“G’night, Annie,” he whispered. “Call you tomorrow.”
She wedged her slipper into the first slat and turned, extending her arm to gaze at her hand. “Mmm . . . must be a magical ring,” she said with a touch of smirk. She wiggled her brows. “Sure has a lot of power.”
“Yes, ma’am, you’re the boss,” he said with a lazy smile. “For now.” He grazed a final kiss to her lips, the dangerous gleam in his eyes causing her stomach to tumble. “But I wouldn’t get too used to it, Baby Doll.” His chuckle was husky, a warm cloud floating up to caress her face like a kiss. “Because when the vows are said, the power will shift.” He winked. “And the ring on my hand will trump yours.”
Epilogue
For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
The Prince of Peace.
Annie closed her eyes, the sound of Mr. O’Connor’s voice filling her heart with peace and joy like nothing she’d ever known. She snuggled into Steven’s embrace on the love seat in the O’Connors’ parlor on this Christmas Eve, and he scooped her close. The spicy scent of cloves from his Bay Rum mingled with the smell of pine and cinnamon and popcorn fresh-popped to loop a tree that touched the ceiling. Boughs heavy with colored lights and ornaments glittered and swayed with strands of tinsel, the breeze from the radiator causing the tree to shimmer and shine as if it breathed the same intoxicating air as she. The parlor lights were dimmed, lending an ethereal air to a cozy room where a fire crackled and children sat spellbound on the floor while Steven’s father read about the birth of a babe.
Annie’s eyelids edged up to scan the room, drinking in a wealth of love and tenderness she hadn’t experienced since Christmases long ago when she and Maggie had been small and her parents so very much in love. The bittersweet memory made her miss Maggie and Glory all the more, and she prayed their evening with Aunt Eleanor, Joe, and his mom would be just as special.
Marcy sat on the couch next to her husband, the glow of peace in her face matching that in Annie’s heart. Beside them, Faith and Collin cuddled, arms looped around three precious daughters while a brand-new son snoozed over the shoulder of a very proud father. Luke’s head rested on the back of a chair by the hearth, his arms encircling Katie and Kit, both snug in his lap. Gabe, Hope, and Henry lay sprawled on the floor next to Teddy and Molly while Mitch and Charity lay in Patrick’s new La-Z-Boy with her head on his chest. Butted against Annie and Steven’s love seat, Brady cradled Lizzie between his legs, chin resting on her head as she held baby Sara in her arms. A sigh of contentment wisped across Annie’s lips when Steven slowly grazed her arm with his thumb, her heart spilling over with gratitude for God’s gift of his Son . . . and for Marcy and Patrick who had given her theirs, along with the precious gift of family.
Patrick closed the Bible with a quiet thump, and Gabe and Henry shot up at the very same time, tightly coiled springs exploding with excitement. “Can we open presents now?” Gabe shouted, skinny legs dancing as she hopped up and down, and Annie couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, can we, please, please?” Henry echoed, for once in sound agreement.
Tongue to teeth, Marcy glanced at the clock. “Not till Sean and Emma come,” she said, voice raised to override all groans. “They said seven, and it’s only ten minutes past.”
“Why are they late, anyway?” Steven asked, absently fondling a strand of Annie’s hair before pressing a kiss to her cheek, causing Annie to lean back with a sigh.
“That’s what I’d like to know too. Anyone know?” Katie shifted to get comfortable on Luke’s lap before zeroing in on her sister with a suspicious lift of her brow. “Charity?”
Charity blinked, obviously caught off guard. “Uh . . . I think they had an appointment.”
“On Christmas Eve?” Faith ruffled the dark hair on Brennan’s head, an exact replica of his father’s. “Who would schedule appointments on Christmas Eve, for goodness’ sake?”
“Not sure,” Charity said, tongue gliding across her teeth in the same nervous habit as her mother. She attempted to scoot out of the chair. “Eggnog, anyone?”
“Oh no you don’t,” Katie said, eyes in a squint. “You’ve got guilt written all over you, so you may as well spill it. Where are they?”
“Charity Katherine Dennehy, do you know what’s going on?” Steel edged Marcy’s tone.
“Mother, they’re fine, I assure you.”
“It’s not like Sean to be late,” Steven said, buffing Annie’s arm, as if to ease the hint of tension she’d seldom seen with his family before.
Patrick prodded a pipe cleaner through the stem of his pipe before tapping the bowl in his palm. “If you know something, Charity, you best spit it out, because I won’t have your mother worrying herself sick on Christmas Eve.”
Unleashing a weary sigh, Charity’s eye skimmed the room, mouth pursed as she studied the worried faces of her family. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled once again, lips flat. “Okay, all right, already! But nobody here better dare accuse me of not keeping a secret . . .”
Katie leaned forward, and Annie found herself doing the same, awaiting Charity’s answer while Katie arched a brow. “So? Where are they?”
Charity’s mouth slanted. “If you must know, Sean and Emma are—”
“Here at last! Sorry we’re late, everybody. Merry Christmas!” Sean stomped the snow from his feet at the front door, along with Emma, their cheeks ruddy with cold and arms loaded with bags.
———
Relief seeped from Marcy’s lungs in a slow exhale of air. “For heaven’s sake, you two, where have you been?” Her eyes flitted to the mantel clock and back as she hurried into the foyer to give Emma a hug. Whirling to do the same with Sean, she stopped, outstretched arms frozen midair. She blinked at a dark woolen blanket draped over his shoulder. “What on earth?” Stepping close, she lifted the edge to peek in and gasped as tears welled in her eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Grandma,” Sean said with a broad grin, the glimmer of moisture in his gaze matching that in his mother’s. “Unto us a son is given . . .”
Oh, Lord! Marcy’s hand quivered to her mouth as pandemonium broke loose, but she barely heard the babble of voices and questions, all laden with laughter and tears. Prying the bundle from her son, her heart soared as she cradled her sleeping grandson in practiced arms that were shaking nonetheless while daughters hugged and hovered over Sean and Emma.
“B-but how? W-when?” she stuttered, peeling the blanket back to stare in awe. She gazed in wonder at the perfect little face before her, a wisp of dark lashes against rose-petal skin.
Emma laughed, a mist of tears in her eyes as she skimmed a finger across her son’s silky cheek. “Patrick was born a week ago, and we weren’t even sure till this afternoon whether we’d be able to take him home for Christmas.”
“P-patrick?” Marcy whispered, throat swelling as she glanced up at her husband who peered over her shoulder, his eyes as soggy as hers.
Hand cupped to Emma’s waist, Sean reached to grip his father’s shoulder. “Patrick Daniel O’Connor, but we can call him Daniel, Pop, if you think Patrick would be too confusing.” His easy grin was in place despite the sheen in his eyes.
Marcy swallowed a sob while Patrick’s Adam’s apple dipped in an obvious effort to battle his emotions—further evidence of just why she was desperately in love with this man.
He cleared his throat, returning Sean’s hold with a tight grip of his own. “Whatever you decide will be an honor,” he said, his words a hoarse croak.
“Yes! The O’Connors live on! Good job, Sean.” Slapping his brother on the back, Steven draped an arm over Annie’s shoulder with a grin. “At least till I’m up to bat.”
“Steven!” Annie elbowed him, cheeks as red as the berries in the wreath on the door.
“Hey, Danny Boy,” Charity cooed, eyes moist
as she peeked up at Emma. “Good thing you got here—they were about to lynch me up if I didn’t spill it, and it was close, let me tell ya.”
Emma laughed and tucked an arm to Charity’s waist. “You’re a vault, my friend.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Charity groused, twisting to give Mitch a pointed look when his arms looped her from behind. She grinned at her father. “Dennehy tumbled the lock, but I threatened him with his life if he tipped off Grandpa at work.”
“Threatened him with his life?” Faith peered at the baby over Marcy’s shoulder before shooting Charity a teasing grin. “I think you accomplished that when he said ‘I do.’ ”
“Excuse me,” Gabe said, waving skinny arms toward the parlor like a traffic cop at rush hour. “If you must pass the babies, please do it in there—please—we have presents to open.”
“You’re gonna want one of these someday, squirt,” Sean said with a tweak of her neck, “after you get married, and then you’ll understand what the fuss is about.”
“Yikes, I hope not,” the little spitfire said with a shudder. “Boys are saps.”
Katie grinned. “Yep, felt that way too, at your age, Gabriella Dawn, but the right boy has a way of gumming up the works.” She sighed, lifting on tiptoe to give Luke a kiss.
“Okay, okay, let’s move this party into the next room before Gabe pops a button,” Sean said with a laugh.
“Yip-peeeee!” Gabe took off like a shot, with the rest of the cousins hot on her heels.
Everyone else herded into the parlor while Lizzie gave Baby Patrick to Emma, who fondled his peach fuzz as if she couldn’t believe he was real.
A joyous sigh drifted from Marcy’s lips as she took her place on the couch next to her husband, eyes misting over this season of gifts, the greatest of which was God’s Son and the blessing of family. No matter the age, size, or maturity, they were children, all. And all ours—Patrick’s and mine! Her gaze traveled to where Steven nuzzled Annie on the love seat, and more gratitude bubbled in her heart for this girl who was already like a daughter.
Resting her head on Patrick’s shoulder, Marcy wished this evening could go on forever, precious moments in time when her family cleaved together in an unbreakable bond. Oh, Lord, how many more Christmases will we have together? Placing a protective hand on Patrick’s leg, she pushed melancholy aside to revel in the here and now, when life was as it should be, a joyous celebration of heart and soul.
The circle of love became a circle of gifts opened one by one, where hearts were unwrapped as well as papers and bows.
“Luke, you’re next,” Gabe shouted, jarring Marcy from a reverie all too sweet.
He rattled a shoe-box-size present next to his ear. “Ah, the new Keds I’ve been wanting.”
“You think so, huh?” Katie said as he ripped off the paper.
“What can I say?” He waved a Keds box in the air, his smile cocky. “I just have a knack for being right.” He tore into the tissue paper, his smile fading when he held up a child’s baseball glove and turned it over, a pucker in his brow. “Well, I do need a new glove, Sass, but this is for a little kid.” He shot Collin a smirk. “Heck, with this, I’ll look like McGuire out on the field.”
“You wish,” Collin said, Baby Brennan straddled across his chest.
Luke deposited a kiss on Katie’s nose. “Thanks, Sass, but we’ll have to exchange it.”
“Why? If the glove fits . . .” Brady’s chuckle floated through the air.
“I think we need to keep it,” Katie said with a secret smile.
Luke blinked. “Keep it? But why—” The whites of his eyes expanded. A lump bobbled in his throat as he laid a shaky hand to her stomach. “You’re not telling me you’re . . .”
She nodded, and he devoured her with a groan, unleashing a chorus of cheers.
Marcy jumped to her feet, dizzy with jubilation. Another grandchild—oh, Lord, it truly is Christmas! She waded through a sea of grandchildren and paper to join her daughters in showering Katie with hugs. “When is the baby due?” she breathed, thinking of law school.
A grin bloomed on Katie’s face. “August sixteenth—three weeks after the bar exam, don’t you know.”
“That’s cutting it awfully close, McGee,” Brady called from across the room, his congratulations merging with the chuckles and heckles from the rest of the men.
Luke grinned. “Which is why I’m the only one who can whip Collin in horseshoes,” he volleyed, a gleam of pride in his eyes. He cupped Katie’s face in his hands. “This is the best gift you could have given me, Sass. And nothing makes me happier than knowing we both get our dream.” He tucked the glove under his arm and wadded up the paper, aiming it at Collin. “See, McGuire? Timing is everything, like I always say on the court.”
“Ahem . . .” Gabe stood with arms folded, presiding over cousins and trash as if she were queen. She patted a big box wrapped with a large bow. “I believe there’s one more gift to open.”
“Go for it, Gabe,” Sean yelled. “That box is a monster, and I want to know what it is.”
“Don’t hafta ask me twice,” Gabe said with a grin, cocking her head to read the tag. “To Gabe from . . . ,” a knot dipped in her throat, “Mom and Pop.” Swabbing a hand to her eyes, she proceeded to claw at the box, paper flying in her wake, like a dog digging a hole. Lifting the lid, she bounced up with a squeal. “Holy moley—a million pieces of Dubble Bubble!” she screamed, vaulting into Marcy’s arms from halfway across the room.
Marcy laughed, tears stinging as she locked her new daughter in a hug. “Not quite a million but a definite one-year supply.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “But that’s only the wrapping, Gabriella Dawn—the present is deep inside.”
Gabe jerked back, eyes wide. “Really?” She jumped up to pounce on the box, practically diving in until she unearthed a carved cherrywood box. Holding it as if it were a priceless treasure, she slowly slumped to the floor with mouth ajar, a look of wonder in her eyes. “A jewelry box,” she whispered, one nail-bitten finger tracing the carved initials on the polished lid. “G.D.O. Gabriella Dawn O’Connor . . .” Her voice trailed off, hushed with awe.
“Your father made it for you,” Marcy said, throat catching as Patrick squeezed her waist.
Gabe opened it up and fingered red velvet that cushioned a pink vellum envelope. She glanced up at Marcy with a sheen of tears in almond-shaped eyes, and Marcy nodded with tears of her own. “Open it, darling,” she whispered.
Setting the box down as if the most fragile of gifts, Gabe unfolded pink vellum paper. Her voice shook as she read the first sheet that Marcy had committed to memory.
Daughter of Our Heart,
God saved the best for last. We give you our love,
our hope, and our prayers . . .
and a name God always meant you to have,
Gabriella Dawn O’Connor.
Love,
Your very proud parents
Gabe’s lips trembled when the second sheet—the signed adoption document—fluttered to her lap, and with a choked sob, she shot into Patrick’s arms. He pulled her onto his lap and tucked her close while she wept like a baby, eyes moist as Marcy wept along.
“Hey, squirt—we’re finally related,” Luke said, redness rimming his eyes and Katie’s.
“I call dibs on the first sisters’ pajama party at my house with all the girl cousins,” Faith shouted, prompting a roar of approval from the little girls in the room.
Gabe sat up, her awestruck gaze wandering the room while Marcy handed her a handkerchief. “Wow . . . this means you’re my sisters now, doesn’t it?” A glint of mischief lit in her eye. “Which means . . . ,” she leveled a smirk at Henry, “you have to call me Aunt Gabe.”
“Noooooooo . . . ,” Henry moaned, burying himself in the sea of trash.
“I think plain ol’ Gabe will be just fine, darlin’,” Patrick said, tilting her chin. He angled a brow. “Don’t you?”
“Uh . . . yes, sir,” Gabe said with a shy
smile, so out of character that Marcy grinned.
Patrick shook his head and laughed. “Sweet saints, Gabriella Dawn,” he bellowed, “if I’d known adoption was going to change you this much, I’d have done it years ago.” His gaze shifted to Marcy, thinning into a stern tease. “And don’t say one word, Marceline.”
She kissed his cheek while Gabe sprang up to join the cousins on the floor. “Not even ‘I love you and you’re the most amazing man and father on the planet’?”
He grunted, his smile veering into a quirk. “No, darlin’, that you can say,” he whispered, brushing her lips with his own.
“Time for dessert and games?” Gabe tossed a paper wad at Henry while her “sisters” rose to pick up trash.
“After cleanup,” Faith said with a chuckle, collecting discarded paper and bows.
Marcy started to rise and Faith nudged her back. “Oh no you don’t—you two sit right there while the men pick up trash and we sisters oversee kids and dessert.” She waved a hand toward the roomful of people. “Makes me tired just thinking about what you two started, so you need the rest.”
“Amen,” Patrick said with a chuckle, tucking Marcy close as the room cleared out. His sigh blew warm against her skin. “Faith’s right, darlin’, just look at what we started.”
She wrapped her arms to his waist, moisture blurring the Christmas tree into a haze of brilliant lights. “It’s hard to believe, Patrick, isn’t it? It doesn’t seem so very long ago that you and I were like Steven and Annie, poised to embark on the greatest adventure of our lives.” Her blissful sigh matched his. “A wonderful journey from the hand of a wonderful God.”
“Indeed,” Patrick said with a kiss to her cheek. “I shudder to think of such a journey without him, Marceline. He’s been our strength and our peace through many a trial, not to mention a world war, near death, and agonies of the heart only he could heal.”
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