The size of the space inside me where I’m missing him is my answer about my bottom line: no, it doesn’t matter why he was gone or what he was doing.
Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. He’s too much a part of me. Always has been, and now he is in ways that I wouldn’t choose to unsee even if Santa granted me the ability to forget.
The boys play outside for a good twenty minutes, during which I get some coffee into my mom and start some German pancakes baking in the oven.
Finally, the front door opens and I hear their socked feet thumping back inside.
“I can’t believe you’re already done,” I tell them, settling down to watch them open the rest of their presents.
“We would have stayed longer, but we weren’t dressed for the cold,” my dad says.
He takes his seat beside my mom. Sara settles on the floor by the boys, and I curl up in my dad’s favorite recliner. My mom’s rule is that the kids get to open all their gifts first, then the adults can exchange their presents while the children run around committing mayhem with their new loot. That used to be Sara and me. The first Christmas that the twins were allowed to tear paper off boxes was strange for me, realizing that I truly had crossed over to the grownup side for good.
They open a few more Santa gifts, including Hot Wheel cars and books, some Pokémon figures, and other things that make them cackle or exclaim. But Sara is eyeing the sofa; she’s hidden the oversized pillows behind it. And Rome has gotten more subdued, still smiling at each new gift, but also looking around the room like he’s missing something.
It’s not going to work, and my heart breaks for Rome and Sara. And for Dean, who would never shirk his duty, but who I know is probably struggling today, being away from his family.
I gather myself, trying to hype myself up to be Most Excited Tata ever as Sara gets ready to FaceTime her husband.
When the last gift for the twins is opened, Rome stands up and looks around. “Santa didn’t bring me my wish.”
“Are you sure?” Sara says. She’s trying so hard to sound cheerful. “Because as it just so happens, there’s one more surprise for you, and it’s about your dad.”
Rome’s eyes light up, and I force myself not to cringe. I’m not sure this is the right approach to get them excited.
“I’ll be right back,” Sara says. She disappears into the other room and returns a minute later with her iPad.
Rome’s expression goes flat. “He’s on Facetime?”
“He will be in a minute,” she says, pulling up his contact. “And he’s got something special for you.”
Gage sighs but looks resigned. Rome is still blank.
“It’s dialing,” she says brightly, and everyone is so focused on that iPad that I’m the only one who notices the front door opening.
Levi! I think I’m going to smooch his face off before he even gets to the explanation I was so sure I needed more than anything last night. It’s funny how many things are clearer in the morning. How much I love him is one of them.
But there’s some shuffling, a bump, and . . . Dean comes through the door.
At this point, everyone has heard the noise, but I’m the only one at an angle to see who’s here for a couple of seconds, and I look at my parents with shock as Dean clumps into the room on crutches. His leg is in a brace, but he’s wearing a Santa hat and a huge grin.
“Merry Christmas!” he shouts. Levi slips in behind him and quietly closes the door.
There’s a pregnant beat of silence, and then pandemonium. Sara climbs to her feet sobbing, Rome yells, “I knew it!” over and over, and Gage gives a wordless cry and flings himself at his dad about a millisecond before Sara and Rome.
Soon they’re all in Dean’s arms—or one of them—the other one keeping him balanced on his crutch. A bigger mess of boohooing babies I’ve never seen in my life. That includes every last Bixby and a Taft too.
Levi gives them plenty of room as he walks over to pull me up from the recliner, and I catch the glint of tears in his eyes.
“What the dirty heck? Is this why you were gone?” I ask him as he hauls me into a hug.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything, but it was touch and go until very early this morning as to whether this was even going to work. I’ll tell you about it later.”
The story comes out after breakfast. Dean tells Levi to give us the details while he and Sara go out—dressed for the cold this time—to watch the boys on their ATVs.
“He was injured in the line of duty,” Levi says, smiling. “Four days ago, he tore his meniscus while playing soccer with some of the kids on base waiting to meet Santa.” He tells the rest of the story, how Dean had been entertaining some of the younger kids while they waited in the long line, well used to the kind of trouble little ones can get into if they get too restless. “He was pretending to let them beat him at soccer, he twisted something, his knee popped, and boom. He was in the infirmary.”
“Okay, but how . . .” My mom points outside then at the table.
