by Teresa Hill
Her hair was shining and her eyes. There was a hint of color in her cheeks, and that smile. There'd been a time when he couldn't take his eyes off her, that she'd absolutely dazzled him and he'd been so proud, so happy to know that she was his. He'd forgotten all about that.
She came to his side, and he eased his arm around her waist and kissed her softly. "You look beautiful this morning."
She caught her breath and said, "You're going to make me cry."
"No," he said. "Not anymore."
"I can cry if I'm happy, can't I?"
"No, Rachel. Not even happy tears. I want to see you smiling like this again."
She sniffled and worked hard to put a smile across her face, and he just wanted to grab her and hold on to her, hold on to this day, this newfound happiness.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and the house started filling up. Rachel's father arrived with Gail and her husband, Alex, and their four kids. Gail kissed him, and Alex slapped him on the back. Their two oldest sons walked in with a football and big grins.
"I brought the ball," Alex Jr. said. He was as tall as Sam now and might even outweigh him.
"You're nuts," Sam said.
"Hey, it's tradition. Snowball."
Sam frowned. They'd nearly ended up with frostbite some years playing tackle football in the snow, a viciously brutal game played not so much for touchdowns as the opportunity to shove someone down in the snow and pile on top of them. He'd had snowballs shoved down his shirt, down his pants, had eaten mouthfuls of snow, in last year's game.
Alex Sr. gave his son a playful shove and said, "It was more fun when they weren't so big. When we could push them around."
"I know." Alex Jr. grinned and shoved right back. "It's revenge time."
Sam was saved from agreeing to anything when Rachel's sister Ellen and her husband, Bill, and their four came in. Davy, Rachel's brother, a miniature version of her father, and his wife, Jane, a petite, perky blonde, and their three arrived next.
Davy held up his watch to show Sam the time. "Three hours and counting. I'm counting on you to move this along. Get this meal served so we can sneak upstairs by kickoff time."
"Hey, I don't have anything to do with this meal. Talk to your sisters and your aunts."
"It's your house, Sam. Be a man. Put your foot down."
Jane got her coat off and slipped in beside him, hearing the tail end of the conversation. "You mean, like you do at home, honey?"
Davy frowned. Sam laughed.
"He can live without football for a day," Jane said, dragging him into the midst of the crowd.
The next time the doorbell rang, it was Miriam, her daughters and grandchildren. Rachel's Aunt Jo and her husband came next, followed by their children and grandchildren. Rachel's sister Ann and her husband, Greg, came last.
Everyone came with a stack of presents, which they piled under the tree.
Zach gaped at them and tugged on Sam's pants leg. "Are all those for us?"
"For everybody here," Sam said.
"Wow! Can we open 'em now?"
"In a minute," Rachel said. "We have to do something first."
"What?"
"The ornaments," she said.
He pointed to the tree. "It's got orn'ments."
"Special ones," Sam said.
"Those look special."
"Extra special," Sam said, nodding toward Gail and Ellen, who'd come into the room with three boxes. "You'll see."
Miriam and Jo took their places beside the tree, because this was Rachel's mother's family tradition, and damned if it didn't get to him every time they did it. Gail and Ellen put the boxes down beside the two women, who looked very much alike at the moment and reminded him of Rachel's mother. Frank tapped a spoon against a glass to get everyone's attention and welcomed them all, telling them he was happy they were all here to see another Christmas together, and then he turned things over to Miriam and Jo. They opened the first box and from among the tissue paper pulled out one delicate glass ornament each.
"It looks like a snowflake," Zach said. "Or a star."
And they did. They were some of the first projects Rachel's grandfather made when he started working with glass, long before he hit on his success with snow globes.
One year, he had some diamond-shaped pieces of beveled glass, and he put them together into three-dimensional ornaments. He trimmed them in a gold tone and engraved each one with his three daughters' names and the date of their birth.
They loved them, and the next year, all the relatives had their own ornaments that went up on the tree Christmas Day as they all gathered together, and one of their most sacred traditions was born. It was a way of remembering everyone they'd loved and lost, of remembering all the blessings they had and the strength that comes from family.
This was the house where the tradition first began.
Sam and Rachel were the caretakers now of both the house and the ornaments. Jo still made them, just like her father had taught her. One day when she was gone, Rachel would make them.
Miriam and Jo put their ornaments on the tree, then ones for their own mother and father. Frank put up his and his wife's next, and they went on like that, one by one.
Finally, it was Rachel's turn. She took Sam by the hand and pulled him to the tree with her. Jo handed him his ornament. It read Sam and the year he and Rachel were married.
He remembered that year so well, how bewildered he'd been to find himself in the middle of a Christmas celebration like this. It had awed him, thinking Rachel had come from this, something this strong and this enduring. All of this love.
She put her ornament on the tree, and he hung his next to hers. Sam and Rachel. And when he would have stepped back so the others could hang theirs, she held him there and took another ornament from Jo.
It said Hope.
"You do it," she said, giving it carefully to him.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
They'd never hung this ornament before. He knew it existed at one time. Her grandfather had it ready for them the first Christmas after they lost her, and it had caused a horrible scene. Rachel had refused to put it on the tree, had run out of the room in tears. Sam had never seen the ornament again, but Rachel's grandfather must have saved it. Maybe he'd been trying to tell them even then that they had to deal with the loss, they had to remember her. Maybe he knew what it would cost them if they didn't.
Sam reached out and found a branch, a sturdy one, right below where his and Rachel's ornaments were hanging, and with a hand that positively shook, placed their baby's glittering star carefully on the tree.
He and Rachel stood there together, looking at the three ornaments rotating slowly and glittering in the light. Sam took a breath, a slow, deep one, and Rachel slipped an arm around his waist.
"No more tears," she said. "You made me promise. She'll always be a part of us, but no more tears."
Sam nodded. It was all he could do.
They went to step back once more and Jo said, "Wait. We have new people in the family. We can't forget them."
And then she held the box out to them, three ornaments left.
"Oh, Jo," Rachel said, taking the box, turning the ornaments over one by one so she could read the names. Emma, Zach, Grace.
"I believe," Jo whispered.
"What's that?" Emma said tentatively, crowding in beside them and looking over the sides of the box to what was inside.
Rachel held it out to her.
"For me?" Her voice was filled with awe. Sam knew just how she felt. He remembered being awed himself the first time he'd taken part in this.
"Yes," Rachel said, and it looked as if all they'd said about tears was going down the drain right now.
"And me?" Zach asked, bouncing over to them.
"Careful," he and Rachel said together as Zach reached for his.
"Wow!" He held it up and let it spin on its string, and then he laughed. "It says Zach! Right there!" And
it did, etched into one of the pieces and painted in gold.
"Let's get it on the tree, while it's still in one piece," Jo said, stepping in when he and Rachel seemed hardly able to move. She guided Zach and Emma to safe places on the tree, to sturdy branches, and then said, "One more."
Rachel's sister Gail had Grace, who came quite happily into Sam's arms. She was grinning at him and pressing her tiny hands against his cheeks, was about to start sucking on his nose when he sidetracked her and kissed her instead. She gave him a dazzling smile, and then her gaze caught on the ornament Rachel held up in front of her.
"See," Rachel said, "it says Grace."
Grace reached for it, batted it just enough to send it spinning, too, and then she started babbling a mile a minute.
Rachel kissed her, too, and said, "I know. It's so special, isn't it? And it's just for you."
"I think she likes it," Emma said.
"Uh-huh," Zach said.
Rachel handed the ornament to Emma and said, "Why don't you put it on the tree."
She reached for one of the lower branches, near the right side, but Jo guided her to another spot, so that all of theirs ended up together. Sam, Rachel, Emma, Zach, Grace, and Hope.
There was absolute silence in the room when Emma was done. Sam didn't remember the house ever being quiet at Christmas.
Emma came to stand on Rachel's side, Sam on the other holding the baby, Zach in front of them, and for a moment all five of them just stood there, staring at the tree and all their names, sparkling and shining and so full of promise.
"There," Jo said finally. "It's done. Merry Christmas, everybody."
Chapter 17
So, the tree was done. He and Rachel turned to each other, and he pulled her close, as close as he could with Grace between them.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered, kissing her softly.
"Merry Christmas," she said.
They both kissed Grace, too, at the same time. She was sandwiched between them, looking surprised and then very pleased.
"What's goin' on?" Zach asked.
"Tradition," Rachel whispered, grabbing him and lifting him into her arms.
"Trahh... Huh?"
"Something we always do," she said. "Now you're supposed to hug me and wish me Merry Christmas."
He did and then said, "Now what?"
"Now you hug everybody in this room. You can kiss them, too, if you want. And wish them Merry Christmas. And let them do the same to you."
"Ever'body?" He looked skeptical.
"Everybody," Jo insisted, grabbing him away from Rachel for her hug. Rachel's brother grabbed her, and Sam lost her for a moment in a flurry of hugs and kisses that he still found a bit awkward and disarming, too.
When that was done, Rachel's father settled into his place by the tree and started handing out presents, one by one and very slowly, telling stories about each of the recipients as he went. The rules said nobody got to open a thing until all the presents were passed out, which had the kids groaning and trying to make their grandfather speed up. He never did.
Emma was standing beside Sam, and he could see the surprise on her face when Frank called her over to him and treated her as he did all the other grandchildren. Zach wasn't surprised at all. He seemed to expect it, but Emma still didn't, even with her ornament on the tree.
She came back to stand by Sam's side, inching closer and closer. He put his hand on her shoulder and said, "What did you get?"
"I don't know."
"No guesses?"
She shook her head.
"Anything wrong?"
She shrugged and looked around the crowded room. There were about sixteen conversations going on at once, not a spare inch of floor space in the room. All those happy faces, all the laughter.
"Is it always like this?" Emma asked.
"At Christmas. Easter. Memorial Day. Fourth of July. Labor Day. Thanksgiving. Christmas again. Rachel's family loves to celebrate."
"They're all so nice," she said.
"Yes, they are."
"They... they all act like they know me. Like they like me."
"It's the way they are," he said. Maybe not with him, but they would be with Emma and Zach and Grace. And even that probably wasn't fair, Sam realized. Rachel's father hadn't really accepted him, but the rest of the family had. They'd drawn him in, at least as much as he'd let them. He was a part of them now.
They were ready to draw Emma and her brother and sister into their midst, just as generously and eagerly as they'd welcomed Sam. He'd never loved them more than he did right now for the generosity they'd shown toward the children. He was awed by it, all choked up by it. He'd never thought to belong to anything like this family, to anything this strong, this enduring.
"They're good people, Em," he said.
She nodded. "I like the snowflake ornaments."
"Me, too."
"I like it here."
"I'm glad."
"And... I like you, too."
Sam nodded, thinking about grabbing her and just holding on to her, too, but she looked so shy at the moment, so ready to bolt and run. Emma would be slow to accept things like that, and he didn't want to spook her. So he just gave her as much of a smile as he could manage and said, "I like you, too. Merry Christmas."
She slipped away from him, as if the conversation had become too much for her. Oh, Emma, he thought. They had a lot in common.
He was still sitting there a few minutes later when Rachel came to him. She sat on the floor, settling in with her side pressed against his leg, her head against his knee.
"Your family really is amazing," he said, his hand teasing at the ends of her hair.
"Our family, Sam. They're yours, too."
He nodded.
She went to turn to face him and bumped into the sign she'd made for him, which he'd stashed in the relative safety of the corner. "Careful."
"Oh. I didn't know that was there." She reached for the sign again, tracing his name and then hers. "You know, it didn't turn out quite the way I expected."
"Rachel, I love it. It's perfect."
"That's not what I was saying. I love the way it turned out. It's just not what I thought it would be. I always start with an image in my mind of what it's going to be, but it's like projects take on a life of their own. Like there's something else they were just meant to be, and it used to drive me crazy. I'd work so hard to force my vision onto the work. It seemed like I ought to be able to do that. After all, I could hold all the pieces in my hand, the design and all the different kinds and colors of glass. I'd cut them and grind them and shape them into the pattern in my head, and no matter how careful I was and how determined, it never came out exactly the way I expected.
"My grandfather used to try to explain it to me—that I hadn't failed just because in the end, I had something that was different than I envisioned. That part of creating art is letting it just be what it wants to be, accepting what comes, rejoicing in it, even," she said, laying her head on his knee again. "And he was talking about life, too, I think. All those things I thought I had to have, all that time I spent trying to make all the pieces fit together the way I imagined they should."
"What are you saying, Rachel?" he asked quietly.
"I'm saying, look around this room, at all that's here. This place and these people are all the pieces of our lives. We can make something so beautiful of this, Sam. It is beautiful. It's beautiful right now."
And it was.
* * *
She was still waiting for what he might have said a moment later when Zach brought a present to Sam and one to Rachel. They'd missed her father calling their names. And a moment later, Frank said, "Let 'er rip!"
Everyone tore into presents all at once in a race to get them opened, and general chaos ensued once again. Sam and Rachel got separated as he supervised a marginal cleaning of the living room. At least enough that they could walk through the room, and she went to the kitchen. The meal had to go on the table soon beca
use all of her siblings' spouses had family in the area, too, and they spent the evening with them.
Late afternoon and evening, by tradition, was drop-in time for neighbors and various other relatives who didn't make it to Christmas dinner. Soon after they finished the meal, the house was overflowing even more with people, and it seemed a general Christmas truce had been lifted—the subject of the truce, Rachel's troubled marriage. She could just imagine them all getting together and deciding they couldn't ruin Christmas with all this talk. But the presents had been opened, the ornaments were on the tree, dinner eaten, and soon her siblings would be leaving. They couldn't leave without saying anything.
Her first clue was her brother, who came up to her and hugged her and said, "I don't know what's going on. That little scene with the ornaments?" He placed a hand theatrically over his heart. "Got me right here. And I don't know if that was staged—"
"We didn't stage anything," Rachel said.
"Okay, I just wondered. I wondered too if maybe you wanted me to beat him up?"
"Sam?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, Sam."
"Why?"
"I don't know. What's he done?"
"He hasn't done anything," Rachel said. "And your wife's looking for you. I think she managed to corral your entire crew and wants to escape before they get loose. You have to go to her parents', right?"
"Yes."
"Go," she said, shooing him away and retreating to the kitchen.
Her friend Mary Ann, from the shoe shop, caught her there and rambled aimlessly for ten minutes about nothing, which was a relief. But then Mary Ann's face fell and she whispered, "I just can't imagine you without Sam."
"Neither can I," Rachel said, smiling and playing dumb about it all.
She stuck her head in the refrigerator and when she emerged from there, her neighbor, Mrs. Potter, was giving her a kindly smile and patting Rachel's hand.
"You can never give up, my dear. Never," Mrs. Potter said.
"I'm not," Rachel promised.
