Oh Snowy Night

“I was going to go out with you to get the tree, remember?”

“Bear and I know what we’re doing. Besides, I was worrying about you out there in the snow.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to say anything. Like, I’d rather you just sit on this sofa and watch television with Smittens than have you doing anything. I nearly had a heart attack yesterday when I came home and saw all the boxes out.”

“Ornaments are really light.”

“Uh huh.”

“All right. You go and get me a tree. I guess it’s sort of tradition for you to pick it out.”

I get up and throw another log on the fire. The television volume has been muted. I turn it up and toss the remote next to her. “I’m going to go and get a small tree and some other shit. You stay under the blanket and keep warm.”

I give her a quick kiss and bolt out of the house before she can change her mind. She’s right, though. It’s tradition. The first year, she couldn’t believe I didn’t celebrate Christmas and the second year, I found the perfect tree when I was out clearing some fallen branches that had broken off during a storm. I cut it down and dragged it back. It was only the end of October and snow had barely dusted the ground, but Faith was deliriously happy. We even ordered a stand so I didn’t have to use sandbags and rope. This year, we were going to go together, in part because I felt guilty that I was always picking out her tree. But I did worry about her tramping around the woods being eight months pregnant.

Bear and I locate a perfect tree–not too big that it’s overwhelming for Faith and not so small she feels like she’s re-enacting the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. We watched all of the specials last year. That one’s my favorite along with the big guy in the elf suit because that shit’s relatable. I wouldn’t be a good elf either. Elves need to be small–like Faith. She’d be the perfect elf, not that I’m letting even Santa steal her away.

I chop down the tree and we start off for home. The modest lodge I had built when I first moved in has a nice, glassed-in addition which was dark when I left but now it’s totally lit up and there are people moving around. “What’s going on, Bear?”

He whuffs in response before racing for the back door. I keep my eyes on the interior waiting for Faith to cross in front of one of the many panes of glass. By the time I reach the porch, I’ve counted ten people including Old Karen and Henry, King, and a few others that I don’t recognize.

When I open the door, Faith is there to greet me. “Surprise!” she shouts.

“What in the he–”

She claps a hand over my mouth. “He’s so happy you’re all here,” she calls out gaily. To me, she says, “I set up the tree stand over there. Well, I didn’t. King insisted but it’s ready for you.”

I throw King a grateful look which he acknowledges with a slight nod of his chin. “What’s going on, babe?”

“Hayley called and wanted to know the recipe for the cider you always make. We got to talking and decided that we would have a Christmas tree trimming party.”

All objections to this fly out of my head when I look down at the face of my beaming wife.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she whispers quietly.

“Hell, no.” Fuck, I’d dance naked in Times Square to put a smile like that on her face. I set the tree down on the stand. King cranks the stabilizers in place and his new wife spreads a tartan colored cloth around the base. With all the helping hands, the decorations are put up in no time. Pretty soon the furniture has been pushed back, the lights have been lowered, and Faith is in my arms, pressing her round cheek to my chest. I sway to the music, holding her close.

“This is the Christmas I’ve always dreamed about,” she says. “Friends, family, and most of all, you.”

“Me?” I haven’t ever been anyone’s dream.

“Yeah, when I was young, I always imagined myself spending this magical holiday with someone who loved me as much as I loved them so, yeah, this is truly my dream come true.”

Epilogue

Faith

Years Later

I moan around the yummy goodness as I steal another bite. “I knew I’d find you here.” I turn at the sound of my husband’s voice as I shove the rest of the cookie into my mouth.

“I can be Santa,” I say with my mouth full of the last cookie off the plate. I pick up the glass of milk, polishing that off too. Conn laughs as he comes over to kiss me. I sigh into his mouth as his hand rubs the small bump that is already forming. We’re expecting our third and last baby. Even though I’ve said with each pregnancy that it would be the last, as soon as the baby turns into a toddler I’d start wanting another one. Conn is always willing to give me whatever I want. If I only wanted one, he would have been happy with that. He said he’d be more than willing to give me as many as I wanted because he loves to see me round with his child.