A Hamilton Christmas (HIS Series Book 9)

by Sheila Kell

  Turning to the doctor, Emily asked, “What can you do for it and will he survive?”

  “Well,” Jacob said, “Right now, he’s cancer free.”

  Heads swiveled back to him from Jacob. He wouldn’t allow their expressions of hope to be crushed.

  “Our treatments included a small removal of the area with the cancer, chemo, and a few other things we can discuss if you’d like. Thankfully, we caught Blake’s cancer early. It doesn’t appear to be aggressive, so that’s a plus. But I have to tell you there is always a chance it could come back.”

  Gasps, and a “What the fuck?” once or twice went through the family. He’d expected no less with that statement.

  When the room quieted for a moment, Jason spoke up, “Don’t be so worried, Poppy. I’ve been in remission for a long time. It can happen.”

  Jacob smiled at the boy, as did the family, although Jesse’s expression moved from pride to worry. Jesse had been through a lot with Jason’s health. When he’d first worried about survival, Jason had come to mind, and it’d given him hope.

  Matt asked the doc something he hadn’t expected anyone to know. “Doc, isn’t this the kind of cancer for smokers and drinkers?”

  Jacob nodded. “Primarily, we see it in people who exhibit those habits to excess. But there are a small number who aren’t in that category where this type of cancer appears. We don’t know why it attacks their body, but we’re able to help.”

  “When does he need more chemo?” Emily asked.

  Confidently, Jacob responded, “He’s completed what was necessary.” He smiled. “Didn’t one of you question his hair?”

  “Shit,” Jesse said. “I did. I even let him give me some bullshit story about a bad barber.” Jesse narrowed his eyes at Blake. “I can’t believe you lied about that.”

  “I wasn’t ready to tell you.”

  “Why? If you’d beat it—” Jesse broke off.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you what I’d been doing the last few months. I hadn’t shared my condition with you, and I wasn’t sure how you’d take that.”

  Jesse ran his hands through his hair, completely disheveling it. Reagan tugged on his pants leg, and he bent down to her. Quietly, she finger-combed his hair and then smiled at him. Jesse kissed her on the cheek and ruffled her hair. She whined out a “Dad,” drawing the word out like a child would.

  Emily’s tear-stained face tugged at his heart. She’d silently allowed the tears to fall. “You don’t think we’d want to be there for you? To get you through everything?”

  “Poppy, I’d have helped you get through chemo,” Jason offered.

  After smiling at his son, Jesse turned his attention back to Blake. “Not only would we have wanted to be there with you, what happened if you’d died? How do you think we’d feel knowing you didn’t want us there?”

  A shredder ripped through his heart, leaving behind confetti. He couldn’t speak. Jesse had hit everything that he knew made him selfish. Hell, he knew he’d been selfish. Hurting his children was the last thing he wanted to do, but Blake had to remember they were grown and fine adults with children of their own.

  “You’re right. In my mind, it was to protect you, but I realize it was selfish of me. I don’t think sorry is enough, but I apologize for leaving you out of something important in my life. I know how you feel, so I can guarantee you’ll always be in the know.”

  Based on the changes in their body posture and expressions, each family member seemed to be handling the news differently. He wished Devon would lie down because his expression masked pain and paleness. His children spoke to each other in low tones.

  Elizabeth squeezed his hand and Jacob watched the group.

  “What’d you think?” his doctor asked without turning to him.

  Reagan walked closer. Blake sat on the bed and pulled her next to him. “Even kids know adults die. But, you won’t die until you’re in your nineties or maybe hundreds. So I’m not worried.”

  Glancing up at his older son, Blake watched as Jesse attempted to rein in his emotions. Before he did, Blake saw the tears gleaming in his eldest’s eyes that never leaked out. This time the pride and sadness had been for his daughter. Her feelings were as deep as an adult’s. Seeing how much she’s grown had to be tough for Jesse.

  Before she could bounce off the bed, Jesse helped her up and pulled her into a hug. “Come on, pumpkin.” He ignored Reagan’s long “Dad,” again.

  Their antics lightened the mood.

  “I’d like you to stay with Brandon. He’s not sure about all this.”

  She turned her head to her cousin, who stood bug-eyed and nervous in a corner. “Okay.”

  Jesse kissed her on top of the head, and she wiggled free.

  Realizing the difficult questions wouldn’t come until tomorrow, Blake said goodnight to Jacob who suggested he get Devon back in bed and left the group for his own room.

  Striking him numb, but understanding his need, Jason changed the subject. “What was your favorite part of the vacation?”

  Thankful for the reprieve, Blake smiled, and it came from his heart. “Do you mean besides seeing all of you together and this support for me?”

  “Yeah,” Jason kept prodding. The teenager had a positive effect on raising the gloom away from his grandfather.

  A large grin slid across Blake’s face, taking away the worry he’d displayed to them tonight. “I get to wake in the morning and play Santa Claus for my grandchildren.”

  Heads jerked to Reagan, and she sheepishly smiled.

  Jesse shook his head. “Of course she knows.”

  “Of course I do what?” Reagan acted like she hadn’t heard the question, but he knew she had based on the pink splotches on her face.

  “It doesn’t matter, pumpkin.” Jesse smiled.

  “It’s after midnight,” Reagan informed them. “I have to get in bed for Santa Claus to visit.”

  Fists stifled coughs and laughs. Jesse looked around and narrowed his eyes at Reagan. He remembered the first time Jesse had learned there was no Santa, Easter bunny, Tooth Fairy, and whatever else had been created to suck money from parents.

  Glancing at his watch and noticing the late hour, Blake announced, “It is time to get to bed, for all of us. We can talk more tomorrow, but kids come first. Dr. Manner will be available tomorrow for you.”

  Everyone hugged him before they filed from the room. Lots of “I love yous,” “Merry Christmases,” and a bit more that solidified this family together. As Blake began to push the door closed behind them, he heard Brad say, “All I know is, instead of bringing skis and presents to our next family vacation, I’m bringing my vest.”

  They all laughed, and so did he. Elizabeth hugged him, and he took a moment to capture the love he’d just witnessed from his unique and beautiful children and grandchildren to memory. As he turned off the bedroom light, snuggled next to the woman he loved, a happy breath escaped him. All was right in the Hamilton family.

  WITH SWEATY PALMS and a thumping heart, Blake wondered how he could have stage fright with his family. He’d faced death as a government operative, rallied support before large crowds with TV cameras waiting for him to screw up. He’d conducted live interviews, presented and supported bills in Congress, and he’d played Santa Claus many times.

  That begged to differ why the nervousness now. The best he could guess was that it was nothing to do with his current Santa act, but with his fear of how the family would treat him now that they knew of his cancer. Correct that—cancer in remission. He didn’t want to be treated as if he was sick and useless. Sure, he knew he had to watch as the cancer could return, but he’d remain positive about the chances. He had too much to live for, and live was what he would do. Not including his family in his health problems the last three months had been wrong, but he couldn’t undo his decision. He would include them if things changed in his health going forward.

  Health aside, like his children, he wouldn’t count Milton dead until they uncovere
d his body from the snow. While it’d been nearly impossible for him to survive, they were always cautious and had to see things for themselves. Lee would always be protected in this family. A smile grew on his fake white-bearded face. His children had become the best adults he was lucky enough to know.

  Glancing around the employee area, pride swelled in him, once again, at his staff. After learning he’d be playing Santa for the family and guests well in advance, they’d ordered elf costumes, although Chef had to be in the kitchen pulling Duncan to assist so Blake’s daughters-in-law could be with their children.

  Blake wondered how Ronald and Butch felt about the green tights they wore. Not to mention they were basically wearing a skirt. Molly’s stockings reminded him of Oz, as they had green and white bands encircling them at even intervals down the legs. While he’d assured the staff they didn’t need to dress as such, them blowing off his statement and grabbing small red bags with gifts for the guests and his children made his morning.

  Time to do this. That thought settled his nerves, and excitement slipped through his veins. Once more he conducted a pre-flight check of his costume. Red suit with large black belt and silver buckle—check. Pillow stuffed under outfit to give him a Santa belly—check. Tall, shiny black boots—check. White, fluffy beard that Elizabeth had talked him into gluing on instead of using the one with the elastic band when she reminded him there were too many babies and toddlers with grabby hands who could give his secret away—check. Red hat with white ball—check. White gloves—check. Finally, large red bag filled with toys for the kids even though there were some under the large tree for them from their parents, cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents—check.

  “Ready?” he asked his elves.

  Their nods and smiles made him realize they truly looked forward to this. He wondered how the kids would react to Butch as an elf, since he was larger than Santa. Weren’t elves supposed to be small? The kids would recognize his employees. His hope was they didn’t recognize him. If they did, he had a small, white lie ready. Lying to the kids wasn’t something he wanted to do, especially on Christmas, but he also didn’t want them discouraged from believing in Santa Claus.

  “Let’s move out.” The family was in the large, open lounge with the biggest cast iron stove he’d seen flashing with a crackling fire, and the older kids under the tree shaking presents. He cringed. Thankfully, he’d remembered his kids doing that, so he hadn’t purchased breakable presents. AJ had been the worst of his bunch, and just as he’d warned them when they pushed boundaries, they’d had kids just like themselves. Ace took after his daddy and was half under the tree, shaking presents as he went.

  Guests of the Lodge appeared to be enjoying themselves. They laughed and smiled at the kids’ antics and were tolerant when Ace raced from the tree to them and tried to pull Mrs. Sterling to the tree. He’d never thought he’d ever see Margaret smile. Kids and Christmas could do that to even the crankiest of people. Look at what happened to Scrooge.

  Surprisingly, Jacob—who’d been watching Devon like a hawk—noticed him first. He, Jacob, and Devon had agreed to medevac him after this morning’s festivities, even though Jacob had suggested first thing. If he’d felt Devon’s wounds were worse than he’d reported, then Blake would’ve had Devon strapped down until the helicopter made it. He prayed the few hours—heck, overnight—that his son demanded would not negatively impact his recovery.

  Standing, Jacob loudly announced that Santa had arrived.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” Blake bellowed with merriment as he and his elves entered the room. The smaller kids’ expressions and exclamations were priceless. Scott, Travis, Leslie, Mitch, Ashley, and Ace raced to him, all vying for his attention. Amber followed, but at a slower pace, as she couldn’t convince Reagan and Brandon to follow. When the kids surrounding him began asking what he’d brought them, he almost bit off that that wasn’t how they welcomed someone. Then—as if he couldn’t forget—he remembered that he was Santa and they expected he’d brought them something. And he had. Lots of something. Their parents were spoiling them. Inside his big Santa smile, a grin held for how he’d done the same for his kids.

  Yet, with all their blessings, they never forgot those less fortunate. Each couple donated time, money, and gifts, teaching their kids at an early age the importance of giving. In discussion with Ronald, the two of them had considered opening the Lodge for orphan children, but, unfortunately, they didn’t have enough room without excluding some. It sickened him so many didn’t have the love of a family. The Lodge did send gifts early. They’d figure out something for next year that could happen at any point of the year.

  Tugging on Blake’s pants, Scott asked, “What’d you bring me, Santa? I was good this year.”

  Nodding vigorously, Travis agreed. “Me, too. I was good.”

  Blake didn’t need to see Matt’s and Caitlyn’s heads shaking to know the twins had been terrors this year. They’d hit the terrible twos early. Remembering the trouble his twins had been, he figured what goes around, comes around. But he still loved the boys.

  “Santa heard you were all good boys and girls. There are presents for all of you. Let’s go sit.”

  “Santa,” Ashley said, “why is Ronald an elf?”

  Trent grinned at his daughter’s question. Kelly must’ve instilled her reporter instincts into her oldest child.

  “Who? Do you mean”—he turned his head to Ronald, thanking his lucky stars he’d looked up Santa’s original elves names—“Alabaster Snowball? You’re right. He does look like the Ronald that manages the Lodge.”

  While Amber looked skeptical, the other kids had blind belief.

  Pointing his finger at Molly, Mitch asked, “Who’s she?”

  “That is Sugarplum Mary. Surely you’ve heard of her? She’s one of Santa’s top elves.”

  “Wow” was whispered by several of the impressed kids.

  Another finger pointed, this time at Butch. “And him?” Mitch asked again.

  “His name is Bushy Evergreen.”

  The kids laughed and a couple repeated the name. Butch remained stoic. Maybe he should’ve warned his elves about the names.

  Then, as quick as lightning, the kids were back on the topic of presents.

  Jason—holding a curious, yet scared-looking Roger in his arms—Brandon, and Reagan approached and, for a moment, Blake worried what they’d say. Although he had no reason to believe they’d out him or ruin this for the kids.

  “Come on, kids,” Jason said, “let’s go sit down so Santa can give us our presents.”

  Before the kids could race back to the tree, Reagan and Brandon held out their arms as if to herd the kids. Reagan began instructions like she was already a pro. “Remember that Santa is still watching how you behave, so no running.”

  That sobered a few of them and, thankfully, settled down the twins, who looked up worriedly at Santa. His Santa persona released a merry, ho, ho, ho, type of laugh, but it’d been inspired by those two boys.

  After everyone circled around the tree, the family adjusted and invited their guests to join them. While the guests had been enjoying the scene, they were hesitant to join the important family time. As if catching their concern, Elizabeth spoke quietly with both the Manners and Sterlings. They kept peering at him, then shook their head and joined the group.

  His wife could convince someone to buy swampland in Louisiana. Doing her magic, the guests joined them. Most likely, Elizabeth informing them that the two of them had purchased small gifts for the kids from them. He and his wife had planned to include them from the beginning.

  Settled on the large chair brought down from his room, he rested his big red bag on the floor, as did his elves as they surrounded him. “Well, well. I’ve heard you’ve been good boys and girls this year.”

  “Not Jamie and Dillon,” Scott said.

  “Scott Alexander Hamilton,” Caitlyn admonished. “That is not a nice thing to say.”

  Scott spun around to his mother. “Yes, it
is. All they do is poop and pull my hair.”

  “Son,” Matt said softly, “you were just the same at their age except you were pulling Ace’s hair.”

  Without taking his eyes from Santa, Ace nodded. “You did.”

  Not wanting this to get into one of the kids’ discussions, he stopped them with, “I have a lot of presents for you. These elves”—he nodded his head toward his staff—“have been busy all year making them.”

  The kids squirmed in their seats in front of their parents with hard-fought restraint to keep their butts on the floor.

  As if on command, the couples all slid their hands into each other’s, fixated on their kids’ reactions. Joy permeated the air on this wonderful Christmas holiday that melted the heart and fed love to the soul.

  “Okay,” he said to the children, a bit choked up. “Who wants a present?”

  Hands shot up and “Me” was repeated several times.

  With the danger, secrets, laughs, smiles, excitement, Elf on the Shelf—now resting in the middle of the tree—and family love made this a Hamilton Christmas to remember.

  For readers who have made the Hamilton family journey from book one, it has been wonderful having you along for the ride. You might recall the HIS series was originally slated to be six novels. Then it became seven. Then eight. This—the ninth book—is the final chapter of the HIS series.

  As the series progressed, I realized the importance of hiring professionals. With some help, the earlier books were recovered and branded for the remainder of the series, and overdue professional edits were completed. My goal was to provide you with an appealing and entertaining group of stories.

  Throughout the process, I have learned a great deal about writing, researching, service dog training, amputations, drug mobs, rock climbing, horseback riding, the ins and outs of scene locations, and much more. Heck, I had no idea I missed great stores and entertainment while I resided in Baltimore. Between all of that and using a professional editor—thanks Hot Tree Editing for rescuing me—I pulled my hair out at times, then remembered this writing was for you.