With many thanks to Jaz for the bunny and the inspiration!
CHRISTMAS BOY
by
Owlcroft
Stoop-shouldered, head lowered, the man in the Yankee cap stood looking out over the waves, hands in his pockets. As the sound of sand crunching behind him came to a stop, he spoke. "You knew where I was, huh?"
"Well, I figured you might be here." The brown hair was streaked with gray, but the woman's posture and expression still gave her an indefinably youthful air. "It is our place."
He sighed. "I was just remembering that you brought me here to tell me you were pregnant. Seeing the stocking with his name on it brought it all back like it was yesterday."
"I know." She slipped her hand into his and leaned closer. "It hasn't even been six months yet, so we're allowed, I guess. Be surprising if we didn't feel it more at Christmas, really."
"Yeah." The stocky man put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace, lightly resting his chin on her head.
They stood like that for several minutes as the ocean continued its ongoing assault on the beach, the washing, hissing sound of the wavelets somehow soothing, as was the vastness and majesty of the Pacific.
Finally, the woman spoke again. "Have you thought any more about that idea of mine?"
A minute smile broke over the man's craggy face and he shook his head. "I really think we're too old to adopt. We should have been thinking about grandkids, instead. But . . ." He sighed again.
"Not an adoption really, Milt. More like foster parents. A boy who needs a home, some security and some good food. A different example to follow –"
"Hold on a minute." His grip tightened just a bit. "Who said anything about a boy. You sound like you got a specific kid in mind already."
Nancy shook her head. "No. I even thought about a girl, or maybe both; siblings, you know." Her eyes squinted briefly at the glare on the ocean, then she turned to look up at her husband and wrinkled her nose at him. "Just one of my feelings. It'll be a boy. You wait and see."
He snorted and relaxed his embrace just a trifle. "I know all about your feelings, hon."
"Then you know it'll be a boy," she grinned up at him. "Remember the punchbowl? I was right about that, wasn't I? And Sarah's sister? And –"
"Yeah, yeah." He held up one hand, palm out, to halt her. "I know. But I still haven't even said yes, yet. I'd like to think about it some more." He grimaced and closed his eyes briefly. "It's only been six months."
Nancy hugged him fiercely for a moment, then gently dug her elbow into his ribs. "You know I'm right about this, Milt. A place like this needs a boy or two running around, making noise and keeping us busy. Think about it, okay? Soon."
He sniffed, staring out over the sun-dappled sea, then shrugged. "Yeah, I will." He paused, then added, "Would be kinda nice to have a kid around, I guess. Somebody to wake us up at all hours, and make a mess everywhere he goes, and get into trouble that we gotta bail him out of –"
"Exactly," she beamed at him. "Clothes all over the place for me to pick up, more dishes to wash –"
"Huh-uh. Nope." Milt looked down at her with a firm expression in his eyes. "If – and I say if – we do this, we're gonna get a kid old enough to start living on his own in the gatehouse. I'm not having you doing more work just because we have a kid around again. You're already getting too tired with all those committees and charities and stuff."
"Pish," she said lightly. "But an older boy's a good idea. They're harder to place, you know."
He gave her a mock glare. "And just how do you know that? You've already been checking, haven't you?"
"Just a few words with somebody I know. Now, Milt," she brushed a bit of spume from the bill of his cap, "think about it. Seriously. Wouldn't it be nice to give some boy a chance at starting over, of a real future? Besides being able to teach him to skip stones, and take him to ballgames, and buy him a bicycle –"
"Bicycle? Motorcycle, you mean." He grinned at her. "Remember, an older boy."
00000
Hardcastle shook his head and brought himself back to the present. Present, hah! he thought, pleased with his pun. He checked the red bow on the motorcycle, and positioned it just so. Fits real nice there. Now, I gotta get this back to the basement before McCormick gets home. He stepped back to admire the brightly-shining machine once again and leaned an elbow on the fireplace mantel.
"You were right again, hon," he murmured to the photo in the frame. "A boy, who needs a chance. But he's an older boy, so I was right, too." He grinned at the picture and went to move the bike.