The little dwelling shone with candles that night as the Sami seated their guests and began to bring in food. "This is not the traditional meal," said Kris. "We usually have roast pork and carrot casseroles and sweet pastries. This year we must make do with venison and what we have been able to gather, but we do have glögi." She passed glasses around.
Micah took a sip. "Mulled wine. I haven't had mulled wine in a long time."
Luke looked around. "Where's Nick?"
There was a knock at the door and the big Sami came in, exclaiming "Onko täällä kilttejä lapsia?"
"It means 'Are there any well-behaved children here?'" Kris whispered to Luke. The children converged on their father as he handed out gifts.
Mark said quietly to his father, "When we go home, I want to open Ma's gift."
Luke put his good arm around his son and hugged him tightly, then said huskily, "I think that's a fine idea, son."
Nick called, "Mark!" He beckoned and the boy went over to him, returning with a small package wrapped in faded paper with a limp ribbon.
Micah and Luke traded glances, then the big man asked, "Nick, how did you…"
"I found that in your coat pocket when my sons brought you in," said Kris. "It is the custom for the head of the family to hand out gifts on Christmas eve, so I asked Nick to give it to your son."
Mark unwrapped the present and held up a pair of tiny silver spurs. "They're just like the ones you used to wear, Pa!" He held them against his feet. "They're too small for me now." He held them up, admiring how they shone in the candlelight.
"Why don't you hang them on the tree?" said Luke. He watched as Mark and Kris went over to the Christmas tree, that perfect cone of bright green that had caught his eye six days ago, and murmured to Micah, "I didn't bring them with me."
The Sami gathered around the tree, decorating it with winter berries and sleigh bells, and Mark laughed with delight as Nick swung him up on his shoulder so he could hang the spurs on the very top of the tree. Micah said softly, "Isn't Christmas a time for miracles, Lucas boy?"
Mark ran over to Luke, throwing his arms around his father and holding him tightly. "Merry Christmas, Pa!"
His father hugged him back. His son was happy at Christmas again. That was the best miracle Luke could have hoped for, and he was very thankful for it as he said, "Merry Christmas, Mark."