been since she'd lavished her husband with any kind of love?
"Are you okay?" he asked, finally looking at her.
"I will be," she claimed, an optimistic boast at best.
"Come inside. It's freezing out here."
And she followed him inside, trying to fight off that sense of melancholy, trying to live in the moment—the children, Christmas—instead of what was sure to follow.
* * *
It turned into a good day. They all finished decorating the house together, something usually accomplished with a good deal of order and precision, all of which was lost with two children helping them. Zach wanted to pull everything out and examine it, and he had his own ideas about where things should go. He was also determined to climb the biggest ladder they had. Sam pulled him off of it three times, only to find him right back up there a second later. Finally, Sam put Zach on his shoulders with the white lights they put on the fir tree in the front yard. They went round and round, circling the tree with lights, Zach cackling with delight as they went.
Emma and Rachel twisted red ribbons onto the branches once the lights were up, Grace hanging quite contentedly from a backpack like thing on Rachel's back. She seemed enthralled by all the colors and made cooing sounds and sucked on her fingers through her gloves, which perplexed her greatly. She found Rachel's ear and tugged on that, on Rachel's hair, wouldn't leave a cap on Rachel's head.
They laughed more in that day than Rachel could remember in months. Even Emma, somber, serious Emma, had laughed. Sam was still hiding behind the gruff exterior, still seeming a bit uncomfortable, but even he had cracked a smile or two when he and Zach had gotten into a scuffle in the drifting snow.
Finally satisfied and freezing, they'd all stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, staring up at it and deciding all their hard work had been worth it.
"It's just like in the book," Zach said. He finally believed he was living in the Christmas house. Maybe he still believed in magic, just a little bit.
"Come on," Rachel said. "We've got to get inside."
"I'm not cold," Zach said.
"I am," Rachel insisted.
They went to the back door, she and Sam brushing the snow off the kids as best they could before they all traipsed inside and made a mess of the laundry room, with wet boots and coats and hats and gloves everywhere.
Rachel insisted that Zach have a hot bath, and Emma volunteered to give him one. Rachel sent them up with hot chocolate, and a moment later, her middle sister, Gail, dropped by with hot homemade soup and fresh bread. Gail who had four children of her own, the youngest of whom just started school this year, and a husband, Alex, whose work as a pharmaceutical salesman kept him on the road a good bit. She'd been a bit lost herself lately, and Rachel found herself wondering how her sister had coped.
"Thanks," Rachel said.
"It was nothing. I was just so excited for you, and I had to see the kids. Besides, it's tradition. You always bring me food when I have a baby."
It was true. She cooked for both her sisters when they had new babies. Still, "I didn't have a baby."
"You have one right there," she said, pointing to Grace, who was sleeping happily in Rachel's arms.
"But I can't keep her. She has a mother somewhere, and Miriam's going to find her."
"Couldn't I just hope this works out for you? Finally?"
"It would be easier for me if you didn't, because I'm trying to be very careful not to."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't," Gail insisted. "I don't like it that you always expect the worst."
Rachel thought about telling her sister that life had always brought her the worst, but it wasn't true. She'd had bad times—maybe more than her share—but there'd been good, too. Seeing these children made her realize that. It had her thinking of the value of hope. Did that include letting herself be hopeful about these children, that...
"No," Rachel said. "I can't forget that they'll go someday. I
"Are you okay?" he asked, finally looking at her.
"I will be," she claimed, an optimistic boast at best.
"Come inside. It's freezing out here."
And she followed him inside, trying to fight off that sense of melancholy, trying to live in the moment—the children, Christmas—instead of what was sure to follow.
* * *
It turned into a good day. They all finished decorating the house together, something usually accomplished with a good deal of order and precision, all of which was lost with two children helping them. Zach wanted to pull everything out and examine it, and he had his own ideas about where things should go. He was also determined to climb the biggest ladder they had. Sam pulled him off of it three times, only to find him right back up there a second later. Finally, Sam put Zach on his shoulders with the white lights they put on the fir tree in the front yard. They went round and round, circling the tree with lights, Zach cackling with delight as they went.
Emma and Rachel twisted red ribbons onto the branches once the lights were up, Grace hanging quite contentedly from a backpack like thing on Rachel's back. She seemed enthralled by all the colors and made cooing sounds and sucked on her fingers through her gloves, which perplexed her greatly. She found Rachel's ear and tugged on that, on Rachel's hair, wouldn't leave a cap on Rachel's head.
They laughed more in that day than Rachel could remember in months. Even Emma, somber, serious Emma, had laughed. Sam was still hiding behind the gruff exterior, still seeming a bit uncomfortable, but even he had cracked a smile or two when he and Zach had gotten into a scuffle in the drifting snow.
Finally satisfied and freezing, they'd all stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, staring up at it and deciding all their hard work had been worth it.
"It's just like in the book," Zach said. He finally believed he was living in the Christmas house. Maybe he still believed in magic, just a little bit.
"Come on," Rachel said. "We've got to get inside."
"I'm not cold," Zach said.
"I am," Rachel insisted.
They went to the back door, she and Sam brushing the snow off the kids as best they could before they all traipsed inside and made a mess of the laundry room, with wet boots and coats and hats and gloves everywhere.
Rachel insisted that Zach have a hot bath, and Emma volunteered to give him one. Rachel sent them up with hot chocolate, and a moment later, her middle sister, Gail, dropped by with hot homemade soup and fresh bread. Gail who had four children of her own, the youngest of whom just started school this year, and a husband, Alex, whose work as a pharmaceutical salesman kept him on the road a good bit. She'd been a bit lost herself lately, and Rachel found herself wondering how her sister had coped.
"Thanks," Rachel said.
"It was nothing. I was just so excited for you, and I had to see the kids. Besides, it's tradition. You always bring me food when I have a baby."
It was true. She cooked for both her sisters when they had new babies. Still, "I didn't have a baby."
"You have one right there," she said, pointing to Grace, who was sleeping happily in Rachel's arms.
"But I can't keep her. She has a mother somewhere, and Miriam's going to find her."
"Couldn't I just hope this works out for you? Finally?"
"It would be easier for me if you didn't, because I'm trying to be very careful not to."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't," Gail insisted. "I don't like it that you always expect the worst."
Rachel thought about telling her sister that life had always brought her the worst, but it wasn't true. She'd had bad times—maybe more than her share—but there'd been good, too. Seeing these children made her realize that. It had her thinking of the value of hope. Did that include letting herself be hopeful about these children, that...
"No," Rachel said. "I can't forget that they'll go someday. I
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