Before Jessy could speak, soft footsteps scuffed down the hall to the doorway of the living room. Ben, Marie, and Libby peeked into the room.
“Can we open presents now?” Marie asked.
“It’s Christmas morning,” Ben added. “Libby said that after midnight means it’s morning.”
Ben and Marie ran over to the couch and climbed onto their laps, squirming as they settled comfortably against them. Marie leaned against Jessy, one arm around her neck, as Ben sat between them, half on Jessy and half on Michael. Libby, much more ladylike and adult, perched on the edge of the cushion beside Michael. Laughing, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hauled her back, until the five of them were all jumbled on the couch.
Jessy’s heartbeat pounded so fiercely she could feel it in her temples. Before this moment, she hadn’t even considered the notion that the kids might not
want
her to marry their father. What would she do then? What
could
she do?
“What would you guys think,” Michael said, looking from Ben to Marie to Libby, “if Jessy and I got married?”
Silence. The kids looked at each other, then back to Michael. Jessy thought her heart might stop.
“Would she live with us?” Marie asked softly.
Michael nodded, eyes solemn. “Yes, she would.”
Ben shyly smiled. “Would she make us cat pancakes in the morning?”
“I sure would,” Jessy said, smiling as she kissed the top of Ben’s head. Suddenly she could breathe again.
“Would you expect me to be a babysitter for more rugrats?” Libby asked, trying to sound smart-alecky, but betrayed by the smile in her eyes.
“Yeah!” Marie shouted, grinning brightly. “Can we have a baby sister? A baby brother would be okay, but I’d rather have another sister.”
Michael looked to Jessy, barely able to control his broad smile. “We’ll see what we can do.”
“Good!” Marie gave Jessy a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re going to stay.”
“Me, too,” Jessy said as Ben joined the embrace and kissed her other cheek. She met Michael’s gaze and wished she could freeze the moment and keep it in her heart forever. “I love you guys,” she said quietly.
“We know,” Libby said, smiling as she leaned against Michael in a hug. “Ditto to you.”
The grandfather clock chimed the quarter-hour, and Michael glanced at his watch, frowning slightly. “Uh-oh,” he said, keeping his expression deadpan and serious. “I hope Santa hasn’t decided not to stop because you guys are still awake.”
Marie and Ben stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “He might not stop?” Ben asked quietly.
Michael shrugged, exaggeratedly nonchalant. “Gee—I don’t know. I thought I might have heard something on the roof tonight—like reindeer hooves. But maybe it was just the wind—”
Ben and Marie didn’t need to be told twice.
They scrambled off Michael and Jessy’s laps and ran for the stairs. As Libby trailed along behind them, almost embarrassed by her own excitement, Michael and Jessy followed the kids up the stairs, holding hands and exchanging delighted glances. Jessy thought she might never stop smiling.
They tucked the kids into bed with a kiss and a tickle, even though they knew it would be a long night of excited whispers and giggles before Marie and Ben settled down enough to fall asleep.
“Can we stay up and watch for Santa?” Marie asked as Jessy smoothed the curls away from her forehead and kissed her cheek.
“Nope,” Michael answered, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to look authoritative. “He won’t stop by if you’re awake.”
“What if we hide?” Ben asked.
“Santa knows,” Michael said sagely. “He always knows.”
Jessy laughed; she could remember being that age, so excited about Santa’s visit that sleep was impossible. They would probably be up and opening presents by five in the morning. And she could hardly wait.
Once the last minute drinks of water were fetched and the night-lights were plugged in and the closets were checked (because the Boogeyman might not take Christmas Eve off, Ben pointed out), Michael and Jessy were finally able to duck out of the bedroom and close the door. They immediately heard the sound of footsteps as Ben and Marie scrambled out of bed and headed to the window for their Santa watch.
Michael and Jessy looked at each other and smiled.
“Every year,” Michael said, chuckling. “Like clockwork.”
“But Santa always stops anyway,” Jessy said as she stepped into Michael’s open arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they simply held each other, relishing the embrace, enjoying the precious moment. “Old Santa’s a very forgiving soul.”
“Who are you calling ‘old’?” Michael asked with a grin. He kissed the tip of Jessy’s nose. “Want to help Santa haul in the presents?”
“Don’t you have elves to help you with that?”
“The elves don’t let me pinch their butts,” Michael said as he gave Jessy a healthy pinch. She yelped before she could catch herself and collapsed in giggles against him.
“Okay, okay,” she said between laughs. “But only if I get equal opportunity.” She gave his backside a grope and Michael started in surprise.
“Better not start something you’re not prepared to finish,” he said in a low, utterly sexy voice, pulling her closer.
Jessy smiled up at him, batting her lashes, nuzzling in close to his ear. “We’ll see who’s ready to finish,” she whispered, breathing softly against his earlobe. She could feel the effect of her words on him as his embrace tightened.
“After
we bring in the presents.”
Michael groaned good-naturedly. “After?”
“I guess you’re right—” Michael rested his forehead against hers. “But when we’re finished, can I unwrap an early present?”
Jessy smiled. “Only if I get to unwrap one, too.”
With a mischievous grin, Michael chuckled and dipped his head down, kissing Jessy so slowly, so thoroughly, that she felt her entire body melting against his. When he raised his head and gazed at her again, Jessy had to catch her breath.
“Deal,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose again.
“What color eyes should the fairy queen have?”
Jessy asked as she studied the mural. Michael had left the coloring decisions up to her and the kids, having done all the hard labor of sketching a gorgeous fantasy world of fairies and gnomes and magical creatures on the bedroom wall.
“Green!” Marie said, handing Jessy a tube of forest green paint. Her cheeks were smudged with dabs of blue and pink, the same shades as the otherworldly sky of the mural.
“Then green it shall be.” Jessy grinned as she squeezed a dime-sized blob of green paint onto her palette. “How’s it going on the ogre, Ben?”
Ben carefully finished painting in the purple spots on the ogre’s orange skin and looked over to Jessy, a huge smile on his face. “I’m done!”
Jessy carefully filled in the fairy queen’s green eyes and then handed Marie the palette and brush, bracing the small of her back as she stretched.
“Have you
really
got a baby in there?” Marie asked, eyeing Jessy’s belly.
Jessy looked down at her swollen stomach and smiled. “I sure do. And she’s awake—I can feel her doing her exercises.”
“Can I feel it?” Marie asked, flattening a hand over the curve of Jessy’s stomach. The baby chose that moment to give a fierce kick, sending Marie into a gale of giggles. Laughing along with her, Jessy moved over to the small couch in the corner of the nursery, carefully easing herself down and sighing with relief as she sank into the cushions. Ben—copying what he’d seen Michael do a hundred times—helped her tuck a smaller pillow behind her back before climbing up beside her.
“Are we going to have a brother or a sister?” he asked, pressing his ear against the worn denim of Jessy’s workshirt. Marie clambered up on Jessy’s other side and did the same.
“I don’t think the baby’s going to be able to tell you yet,” Jessy said, grinning.
“It’s going to be a girl,” Marie said. “And I’m going to help take care of her.”
“I want it to be a boy,” Ben said and looked up to Jessy again. “I don’t want another yucky girl.”
“We don’t know what the baby’s going to be,” Michael said from the doorway, smiling as he walked into the nursery and sat beside Jessy and the kids on the couch. “But we’re going to love the baby no matter if it’s a boy or a girl. Right?”
Marie and Ben nodded emphatically and Jessy smiled over their heads to Michael, almost dizzy with the tremendous rush of love she felt for all of them. She couldn’t remember her life before meeting Michael. It seemed hard to believe that it had only been eight months since the wedding. Even harder to believe that in another three months she would be having a baby.
“I think Gramma and Libby are going to fix brownies,” Michael said and grinned. “If you two hurry, Gramma might let you clean the batter bowl.”
Ben and Marie looked to Jessy first—they were her special helpers, after all—and she nodded. “Take off, you guys. You’ve both done a great job today.”
In a heartbeat, Ben and Marie were off the couch and out of the room, racing down the hallway to the stairs. Michael watched them go, then scooted closer to Jessy, slipping one arm around her shoulders and flattening his other hand against the rounded slope of her stomach.
“Hey, hot mama.” The gentle smile on his lips pushed Jessy’s precarious emotions over the edge, bringing tears to her eyes. “Hey—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jessy said and swiped at her eyes, leaving a streak of green paint on one cheek. She smiled and sniffed, but couldn’t help the tears that continued to flow. “I’m just happy and these stupid hormones are driving me crazy.”
Michael chuckled as he gathered Jessy into his arms, holding her close as she helplessly wept against him. He smiled and kissed her hair, her hot tears soaking through the thin cotton of his T-shirt, holding her until the storm had passed.
When she finally got the worst of it out of her system, Michael tipped her chin up so that he could look at her again, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. His smile was the gentlest thing that Jessy had ever known. Just seeing it made her feel cherished, unquestionably loved.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, smiling despite her still hitching breath. “I just never thought I’d be this emotional. Of course, I never thought I’d be having a baby, either.”
Michael flattened his palm against her belly again, his smile widening. “Personally, I think we should be congratulated for waiting as long as we did.”
Jessy smiled and leaned into his shoulder, closing her eyes as she covered his hand with her own and felt three heartbeats merging into sync. The baby shifted position and Michael sat up straighter, a huge grin on his face.
“She just kicked!”
“I know. I was there.” Jessy laughed as Michael flattened both hands on her belly, waiting for another flutter. “She just can’t wait to meet her daddy.”
The baby began kicking again, and Jessy and Michael watched in fascination as her stomach jumped and bounced. Michael unbuttoned the bottom of Jessy’s denim blouse and kissed her bare belly.
“I love you, kid,” he murmured to the baby. He lifted his head and smiled at Jessy. “And I love you, too,” he said softly, raising up to kiss her with a tenderness that made Jessy’s entire body melt against him.
“I love you, too,” Jessy whispered.
Michael’s eyes shone with unexpected tears. Jessy reached out to him, cupping his cheek in her hand as they smiled to each other, amazed and awed by what they had created. It was a moment Jessy had never dreamed she might experience. It was a dream come true, an answered prayer.
It was her life,
their
life, and it was a miracle.
Rebecca Brock is the director of a small library in southern West Virginia.
She is also the author of a collection of short horror stories (
Abominations
) and a variety of other horror stories published in anthologies and online since 2000.
When not cleaning up after her cats, Rebecca enjoys books and movies in a variety of genres (romance, horror, true crime, sci-fi) and attempts to be crafty by crocheting, sewing, and cross-stitching.
The Giving Season
is her first published novel; all the others are hidden away in drawers somewhere.
Feedback is always welcome!
Please check out Rebecca’s blog at
horror-hack.blogspot.com
and website at
www.rebeccabrockonline.com
to leave messages and see what’s coming up next.
Pearlsong Press is an independent publishing company dedicated to providing books and resources that entertain while expanding perspectives on the self and the world.
The company was founded by Peggy Elam, Ph.D., a psychologist and journalist, in 2003.
Pearls are formed when a piece of sand or grit or other abrasive, annoying, or even dangerous substance enters an oyster and triggers its protective response. The substance is coated with shimmering opalescent nacre (“mother of pearl”), the coats eventually building up to produce a beautiful gem. The self-healing response of the oyster thus transforms suffering into a thing of beauty.
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