“Imagine that.” Jason picked her up and kissed both cheeks. “Merry Christmas.”
“I can’t wait.” She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “I just can’t wait.”
Watching them, Faith felt her emotions tangle and knot until her bones ached with it. What should she do? Whatcould she do? When Jason turned with Clara, the lights from the tree fell like wishes over their faces.
“Faith?” He didn’t need words to recognize distress, pain, turmoil. “What is it?”
Her hands were digging into the cardboard of the box. “Nothing. I’m going to dish out this pizza before it’s cold.”
“Pizza?” Delighted, Clara bounced down. “Can I have two pieces? It’s Christmas.”
“Monkey,” Faith scolded gently, tousling her hair. “Set the table.”
“What is it, Faith?” Jason took her arm before she could follow her daughter into the kitchen. “Something’s wrong.”
“No.” She had to control herself. She’d managed everything for so long. “You overwhelmed me.” With a smile she touched his face. “It’s happened before. Come on, let’s eat.”
Because she seemed to need to keep her thoughts to herself, he let it go and followed her into the kitchen where Clara was already peeking into the cardboard box. He’d never seen a child plow through food with such unrestrained glee. He’d never known Christmas Eve could be special simply because there was someone beside him.
Clara swallowed the last of her second piece. “Maybe if I opened one present tonight there’d be less confusion in the morning.”
Faith seemed to consider. “I like confusion,” she decided and Jason realized the conversation was an old tradition.
“Maybe if I opened just one present tonight, I could get right to sleep. Then you wouldn’t have to wait so long to creep around and fill the stockings.”
“Hmm.” Faith pushed aside her empty plate and enjoyed the wine Jason had brought. “I like creeping around late at night.”
“If I opened—”
“Not a chance.”
“If I—”
“Nope.”
“But Christmas is just hours and hours away.”
“Awful, isn’t it?” Faith smiled at her. “And you’re going caroling in ten minutes, so you’d better get your coat.”
Clara walked over to tug on her boots. “Maybe when I get back, there’ll be just one present that you’ll figure isn’t really important enough to wait until morning.”
“All the presents under the tree are absolutely vital.” Faith rose to help her on with her coat. “And so are the following instructions. Stay with the group. Keep your mittens on, I want you to keep all your fingers. Don’t lose your hat. Remember that Mr. and Mrs. Easterday are in charge.”
“Mom.” Clara shifted her feet and sighed. “You treat me like a baby.”
“You are my baby.” Faith gave her a smacking kiss. “So there.”
“Jeez, I’ll be ten years old in February. That’s practically tomorrow.”
“And you’ll still be my baby in February. Have a good time.”
Clara sighed, long-suffering and misunderstood. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Faith mimicked. “Say good-night.”
Clara peeked around her mother. “Are you going to stay until I get back?”
“Yeah.”
