Page 24 of The Christmas Book Flood
It was Christmas Eve, the night they’d stay up to welcome the celebration of their Savior’s birth. A night known for the greatest miracle of all of history, when God lowered himself to become man—and here Anders was, living out a little sliver of his own miracle.
For the first time in his memory, he didn’t feel alone on Christmas Eve. He felt... full. Surrounded. Loved.
He parked in front of her building, pulled out the two gifts, and was soon inside.
He could hear Christmas music coming from a piano in a flat on the ground floor, families laughing together as he jogged up the stairs.
He could smell the cooking skate that could no doubt be found in nearly every kitchen today.
He reached her door and knocked. Drew in a deep breath.
Tatiana pulled it open, a smile already on her lips. She was wearing the red suit—the one he’d painted her in—and it made him smile too. That seemed like a good sign. “ Glethileg jol , Anders.”
“ Glethileg jol , Tatiana.” Catching sight of the little whirlwind spinning through the flat, he called out, “ Glethileg jol , Elea.” He held out the smaller of the packages.
“I thought I’d better bring you something, in case Kertasnikir was so displeased that your candles weren’t tasty tallow that he forgot to leave something in your shoe. ”
Elea slid to a halt in front of him, eyes wide as saucers. “You got me a present?”
He wiggled the box. “Certainly looks like it. Though I suppose it could be rotten potatoes, if you’ve been naughty.”
Tatiana laughed as she snicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t think Elea knows how to be naughty.”
“Well, that’s good. Because none of my potatoes were rotten.” With a wink, he pushed the package into her little hands. “Go ahead.”
The little one sent an excited look to her aunt and wasted no time moving to the table. She set the package down and peeled off the tape with care that made him laugh.
“Is this how you open presents? You’re in for a shock at my family’s house then. All those little monsters that I call nieces and nephews turn wrapping paper into confetti in about three seconds.”
Elea sent him a horrified look. “They rip this paper? But you painted it!” She held it up in proof.
Tatiana gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth. “You did ! Anders, why would you spend such time on wrapping paper?”
He grinned and shrugged, easing Tatiana’s gift to the floor and leaning it against a table leg so he could take off his coat. “I started doing it when I was a child. It gets me in the Christmas spirit.”
He’d never been entirely sure his family realized he still did it.
.. but in retrospect, they had made a game of examining all the paper on all the gifts and taunting each other about whose was better.
Could it be... was that their way of appreciating his work?
Had his brothers’ annual insistence that the cheapest paper to be found was the best just a tease?
Regardless, his nieces and nephews did indeed rip it to shreds. And he couldn’t mind—that was what it was for.
Elea returned to her careful peeling of the tape, then eased the paper away.
It meant she was greeted by the back of the gift rather than the front, so only once she’d flipped it over did her face light up.
“Watercolor paints! And paper!” One item clutched in each hand, she rushed him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you!”
He chuckled and hugged her back. “You’re very welcome. And I’ll happily give you a few lessons before you go home, if you’d like.”
“I would like, I would like!” She pulled away, spun to Tatiana. “Do I have enough time to draw something before we go? So he can show me how to paint it tomorrow?”
Tatiana smiled. “We still have half an hour. Go ahead.”
He’d expected her to settle at the table, but instead, she dashed toward the bedroom and went so far as to close the door behind her, saying, “No peeking until I’m done!” as she closed it.
“I’m offended,” he said. “She’s let me look at her drawings every day as she works on them.”
“I must be the one she doesn’t want peeking.” Tatiana clasped her hands, then unclasped them. She looked... nervous.
How odd—that was his role. But seeing it in her made him strangely relaxed. Enough, anyway, that he could reach for the wrapped painting without needing to wipe his palms dry on his trousers first. He held it out, met her gaze. “And for you.”
The line of her shoulders softened, making him think her anxiety was about something else. “Come. Let’s sit.” She led him toward the sofa, and he smiled at the flickering candles on her tree, a bit surprised she’d lit them already.
He had a feeling Elea had made a plea she hadn’t wanted to refuse.
Their dancing flames lent a festive air to the room, making him smile as he sank down beside her on the sofa.
Tatiana too took extraordinary care with the wrapping paper, despite his laugh. “Just rip it, Tatiana.”
“I most certainly will not.”
He shook his head. “What are you going to do, frame it and hang it on your wall? It’s only wrapping paper.”
“With the most adorable Yule Lads I’ve ever seen.” Much like her niece, she peeled off the tape and folded the paper back, though the size of the painting meant she kept its bottom on the floor and leaned over it.
Once she had it loose, he helped remove the paper. She tipped the painting back, mouth in a perfect O . She blinked, gaze tracing over the image. Then she turned misty eyes and smiling lips to him. “Anders—it’s... it’s...”
He shrugged. “ Jolabokaflod . Elea gave me the idea, and I couldn’t help but create it.”
“The Christmas Book Flood,” she murmured, looking at the gift again.
“It’s perfect! Now I’ll always have something to remember this year by.
” She traced a finger along the curve of painted-Elea’s braid, though she didn’t actually touch the glass.
Then let the same finger run along the frame.
“And it matches my other one! The frame, I mean.”
“Mm. I debated. My mother talked me into keeping them a matching set.”
“Your mother was right.” She stood, moved the painting over to rest against the bookshelves on the opposite wall, and came back to the couch without taking her eyes from it, though she didn’t sit.
“Oh, wow. I needed a bit of distance to see all the details.” She pressed her hands to her hips, looked down at herself, and laughed. “It’s even this skirt suit.”
“It seemed to fit the theme.” Had he really been afraid she wouldn’t like it?
He smiled, watching her for several more moments as she took note of each detail, the titles on the spines of the books in her arms and on which Elea was standing—all ones she’d helped pack up and ship out these last few weeks.
The books that were part of this first Christmas flood.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’ll have to have Valdi and Beta over so he can see it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he commissioned one from you too, to commemorate the Book Bulletin’s success.”
She and her niece clearly thought along the same lines. But Valdi wasn’t his concern just now. “I’m glad you like it. I second-guessed myself about the painting too.”
She spun to face him and gave him that look he was becoming so very familiar with.
The one that was part chiding, part smiling, part.
.. affection, he’d call it. He didn’t dare give it any other name.
Not yet. “Of course you did,” she said. Then her face shifted, and she swallowed.
Nodded. “That’s your gift there on the table beside you.
Under the tree—the one with green paper, which you really can just rip to shreds, because it’s store-bought. The red ones are for Elea.”
He thought he recognized the size and shape of one of Elea’s and figured it for the signed copy of his latest saga that they’d chatted about before Elea ever arrived in the city.
But he focused primarily on the green one.
It was box shaped, the size of the boxes their typewriter paper arrived in—handy for gifts, to be sure. He’d repurposed several of them too.
Heavy, he noted as he picked it up. As heavy as if it really were just a ream of paper. And whatever was inside had Tatiana biting her lip in a way that made him nearly forget all about presents and lean in to show her how her lips ought to be treated.
Focus, Anders , he told himself. He tore the paper away, smiling at the familiar paper box, and sending a teasing smile her way. “Paper! You shouldn’t have.”
She finally sank back down to her place beside him on the couch. “You’re not as wrong as your joke implies.”