“Oh, Jesse—he’ll love it!” Robin was once again overwhelmed by Jesse’s sensitivity. By now, she ought to be used to it; by now she ought to expect such thoughtfulness from him. But every time she caught a glimpse of his generous soul—the soul he pretended he didn’t have—she was amazed, nearly moved to tears.
Not wishing to drown them both in a maudlin display, she squared her shoulders, smiled and pointed to the other unfamiliar package, which was oddly shaped and crudely wrapped. “What else did you buy him?” she asked.
“That one’s for you, from Phil,” Jesse explained, setting the rectangular box back on the floor among the other presents for Philip. “Last week, he asked me to hide it at my house so you wouldn’t find it. Then he ordered me to sneak it into your house and stash it under the tree on Christmas morning. I’m a man of my word, so...” He presented Robin with the oddly shaped package.
“When did you bring it in here?” Robin asked, sitting beside Jesse and gaping at him.
“While you were still asleep. I had it hidden in my car.” At her astonished stare, he elaborated. “As a matter of fact, when I went out to get it, I nearly got run over by some obese old guy in a funny red hat. He kept making this stuttering noise at the back of his throat, kind of a ho-ho—”
“Jesse!” Robin laughed and poked him in the arm.
“Seriously.” Jesse’s expression remained deadpan. “I think the fellow was plastered—his nose was all red. And he drove like a maniac. When he wasn’t making that silly ho-ho sound, he was muttering about how Californians didn’t know how to stay out of the way of other drivers in winter weather—”
“Snow!” Robin erupted, springing to her feet and hastening to the window. She pulled back the curtain and was greeted by the sight of her front lawn, an expanse of frozen grass, devoid of the picturesque white covering she prayed for every Christmas eve.
She hadn’t prayed for it last night. White Christmases made for sentimental songs, but they weren’t important when it came to what Christmas was really about. “So you ran into Santa, did you?” she said, playing along with Jesse’s joke.
“He ran into me. It isn’t the California drivers who cause all the problems—it’s these hot-shot New Englanders.”
“Santa isn’t a New Englander—he’s from the North Pole,” Robin said, returning to Jesse’s side. She tore the wrapping paper off Philip’s gift to her and unveiled a bizarre humanoid object made of clay and painted orange. It featured disproportionately large ears, stiletto-sharp toes, wings and a halo fashioned out of wire. “Don’t tell me it’s an angel!” she blurted out before succumbing to more laughter.
“According to Phil, it’s a boy from Gleek.”
“Of course. That was my next guess,” Robin said, still chuckling at the grotesque statue. “I love it. I’ll use it as a centerpiece in the dining room—once you eat that gingerbread house I knocked myself out making for you.” She set the Gleek boy aside and lifted a small, neatly wrapped box. “This is for you, Jesse,” she said, abruptly solemn.
One of his eyebrows quirked in surprise as he took the box from her. Robin watched nervously as he unwrapped the box and raised the lid. Cushioned in a nest of tissue paper was the crystal angel she’d chosen for him. Jesse picked it up and raised it to the tree, gazing at the array of multi-colored light reflected in its facets. “This,” he said soberly, “is definitely not a Gleekian.”
“It’s an angel,” Robin said, trying unsuccessfully to read his mind. “That seems to be a running theme this year.”
“It certainly does.” Jesse lowered the angel and closed his arms around Robin. He kissed her tenderly. “I don’t think you can begin to know how much it means to me.”
“You called me an angel once,” Robin reminded him, looking down at the angel cradled in his large hand to avoid having to look directly at him.
“More than once,” Jesse acknowledged. “I don’t believe in angels—except for you.”
“I’m not an angel,” Robin protested. “I’m not nearly good enough.”
“You don’t have to be good,” Jesse asserted. “You just have to be able to work miracles every now and then. And that you do, Robin. That you do.” He leaned away and scooped up the red envelope. “This is for you from me. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but...” He cut himself off and handed her the envelope.
She scrutinized him. He appeared as nervous as she’d felt when she’d given him the angel. But what could he be nervous about? A gift certificate was a perfectly acceptable present, if that was what the envelope contained. A card would be lovely, too. She doubted that he’d give her money.
“Open it,” he ordered her.
She drew in a deep breath and pried up the flap. A slip of red paper fell out, with the word “ME” written on it.
Puzzled, she raised her eyes to his. “I’m giving you me, Robin,” he explained haltingly. “Myself. I know it isn’t commercial, and I didn’t wait in line for hours at a store, but...when I thought about giving, when I thought about what I wanted you to have...all I could think of was myself. If you’ll have me,” he added, his voice fading uncertainly.
Jesse. Her and Jesse. Us. That was what he was giving her.
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather have,” she whispered. “It’s the most extravagant gift in the world. The only problem is...” Her eyes sparkled playfully. “You’ve been giving yourself to me all along. It’s not really a Christmas gift.”
“That’s right,” Jesse agreed, his smile gaining confidence. “I’d just as soon give on every day of the year. Today is simply a day like any other.”
“It is not,” Robin insisted, curling up in his lap and hugging him. “You may have been giving yourself to me every day, but today, I got your gift in writing. And let me warn you, it’s one gift I’m never going to return.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“In that case...” He filled his lungs with air and struck a dramatic pose. “I hope I don’t choke to death on the words… Merry Christmas, Robin.”
Robin observed him for a moment, trying to look concerned. “You didn’t choke to death,” she noted, infusing her voice with relief.
He cuddled her close to himself, folding his arms possessively around her and brushing his lips against the crown of her head. “Thank God for that,” he murmured.
“Thank who?” Robin pounced on the word.
Jesse’s mouth flexed as he considered his reply. “A slip of the tongue,” he said with a laugh.
Robin smiled and nestled deeper into his embrace. So Jesse Lawson had said “Merry Christmas” without choking, and he’d acknowledged God. And he’d given her the most wonderful gift in the universe.
Just a few more miracles to bless this beautiful morning.
###
About the Author
Judith Arnold is the award-winning, bestselling author of more than eighty-five published novels. A New York native, she currently lives in New England, where she indulges in her passions for jogging, dark chocolate, good music, good wine and good books. She is married and the mother of two sons.
For more information about Judith, or to contact her, please visit her website.
Here’s a list Judith’s e-book reissues, all available for sale:
A> Loverboy
Barefoot in the Grass
Change of Life
Chocolate Kisses
Cry Uncle
Father Christmas
Father of Two
Follow the Sun
Found: One Wife
Holding Hands
One Good Turn
One Whiff of Scandal
Safe Harbor
Somebody’s Dad
Survivors
Trust Me
Comfort and Joy Page 23
