Paper chains of red and green decorated the lintels inside. A wreath hung on the front door, but the tree wasn't up yet. School holidays were just two weeks away and everyone felt the excitement. In the Texas hill country, the weather was far from Christmassy. Leaves of yellow and red and brown mingled with a few yet green and most still on the trees. But woodsmoke on the air definitely conspired with the dampness of the cool, gray day, trying to drag winter in by the heels.
"Janes!" The front door opened inwards and a woman with a child in her arms pushed the screen door wide to step out.
The men of the family, jean-jacketed on the front porch, looked at each other, eyes wide. Robert, sitting with his dad on the glider, scooted closer and propped himself on rigid arms, round sea-green eyes staring up at his dad for direction.
Make that protection. "Mom's mad." There could be only one reason why - she didn't think it was funny.
Patrick relaxed and smiled, tousling the boy's blond curls. "I'll handle it. We didn't do anything."
"Maybe she didn't like the, the . . . Christmas stuff."
"Why would that make her mad, Rob? Only a Christmas hat. Libby is darling, like Santa's little elf. It looks great with her green thermal onesie."
Robby's face was bright red and a bead of sweat formed on his upper lip as he tried not to look at his older brother. Matt was seven, almost an adult.
Standing on his dad's blind side, Matt gave Robby a hard stare with narrowed eyes, a warning to keep his mouth shut. Not that it would matter. What could anyone expect from a four-year old? Keeping his head still, he glanced at his father twice, trying to send a discreet reminder to Rob. Dad didn't know. They were in for it.
Matt's silent message forced a gasp from his little brother's lips, now as round and wide as the eyes that stared again at their father.
Patrick cleared his throat and winked at his smallest boy. "Easy, son. I'll handle this." He looked over his shoulder. Matt's mossy green eyes remained focused on his brother, intense beneath the dark curls that tumbled across his forehead. A male version of his mother, but with a heavier build, like his father. Over an infinity of freckles, his face held a pink summer sheen. In December. Something was going on between the boys. Suddenly Patrick felt outnumbered, and unprepared to defend anyone.
"Patrick Jane! Matthew Jane! Robert Jane!" Teresa stood, a force at the doorway, trundling a happy six-month old in her arms. "What have you done to my baby?" Libby babbled, wisps of curling brunette hair floating around the edges of her red pointed knit hat. Flecks of green and gold glimmered in her sable brown eyes as she smiled and waved her arms at three of the most favorite people in her world. A little brown foot tossed a corner of her blanket aside.
Brown. And slightly flakey at the creases. The toes wiggled. Patrick looked at his daughter's face and tried to squelch a laugh. Her eyebrows were wide green smears, as emerald as her onesie, and the tip of her nose was daubed heavily in something bright red with a curled tip like a chocolate kiss. The red elf's cap sat snugly tilted on her head. Patrick's smile was wide when he looked at his wife.
Relieved by their father's mirth, his sons started giggling. Robby pointed and laughed out loud. The effect of their work on Libby looked even funnier now than when they had completed it in her crib. Libby chortled, innocently joining the merriment.
Teresa was not amused.
Patrick tried to straighten his face to reason with his wife. "Honey-."
She tilted her head and widened her eyes, mouth in a tight smile, inviting – no, daring – a sane explanation.
Matt was pointing, nearly doubled over with laughter. "She looks like a zombie nightmare elf!" Robby, breathless now, held himself, trying not to wet his pants.
Teresa held her stare, raising her eyebrows with a little nod of her tilted head. "Great one, Patrick."
"Me? No!" Patrick's newly shocked eyes turned toward the son next to him and then the son standing on his other side.
The boys stopped laughing. Their father was about to rat them out.
"I put the elf hat on Libby's head, that's all! Something festive to keep her head warm. You don't think-!" Patrick pointed at the floor in front of Teresa. "Boys! Tell your mother what you've done."
Gasping at the betrayal, they looked reproachfully at their traitorous father and scurried to the spot. "Nothing!" they said in unison.
Then Robby turned to scowl at his dad. "You told!"
Matt jabbed an elbow in his brother's ribs. Then followed a series of traded frogs, pinches and shoves.
"Boys! Stop! How can I tell something I know nothing about? No, this is all on you two. And you'll take the consequences. Look at your sister. She's crazy about you both. You took advantage of her trust. Her baby trust," he added for good measure.
Rob started to cry and Matt stuck out a quivering bottom lip, refusing to.
Patrick caught Teresa's glance and rolled his eyes. "Not my stooges," he mouthed, slowly shaking his head, a wagging index finger pointed at their two sons.
She struggled to keep from smirking, then looked at her daughter's Christmas clown face, and now two bare and kicking brown feet, and regained her stern scowl. Taking advantage of Libby's innocence and helplessness! They'd gone too far this time.
Tired of standing, Teresa took a few steps to the glider, and the boys shuffled behind her, facing her as she sat down. Patrick pulled her closer as Teresa tucked Libby back into her blanket and sat her against her chest. "Matt. Robby. Look at your baby sister and tell us what happened."
Both parents watched their sons expectantly. The boys cracked under the pressure.
Blubbering and hiccupping, Robby couldn't speak.
Matt bit his lip to keep from laughing again at Libby, eyes bright and looking at him with a wide grin on her comical face. Then his face fell into regret as the point of his parents' distress took root in his mind. She was just a baby. "She's not a toy." He couldn't look at his mother.
Robby chimed in wetly. "She's a, a p-p-person!"
"Stop talking, Robby. You're all gloopy. You wouldn't have done it if I didn't."
Falling against his brother, Robby wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, leaning heavily. His sigh quivered as Matt's arm settled across his shoulders with a patting hand.
"Mom . . . " Matt didn't know what to say.
"Why, Matt? Were you mad at your sister for something?"
"Mad? At Libby? She didn't do anything. I don't know. We were just having fun." A terrible thought struck him. "We didn't use anything poison, Mom . . . Dad! Just that cake decorating stuff. And, and chocolate kisses melted on her feet. We wouldn't want Libby to get sick!"
Teresa had already tasted the 'decorations' and knew their content. Patrick felt a little sorry for the boy, and proud that he was taking responsibility for the truth. "I know you wouldn't want that, son."
"Anyway, it's only half her feet. It's supposed to be hooves. She's Rudolph."
"With green eyebrows." Teresa wanted the whole truth. "Just for fun . . ."
"I put that part in." Robby's eyes glimmered sheepishly at his mother, the tender skin around them red and puffy, snot paths running to the edge of his upper lip. He wiped the back of his hand across them, cleaning it on his jeans. "You put green on your eyes sometimes, mama." He paused to watch her face. She wasn't happy but she didn't look so mad anymore. "Libby had fun, too! She was laughing."
"Only because we were," said Matt. "She didn't know what we were doing. We're sorry we messed up your baby . . ." Robby nodded against his brother's armpit.
Teresa studied them for a moment. A pitiful portrait of brotherly regret. They got it. "You're all my babies." She opened her arms and her sons filled them, squeezing on either side of Libby who wiggled joyfully, her brothers' faces so near, patting her cheeks with fingers and kisses.
"Sorry, Libby."
"Yeah. Sorry."
Teresa kissed the tops of her children's heads and looked at Patrick with a dewy smile. His eyes were glittering, too.
He had no idea there could be so much love in the world. Or that he could feel such pride in his family. He scooted close and managed to hug everything that was most precious to him, all at once, all their hands and arms reaching for him, too. "We have good boys, Teresa," he said quietly.
"The best." Giving them a last pat, she said, "Okay, boys . . ."
They got up and stood in front of her.
"Now. Who wants to learn how to wash a baby's face and feet?"
Both boys smiled. "Do you forgive us, Mom?" Matt asked.
"Of course. But you need to make it right for Libby." She stood their little sister on her lap, helping Libby to balance as she flapped her arms and babbled at her brothers. Little brown toes baby-stamped chocolate onto the blanket, "I think Libby forgives you, too."
Teresa secured the baby into her highchair and showed Matt and Robby how to wring the warm cloth just right and hold it against the 'decorations' to loosen them and wash them away. It was a bigger mess for awhile, but they got the hang of it. Teresa handled the delicate work of the green eyebrows, and Matt the red nose. Robby elected to suck the chocolate from Libby's toes until Matt put the cloth firmly in his hand to 'clean them right.' Teresa guided him until they both felt confident he could manage the rest.
While they cleaned up the baby, Patrick fixed afternoon tea, a weekend snack they'd all come to enjoy.
"Give Libby a gummy biscuit and some warm tea in her bottle," suggested Robby, wanting to include everyone.
Matt laughed. "Libby likes mama's tea!" Robby fell into giggles pointing at their mother who moved her lips comically, imitating the baby suckling discreetly at her breast. Libby halted briefly, the crease of her mouth filled with milk, and smiled at her mother before returning to her 'tea.'
Patrick laughed, too. "I guess mama has the best tea!"
"Eeeeeeewwww! Da-ad . . . you tasted it?"
"What do you mean, eeeeewwwww?" Teresa winked. "I think you've all tasted my tea."
"Mmmmmmmm. Milky tea . . . Daddy's a titty-baby!" Robby pointed at his father and laughed. He stopped when Dad raised an eyebrow and Matt elbowed him.
Tea things cleared away, Teresa put Libby down for a nap, then stood at Patrick's side, cupping a firm round fanny cheek.
Turning, he kissed her. "Tea time?"
"Yes. With all the goodies . . ."
"Just what we need . . ."
When he turned back, the boys were looking at them, grinning.
"Matt. Rob. Your mom and I are going to take a nap."
Matt stifled a snicker and Robby jabbed him in the ribs. Neither knew exactly what went on during their parents' naps, but they knew it involved kissing, a lot of noise and the threat of a terrible fate if they knocked on the door unless someone was bleeding out or apparently dead! Hurricanes and tornados weren't bad enough.
"And no listening at the door!" Patrick warned. "Turn on the TV or music. Draw at the table. Play outside. We won't be long-."
"Who says?" Teresa pinched his side. "You'd better give me plenty of time . . ."
Shutting the bedroom door firmly, they shed their clothing and met each other eagerly under the sheets.