she snapped back, "no matter how much your over-active imagination may have fantasized otherwise."
"That sounds more like the Miss Parker I knew a few years ago," Jarod's voice rang with regret, "although I was hoping to hear something a little less callous for a change – if for no other reason than that it's Christmas and supposedly a time of peace and love."
"It's just another shitty day in the year," she sighed, no longer able to restrain herself from voicing her depression, "and a long weekend when nothing's open and nobody is willing to come in to work."
There was a long and silent pause from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Parker. I was hoping for something better – but I guess some things never change for some of us."
Suddenly she didn't want him to hang up on her. "Jarod…"
"Merry Christmas, Miss Parker."
"Wait!" she exclaimed. "You haven't told me how you are – or if you ever found…"
"I'm well and I'm happy," he answered gently, "and yes, I finally found."
She nodded silently for a moment, finding the news that Jarod would have pieced together his shattered and scattered family surprisingly comforting. "I'm glad."
"Thank you," he said in a new whisper. "I hope you have similar luck one of these days."
"Jarod…" she said again, only to realize that she was holding a disconnected phone in her hand. "Damn it!" she growled as much to herself as to the long lost Pretender as she slammed the receiver back down into its cradle and bit back a moan. With the phone call giving a familiar little rip at her ulcer, she stalked over to the liquor cabinet and stared down at it. She'd managed to keep herself from indulging for several months now – ever since her last trip to her doctor had revealed that continuing to drink was potentially dangerous for her now. But the familiar slippery slope of seasonal depression was finally winning – and there was the fiasco with Tom, and now there was Jarod's call…
She resolutely turned an old-fashioned glass over on the fine linen runner with a thump and opened the glassed door to the cabinet itself – then paused to consider just what her poison would be that night. Her fingers had just found the cool, smooth sides to the bottle of sipping whiskey when she heard a knock at her front door.
"Who the hell?" she grumbled, closed the cabinet again and stalked over to the door to throw it open – ready to do battle with whoever stood outside. But her beginning salvo of a tirade died between open lips when she saw that it was Michelle standing in the lightly falling snow. She closed her mouth and swallowed twice hard. She had seen pictures of Sydney's former love once – when she'd done a little poking around in archived Centre records one day while bored – but to her knowledge had never met the woman to speak to her. To have the woman standing on her front porch… "Can I help you?"
Michelle nodded her head toward the warmth of the room. "May I come in?" she asked in return.
"I… I mean… Of course, come in." Miss Parker forced herself to quit stammering and to step back out of the way so that the older woman could come in out of the cold. She closed the door and then turned. "Is there something wrong with Sydney?" she finally managed, figuring that to be one of the only reasons Michelle would be at her door.
Michelle unwrapped her scarf from her face and removed her gloves. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose, there is."
Miss Parker felt a chill go through her. "He looked fine when last I saw him," she complained, tensing. "Is it his heart?"
"In a way." Michelle watched the young woman closely. For someone who disavowed any feelings for anyone, Miss Parker looked genuinely stressed at the thought of Sydney being ill. "He's worried, you see…"
Miss Parker's head swiveled around so that she was staring at Michelle. "He's… worried…"
"He hasn't stopped worrying to me since he got home, as a matter of fact," Michelle told her, "and frankly, when Jarod called…"
"Jarod… called… Sydney?"
"Yes," Michelle nodded.
"When?" Miss Parker demanded.
"A half an hour ago, give or take," Michelle answered patiently, "and after the two of them got through exchanging greetings and catching up on news, Sydney began to worry about you into Jarod's ear too. That's when I got the idea to come to you myself. It took a bit to get away, but Sydney and Jarod were talking and Nicholas was wrapping presents…"
Miss Parker's brows shot up her forehead. "Being here is YOUR idea?" she asked in disbelief.
"Absolutely. In fact, Sydney told me that you'd already refused our invitation earlier…"
"I did," Miss Parker admitted, a little startled to hear the plural possessive. She'd thought Sydney had been acting on his own – the idea that Michelle's wishes had been included in the offer was downright confusing. "At the time, I had plans. They fell through."
Michelle gazed at this young woman who meant so much to Sydney. She could remember the little girl she had once been too – a quiet little thing that often had hung about the Sim Lab when her father was too busy for her. When she'd departed the Centre so precipitously when she'd become pregnant with Nicholas, Michelle had imagined that Sydney would continue to play a major role in little Miss Parker's upbringing. Only much later, during one of her long talks on the phone with Sydney after they'd reconnected, did she hear that the little Parker girl had been unceremoniously shipped off to Europe and one boarding school after another.
There was little in this imposing and aloof woman to remind her of that shy and needy girl who'd watched Sydney with wide, sad eyes – and yet, Michelle knew she had to be somewhere behind those cautious grey adult eyes. "Then you have no reason to refuse my invitation now," she stated firmly. "I came tonight only to make sure you weren't going to be alone. If you were gone, as Sydney said you'd claimed you would be, I would have taken him the news that you were going to be OK and hopefully put his mind at ease for the rest of the weekend. As it stands, however…"
Miss Parker closed her eyes. Putting off Sydney when he was trying to do a good deed for her had long since become habit – putting off Michelle, whom she didn't know at all, would be much harder. "I told Sydney," she began, opening her eyes and looking at Michelle with a serenity that was only superficial, "that I didn't want to get in the way. He's been waiting for years to have you and Nicholas with him during the holidays – he deserves to be able to enjoy his family all to himself without an outsider getting in the way."
"Sydney doesn't consider you an outsider, and you know it," Michelle announced quietly. "Besides, we aren't exactly a stereotypical family anyway – Nicholas is only now starting to really accept Sydney as his father." She stepped a little closer. "If I go home alone, he's going to want to know where I've gone – you see, I left without telling him where I was going or why. Then I'm going to have to tell him that I stopped by and found out that you're all by yourself this year again – and you know as well as I do that he'll fret and stew all weekend. So you'd be doing me a favor by coming with me – and maybe doing yourself a favor by making a place for yourself in our unorthodox little family while it's still just forming."
"I don't belong," Miss Parker tried once more, her determination wavering.
"You belong if Sydney says you do," Michelle told her simply. "And as far as I'm concerned, if he wants you there, then you should be there – especially since you have nowhere else to be."
"Why are you doing this?" Miss Parker's voice was small. Michelle didn't know her – didn't know what kind of person she was – and kindness from strangers was something she just wasn't used to.
"Because it's Christmas, because I love Sydney, and because I know how much you mean to him," was the answer.
Miss Parker glanced over at the liquor cabinet – the only friend with whom she'd be visiting if she refused Michelle's invitation – and then back to the older woman in front of her. No matter how hard she tried, she could detect no subterfuge or agendas in the offer – and if she were honest with herself, she WAS tired of spending Christmas alone. With little Chris out of reach, she had no family to speak of. Did she dare refuse to take a place in another family when it was offered to her on a silver platter?
Michelle knew the battle was won when the expression in Miss Parker's eyes was one of an exhausted defeat. "Go pack a bag, my dear," she told the younger woman kindly, realizing that only the tiniest of nudges was necessary to convince her.
"I… had one packed for before…" Miss Parker admitted, realizing that the decision had already been made. "I'll go get it."
oOoOo
Sydney looked up from his chess game with his son to gaze at the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room – and then at the front door. Michelle hadn't said where she was going – only kissed him on the cheek and told him she'd be back in a few minutes while he was still on the phone with Jarod. That was almost an hour ago – and the snow was beginning to fall harder.
"She'll be back," Nicholas soothed his father. "Trust me, she does this sometimes – gets a notion in her head and runs with it. Used to drive Dad…" He skidded to a halt, his face flaming with embarrassment.
"Used to drive your dad up the wall, did she?" Sydney turned to his son and smiled. "It's OK, Nicholas – for most of your life, he WAS your dad. You don't offend me by calling him that."
Nicholas relaxed a bit. Sydney was still very much an enigma to him – a quiet, intense, private man with a gentle demeanor and an iron will. Against his own better judgment, he was beginning to grow quite fond of the man his mother now admitted she'd loved long before she'd married his dad – and during this holiday visit, he'd decided that he'd see just whether or not he'd be able to allow Sydney to move into shoes that had been filled by another for so long. "Anyway," he continued, moving past the difficulty, "she'd take off like this and be gone a half-hour, an hour – sometimes more. We'd all start to fret, and she'd come breezing back into the house and wonder what the heck was wrong with us."
"I'd forgotten," Sydney sighed and folded his arms across his chest on the dining table so he could study the board. "She did that when we were together too – just not very often." The sound of a car engine drawing very near – and then obviously pulling into the garage – made both men take a deep sigh of relief. "All right – at least we know she got home OK," Sydney smiled and moved his knight. "Check."
The garage door in the kitchen opened and then finally closed, and Sydney looked up to see Michelle come through the door into the dining room. "And just what was it that you had to run off to do at this hour of the night when its beginning to snow?" he asked congenially, rising, opening his arms and waiting for her to come for a welcoming hug. Having both the opportunity and the permission to hold Michelle again had been the best thing about this entire visit so far.
"I decided that one thing I'd give you this year was a little peace of mind," Michelle told him, not yet moving toward him. "So I drove into town to check on something. When I found out what was going on, I decided that I'd give you something else this year."
Sydney's eyebrows rose. "Other than peace of mind?" he asked, a smile tweaking at his lips.
"No – actually you still get the peace of mind, just a little something extra too." She moved her head and then stood aside and then saw Sydney's eyes widen in real surprise when he saw who was standing behind her.
"Parker??" His face folded into confusion.
Miss Parker had never felt quite so insecure in the eyes of her old friend and colleague. "This is Michelle's idea," she was quick to point out defensively. "She came to my house and…" She stopped and swallowed hard. "I'm wondering if the invitation you extended a while ago is still open? You said if I changed my mind…"
Sydney's smile returned. "Of course the offer's still open," he reassured her immediately and moved to take charge of the small suitcase she was carrying – less than half the size she usually had when traveling, he noted. A glance back at the dining table told him that Nicholas had risen too. "Miss Parker, this is my son, Nicholas Stamatis. Nicholas, this is a very old and dear friend…"
"Miss Parker." Nicholas stepped forward with a hand outstretched. "My father has spoken of you often. It's nice to meet you at last."
"Thank you," Miss Parker replied softly as her hand was enveloped in Nicholas', not exactly sure whether having been the subject of discussion was a good thing or a bad thing but wanting to put her best foot forward. Sydney's son certainly looked and acted very much like his father. "It's nice to meet you too."
"There's a hide-a-bed in my office that I hope you'll find comfortable," Sydney stated and gestured. "Come – I'll show you."
"I'll make another batch of eggnog," Michelle said, watching Sydney escort his newest guest toward the front of the house and the office he had there. The look on his face when he'd caught sight of the younger woman had made the trip worth the chance she'd taken. She glanced at Nicholas and gave him a wide and easy smile as she turned back toward into the kitchen, turning the light on this time.
"What changed your mind?" Sydney asked as he opened the office door and turned on the light to escort Miss Parker into a room where every wall was covered with a bookcase except for the one that held a second hearth. He put the suitcase down on the leather couch and turned to look at his guest. "I thought you had plans."
"I thought I did too," she said "My friend called just a minute or two after you left to cancel. When Michelle turned up at my door, I was rather at loose ends."
Sydney winced. Even now, she couldn't escape that old pattern of abandonment, it seemed. "I'm sorry, Parker…"
"I'm not, in a way." She moved past him into the room and looked around. "In order to give me a good reason to cancel, he had to admit he was married – something he'd lied about." She raised her eyes to her old friend – eyes filled with hurt. "It was for the best. You may find this hard to believe, but I don't want that kind of life anymore."
He wished he dared put his arms around her to comfort her as she so obviously and desperately needed – but he knew better than to press his luck at this point. She was here – and that, in and of itself, was a major accomplishment. "Well, pardon me for saying so, but however it happened I'm glad you're here."
The warmth in Sydney's voice washed over her like a comforting hug – one she wasn't sure she deserved. "Thank you, Sydney," she replied softly. "Thank you."
oOoOo
"…and then, while Daddy made a big fired in the fireplace, Momma made some hot chocolate – and we all sat up very late together waiting for Santa." Miss Parker chuckled at her memory. "Never did see him that year – but the cookies were gone in the morning, and so was about half the milk. All that was left of the carrots for the reindeer were the greens – and they looked chewed…"
"Eww…" Nicholas shook his head. "That sounded like you had a good time though. How old were you then?"
Miss Parker thought a moment. "Ten," she answered quickly. "That was my last really nice Christmas..."
"Well, now," Sydney stepped in quickly, knowing exactly why she'd said such a thing, "as the saying goes, "never say never," Parker. You have lots of Christmases to come to pronounce THAT one the last really nice one."
"Actually, I'm probably going to rank this one right up there with that one," Miss Parker admitted after a short silence, her gaze resting on the bubbles at the bottom of her glass that were the last vestiges of a very delicious and lightly spiked helping of eggnog. "This is turning into one of the nicest Christmases I've had in a very long time."
Michelle smiled at the younger woman who was curled up into one of the overstuffed leather easy chairs next to the couch and then turned to gaze up into Sydney's face as she snuggled just a little more tightly against him on the couch. "I have to admit that this is one of the better ones for me too," she purred, quietly pleased when Sydney's arm about her shoulder tightened ever so slightly.
Miss Parker looked up and over a Nicholas, who was gazing at his parents with a bemused expression. She knew a little how he felt – as if the events swirling around him were a little too surreal. She had never known Sydney to be outwardly demonstrative of his feelings, but he hadn't hidden his real delight and affection for Michelle from anyone nor been reticent to touch or hug her openly. He had consistently treated both her and Nicholas with obvious deference and affection too – neither letting Nicholas linger in embarrassment for calling George Stamatis "Dad" nor reminding her during her own storytelling that the man she still called "Daddy" hadn't actually been her real father after all. She wondered briefly if the family unit Nicholas had known in the past was equally as loving and demonstrative – and very secretly wished that "Daddy" had been even half as loving as Sydney in those by-gone and halcyon days before her mother's supposed "suicide."
There had been no mention of gifts – even though there was a small treasure trove of gaily wrapped boxes nestled against the foot of the tree standing proudly in front of the living room picture window. She'd already given Sydney his gift at the company Christmas party, having actually drawn his name legitimately in the "Secret Santa" affair that was the theme this past year. And now, sitting here as the evening grew late, she began to get restless thinking that this family – one in which she really had no part – needed privacy to open gifts.
"You know, I think I'll turn in now," she said finally, uncurling her nyloned feet from their toasty hiding spot. "That way you folks can have your gift exchange together."
"We open gifts in the morning, Parker," Sydney told her gently and with a smile. "And speaking of which, don't forget to put your shoe in front of the fireplace."
Miss Parker blinked. "Say what?"
Michelle chuckled. "It's an old European tradition, Miss Parker, very similar to the one here where one hangs a stocking from the mantle."
Miss Parker blushed. "That's ok," she waved her hand. "I seriously doubt Saint Nick would be looking for me here."
Sydney shook his head. "Indulge me, please?" he urged, his voice warm.
She gazed at him for a long moment, and then took up one of the slippers she'd changed into not long after arriving and left waiting for her beneath the chair. "In front of the fireplace, you say?" she asked softly as she rose.
Michelle pointed, and Miss Parker could see that there were three other shoes already lined up. She bent and positioned her slipper next to a man's loafer – not certain whether it was Nicholas' or Sydney's. "There," she said as she straightened. "OK?"
"OK." Sydney pulled his arm from about Michelle's shoulders and rose. The eggnog and the fire had warmed the evening nicely – and taken four people mostly unused to each other's company and created a bond of companionship the like of which he hadn't enjoyed since long before coming to the States. Like the others who had said so before, he too would be remembering this Christmas as one of the best he'd had in decades.
It had been satisfying to see his son slowly lower his defenses and show himself for the intelligent and sensitive young man that he was – it had been even more satisfying to watch Miss Parker very carefully lower a few of her own walls as well. She had apparently left her prickly, cynical persona behind in the cold and abandoned summerhouse she called home – allowing the polite, shy and insecure woman she was capable of being to show through. And Michelle – she was his living, breathing miracle, returned to him as soft and warm and loving as he remembered her. Sitting there with her snuggled into his embrace on the couch, he could almost believe that if he closed his eyes, the twenty-some-odd years since their last evening together would evaporate as if they'd never happened.
"Leave the glass," Michelle waved a finger before Miss Parker could retrieve her eggnog glass. "I'm just going to rinse them and stick them in the dishwasher anyway." She bent and collected hers and Sydney's from the glass-topped coffee table, and then reached out a hand to retrieve her son's from him.
"Goodnight then," Nicholas told her, also rising from his chair on the other side of the couch to hand his mother his glass. "I'll see you all in the morning." He gave Sydney and Miss Parker a jaunty wave and then stepped forward to give Michelle a dutiful peck on the cheek.
Miss Parker handed her glass over as well and then watched mother and son leave the living room together. "You have a wonderful family, Sydney," she commented gently. "You should be proud."
"Thank you, Parker," the old psychiatrist smiled at her. "And thank you for being a part of my family this year." He thought for a long moment, unwilling to drop the paternal feelings toward her that the evening had only made stronger. Deciding to take a chance, he stepped closer to her and, putting a very careful arm about her shoulder, dropped a glancing kiss to her brow. "Bete noir, ma petit – sleep well."
Miss Parker's eyes immediately flew up to catch Sydney's warm brown gaze tightly. "You haven't called me that in years, Syd – since before Daddy sent me to Europe..."
Sydney nodded. "I know. But, considering the circumstances, it just seems far more appropriate to the spirit of the season, don't you agree?"
The beginning wisps of a soft smile tweaked at the corners of her lips. "Very true," she agreed finally, turning into him very subtly and allowing herself to enjoy the tentative hug he was giving her. "Merry Christmas, Syd."
The hug grew just a tiny bit tighter. "Merry Christmas, Parker."
oOoOo
Jarod watched with dancing eyes as his father broke open the bags of Hershey's kisses and peppermint lozenges and dumped liberal amounts of each into the five stockings hanging from the mantle. "Mom's going to grumble about Santa wanting her backside to get wider again this year," he chuckled. "And Em will tell us all about her new diet…"
Charles chuckled back, but didn't stop his work until each of the stockings was well filled. "Your mother grumbles every year, Jarod – you know that… And as for Em…"
"She needs a new diet like she needs a new hole in her head," Jarod repeated along with his father and then laughed softly at the shared joke. Emily's position at the newspaper had become more high-profile with the awards she'd won for her investigative reporting – and she was more conscious of her appearance as a result. "At least us guys can enjoy the goodies without pangs of conscience."
"I dunno about that…" Charles patted his stomach, which protruded just a little more every year. "If I'm not careful, I'll start looking pregnant myself." He eyed his oldest. "And you'll have to watch out for the same thing if you stop being as active as you are now."
"No chance of that in the near future," Jarod shook his head. Life on a working cattle ranch in Montana kept him plenty active – and plenty contented. He considered getting a genuine diploma in psychology and hanging up a shingle every now and then, but the outdoors life filled with nothing more intellectual than keeping tabs on breeding stock and fence conditions was quite a restful change for him. Just having the luxury of staying in the same place without watching over his shoulder was a delight. His Pretending days were behind him – and he was contented with his place in life for the time being.
"Your mother told me that you actually broke down and called Sydney this year," Charles said, watching his son's face carefully. "I'm glad she finally talked you into it."
"I am too." Jarod felt the familiar wash of discomfort that came when discussing his past life with his parents. "At least now I know that things are going well with him – except for the way he still worries about Miss Parker."
"Maybe you should consider calling her too one of these days," Charles suggested carefully. Jarod's mood could become quite quixotic when the discussion began to close in on his former nemesis.
"I called her too," Jarod admitted softly. "I hoped things would have been going better for her than they evidently are. From the way she sounded on the phone, she's been alone too much again – no wonder Sydney was worried."
"That's unfortunate." Charles felt a quick stab of sympathy for the daughter of his wife's old friend, lost to the machinations and agendas of the monsters in charge of the Centre.
"I wonder what's in this one…"
Charles turned quickly and saw Jarod with a gift in his hand, shaking it carefully. "You know better than that!" he chuckled. "After that first year, your mother and I have learned to wrap your gifts so that they don't rattle anymore."
"Doesn't stop me from trying to figure it out," Jarod quipped back with a mischievous smirk on his face as he listened as he shook the box yet again.
Charles sobered. "I just hope you know how much having you and the others here on Christmas means to your mom and me."
"Don't worry, Dad," Jarod put the gift back down on the overflow side of the gift pile under the tree. "It means just as much to me – trust me." He put a warm hand on his father's shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Dad."
"Merry Christmas, son."
oOoOo
"This is Sydney."
"Hello, Sydney."
"Jarod!" Sydney pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down quickly. "Two calls in the space of a little over a week? Is everything all right?"
"I'm fine, Sydney. It's New Year's Eve – I figured if I called you for Christmas, I should wish you a Happy – I mean, HappiER – New Year as well." Jarod settled back against his pillow, one arm behind his head on the pillow as the other hand held the phone to his ear.
"And a Happy New Year to you too," Sydney's voice smiled into his ear. "Are you having a large party to celebrate?"
"Nope," Jarod shook his head. "Just the family – and more of Mom's eggnog. You?"
"The same," Sydney said with a note of supreme contentment in his voice. "Michelle and Nicholas are still here – and Miss Parker will be arriving any moment now."
"Miss Parker?" Jarod was surprised but tried to keep most of it from his voice.
"Indeed." Sydney was apparently bursting with his news. "She spent Christmas with us – and we told her that it wouldn't be right for her not to spend New Year's Eve here too. Broots and Debbie will be by tomorrow for dinner as well."
Jarod was silent for a long moment. Maybe he didn't have to worry so much about Miss Parker anymore after all. "I'm glad you have your family, Sydney."
"And I'm glad you have yours, my boy."
"Share a toast with me, Sydney – when you have your eggnog in hand and I have mine."
"To what?"
"To families –and the spirit of the season."
Sydney's smile echoed over telephone lines. "Here, here, Jarod. To families – and to the spirit of the season."
FIN