Page 41 of All in for Christmas

“Yay! Santa came!” Eleanor’s happy shout rockets me awake.

My eyes fly open and Dean rolls toward me.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, kissing my cheek.

His light beard stubble leaves a delightful tingle.

Christmas, yes! I made it! I peek under the covers.

Also, Dean and I had the presence of mind to get dressed before falling asleep last night.

I pull up the hem of my T-shirt to double check.

For the record, he did not break my new thong.

Heat stirs in my veins. Close call, though.

“Merry Kissmas!” Henry stands in the doorway, holding out his arms. Nessie hangs from one hand by its tail. I beckon him toward the bed, patting the mattress, and he scuttles over before leaping up and tackling me. This is the moment I’ve waited for.

“Merry Kissmas!” I say holding his pudgy self against me.

His back is to my chest, my arms around his middle.

He squirms and I hold him tighter, kissing the top of his head.

The side of his neck. His cute little shoulder.

“Merry Kissmas! Merry Kissmas! Merry Kissmas!” I cry over and over, and he giggles. Giggles. Giggles.

Dean lies on his side, propping himself on his elbow. He grins at Henry. “Merry Kissmas, buddy.” We hear a ding, ding, ding in the living room. The bell on Eleanor’s bike.

Eleanor comes racing in and Scout too, with a “ Woof! Woof! ” But it sounds more like a “ Moof! Moof! ” because he’s got his new ball clenched in his teeth.

Eleanor jumps on top of our bed and leaps at her daddy.

He sits up and catches her midair. “Daddy! Daddy! Santa brought me a new bike! With training wheels!”

Dean holds her up with his hands below her armpits, lifting her higher. “Did he really?” he asks, before settling her down in his lap.

She nods eagerly. “Uh-huh, uh-huh!” Eleanor beams at me and Henry. “It’s red.”

“What about you, buddy?” Dean asks Henry. “Did Santa bring you something too?”

Henry laughs, throwing his head back against my shoulder. “A Hot Tide!”

“Nice,” Dean says and winks at me. “We can’t wait to see, can we, Mommy?”

“Scout got a ball!” Eleanor chirps.

“I see that!” I respond cheerfully then yawn. Scout drops his new ball on the floor and prances out of the bedroom, his wagging tail held high.

Dean turns to me and asks, “Coffee?”

I nod gratefully. “Coffee.”

Scout returns in a flash with the rolled-up newspaper in his mouth.

I smile at Dean. “Looks like he hasn’t forgotten his job in all the excitement.

” Scout pounces up on the bed, struggling to find an empty spot.

He wedges himself in between the kids and us and drops the paper on Dean’s legs, since Eleanor’s in his lap.

Dean laughs and pats Scout’s head. “Good boy! Merry Christmas.”

We get the kids suited up and herd them out in the snow.

They’re dying to give their new toys a try, and we don’t blame them.

Scout can’t decide who he wants to trail more, Eleanor or Henry, as they ride up and down our short driveaway.

Dean chases alongside Eleanor, holding out his arms. Despite her training wheels, he’s concerned she’ll skid on the ice, even after shoveling again and scattering sand along the driveway’s surface.

We agreed on only ten minutes to give the kids a taste of fun, but it’s been almost twenty.

They’re having such a great time with their Santa gifts, we hate cutting it short.

Henry doesn’t mind slip-sliding sideways in his Hot Ride at all .

I hang on to the roof with my gloves, trying to keep him from careening off course—and into the bushes hedging our house—and he giggles.

The vehicle’s made entirely of heavy-duty plastic with rubber for the wheels.

There are no real windows to speak of, just openings where the windshield and the windows would normally be.

“Keep your hands on the wheel, Henry!” I advise, because he’s honestly not steering, just looking around at the neighbors’ kids in their front yards, trying out their new stuff.

One kid’s got a skateboard, another a pogo stick.

Really? I thought those were old-school.

The kids on the other side got a toboggan, and their dad tugs them across their front lawn, giving them a ride.

Everyone’s happy and cheerful, and cold .

I’ve never seen this many parents with their pajama pants tucked into boots outside at this time of the morning, and there are others across the street.

But hey, it’s Christmas , and Christmas isn’t only about one day.

It’s about all the days before and those that come after.

The Charles Dickens line occurs to me: “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year,” says Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol.

Scrooge might have arrived at this understanding overnight, but he didn’t achieve it on his own.

He had the help of three mildly frightening spirits.

Though I’ve had no ghost guide here, I’m so glad I was able to say “Merry Kissmas” to Henry.

That made my year. Watching Eleanor get her balance on her new bike with Dean hovering protectively nearby lifts my heart, too.

But it’s chilly outdoors, below freezing with a cloudy gray sky and a smattering of snowflakes falling.

I’m glad I had that super-charged coffee earlier and am ready for some more.

“What do you say?” I ask Dean and glance at the house.

Scout prances up to him and drops his new ball. Dean chucks it back into the side yard near the rear gate and Scout bounds after it. “Two minutes?” Scout brings back the ball and Dean hurls it out again.

Eleanor’s face is dark pink. I peek under the roof of Henry’s car at his bright red nose and chin. I’m losing feeling in my fingers and toes myself. “Two minutes,” I agree. “No more.”

“Aww.” Eleanor pouts and sticks out her bottom lip.

“We’ll make hot cocoa!” I tempt.

Dean nods at the kids. “And I’ll build a fire.”

Henry leans out his car window, his coat sleeve on the door. “O-tay!”

The kids are wiped out after our busy Christmas morning.

Dean and I feed them an early lunch and put them down for their naps ahead of schedule.

They’ll need their rest before the grandparents get here.

With this being Christmas and us having guests, they’ll likely stay up past their normal seven-thirty bedtime.

Scout’s worn out, too. He curls on the floor by Eleanor’s bed and sleeps soundly.

This gives Dean and I a chance to pick up the house. New toys are scattered everywhere and wrapping paper litters the living room. “Gammy and Poppi really overdid it this year,” I tell Dean. I pick up the handheld educational games they got the kids and flip over the boxes.

He chuckles and gathers a wooden train set in his arms, along with a hobby horse riding stick. “I could say the same of your mom.”

The kids received loads of puzzles from Mom too, and gobs of storybooks and clothing from Miriam and Jack. Scout received his share of spoils too, including a stuffed Christmas tree doggie toy from Mom and a new leash, collar, and dog dish set from Dean’s parents.

Dean got a sweater from his folks and a new spy thriller, and a winter scarf from Mom.

Dean’s sister, Jenny, gave him a neat bookmark and a fancy writing pen.

Since she and I had already exchanged gifts, Mom showered all her attention—and excess—on the kids.

Dean’s parents gave me a nice glove, hat, and scarf set and a pretty pair of candy cane earrings.

I feel inundated by our family’s generosity and worry over what we gave them. “Everyone was so thoughtful in their gift-giving,” I tell Dean. “I hope they’re okay with what we gave them?”

“Are you kidding?” He shares a big grin. “We got repeat orders for my homemade hot sauce and steak rub. Same as with the Christmas cookies you baked with the kids.”

“Are you sure those things are enough?’

He chuckles warmly. “Sweetheart, you know that’s all anyone ever asks for, and Eleanor and Henry have so much fun playing a part.

” I’m sad I missed that cookie baking session with them, but try to lighten my spirits with the knowledge that hopefully we’ll be doing that again next year.

For there’s nothing I’d love more than spending another Christmas with Dean and our family.

And then another Christmas after that, and then another.

“You look very nice,” he says, noting my outfit. I put on the candy cane earrings from his parents to go with my ruby heart necklace and wear a snug-fitting, glittery red Christmas top, with black stretch pants and boots.

“Thanks, so do you.”

We both dressed up a bit for the holiday, and Dean’s in a dark red crewneck sweater and khakis. Wait. That’s the outfit he wore to the faculty party. No. The faculty party that wasn’t.

I recall what Mary Christmas said about it being impossible for me to be in two places at once and my heart stutters.

Because I’m here, I can’t be there. And maybe that other world doesn’t even exist anymore?

I’m starting to question if it ever did, or if the other reality was in fact the alternate one.

I glance around the living room that’s all tidied up and so holiday festive.

I can’t imagine forgetting any of this. Every moment that I’ve spent here has been so incredibly special.

If I could have earlier memories from this life, I’d grab those in a flash.

But, failing that fantasy developing, I’m content with what I have.

The present. Dean enters the living room from the kitchen and smiles.

A future. My heart beats happily. A future with Dean.

He nods over his shoulder. “What do you think? Want to get started on that lasagna?”

I check the clock on the bookshelf by the hearth and see it’s nearly one o’clock. “Oh gosh, is it that time already?”