Lee felt like a first-class heel.

He'd assured her that there was no danger, that this was a simple assignment. "We'll be back by four o'clock, five at the latest," he'd said. Circumstances kept making a liar out of him. He ought to arrange for an Atari to be delivered as an apology. Kids liked that kind of stuff.

He raised his head from the reclinable cot, straining to see the goings-on around him. Amanda took inventory and divvied up provisions, medical and victual alike. Rudolph was posted by the door, Dmitri whittled at the table, and Ivan dozed next to the fireplace.

Even with the cot folded upright, Lee's body was too low to support this surveillance. Shallow, searing breaths rattled through his ribcage. He shifted his scapula and hissed when the gauze rubbed the wrong way. The lead lodged by the bone was like a boiling lump of magma, a hot poker girdled in razors.

Some people got coal for Christmas. Others got bullet holes.

Inch by inch, he shimmied up the back of the cot. His shoulder screamed with each movement and his breath came out in ragged rasps. Amanda was by his side before he could blink.

"You shouldn't be doing that yourself."

"I was uncomfortable," he said, scanning the dim cabin. He could see much better from this angle. He noted the sole exit and the weapons leaning against the door. "Isn't this a cozy little sock hop?"

Amanda shifted her head to contemplate the scene. The Brothers Karamazov were a quiet and polite bunch, all things considered. Rudolph conversed with his would-be-killers while Dmitri dug a flask out of his pack. White flakes were falling past the windows and the fireplace crackled merrily behind them.

"I guess the Soviets have more Christmas spirit than you thought," she said.

Something told Lee that it was more Amanda's spirit to blame than any Yuletide mumbo jumbo. Her presence seemed to tame everyone. Plus, Russians tended not to celebrate until January. None of this left the confines of his brain.

She fretted with the edge of his quilt. "Don't move, I'm going to grab you some beans. You need nutrients after all that blood loss."

Again, Lee didn't have the heart to tell her that he hated beans, or that he couldn't move if he tried.

He watched as she puttered to the table. There was a pot and can of food, one hot and the other cold. She grabbed an aluminum plate—the kind that was normally used for camping—and ladled up a meagre serving of brown beans and salted herring. Across the room, Lee wrinkled his nose.

The things he did for his country.

Just as Amanda was about to come back, she was flagged down by Dmitri. The man touched her shoulder and offered her his flask. She backed rapidly away, but not without a smile.

"Oh, uh, no, thank you. I really couldn't."

"I eat your beans, you drink my vodka."

"It's a lost cause," Lee called from across the room. "Amanda's not much of a drinker."

Leastwise, he could never convince her to drink. Not once.

Dmitri looked from one American to the other, shrugged, and ambled towards Lee's cot. All of Lee's patriotism vaporized as he made grabby-hands at the flask. Barbed wire curled around his wound, but the shiny pewter promised relief. By degrees, he unscrewed the cap and tilted the opening. A deep draught drizzled down his gullet, warmer than any furnace or ingle.

From the corner of his eye he saw Amanda make a face. Pursing his lips, he manifested a pair of puppy-dog eyes that no woman could resist. Her disapproving frown clashed with his disarming smile.

"For medicinal purposes," he explained.

"Ah," she said.

He took one last swig then relinquished the liquor. "Vy ochen' dobry."

Dmitri raised the flask in a sort of mock salute and intoned something about the coming holidays. He moved on to Ivan, leaving Amanda and Lee to wallow in their own awkwardness. They coughed in turns.

Carefully, Amanda arranged herself next to his cot and started spoonfeeding him. He allowed just two mouthfuls before turning his head. There was only so much coddling he could stand.

"I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this mess," he said.

"That's alright." She stirred the beans to avoid his eyes. "Look, how often does a regular lady like me get to meet the KGB and eat beans on Christmas Eve? 'Beats Nicole's party any day."

Lee wheezed out a laugh. Leave it to Amanda to always look on the bright side. One of her hands glided over his sweat-streaked hair.

"I'm more worried about you. Christmas in a hospital can't be fun."

"I've spent Christmas in worse places."

As usual, she was unmoved by his bravado, opting instead to fuss with his hair and feel his forehead for a fever. He recoiled into the pillow.

"Amanda, I don't need to be mothered."

"Humour me," she said.

Lee grumbled but quelled his protests. Unprompted, he leaned into the cool caresses. Her palm was like a balm to his skin. His eyelids drifted down and his breathing evened out.

"Remind me to get shot more often," he murmured.

Amanda's hand vanished. "Don't even joke around like that."

Lee cracked an eye to the sternest "Mom" stare in the history of Mankind. A quivering lip spoiled the illusion somewhat. She put the plate on the mantle and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"You aren't allowed to die. You need to stay alive for a long, long time."

"How long are we talking? Because I never did like the idea of retirement."

"I'm serious. There's things you need to do, places you need to see, people you need to meet…"

"That's the plan for the foreseeable future," he said lightly.

Amanda was not amused. "Promise me, Stetson."

He arched an eyebrow. Was it possible that she was as attached to him as he was to her? He knew he should put a stop to that but couldn't bring himself to do so. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Even if she never reached for him again, he wanted them to be friends.

Like Francine, he thought, although that really wasn't it at all. Not by a long shot.

"Jeez, alright. I'll, um, do my best for ya."

Although she did not seem completely satisfied, Amanda resumed her gentle ministrations.

/

"Amanda! Delivery at the door!"

Those four little words flipped the King house on its foundations. The boys barrelled downstairs with earthshaking enthusiasm. They made it to the foyer moments before their mother, crowding excitedly around the mystery package. Expertly, Amanda edged through them and took the box from Dotty.

It was a hefty parcel, neatly wrapped and rather plain. She shook it once then rolled it over, squinting at the scrawl on its side. The labelling was strangely bare. There was no name, no return address, and no recipient. Just the inscription, "For Just Another Day of the Year". Heat stirred in her cheeks like glowing embers.

Fitting, since it was now the twenty-ninth.

"I'll bet it's from Joe. His gifts always ship late," Dotty said.

Amanda took the out like a window out a burning building. "That's probably it."

"Dad sent us a gift?" Jamie asked, wide-eyed.

Incapable of answering, Amanda worked her jaw and tongue. The wait was too much for two youngsters, and when she loosened her grip, it was just enough for Phillip to snatch the package. They tore into it like wolves, sloughing off paper in long strips. After a few minutes they crowed, holding their prizes aloft.

"Wow!"

"Look, Mom! View-Masters AND an Atari!"

"I didn't think they sold those new Ataris in Estoccia," Dotty said. "A bit out of Joe's budget, don't you think?"

Amanda's neck was swallowed by her shoulders. She decided to relent, just a little bit. White lies worked best in tandem with the truth. Technically she didn't know the culprit, but she had a suspect in mind.

"Well, it could be from one of my new coworkers. They're a secretive bunch, always pulling pranks."

Dotty let out a low whistle. "Three-hundred dollars is quite the prank." She squatted, prodding scraps of paper. "I hope I can meet these coworkers someday. They sound so... interesting."

"I'm sure you will, Mother. I'm sure you will."

/

AN: I'll reply to older reviews soon! M'just, so busy and so blah. Love ya.