He looked over at Hazel, who stood, awake now, her hair askew and leaned up from his wife. “We’ll finish this later.”
She winked and oh, wow, yes, merry Christmas to him.
Then he turned and caught his little girl into his arms, pulling her up tight.
She clung to him a second before leaning back and catching his face. “I knew you’d be back for Christmas.”
He nodded, looked past her to the bare press of dawn. Thank you, God.
“Mommy doesn’t feel good.” Hazel untangled herself from his arms and he set her down. She walked over to Tillie. “Are you better?”
Tillie glanced at Moose, then back to Hazel. “So much better, honey. In fact…”
Moose picked her up, set her on the bed beside Tillie. Then he sat beside her.
Tillie was looking at him, so he wrapped an arm around Hazel. “How would you feel about a baby…sibling. A brother or a sister.”
“For Christmas?” Her eyes lit up.
“Um, we were thinking maybe, this summer?” He glanced at Tillie, who nodded.
“A sister. I’ll need a sister.” She was nodding.
“You will, huh?” He pressed a kiss to her head. “We’ll see what God brings us.”
“It’s a sister.”
“What if it’s a brother.”
She sighed, big. “Fine.” And smiled.
He laughed.
“You look tired, babe.” This from Tillie.
“Yeah. Um…”
She patted the bed next to him.
And Moose, he shucked off his shoes and lay down beside her on the skinny bed…
And went to sleep.
By the time he woke, morning sunlight streamed through the wide windows of Alaska Regional Hospital, casting long rectangles of light across the polished floor.
Tillie was up, and the sound of the shower hummed from the bathroom, Hazel not in the room.
He got up, knocked on the bathroom door. “Tillie?”
“Hazel’s with Flynn and Axel. Dawson’s awake. I’ll meet you there.”
Oh. He peered into the mirror. He needed coffee. A toothbrush. And a long winter’s nap.
But not until after he saw his cousin.
Antiseptic couldn’t quite mask the lingering aroma of Christmas breakfast drifting from the cafeteria down the hall. Someone had strung battery-powered garland around the nurses’ station, tiny white lights blinking in cheerful defiance of the medical efficiency surrounding them.
He pushed the elevator button to the third floor.
