Kids by Christmas

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Sophia nodded. “I haven’t for years, but he still does.”

  “Your mom managed?”

  “When she didn’t have any money, she went to Christmas House. You know, where people can pick out presents?”

  Suzanne nodded. Donated gifts were displayed just like in a store, and low-income people could shop there for family members.

  “Last Christmas we were in a shelter, and the ladies there helped.”

  “Did you ever open presents on Christmas eve? Or always in the morning?”

  In her best you-don’t-know-anything voice, the ten-year-old said, “You’re supposed to open them in the morning. ’Cause that’s when Christmas is.”

  “When I was really little, before my parents died, we opened some on Christmas eve and then the ones from Santa Christmas morning. I like evening, when the lights on the tree and outside are the prettiest.”

  “We only got presents from Santa,” Sophia said.

  “Maybe this year we can open some on Christmas eve and the rest in the morning.” Waiting for the pan to heat, Suzanne said, “I was thinking of inviting Tom to join us. He doesn’t have any family to spend the holiday with. Would that be okay with you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “Christmas Day, after we open presents, we’ll be going down to my sister’s house in Seattle. You can meet her stepson, Michael. He’s a year older than Jack. And my brother and his fiancée will be there, too, along with her mom and some other people.”

  “Is there anyone my age?”

  “No, except for you two, the only kid so far is Michael.”

  “Who’s Michael?” Jack asked from the doorway.

  She had to explain again about the relatives, and he gave his blessing as well to her inviting Tom Stefanec to join them on Christmas eve and maybe Christmas Day, too.

  Both were on their best behavior at the dinner table, although Suzanne discovered that Jack didn’t think he liked broccoli. Or, as became apparent when she queried him, almost any other vegetable except for peas.

  “Oh. I like corn,” he added. “’Specially on the cob.”

  “I like corn, too,” Suzanne said. “But I’ll tell you what. I’m going to ask you to try one bite of your vegetable every night, no matter what it is. And one bite of new foods, too. Because lots of what I cook will be different than what you’re used to eating.”

  He stared down at his serving of broccoli, his face stricken. “I have to take a bite of that?”

  “Yep.” Suzanne noticed that Sophia was mutilating hers with the fork but hadn’t actually eaten a bite either. “That goes for you, too,” she said, raising her brows and looking at this child who someday she would think of as her daughter.

  “Yeah!” Jack stuck out his tongue at his sister. “It’s not just me who hasta eat gross stuff.”

  Suzanne waited. Both finally, reluctantly, ate a tiny nibble. Jack made horrible faces, then gulped milk.

  “So, what did you think?” Suzanne asked.

  Sophia looked surprised. “It’s okay.”

  “I think it’s dis-gusting,” Jack said with relish.

  “But good for you.”

  They were considerably happier with the apple cobbler she’d made for dessert.

  After dinner, Suzanne helped Jack put away his small store of possessions. She realized right away that he needed shelves down at his level for toys. And maybe plastic bins to corral LEGO and other small stuff. Besides clothes, all he owned were a few well-worn stuffed animals, two metal Hot Wheels cars, both showing chipped paint, a plastic T. rex that he was proud of, and a couple of puzzles that he said Melissa had bought for him. Suzanne folded his clothes and put them in drawers, then hung his coat in the closet. The room still looked awfully uninhabited.

  She left him dumping puzzle pieces on the floor and went to see how Sophia was doing. She’d heaped all her clothes on the bed and was posing, hand on her hip, in front of the floor-length mirror on the closet door. When she saw Suzanne reflected in the mirror, she turned away quickly.

  “Getting your clothes put away?” Suzanne asked cheerfully, as if she hadn’t noticed the pile on the bed.

  She shrugged in that disconcertingly teenage way.

  “Can I help?” Suzanne asked.

  “If you want,” she said without interest. “My clothes are all ugly.”

  Suzanne picked up a sweater and put it on a hanger. “I bet you haven’t had much new in a while, have you?”

  Sophia didn’t say anything, just wadded up some underwear and stuffed it in the top drawer of the dresser.

  “I decided it would be hard to buy clothes for you for Christmas, since fit is important and I don’t know what you like yet.” Suzanne started folding shirts and handing them to Sophia to put in drawers. “So I thought we’d go shopping the week after. There are always good sales.”

  Sophia’s head came up. “Shopping? For me?”

  “Well, of course for you!” Suzanne smiled at her. “I’ll get Jack a few things, too, before you two start back to school, but I doubt he cares what he’s wearing.”

  Those disconcerting blue eyes studied Suzanne as if trying to figure out what the catch was. “Have you got lots of money?”

  “No. I opened my knitting store this year, and I’m not making much income from it yet. So I’m living off savings. But I can afford to buy you a couple new outfits. And maybe some jeans and T-shirts, too.”

  “Before I start school?”

  “I’ll bet you’d feel more confident the first day in a new school wearing something nice.”

  She nodded.

  “Besides, it’ll be fun,” Suzanne declared. “Now, would you like to help me put some presents under the tree?”

  She had Santa’s gifts hidden in the garage, the rest in her closet. Both kids carried them as carefully as if they were made of porcelain. When every gift was arranged beneath the tree and they had all admired it again, Suzanne sent Jack to get ready for bed and agreed that, since Sophia was older, she could stay up for a little while longer. Suzanne got her started on her knitting again, then went to supervise his toothbrushing and to tuck him in.

  “You know what?” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “We need some books for you. We should have a story time before bed. Let’s go to the library tomorrow and check some out.”

  “You’d read to me even if I can read myself?”

  She smoothed his hair back from his forehead, feeling a rush of tenderness. “If you don’t mind.”

  “That’d be okay,” he agreed. When she started to stand, knowing it was too soon to kiss him good night, he gripped her hand. “Will you leave the hall light on? I’m not scared or anything,” he added hastily, “but I might get lost if I have to get up.”

  “I’ll leave it on for now, and when I go to bed I’ll turn on the bathroom light instead, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Maybe we should get you a night-light, since this house is new for you.”

  He nodded. “I’m not scared, but…but if I get scared, can I get in bed with Soph?”

  “I’d rather she got in bed with you, since I didn’t put a mattress cover on her bed.”

  “Will you ask her if maybe she wants to?”

  She smiled again. “I will. Now good night.” Firmly, she turned out the light and left his door half-open, so the glow from the hall fell across the hardwood floor in his bedroom.

  She sat down in the living room and picked up her own knitting. Not five minutes later, she heard the patter of feet and Jack appeared. “Is it okay if I get up to go to the bathroom?”

  “Of course it is.”

  Sounds of the toilet flushing and doors opening and closing were followed by a few minutes of silence. Then he came out again. “I’m not that sleepy. Can I stay up till Soph goes to bed?”

  Suzanne knew he was sleepy; he’d been drooping the last hour. “She’ll be along in a little while, but now you need to go back to bed.”

  “
Oh.” His shoulders sagged. “Okay.”

  Five minutes later, she saw him again and pretended not to. The next time she looked up, he was gone.

  When once again he appeared, he said, “Isn’t it almost time for her to go to bed?”

  “Jeez, don’t be such a little kid!” his sister snapped.

  “I am a little kid,” he said with dignity. “I just don’t think it’s fair.”

  “I’m older, so it is fair.”

  He sighed heavily and disappeared again.

  Suzanne kept hearing rustling and doors creaking, but decided it was best not to make an issue of it.

  Finally, she had Sophia put away her knitting and get ready for bed, too. Teeth brushed, she came back out to the living room. “Jack keeps getting up,” she announced. “He wants me to sleep with him.”

  “Are you okay with that?” Suzanne asked.

  “Yeah, ’cause he’s scared without me.”

  “Then it’s fine with me.” Suzanne tucked them in, leaving them side-by-side in the twin bed.

  Feeling wrung out, she collapsed in her chair in the living room. Her first day of being a parent, not just a hostess with overnight guests, and she was exhausted! Would she last the first week?

  But this time, at least, the house stayed blessedly silent. Jack was apparently content with his sister. Suzanne was almost sorry she hadn’t left the double bed in there. Maybe she should put it back. But she hoped he’d start feeling secure enough soon to be able to sleep by himself.

  When the phone rang, she jerked, then had to go to the kitchen for the handset.

  “So how’d it go, Mom?” her sister asked.

  “I’m worn out,” Suzanne confessed. “But really it was a great day. We put the tree up, and they had lots of fun decorating. After we were done, and I saw their faces, I almost cried.”

  “You’re doing a nice thing,” Carrie said softly.

  “Thank you. But that’s not why I did it.”

  “I know. Which doesn’t make it any less of a nice thing.”

  Suzanne made a noise that could be taken as argument or disagreement, whichever Carrie preferred. Then she asked, “Is Michael as hyper about Christmas as they are?”

  “As hyper? He’s uncontrollable. Last weekend he knocked over the half-decorated Christmas tree because he wanted to put an ornament high on it and he wouldn’t wait for one of us to lift him. So while our backs were turned, he dragged the ottoman over, stood on it to reach higher, and then—surprise!—fell against the tree, taking it down with him. Of course he bawled because a couple of ornaments broke. The minute we swept up and reassured him that accidents happen, he was all grins again.”

  “Jack was content with the lower branches. In fact, they just about touch the floor because they have so many ornaments on them.”

  Her sister laughed. “Oh, and if you haven’t put the presents out under the tree yet, I don’t recommend it. They’re like the polar magnet. He absolutely can’t stay away from them.”

  “Too late. And anyway, isn’t that half the fun?”

  “I had this amazing ability to guess what every present was,” Carrie said smugly. “Used to drive my mother wild.”

  They talked for a few more minutes. Suzanne had no sooner hung up than Rebecca called for the same reason Carrie had. Suzanne hit End after that conversation feeling amazed and lucky at having family again, people who really cared. What a contrast her life was to a year ago, when she would have been welcome at her aunt and uncle’s house Christmas Day but invariably felt like an outsider once she got there. How different this year was!

  She should have been content after discussing the day with her sister and her sister-in-law-to-be, but she kept looking at the phone and wishing Tom would call, too. She didn’t know why he would or even why she wanted him to. But he was the person she’d confided in most these past few weeks, and she wanted to tell him how she’d felt when they’d admired the tree, about Jack’s problem with going to bed and how she’d handled it, about every other little detail of the day.

  Of course, she could call him. She’d use the excuse of inviting him to celebrate Christmas with them. She should have invited him long since.

  Satisfied with her reasoning, she dialed his number from memory, although she didn’t know how she could possibly have memorized it so quickly. She hadn’t called him more than once or twice.

  He answered on the second ring, and she said, “Tom? This is Suzanne, next door.”

  “The only Suzanne I know.” Pause. “I was just thinking about you.”

  Her heart stuttered.

  “And wondering how the day went,” he continued, leaving her feeling foolish.

  Of course that’s what he’d meant. There was nothing romantic between them.

  “It went great. Oh, Tom, I wish you could have seen their faces when they finished decorating the tree! They wouldn’t have thought the White House tree was any more beautiful. Getting ready for Christmas was the perfect way to start their lives with me.”

  “That’s appropriate. At its heart, Christmas is about a miraculous beginning, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” How funny. Her eyes were wanting to water again and her voice was choked up. “It is.”

  If he noticed, he was nice enough not to comment. “I’m glad Jack is so pleased with his room. Kids being kids, they may not have said it, but they appreciated the effort you went to.”

  “And your effort,” Suzanne reminded him.

  “It was nothing, just a welcome reminder of a hobby I’ve let go. I’m going to get back into woodworking somehow. I’ve let my tools gather dust.”

  Would he be insulted if she teased him? She bit her lip and dared. “Dust? Tom! I’m shocked.”

  He laughed. “You’ve got me. I did clean them regularly. The dust was, uh, metaphorical.”

  She laughed with him. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  “No reason to be sorry.”

  Neither of them said anything. The silence grew a little too long for comfort. Suzanne rushed to fill it. “I actually called to ask if you’d join us for Christmas.” When he didn’t speak immediately, she hurried on. “If you haven’t made other plans.”

  This silence was almost as long. “You mean it?”

  Taken aback, Suzanne said, “Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  “But you’ve got family.”

  “There’s no reason friends can’t be welcome, too.” Her heart thudded, and she realized how anxious she was. Maybe he didn’t want to be that good a friend. They’d only known each other a few weeks. She might be sounding really pushy. Or, heaven forbid, as if she was implying something more than friendship by inviting him to a holiday usually spent with family.

  When he spoke again, his voice had a rasp she didn’t recognize. “I don’t have other plans. I’d love to join you.”

  “Oh, good,” she said, on a rush of relief. “If you’d like to come over Christmas eve, I’m just going to make dinner and let the kids open a couple of presents. Nothing fancy. Even though it’s Sunday, I’m going to have the store open since it’s such a big shopping day. Then, late Christmas morning we’ll all be going to my sister’s in Seattle. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know everyone. Carrie’s adoptive parents and father-in-law are coming, and so is Rebecca’s mother.” She reminded him who Rebecca was. “And Mark’s partner in his P.I. firm is coming, too. They’re good friends.”

  “This is kind of you, Suzanne,” Tom said, sounding formal. “I don’t particularly look forward to the holiday. This year, I will.”

  “I’m glad.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Shall we say six-thirty on Christmas eve? Unfortunately, my shop is open until five.”

  “Boeing closes down. I’ll be home. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Do you mean that?” she asked, then laughed at her echo of his earlier question. “You do, don’t you? Um…do you bake?”

  “Christmas cookies? Pies?”

/>   “Pies is what I was thinking. I’ve promised to bring two to Carrie’s. I was planning to bake them that evening, after the kids were in bed.”

  “I’ll be glad to. I’ll make an extra for Christmas eve.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you for inviting me. Good night, Suzanne,” he said, voice husky again.

  “Good night,” she whispered, and hung up, emotions she couldn’t quite identify tumbling in her chest.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE PIES, TWO PUMPKIN and one apple, cooled on the counter, their fragrance filling Tom’s kitchen. In his refrigerator, cookie dough chilled in a dish towel–covered bowl. He’d never made sugar cookies before, but the cookbook assured him that they were easier to roll out and cut when cold than at room temperature.

  He went into the living room for the tenth time to check on whether Suzanne and the kids were home yet. This time he was rewarded by the sight of her car turning into the driveway. Tom turned on his porch light and went out, crossing the strip of lawn that separated his driveway from hers. From the bite in the air, the thermometer had to have dipped below freezing.

  “Hi,” Suzanne said, getting out of her car. “I hope you’re not starving. Dinner is going to take a while.”

  “I should have invited you to dinner instead of the other way around.” He shook his head. “Instead, I have a plan for taking these kids off your hands while you slave in the kitchen.”

  They were hopping out of the car, too. “We were going to help,” the boy said.

  Suzanne looked beat, and no wonder. She’d taken Wednesday off, but this had to have been a stressful week.

  “Here’s my idea,” he said. “I figured Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without some cookies. Now, maybe you made some yesterday…”

  They all shook their heads.

  “I could use help in cutting those cookies out and decorating them. If you two are willing, we could get quite a few baked before we’re called for dinner.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” Suzanne exclaimed. “Do you have cookie cutters?”

  “I only have three,” he admitted. Which he’d bought yesterday, when he’d conceived the plan. “A tree, a star and a Santa.”