Page 37 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas

“Okay, I’m trusting you.”

Jeannie came up and helped her son stand, taking the blanket that had been over his lap, then Max held out a hand to Addy. She took it, and the two of them stood to one side of Santa, me to the other, and Eva on his lap.

It was unorthodox, that was for sure. But who was I to argue with three incredibly happy kids?

We weren’t done, however. Once we had a few shots, I crossed over to Jeannie and held out my hand for the blanket and chair. “You go take some photos with your son,” I said softly. “I’ll pick out my faves from the last set.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, sending me that shocked expression again. It was far more adorable than it should have been. “You didn’t get any solo shots with your daughters.”

“That’s okay. I got the photos exactly how they wanted them. Now, you go get yours.” I could tell she was wavering ever so slightly, so I lowered my voice again. “Christmas spirit, remember?”

“Right, right.” She shook her head, then beamed as she hurried past me. “Am I cool enough to get in on this buddy?”

Max looked at his mom like she was the entire world, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that they had an amazing relationship. “You’re the coolest!”

“You better remember that when you hit double digits. Now, why don’t you sit on Santa’s lap and I’ll crouch in front of you?”

“Mama, I don’t think you’re tall enough to need to crouch.”

“Excuse you! Santa, I think you have someone for the naughty list.”

The Santa, who had been relatively patient through our chatter, let out a booming laugh. “No one goes on the naughty list for telling the truth. Come now, there’s room on Santa’s lap for the two of you.”

Jeannie pinkened up a bit. I wondered if she was worried about her size being an issue, but I could tell from the frame of the man that he was one of those solid old men that still went out and chopped wood and could haul a sheep over their shoulders without blinking. Even with humans, there seemed to be acorrelation between tough ol’ sods being the sappiest holiday enjoyers.

Thankfully, Jeannie didn’t let any sort of self-consciousness dictate her decision, and soon the two of them had at least six different photos to choose from, three with both of them on his lap and one with Jeannie in the chair and Santa pretending to sit on one of her shorter legs while Max was comfortably perched on the other. Naturally, I bought all of them.

Jeannie was so swept up in it all she didn’t even remember she had to pick until we made our way over to the side tent where they were printed out on fancy, laminated photo paper.

“Here you are,” I said, handing her the manila envelope. Her expression softened so sweetly, it made every cent I’d spent on them worth it. Three hundred dollars was nothing compared to memories that would last forever.

“Goodness, Remy. You really didn’t have to.”

“I know. If I did, it wouldn’t be a very good Christmas present, would it?”

“But you don’t even know us. Not really.”

“That may be true, but I know you are a kind person who’s had a whole lot dumped on them that most people wouldn’t be able to handle, and I know Max is a good and sweet kid, and my girls really like him. I’m not the type to take those things for granted.”

Her entire face flushed, starting at her cheeks and spreading outwards until it disappeared into all her coverings. It was endearing in an entirely effortless way.

“Thank you, Remy. This means so much to me.”

Taking a risk, I put my hand on her shoulder. “I understand, I really do.” It was hell having to face the idea that you might lose someone you loved more than life itself. The biggest difference between Jeannie and me was that her loved one made it whilemine had not. It was a fork in our lived experiences, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t relate to each other.

As we made that physical connection, it felt like time stopped, and for a moment, it was just the two of us, with no other loud kids, no line about a dozen feet away from us, no Winter Wonderland, and no side tent full of expensive printers.

Just us, and the baggage we carried from being imperfect souls in an imperfect world.

And for that moment, I felt so much less alone.

“What do we do now?” Eva asked, tugging at my coat. Despite my enhanced senses, I nearly jumped out of my skin, surprised that my daughter was able to sneak up on me.

“What do you mean, Eva?”

“Where do we go after the workshop? There’s more, right?”

“No, sweetie. The tour’s over. But Winter Wonderland is pretty big. Why don’t we walk around it?”