Merry Christmas, Rambo
"Ho, ho, ho!"
Sarah Burnett blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and walked towards her front door, forcing a smile. She opened it t greet the woman who'd spoken. "Hi, Pricilla."
Michael's mother smiled and gave Sarah a hug. "Hello, dear. Oh, look at you, skinny so soon after giving birth. Where is my grandbaby?"
"In her crib..." Sarah said, sighing when Pricilla left to go to Miracle's nursery. "She was sleeping." She added quietly, shaking her head. It was Christmastime. She shouldn't let her mother-in-law get to her, but she couldn't help it.
"Oh, there's my little girl," Pricilla cooed, walking into the living room with Miracle in her arms. She was almost five months old, but small for her age, looking dwarfed against Pricilla's bulky sweater.
As Sarah had feared, Miracle started to wail. She didn't cry after her nap often, unless she'd been woken prematurely, like Pricilla had just done.
"Shh, baby." Pricilla said, although that did nothing to quell the baby's screams. The older woman rocked her side to side, whispered sweet words to her, but nothing quieted her down.
Michael came out of his office, finished with a call to a missionary in Africa, and frowned when he heard Miracle crying. "Hi, mom. Having trouble?"
Sarah smiled secretly when his mother looked at Miracle, frazzled. She always acted like she knew how to do everything, and that her way was the only way to raise a child, but even she couldn't fix this.
"Maybe she needs her mother." Pricilla offered.
Sarah shook her head. "No, I can't help quiet her down when she gets like this. I'll be right back." She left for the nursery, where they kept the recorder John had given her with tapes of him talking. Miracle never calmed down during a tantrum faster than when she listened to his strong, powerful voice.
She walked over to Miracle, ignoring the confused look on her mother-in-law's face, and turned on the recorder. Hi, there, Miracle. It's John, again." Miracle tutned towards the recorder, her cries faltering. "Where were we? Oh, I was telling you about my friend Mousa. We rode horses together in the desert a long time ago. He taught me how to play this game..."
Pricilla stood ramrod straight and covered Miracle's ears. "What is that? Why ever would you subject your precious baby girl to the sound of a rough man? His voice sounds like a family of swallows built a nest in his throat!"
Sarah resisted pointing out that Miracle was quiet and calm now, because she just knew Pricilla would find a way to take credit for it.
"That's John. He lives up the road. You probably saw his house driving in. He has a barn connected to the house, with some horses."
Her mother-in-law sniffed. "I did see a man outside of a house on the corner with a horse barn. He looked like an old thug."
Michael, who had been listening to the whole exchange, stepped in. "Mom, he's not a thug. He's a nice man."
Sarah was impressed with Michael for sticking up for John, and grateful too. Once upon a time, the two had not gotten along.
Pricilla didn't seem convinced. "Well, while I'm here, I do not want my granddaughter hearing anything coming out of that man's mouth."
Sarah hid the recorder behind her back, not convinced Pricilla wouldn't remove the tape and destroy it. She went back into the nursery and grabbed the rest of the tapes, hiding them in her bedroom dresser drawer. It meant a lot to her that John recorded those messages for Miracle, and she didn't want anything to happen to them.
John Rambo finished brushing his horses, and guzzled water from the bottle he'd brought outside with him. Working outside in December in Colorado wasn't always fun, but if he did enough work, he got hot anyway. Hearing a loud noise from down the street, John ventured out to see what was going on.
"You son of a b..."
"Sarah?" Rambo interrupted, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He had never heard her swear before, even when her foot had been cut to pieces in Burma.
She turned towards him and blushed. "Sorry, I didn't see you walk over."
John looked down and saw what Sarah had been trying to do. She was attempting to connect the hose to her house and hadn't been successful. In fact, it looked like she'd tripped, and broken a clay pot, which would account for the noise.
"Do you want some help?"
Sarah nodded, and he gave it a try. The cold had made the connection point harder to work with, but after a few tries, he did it.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Are you alright?"
Sarah didn't want to discuss what was bothering her, but she knew John didn't reach out and ask about people's feelings all that much and didn't want to discourage him from doing so again.
"No, not really."
She saw his eyes go from curious to concerned and held up a hand. "Physically, I'm fine. It's my living situation that's the problem."
"What's wrong with your living situation, Sarah?"
She sighed. "My mother-in-law is visiting for Christmas, and she's driving me crazy."
"Oh, no. Why is she driving you crazy?"
"Because she thinks she's God's gift to parenting, and that her way is the only way to raise a child. Every time I do something that isn't the same way she did it, she tsks at me and proceeds to redo it her way."
John frowned. "That's not right. You should raise your daughter your own way."
She smiled at him appreciatively. "I agree. She's only been here a few hours, and I'm already starting to swear. I don't do that often."
"I've noticed." John quipped.
"Earlier, Pricilla, Michael's mother, woke Miracle up from her nap, and she started crying. She tried everything to quiet her down, and nothing worked. We've had that issue too, and the only thing that helps is your recorder."
Rambo looked at her, surprised. "Really?"
"Absolutely. Like I said when I asked you to make the recordings a few months ago, your voice soothes her. Anyway, I played part of the tape, where we had left off in your tales of adventure in the military, and Pricilla got angry. She didn't want her granddaughter listening to such a rough, scary voice, and demanded that I shut it off." Sarah paused when she saw the hurt look flash across his face.
"John, I don't think your voice is rough and scary. I just told you how much it soothes Miracle. Michael and I are so grateful you provided us with a way to calm her down when she gets hysterical. Please, don't think that there is anything wrong with the way you sound."
Rambo nodded slowly, still not looking completely convinced.
"You see how Pricilla is causing trouble, right? She got to you, and you haven't even met!"
John shrugged. "Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law don't always get along."
"I know that, but I wanted us to be different. I wanted..."
"You wanted your faith and cheerful personality to be enough to handle her, but it isn't. Not all the time. And that's okay. If you need to yell or swear, that's okay. And if you want to come to my house and talk, or just sit in silence with some coffee, that's more than okay."
Sarah smiled. "That is so kind, John. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Sarah." He could tell she had some more things to do, now that her hose was properly attached, and started walking down her driveway.
"John!"
He turned back to Sarah. "Yeah?"
"Do yourself a favor and hide if you see an older woman in brightly colored sweaters with spiky hair. I doubt she'd be nice to you."
Rambo smiled. It was sweet that Sarah was worried he wouldn't be able to handle her mother-in-law. Afterall, she'd seen firsthand what he could do. And should have known that an old woman and her opinions didn't frighten him.
Sarah seemed to realize how silly her warning had been when he didn't say anything and shrugged. "You never know, Pricilla could make a grown man cry."
John chuckled and headed back to his house. He wasn't interested in seeking Sarah's mother-in-law out, but he also wouldn't back down if she confronted him about being a presence in Miracle's life.
The next day, Pricilla decided to take her granddaughter out for a walk in her stroller, and Sarah begrudgingly agreed. She didn't much want her baby to leave her sight, but even though she didn't get along well with Michael's mother, she knew the woman wouldn't ever harm her daughter. Plus, the time apart allowed Sarah to wrap Pricilla's Christmas presents. Just because they weren't best friends didn't mean she was going to ignore her on Christmas.
John Rambo wiped his dirty hands on his well-worn jeans and stared at the recently fixed barn door he'd just quit working on. Its handle had rusted, and the wooden door itself had started to rot, so it had been time. Just then, he heard the unmistakable sound of a baby laughing and turned towards the street. There was only one baby near him, unless someone was visiting for the holidays, which was possible, but John felt like he recognized the laugh.
He spotted an older woman, looking like what Sarah had told him Pricilla Burnett looked like, pushing Sarah's baby stroller with Miracle in it. Rambo wanted to go and see the baby, but did as Sarah had warned, and stayed on his property.
However, little Miracle hadn't gotten the memo about keeping a low profile, and she started making goo-goo sounds, looking at him. It was hard to see her clearly from where he stood, but Rambo was fairly sure he saw a smile on her baby face.
Unfortunately, Pricilla saw her granddaughter's reaction to him, and eyed him with a distasteful look. She wheeled the stroller to the fence around his property, and said, "I take it you're John."
Standing up tall, John nodded. "Yes, Ma'am." Respect had been drilled into him in the military, something that hadn't gone away, along with many issues.
Unfazed by his politeness, she pointed at him, and then down at Miracle. "I do not want you anywhere near my grandchild. She is a sweet, innocent little angel, and all you'll do is corrupt her. I mean, look at you. Tattered, faded clothing, calloused, dirty hands. She's a princess, you're a toad."
Rambo took a moment to steady his breathing and forced his body to relax. She was brazenly rude, but she wasn't as hard to ignore as Lewis and the band of mercenaries he commanded in Burma. That man got far under John's skin, but he never spoke back to him, knowing that would only make things worse. He had no reason to talk to him, just like he had no reason to talk to Pricilla now. Defending himself wouldn't work, so why bother.
Seemingly miffed that she wasn't going to get the argument she so clearly was looking for, Pricilla walked away in a huff, pushing Miracle's stroller a bit too forcefully for Rambo's liking. He watched them leave and sighed. People had been calling him things and getting in his face for almost his entire life. It wasn't a fact that he liked, but he didn't feel the need to make people stop, without becoming someone truly unfriendly and beastlike, as he'd been in Thailand when Sarah had found him and reawakened his humanity.
That night, John was riding in his beat up old pickup truck, heading back home after delivering some wood carved toys to Sarah's church. This was his second Christmas in Colorado, and both years, he'd found great enjoyment in making toys for the underprivileged kids that went to the Christ Church of Colorado for free food and shelter with their families.
Four years ago, he thought his life was over, after losing the only person he ever cared for like a daughter, but here he was, living, and surprisingly, enjoying being alive. The pain from losing Gabrielle wasn't gone, it never would be. But every day he was stronger, and being near nice people helped a lot.
His headlights flashed across something in a ditch by the road that looked suspiciously like a car. Rambo screeched his truck to a stop, and got out, worried. His eyesight wasn't perfect anymore, decades of putting his eyes in the direct line of explosions and flying debris had taken its toll, but he was still certain he'd seen a car smashed into the ditch. Thankfully, the ditch wasn't too deep, or hard to get to, it was just wide enough to suck the car in. John had spoken to some local officials about fixing the ditch once, and they hadn't done anything. Now this happened, and John's blood boiled.
Getting close enough to the crumpled, stuck Mercedes, John's eyes widened when he realized that Pricilla, Sarah's disagreeable, rude, mother-in-law was in the driver's seat. Dread filled him when he didn't see her breathing. The windows were half open, but it was too dark to see her completely.
Suddenly, she groaned in pain, and John relaxed. He didn't like her much, but the last thing he wanted was to see another woman die in a car. A burst of wind dragged the scent of gasoline to his nostrils, and Rambo became incredibly aware of how much of a tinder box the smashed car was. He knew he had to get Pricilla out of there, before they both went up in smoke, along with the car.
Trying uselessly to wrench the car door open, John concluded that the only way he'd be able to get her out was to break the window and pull her out. Using his old Army jacket covered elbow, he shattered the window on the passenger side, so that he didn't cut her up with the glass shards. "Ma'am? It's John Rambo. I'm going to pull you out. Don't worry, I've got you."
Without receiving a reply, he reached into the car, and started pulling her over the consol. Thankfully, she'd managed to undo her seatbelt, so that was one less issue he had to work with. Plus, she was a slight older woman, not too heavy to lift up and out of a car window.
John felt the glass from the broken window cut into his arm, and grit his teeth, bearing the pain. He'd bore far worse. Finally, she was free, and standing wobbly on her feet.
"Are you okay to walk to my truck?"
She nodded hazily, and John was fairly certain she was too dazed to even realize who he was. Better that way. He never cared about receiving credit for the things he did, and this time was no different.
After making sure she was secure in his truck, Rambo drove to the hospital. He didn't know if she had been badly hurt, but needed to make sure she didn't have any broken bones or a concussion. He drove carefully, not wanting to wind up like she had, on the winding road in the dark of night, and got them to the emergency room in good time.
"She crashed into a ditch. Not sure how long ago. No outward signs of injury, but she may have a concussion, due to the dazed look she had on her face when I found her." John told the nurses who ran out to greet them after he laid on the horn. Short, to the point sentences were best in emergency situations. He didn't need to talk their ears off about who she was and where he found her, they just needed to know the most important parts.
Seeing how unstable she was on her feet, the nurses got her into a wheelchair, and took off. One stayed behind to talk to him. "Sir, are you alright?"
"Yes." John replied distractedly. He watched the nurses take Pricilla to the triage center and released a breath. His body had been on high alert and was only starting to come down now.
The nurse didn't look convinced. She glanced at his right arm and gasped. "Sir, I am going to have to insist that you come with me. You're hurt."
Surprised, Rambo looked where she was, and furrowed his brow. He hadn't noticed that, in the haste of getting Sarah's mother-in-law help. Come to think of it, though, he was feeling a bit woozy, and could see quite a bit of blood seeping through his jacket...
Sarah woke in the middle of the night to the landline ringing and wondered for the tenth time that month if having a landline still was a good idea. Michael needed a fax for working at the church, but they couldn't mute the landline like they could cell phones.
"Hello?" she said groggily. Sarah sat up fully, wide awake, when she listened to a doctor from the local emergency room tell her that Pricilla Burnett had been admitted to the hospital for crashing her car into a ditch.
"Oh, my gosh. Is she alright?"
The doctor assured her that Pricilla was fine, just a bit shaken up, and would be allowed to leave in the morning.
"Should we come see her?"
"Yes, if you could, I think that would be a good idea. Mrs. Burnett is a bit... hard to handle, and having family nearby might calm her."
Sarah snorted despite herself. "Yeah, my mother-in-law's a bit of a piece of work. Sorry you have to deal with her."
The doctor chuckled. "Not a problem, really. I've dealt with plenty of difficult people in my life, including my own mother-in-law."
"Oh, good. I'm not alone," Sarah joked, while she ran around her room, getting dressed. Michael would undoubtedly want to go with her, but he was still sound asleep. The man could sleep though anything.
The doctor gave her his name and told her to ask for him when they got to the hospital, that he would get them in to see Pricilla.
Sarah hung up, roused Michael, and soon, they were off. Miracle was along for the ride as well, blessedly still asleep in her little carrier.
When they walked inside the emergency room, Sarah headed for the front desk, and asked to speak to Dr. Massey.
"Excuse me," an older looking man in a doctor's coat asked, coming up to them. "I'm Dr. Massey. If you would, please follow me."
The three of them went with the older doctor, and soon, found Pricilla. She was sitting up in her hospital bed, arms crossed over her chest, looking annoyed.
"Oh, good. Michael, Sarah, dear. Please tell the doctor that I feel fine, and would like to leave now, not in the morning. I simply hate hospital rooms."
Sarah didn't miss the look of frustration pass across Dr. Massey's face and winced in sympathy. "Well, Pricilla, I think he knows what he's talking about, when he says you have to stay until morning. That's only a few hours from now, anyway."
Pricilla huffed but stayed silent. Michel, who had Miracle in her carrier on his arm, went to her and they started talking quietly.
Dr. Massey turned to Sarah and added, "Oh, and the man who brought her in here is going to be fine too, but he will have to stay here until morning as well."
Sarah and Michael both looked at him, confused. "What... what man?"
"Why, the man who brought Mrs. Burnett here in his pickup truck."
Both only knew of one man who drove a pickup truck around town, who would help someone even when it might result in personal injury.
"Was he older, possibly wearing an Army jacket?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, he was. Do you know him?"
Michael chuckled. "You could say that. Yes. He brought my mother here?"
"Drove up to the emergency room doors leaning on his horn, to be exact. He told the attending nurses exactly what had happened to your mother, in cut and dry fashion, and was functioning at a high level even while bleeding."
"Bleeding?" Sarah asked, worry in her tone.
"His brachial artery was punctured when he reached through broken glass shards to rescue Mrs. Burnett. Arteries bleed when nicked, but thankfully, he didn't do any major damage, and we were able to numb the area and stitch the wound right up. The amount of blood loss wasn't critical, so he didn't need surgery to keep the functionality of his arm or hand. Once we patched him up, we had him perform a few tasks with his arm, and aside from some pain and swelling, he was able to move just fine.
"He was lucky, though. Most people with punctured arteries, even when they're minor enough not to need emergency surgery, usually take longer to regain movement in their arm and hand, due to the discomfort and the swelling. He was a rare case."
Sarah smiled. "John is special, for sure."
"Well, if you want to visit him too, he's two doors to your left." With that, the doctor left them to deal with Pricilla.
"Mom, it really won't be that long of a stay," Michael assured her, making sure to talk quietly, as Miracle still hadn't woken up, and none of them wanted her to.
Pricilla sighed dramatically. "No, I guess it won't be that long of a stay. But it won't be enjoyable. I just can't believe that ditch came up out of nowhere and sucked my car right in."
Michael and Sarah both noticed how Pricilla wasn't taking responsibility for her actions that lead to the accident but didn't press her to. The last thing they needed was to make her more irritable.
"Pricilla," Sarah started, "do you remember how you got to the hospital?"
The older woman shrugged. "It's a bit of a blur. I assumed some ambulance driver happened across my car and brought me here. I remember sirens."
"What you remember is John's horn."
"John?" She repeated, confusion in her eyes. Confusion that lead to what looked suspiciously like disgust. "You mean that old has-been touched me?"
Sarah felt anger welling inside her, an emotion she rarely felt, unless someone was talking poorly about her family, or her friends. She was about to give Pricilla a piece of her mind, when Michael spoke up.
"Yes, Mom. That 'has-been' saved your life and got injured in the process. If he hadn't come along and wrenched you out of your car in time, you could have died, either from the cold, injuries, or the car exploding. John could have lost the use of his arm and hand, for goodness' sake, mother. Don't you ever talk badly about him like that, after what he did."
"Don't talk to me like that," Pricilla warned icily, "I am still your mother, and you will speak to me with respect."
"You don't deserve to be spoken to respectfully, after complaining about the man who saved your life."
She huffed. "Why do you two like that mutt so much?"
Sarah fielded that one, after she could tell Michael had expended all his energy. "Do you remember our mission trip to Burma?"
"That assignment where you and your group got lost in the jungles and barely made it home? Nooooo... Of course, I remember." Pricilla said, more ornery than usual, due to her current situation.
Sarah ignored the sarcasm. "Well, what we told you wasn't exactly the whole truth. We did get lost in the jungles, but that was only after we were taken captive by Burmese soldiers."
"What?!" Pricilla exclaimed, waking Miracle, who started to whimper.
Michael hadn't wanted to tell his mother what had happened after they returned home from Burma weeks later than they'd planned, but now she'd pushed things too far, and needed to know the truth. "Yes. We were talking to people, handing out Bibles, and tending to the wounded when the camp was attacked by soldiers. They took us with them to one of their encampments."
"We were held for over ten days." Sarah picked up where Michael left off. "I was separated from Michael and the rest of the group, with no way of knowing he was alright, or if either of us would ever make it out of there alive."
"We probably wouldn't have survived, if not for John." Michael admitted, a sheepish look on his face, recalling how poorly he'd treated Rambo prior to the rescue. "He had taken us up the river to where we'd been proselytizing, so he knew roughly where we had been taken."
"John came with a group of men who helped free Michael and the other members of our group. I had been taken to a soldier's room, and was very close to being assaulted, when Rambo came in and saved me. He got me out of there and threw himself on top of me when shots rang out. He would have died for me, a woman he barely knew, and hadn't wanted to help in the first place.
"We're only here because of the prayers we said, that were answered in the form of John Rambo."
Pricilla had tears in her eyes, thinking about what her son and daughter-in-law went through in Burma, and how close she'd come to losing them, without realizing it. "I am so sorry."
Michael handed her a tissue. "Why don't you like John, Mom? I know you. You can be stubborn, opinionated, and sometimes a bit rude. But you've never been so outwardly judgmental and impolite to someone before. It's not like you."
Pricilla sighed. "I think I was jealous. I could see how close you two were to Rambo, and how quickly his voice soothed Miracle when mine didn't. I felt like he was more of a grandparent to her than I was, and I didn't like that."
Sarah's heart softened. "Oh, Pricilla. John's not more of a grandparent than you are. He's just around more often, and a good friend."
"Yeah," Michael added, "I love you much more than I like Rambo. He's a good man, who saved our lives, which afforded us the time to have Miracle, but he's not you."
Pricilla smiled softly, looking upset still. "I feel terrible. I need to apologize to him."
"Yes, you do. Dr. Massey gave us his room number, and it's close to here. Why don't you go and talk to him."
With determination in her eyes, Pricilla got into the wheelchair the nurses insisted she use until she left the hospital and wheeled herself to Rambo's room.
"John?"
Rambo woke from a light sleep to see someone in a wheelchair sitting in the shadows of his open hospital room door. He flicked on the light next to his bed and squinted. "Pricilla?"
She nodded, wheeling herself into the room, and coming to stop at the foot of the bed. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure." He replied easily. Rambo wasn't threatened by her.
Pricilla, looking chagrined, said, "I wanted to apologize to you. I acted like a jerk the other day, for no reason. And I'm sure my daughter-in-law shared with you how poorly I'd reacted to your being close to Miracle. Would you ever forgive me? My rudeness is inexcusable, I know that, but I want to make amends."
John regarded her carefully. "You know, I have dealt with many people in my life who change their tune just a bit too late in the game for me to believe them, but I believe you. I believe that you genuinely feel bad, so yes, I'll forgive you."
"Thank you, John. And thank you for saving my life. I might not be here, if it weren't for you. And neither would my son, daughter-in-law, or granddaughter." Pricilla said quietly.
It was clear, in that moment, that Pricilla hadn't always known of how he saved them in Burma and had only been made aware after treating him the way she had. Rambo appreciated her apology and her thank you, as words and actions had always meant more to him than awards. Seeing the look of gratitude in a POW's face was better than receiving another medal of honor any day.
"You're welcome." He replied, with a small smile.
Pricilla left him then, returning to her room, feeling much better after apologizing to Rambo.
The following day was Christmas Eve, and Sarah and Michael were busy preparing for their big meal tomorrow. Every year, they spent Christmas morning together, and then went to different soup kitchens in the area and helped for a few hours, before coming together again for dinner. This year would've proven more difficult to do that, having Miracle, but with Michael's mother visiting, they'd still be able to help out.
"Say, does John have plans for Christmas?" Pricilla questioned, sipping her coffee.
Sarah's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not sure. Last year he went back to Arizona and spent Christmas with an old friend of his named Maria. I assumed he'd be doing that again, but I'm not positive."
Pricilla's eyes lit with an idea. "Could you ask him, and if he's not busy, invite him here for dinner?"
Michael walked into the kitchen, having heard the last part of their discussion, a surprised expression on his face. "You want to invite Rambo to Christmas dinner?"
"Yes, I do. Consider it a peace offering, an apology and a thank you all at once. Would you ask? I know for a fact that you're already preparing more food for the three of us than we'll ever need."
Sarah smiled and promised to extend the invitation, thrilled that her mother-in-law had finally come around to John.
A few hours later, Rambo had just finished a small dinner when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"John, it's Sarah. I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow."
"Not really. Maria's with her sister this year, so I figured I'd just stay home, maybe take the horses out for some exercise, and watch an old Christmas movie on my TV."
Sarah felt bad for him, with how lonely his Christmas plans sounded, and was grateful to Pricilla for mentioning inviting him. "Would you come to our house?"
"You want me and your mother-in-law at the same table for Christmas?" They'd come to a partial truce at the hospital, but he still didn't want to intrude.
She laughed. "It was actually Pricilla's idea to invite you. She called it a 'peace offering, an apology and a thank you all in one'."
John smiled. "Well then, yes. I'd love to come. Thank you."
"You're very welcome. We look forward to having you. Why don't you come over around six."
"Sounds good. Thanks again, Sarah."
"Of course."
Christmas came quickly, and before he knew it, it was time to head to the Burnett's for dinner. Rambo hadn't gotten them any gifts, but never liked going anywhere unprepared, so he brought an unopened bottle of bourbon from his house that he was sure would be appreciated.
He knocked on the door, and Sarah opened it, giving him a quick hug that never failed to put him in a good mood. "Hi."
"Hi!" She replied loudly, signaling to him she'd already had a few Christmas cookies, as sugar made her loud.
John was pulled inside and walked into the kitchen to place the bottle on the counter. Michael saw him doing so and smiled. "Thanks for the bourbon. Good to have you here, man."
"Good to be here," he replied honestly.
Pricilla came towards him, holding Miracle in her arms. "Thank you for coming, John, despite how I treated you."
"Being treated unfairly isn't new to me. Being repentant for that behavior is." Rambo told her. "We're good."
Pricilla glanced down at Miracle, who was staring at Rambo with wonder in her eyes, her little hands grabbing for him. For the first time, Pricilla didn't feel left out or disliked. She realized that Miracle loved her, but that she also loved Rambo, and that was okay.
"Here," she said, handing Miracle over to John, "she wants to be with you.
Rambo rocked her in his arms and smiled at the adorable little girl who liked to be near him, for reasons he still didn't fully understand, and smiled.
"Let's eat!"
Walking towards the dining room table with Miracle, John sat where Sarah gestured, and smiled. When he'd met Sarah, John hadn't had anyone in his life he cared about. Then, with her guidance, he'd moved back to America, and was given eleven years with a family he never thought he'd ever have. Now, here he was, celebrating Christmas with people who genuinely cared about him, after feeling like he'd never have a family again. That was the greatest Christmas present of all.
"Merry Christmas!" Sarah said to the table, before Michael led everyone in prayer. Miracle wrapped a finger around one of John's, and his smile only grew. Merry Christmas indeed.
The End