I trust everyone made it through the apocalypse ; ) Fortunately, all of PV's residents did, too, and they'll be celebrating the holidays for the next couple of chapters. I hear Father Clarence is still lurking around town…
Happy holidays, and let's hope Prospect Park – or someone else, perhaps - can pull off a holiday miracle!
####
In absence of the chimney, Santa had apparently opted for her front door. He wasn't quite as stealth as he believed, though. Cara happened to be a longtime scout of Papa Noel and Los Tres Reyes Magos, so she managed to get the jump on her visitor. When she opened the door and stood over him, he was still poised mid-crouch.
He gazed at her sheepishly, the green box dangling in his hand.
She crossed her arms. "I guess the whole Secret Santa thing's not working out, huh?"
"I…I just wanted to -" When David raised up, he ran his free hand through his hair, creating an unkempt mess in the process. Mr. Calm and Collected was transforming into Mr. Frazzled before her eyes.
Finally, he hesitantly extended his arm. The slight trembling he'd blame on the lingering aftereffects of his injury. She knew better.
"Could you just give this to him, please? It's not anything special, but I'd like him to have it."
As she accepted the package, her sure grip steadied both the present and its giver. "It is special, though, because it's from someone more important to him than he'll ever know."
In order to ease the awkward silence that threatened to drape over them, she playfully tapped the box. "His first stethoscope?"
Finally, he returned the smile. It wasn't the smirk to which everyone was accustomed, but he wore it well.
"No, I have a feeling he's gonna make his own mark out there. This, it's -" he signaled to the small flat box –"you can open it later. It's more of a - you know what? You can just throw it away. It's not -"
She lifted the lid as he blew out an audible breath. The king of control hated nothing more than relinquishing his bounty.
Cara's smile widened as she traced the stem. Her fingers lingered on the fiery star at the flower's end.
"I know it's a tradition where you're from, and the flower, my…my father used to grow them. They were always one bright spot. I thought maybe you could attach it to his crib, but it's fine if you don't."
By the time she had managed to pry her eyes away from the most beautiful poinsettia she had ever seen, he had already turned to leave.
She grasped the tiny patch of skin that wasn't covered by coats or gloves. It was still warm.
"I think Alejandro would like it very much. But since it's your gift, I think you should be the one to give it to him."
His head tilted slightly, and another soft sigh crackled the chilled air.
"I'll go with you, and we can hang it together. We're in this together," she emphasized.
For the next minute, neither of them moved, but she knew a thousand battles were being waged.
The door was still open.
When he turned back and quietly followed her inside, Cara sent a silent thanks for the small victory.
#
His eyes could sparkle like a child's on Christmas morning. She'd seen the effect maybe twice, and he really didn't let the rest of the world see it nearly enough. The object of his wonder graced her with that same magic every day. Currently, though, the magic was contained behind closed lids.
That fact did not stop David from gazing with unabashed fascination at the slight rise and fall of their son's chest. Cara attached the flower to his carousel. Alejandro shifted just slightly, but his face – and his fleeting, bright smile – were now in full view.
The visible movement in David's throat gave rise to the ghost – the inspiration – of that tiny smile.
"Thank you," he said so softly that she could barely distinguish the words. He stepped back. "I…I should go now."
"Thank you." This time, she didn't need a hand to stop him. "We'd like to invite you to la Misa Del Gallo, otherwise known as midnight mass; It's a tradition, too…a family tradition."
"David Hayward in a church at midnight? The place might go up in flames." His face passed through the shadows of the room, but she knew every hiding place too well.
Cara only smiled. "Or maybe we'll just have ourselves an early Christmas miracle."
He didn't say no.
He didn't walk away.
And maybe, just maybe, the miracle had begun.
####
Approximately 53 minutes remained until 9:00 PM Eastern Standard Time, when the gathering was scheduled to end. She could make sure that each file was properly categorized. Given her new system, this task might last approximately 23 minutes. 30 minutes would still remain. She had already performed each of the required party rituals. She had consumed one half of a cup of the drink that tasted nothing like eggs. She had received a scarf from the Secret Santa game. Someone called the scarf green, but it was actually light turquoise. She had conversed with Ms, Cortlandt about a gift for her father. She had even sung the melody four times for the Christmas carol "Jingle Bells.'
One task, however, had still not been accomplished. Something inside of her would never feel right until she had fulfilled her own tradition. Usually, she could rely on the comfort of her room, where everything was in place, and where she could just do what the task compelled her to do. Sometimes she would hum. Other times she could feel stinging around her eyes.
Although she usually liked control, she found that during these times she could let the control go.
Lily removed the small figurine from her briefcase. She placed it carefully on top of her desk and counted the tiny people. Seven to be precise. Some of the people had their hands stretched. Other people had their arms around another person. Lily was especially fascinated with those people. She could never distinguish their eyes or mouths . The eyes and the mouth were main features that she had been taught to study in her life skills classes. Somehow, though, she did not need those features to know that the miniature figures were happy.
Joyous.
"May I?"
The voice did not startle her. Pete was still standing in the doorway when she looked up. He blinked a lot when she saw him. Usually, this motion was said to indicate nervousness, but she did not know why Pete would be nervous.
She thought for a moment before picking the carousel up and extending it to him.
He stepped into the office and smiled. Now he looked more like Pete.
"I was actually requesting permission to come into the room, but I have always loved a good music box. Thank you."
He twisted the silver key and the small people began to twirl around in their wreath-adorned cups. The Christmas carol 'Joy to the World' accompanied their ride. Christmas carol was not accurate, though, because the song was written in 1719 as a hymn.
When Pete smiled big, his eyes got big too, and he resembled a little boy. He began humming in a key that did not sound pleasant. Lily had never shared her Christmas ritual with anyone before, and an unexpected reaction occurred. She laughed. She did not often laugh. It was…different.
When he looked up, she covered her mouth.
He had not stopped smiling. "This is really cool…I mean really nice. Was it a gift?"
Lily nodded. "My mother gave it to me 18 years ago. She gave it to me before I could talk, and before she died."
"It still looks brand new."
"I keep it in a special place, and I only play it once a year. On this day. I do not remember very much about my mother, but playing this music always helps me remember."
Pete performed a curious action. He put the carousel down and both frowned and smiled. She could not identify the meaning behind that gesture. "I would buy my father a tie every year," he said. "They would always have these crazy designs, and I knew he would never wear them to the office. But when I would come to visit, every time, he would have one on. I still get him one every year. I know that probably sounds strange."
Lily only shook her head. "It makes you feel warm. I tried to ask my mother what the word joy meant one time. I could not make the words to ask her, but somehow she must have known. She told me that joy is what makes you feel warm inside. We should always find those things and keep them."
She did not like when Pete looked away, not only because she could not see his gestures. He was moving towards the door again. She did not want him to leave.
"I'm sorry for interrupting you," he said. "I just had to get away from the crowd for a while. These office Christmas parties are not really my cup….I don't really like them."
"I had the same thoughts, so maybe we could have them together. You can stay, if you want."
She wanted him to stay, because she could look at him instead of the floor. Only a few people made her want to look. To see.
He was smiling again, and he did not blink as much now. "I got you something. It's just something I think would be practical," he quickly added. His face was red, but it was a red she did not mind.
Pete put one of the cartoon presents on her desk. That was the name she always gave to the gifts that possessed a removable top but no wrapping paper. They seemed to only exist on television cartoons but Pete had found a real cartoon box. It was white and the ribbon was green. Neither were red, which she liked. She also liked that he remembered.
A box with a screen was inside of the box.
"It will reduce the clutter on your desk. See, you only need one frame now, but it can hold all of the pictures that you want."
She deduced from Pete's outburst of words that the box – the box with the screen, not the box with the ribbon – could show digital photographs.
He was right. The present was practical. And she could test it right now. When she removed her digital camera from her briefcase and clicked a photograph of Pete, he fortunately had not resumed his blinking yet. Now, however, he was blinking more than usual.
"What are you doing?" His cheeks were the red she liked again. "I mean, I know what you are doing, but why are you doing it?"
Pete puzzled her, but she liked trying to fit the pieces together. Lily had missed Pine Valley, but she had not missed answering questions that seemed to have an obvious answer. "Most individuals who use digital photograph frames display pictures of family members and friends. You are family in a way I cannot yet calculate …and you are also my friend. Your picture should therefore be in my frame, unless you do not want your picture in my frame."
"No, no…I mean yes." He was curving his lips again. He was a strange boy sometimes. "Yes, I would be honored to be included in your pictures. Thank you."
"You are welcome." This time, she could feel her own lips curving. It was a nice feeling.
Pete cleared his throat and looked at his watch. "The party is almost over. May I walk you out?" he asked.
She accepted his invitation, and after gathering her belongings, they prepared to leave….until her usual diligent observation yielded something that could not be ignored.
She frowned. Her mother had taught her the value of Christmas traditions, but this tradition presented a problem. Perhaps a compromise existed.
Quickly, before she could convince herself not to partake in the tradition, she placed two fingers to her lips and then just as quickly pressed her fingers to Pete's cheek. His cheek was warm even before it turned red again.
Before he could ask another silly question, she pointed up at the ceiling…at the mistletoe.
Pete's mouth was still open when a very grumpy Santa Claus – known on most days as Mr. Caleb Cortlandt – stomped through the hallway. His beard was detached from his chin and his hat was falling off of his head. And she did not think that Santa Claus wore those kind of boots.
She was going to offer a few helpful suggestions, but her boss only offered a "Bah Hambug to Christmas!" before stalking out the door.
Lily looked at Pete, whose mouth was now closed and curved into another smile.
She liked Christmas. It was…
Warm.
####
He woke to a jolly, plump little person clad in red and white and sporting a laugh that could make the world sit up and take notice.
Said jolly Santa, in the absence of an armful of presents, decided to give him just one gift instead. When his daughter threw her chubby arms around him and squealed "Dada," Frankie knew this particular gift was all he needed.
When Santa's tall but still-beaming elf leaned over and gifted him with the second best present of his morning, he knew that his Christmas dream might never end, and he was perfectly okay with that.
"Merry Christmas, baby," he whispered to one squirming little girl. "And baby," he added to her mother, gifting the one-of-a-kind woman beside him on the bed with a tender present of his own.
They parted with a mutually satisfactory "Mmm" and surveyed their daughter, who was in turn perfectly perched on Frankie's lap and surveying them curiously.
"You know, not many people could say that they've had Santa sitting on their lap. I'm a lucky guy."
"A lucky guy who takes a bit too much after his daughter," Randi mused, wiping at the corner of his mouth.
"I do not, nor will I ever, drool in my sleep," Frankie protested. "Unlike a certain someone who saws more logs than a lumberjack."
"Hey, a girl – especially one starting up the next major cosmetics juggernaut – has gotta get her beauty sleep."
"Well, I can't argue that you look beautiful sawing those logs. And I see that our daughter takes a bit too much after her mother."
Frankie motioned to the foot of the bed where Angie was, in fact, already tucked in a small ball again, sawing her own little log as they spoke.
With each soft snore, a dimple flared. She had the best Christmas angel of all watching over her. Frankie smiled at the thought.
His hand sought out his wife's, as it tended to do. He was surprised when a small box was slipped into his grasp instead. When he cocked an eye at Randi, she had a too-tentative smile.
Frankie held the package up to his ear. Hoping to lighten the increasing uncertainty that was passing over his wife's face, he shook the box, but the action gave nothing away. "Am I safe in assuming this isn't of the 'keep on ticking' variety?"
She took his hand and brought it, and the box, between them. Her thumb rubbed the magic spot between his thumb and finger, and he immediately relaxed.
"I love you," she said. "And I want you to be happy."
Leaning back, he lifted the box's lid and removed the roll of paper tucked inside. He scanned the contents and his eyes fastened on the small attached features so much like his own. They blurred, and kept blurring, despite his best efforts.
Until one touch made everything clear.
"I…I hired an investigator. This is what he found. And - if you want - he says we might be able to make contact with the adoptive parents."
Frankie leaned forward and let his fingers slide through the coarsest, and softest, hair he'd ever felt.
"Thank you" was all he could manage.
Pulling her towards him and brushing his lips against her temple, he showed her again how thankful he was.
#
They'd trimmed the tree the day after Thanksgiving because, in the Hubbard family, Christmas was lucky if it could escape being called for duty before Halloween. The wicked witch and Santa weren't just longtime adversaries in the retail aisles.
One ornament, however, always waited until the big day. Frankie took Angie's hand, and, for once, the overeager little fingers quieted. Stilled.
They helped give the crystal keepsake guardian angel flight on this Christmas morning.
"It's beautiful," Randi said.
Gazing at his wife, Frankie could attest that their decoration was not the only beautiful figure adorning the living room. Just as he was about to make this observation known, the bell sounded.
He'd like to think it was a little nod to their own angel getting her wings. But he already knew the identity of their guest. He only hoped that his own attempts at working Christmas magic had succeeded.
She opened the door and Frankie was a profile, a shadow to the young man filling the doorway…and his wife's transformed little-girl eyes.
Funny, he'd always made fun of those slow-motion movie montages. Mom had been a sucker for them, not him. He got it now though, because damned if the world wasn't trudging frame by frame. He'd never been much for details either, but now every carefully ironed petal in the wallpaper, every light sliver slicing those carefully placed crystals, each was a co-star, but never a scene-stealer.
Randi stood, feet frozen, eyes shining with unspoken need. A few feet away, similar eyes caught and averted glimpses.
Frankie watched his wife finally make footfall again, mingling and morphing with that shy, bouncing girl she must have once been. He watched her trace slight, familiar paths along a suddenly younger face. He watched fingers tremble in accord with the slightly shaking chin they covered. He watched hesitation, rules, and regulations wash away. He watched the world slow, framing its snapshot. He and Angie watched: the intruders. He eavesdropped upon the silence that somehow spoke great speeches, but he did not attempt to decipher the soft static designed for two.
In that static, Frankie wondered if he had made a mistake. When Reggie stepped forward and enveloped his sister in a fierce hug, Frankie quietly slipped from the room with his daughter, certain that he had made one of the best decisions of his life.