Chapter Thirteen

As the days passed, Claire's Christmas preparations intensified. She had to give up the idea of a proper tree as the jungle offered nothing to her satisfaction, but Sayid did furnish her with a large, bush like plant that she attempted to decorate.

She now looked conspiratorially at Sayid and whispered, "Is Aaron busy?" The Iraqi glanced into the boy's bedroom—such as it was, demarked only by a curtain divide—and reported that he was playing. Smiling, Claire slipped a smooth, aqua stone into the boy's stocking. Sayid had noticed Aaron's recent fascination with gathering rocks, and it would no doubt be a jewel in the toddler's collection.

"I thought you did not fill the stockings until Christmas Eve," Sayid remarked.

"Well, sometimes Santa's elves come early and leave little treats."

"Hurley informs me that neither Santa nor his elves come until late on Christmas Eve. He insists everyone must be soundly sleeping, or no gifts will be forthcoming."

Claire shrugged. "Everyone has different traditions. It's not like there's a Christmas lawbook or anything."

Sayid glanced at his stocking, which hung on the other side of Aaron's. He would not admit how delighted he was with the idea of having his very own stocking, but seeing Claire hang it had pleased him, not because he cared about the tradition, but because it seemed to imply that she had accepted him as a semi-fixed part of her life. "Did the elves leave me any early treats?" he asked, reaching out to slip a hand inside the large, slightly deformed knitted sock.

Claire gently slapped his fingers. "No peeking."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest. Trailing kisses on her neck, cheek, and ear, he murmured, "Please, let me look. Just one early treat. A little one would satisfy."

"We have to wait until Christmas to look in the stockings," she insisted.

"Then why do you tempt me with words and shapes? I can tell something is in there by the way the fabric stretches."

She laughed and kissed him and nipped at his ear. "Be a good boy, Sayid," she whispered, "or Santa won't let you have any treats at all." She broke free of his grip and walked around him to adjust the decorations on the "tree." He was about to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her back when Sawyer's voice boomed through the doorway, "Hellloooo, anybody home?"

Sayid went to the door, where he greeted Sawyer with a glowering countenance.

"What's wrong, Lothario? I interrupt something? I figured you couldn't get much accomplished with the midget about, anyway."

"What do you want, Sawyer?"

"Same thing everybody wants. Some more of Claire's mouth-watering berry sauce."

"Don't mock me!" came Claire's protest from behind Sayid.

"Don't worry, mamacita, we ain't asking you to prepare any food this time. Due to your…obsession…with the holiday, Hurley, grand master of ceremonies, has decided that you'll play Santa and distribute gifts at the banquet. I attempted to point out to him that his own figure was more suited to the role, but he insisted on giving you the honor."

Claire smiled broadly. "Did you hear that?" she asked Sayid excitedly. "I'm going to be Santa Clause."

"No dressing up in any tight, bright red suits, though," Sawyer insisted. "Wouldn't want to get the infidel's blood racing on the holiest of days in the Christian calendar."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Actually, it's not the holiest—"

"Whatever, Mrs. Clause, just be prepared to pass out the presents. Everyone's going to leave 'em in the pantry with labels and what not. Rule is—only give gifts to your own family—and yes boyfriends and girlfriends count—oh, yeah, and everyone has to give one gift to the white elephant pile. Got it?"

Claire nodded.

"Good. Mission accomplished. Now I'll let you get back to business." Sawyer winked at the Iraqi, ducked from the doorway, and headed down the beach toward the next hut.

"You look confused," Claire said to Sayid when they were alone again.

"I am trying to envision what a white elephant pile looks like, and I am trying to imagine why you would wish to give gifts to it. Also, I must admit that the connection between elephants and the birth of the son of Mary eludes me. Surely Christians do not believe there were elephants among the lowing sheep?"

He would apparently have to wait some time for his answer, because Claire was too busy laughing.