Step on a Crack (Michael Bennett 1)

I smiled as I remembered our first date. I had just taken my finger off the bell to her apartment when she threw open the door and kissed me. There was a flash of her honey-brown eyes, the spiced sweetness of her perfume, and without preamble, soft lips hit me, and my heart smacked against the back of my chest like a handball.

“Thought I’d save us a little awkwardness later,” she’d said, her smile beaming as I stammered a bit, reeling against her threshold.

“Sweet Maeve,” I whispered now from the foot of her bed. “There’ll never be a man as lucky as me. I love you so much, my queen.” I touched a finger to my lips, then to hers.

Minutes later, I swung crosstown again. There wasn’t a soul on the windswept streets. Even the homeless had gone home for Christmas, I guessed.

I went into the kids’ rooms and checked on them. There were probably visions of PlayStation and XBox dancing in their heads instead of sugarplums, but at least they were snug in their beds as required. Seamus was snoring to beat the band on top of the chaise in my bedroom, cookie crumbs on his cheeks. My eleventh kid. I tossed a throw on him and turned out the light.

My biggest shock came when I stepped into the living room. Not only was there a grand tree, but it had been decorated to the nines. The kids’ gifts had been pulled from the back of my closet, expertly wrapped, and stacked in ten piles under it.

There was a note on the DVD remote sitting on the sectional. hit play, it said. merry christmas! mary catherine.

I did as instructed. A video shot of Chrissy, dressed as an angel and proceeding up the aisle in Holy Name’s gym, filled the screen.

I teared up, but not angrily this time. What an awesome job Mary Catherine and my grandfather had done. What could be more beautiful than this?

Duh, how about Maeve there, healthy, beside you? a voice inside me said.

I didn’t have the strength to listen to voices right now. It would all be over soon. I wiped my eyes to watch as my boys, now shepherds, came wandering from afar toward the stage. God save the Bennetts.

Chapter 85

I DON’T KNOW what I appreciated more when I woke up early on Christmas morning. The unmatchably wonderful smell of coffee and bacon wafting through my open door or the barely stifled giggling coming from the other side of my bed.

“Oh, no,” I said, sitting up after a particularly loud titter. “All my children are sound asleep … and there’s Irish ghosts in my room!”

There was an explosion of laughter as Shawna, Chrissy, and Trent tackled me back onto my pillow.

“It’s not ghosts,” Trent said, kangaroo-bouncing up and down beside my head. “It’s Christmas!”

Tugging one hand apiece, Chrissy and Shawna got me to my feet and pulled me out into the sweetly pine-scented living room.

I got my Christmas present right there and then when I looked down at my two little ones. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted it any better. Christmas-tree lights softly illuminating the breathless, saucer-eyed wonder of two little girls on this special day of days.

“You were right, Daddy!” Chrissy said, letting me go as she clapped her hands over her head. “I left the kitchen window open, and Santa made it!”

I saw Trent shaking a box.

“How about you little guys wake up the big ones first,” I said. “Then we’ll open presents together, okay?”

Three little comets rocketed out of the room simultaneously. I headed for the kitchen, following that wonderful smell. Mary Catherine smiled at me as she poured pancake batter into a skillet.

“Merry Christmas, Mike,” she said. “Do you like your fried egg on top of the pancake or on the side?”

“Whatever’s easiest,” I said, stunned to learn that having both pancakes and eggs at once was within the realm of the possible. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you for all you’ve done for my family. The tree, taping the pageant, wrapping the gifts. Heck, I’m starting to think maybe Santa is real. You sure you’re not from Tipperary by way of the North Pole?”

“Please,” Mary said with a wink. “Father Seamus did most of it. Wait, I hear the children. Take that tray out. I poured the hot chocolate, and your coffee is there on the island.”

I did as I was told and headed back to the living room. I thought everyone would be tearing into the gifts like wolves on a heifer by this point, but they were just standing there. What was up?

“You didn’t have to wait for me, guys,” I said. “Merry Christmas. Let the wrapping paper fly!”

“Well, Dad,” Brian started. “We had a kids’ meeting and …”

“What Brian is trying to say,” Julia said, “is that we decided that we don’t want to open our gifts until we see Mom. We know you have to go back to work, but we’re willing to wait until you get home so we can all go over and see Mom together.”

I stepped over and wrapped as many of my kids into my arms as I could.