Author's Note: I'm hoping to compile a few Christmas one-shots, taken from my LMM fanfic world, between now and the actual holiday. Maybe even include a couple from stories not written but simmering in the back of my brain (ie, a Valancy/Barney Christmas tale; maybe even a glimpse into the Story Girl fic I'm contemplating). In any case, I hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas.
"Mummy, Mummy!" Red-cheeked, eyes glowing from exercise and excitement, scarves muffling their faces almost to their nose-tips, three excited children burst through the front door, pouring into the kitchen, wriggling like giddy puppies, all clamouring to be heard.
"Mummy, we found the most beautiful tree, it's the perfect shape and size--"
"Mummy, I wanted a bigger one, a huge one, big enough to fill the whole parlour, but the others said no, this one was big enough--"
"Mummy, when can we start decorating? Daddy says we have to wait until the tree settles, but I don't want to wait--"
"Ooh, Mummy, is that hot chocolate? How did you know--"
She smiled at their eager faces, so dear to her heart, each one. Behind them, her husband of less than a year grinned at her, no less excited than the children.
"Well, Mummy? Don't you want to see the tree?"
"Of course!" she answered, wiping her hands on her apron and letting four pairs of hands tug her out to the verandah, where reposed an adorable little fir tree, snow still sticking to its green branches.
"Oh, it is perfect!" she enthused, winning triumphant squeals from two of the three. The other frowned, twisting his dark face into a scowl.
"I thought for sure you'd want a big tree, like me."
She pulled him into a hug and whispered something into his ear that made his grin spread so wide it threatened to burst off his face.
"What did you say, Mummy?" the little girl asked as she danced around the tree, touching its branches reverently, the late afternoon sunshine reflecting off her copper hair in dazzling rays.
"That's our secret," she answered teasingly. "Don't you know not to ask questions around Christmas? Now, who wants hot chocolate and Christmas cookies?"
"Did you bake the cookies, Mummy?" the oldest boy asked dubiously.
She tried to look affronted at the unspoken comment on her cooking abilities, but only succeeded in bursting into merry laughter, joined after a moment by her family.
"No, love, your Aunt Jessie brought them by earlier … she knows, as well as you do, my inability to bake anything worth consumption."
"Aunt Jessie's a swell cook," her dark-haired charmer said enthusiastically, abandoning the tree for the kitchen. The baby of the family followed, tugging her father along with her, but the oldest lingered a moment, cuddling up beside this new mother to say,
"Aunt Jessie may be a swell cook, but I'd still rather have you as my Mummy. The only thing that would have made finding the tree better would have been if you could have come with us."
"But then," she said softly, kissing his golden head, "you wouldn't have had the fun of coming home to me."
He threw his arms around her--an unusual act of affection in the usually reserved lad--and agreed that that was almost worth not having her with them on their expedition.
After the hot chocolate and truly delectable Christmas cookies, the boys set up the Christmas tree in the parlour, while she sat next to the little girl and helped her paste gold and silver paper together into chains, for hanging on the tree "when it was ready," as the small one explained confidentially.
Later yet, after supper, the children reluctantly climbed the stairs to their beds, only slightly comforted by the promise that they could start hanging ornaments just as soon as they woke up in the morning.
Alone in the parlour, looking at the bare tree, husband and wife snuggled together for a long moment. Patrick Samuels smiled into his beloved's shining grey-green eyes.
"Our first Christmas, darling. Don't you want to know what I got for you?"
Di Samuels nee Blythe shook her head contentedly. "It's no use teasing me, Patrick. I never was one for wanting to know beforehand my presents--that was always Shirley and Jem. Besides, this year, I've already received the best Christmas present I could ever have."
"What?" Patrick pulled away slightly, a mock frown on his face. "Did someone besides Jessie Wright stop by while the children and I were out tree-hunting?"
Di laughed and poked him in the ribs. "No, silly." She stared into the dying embers of the fire, trying to form her thoughts into words. Walter had been the eloquent one of the family; Nan and Jem and Rilla all had their own way with words. Di and Shirley, however, had missed their mother's gift of a silver-tongue, and both struggled with how to put their deepest feelings into words.
"This afternoon, when I saw you four coming back from the woods, dragging the tree behind you … listening to them chatter on, sharing secrets with Bran, working with Polly on the paper chains, hearing Peter say he'd rather have me for a mother than the best cook in Avonlea … After so many years of loneliness and struggling, Patrick, I finally have a family. Instead of dozens of orphans under my roof, I now have three children I can call my own.
"The best Christmas gift anyone could give me, you gave when you married me and we adopted these three children.
"It's hearing them call me Mummy."
Patrick kissed Di's shining head, and agreed silently that not the most expensive jewels or finest raiment could ever mean more.
The best Christmas presents were in the heart.