The Twins' Family Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “I know. She talked about it.” Lily swallowed hard and started down the porch steps, picking her way carefully, but as quickly as possible.

  “Lily,” he said, and she turned. “Since it looks like we’ll be snowed in, I’ll stop over tomorrow to make sure you have everything you need,” he said.

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “And,” he interrupted, his voice decisive, “so we can finish our conversation about Pam.”

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Carson checked the cinnamon rolls in the oven, inhaling the rich, sweet smell, and then pulled out the hot chocolate mix. So the rolls were from a refrigerator tube and the cocoa was instant. The girls wouldn’t care.

  He paused to look out the cabin window. The sun was just starting to share its rosy light, illuminating the snowy mountains in the distance. He closed his eyes for a moment’s thanks to the Creator: for the majesty outside, for the girls still sleeping in the loft upstairs and, most of all, for the Christ child who’d come into the world to save and bless them all.

  He heard a rustle and a giggle upstairs and refocused on his cooking duties. He wanted to make this the best Christmas possible for his girls. Being here at the ranch, away from his computer and work tasks so he could focus on his girls, was a step in the right direction. And last night at Long John’s house had been a good start to the festivities. Long John’s funny songs and joke-telling had kept the girls laughing, and they’d loved playing with Rockette and decorating Long John’s little tree.

  And Lily! The way she’d helped the girls decorate cookies had given them such a good time. They’d talked about it, and her, until he’d tucked them into bed around midnight.

  The pretty, cryptic woman had held Carson’s attention, too. What motivated her to be so nice to the girls and to Long John?

  And what did she know about Pam?

  Her eyes had looked troubled both times Carson had brought her up. Why?

  Was it something so bad she didn’t want him to know, or had Pam made her promise secrecy?

  Unfortunately, he had an idea of what the secret might be.

  He heard another giggle and then some whispering. He poured water into the cups holding instant cocoa mix and pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven just in time, then snapped open the little container of sugary frosting and started slathering it on the hot rolls.

  His mother’s cinnamon rolls had been homemade, yeasty, buttery. He hadn’t known how good he’d had it when he was a kid. But now, looking back, he could recognize that his parents had done their best to make Christmas festive and fun for him, even though, as the only child of only children, he hadn’t had other kids with whom to share the holiday.

  “Daddy!” The wooden ladder from the loft clattered alarmingly, and then the twins galloped across the cabin and flung their arms around him, nearly knocking him over in their enthusiasm.

  “Merry Christmas!”

  “Did Santa come?”

  “Can we get in our stockings?”

  “Let’s open presents!”

  He laughed, wiped his hands and knelt to hug them. “Merry Christmas, sweeties,” he said. “I want you to eat a cinnamon roll first and we’ll have a prayer and a little cocoa.”

  “Daddy!”

  “And then, if you cooperate, we’ll dig into the stockings.”

  They groaned but obediently sat down at the little table and held out their hands for a prayer. Carson thanked God for Christ, and their friends, and their family—quickly—and then helped them each to a cinnamon roll.

  “These are good, Daddy!” Sunny said through a way-too-big bite.

  Carson decided not to correct table manners on Christmas morning. He was just glad to get a little breakfast into the girls before the gift unwrapping madness began.

  Of course, considering that they had candy galore in their stockings, he probably should have fixed something without quite so much sugar for breakfast.

  But it was Christmas. He took another cinnamon roll himself. He’d work it off shoveling snow later today.

  After the girls dumped out their stockings and gleefully examined all the candy and little windup toys and tiny bottles of scented shampoo and lotion and hand sanitizer, it was time for presents.

  “Do we have to take turns?” Sunny asked.

  “We always take turns!” Skye frowned at her sister. “And I think it’s my turn to go first.”

  Carson grabbed a candy and put both hands behind his back. “Whoever guesses which hand has a peppermint in it goes first.” After Skye guessed correctly, he averted Sunny’s fuss by picking out two identical packages. “She’ll go first after you both open these at the same time.”

  They ripped eagerly into the gifts and then raved over the pretty, fancily dressed dolls. They’d stretched Carson’s budget, but he hadn’t been able to resist after seeing the twins’ longing faces when they’d shopped in Colorado Springs earlier this month.

  While they examined each feature of the dolls and compared their outfits, Carson picked up an ornament one of the girls had knocked off the tree. When he saw which one it was, his heart twisted a little. It was a plastic ball made from a photo: him, Pam, and the girls as babies, all dressed up for Christmas.

  He missed that family feeling. Missed the Pam of those days, when she’d been in love with being a mom. In love with him, at least a little bit.

  Before she’d gotten restless with the whole package.

  Maybe someday he’d be over the feelings of inadequacy and ready to move forward, find a new mom for his girls. Because no matter how happy they seemed now, rummaging under the tree for the next gift, he knew they needed a woman’s influence and warmth.

  So did he, if the truth be told.

  “Open yours, Daddy!” Sunny cried as she handed him a clumsily wrapped gift.

  “No, mine!” Skye held out a similar package, but then her face grew thoughtful, and she pulled it back. “You can open hers first,” she said, “since I get to open my package first.”

  “Nice, honey.”

  “I’m nice, too!” Sunny looked indignant. “I didn’t fuss about her getting to open her gift first!”

  Yes, Carson could use a partner just to help him handle the mathematics of making sure two little girls got equal time, gifts and love.

  He ripped open the tube-shaped package and unrolled a cloth banner, a felt reindeer head with handprints for antlers. “I made it, Daddy,” Sunny explained, fitting her hands over the handprints. “Those are my hands. And our teacher said the parents would be happy because our hands would never be the same size again.”

  “They’re gonna grow much bigger,” Skye explained. “Here, open mine.”

  He did, then exclaimed over the slightly neater reindeer Skye had produced, watched her show him how the antler-handprints fit her hands.

  “Look on the back, look on the back!” They said it in unison, laughed and fist-bumped each other.

  Carson turned both banners over and read the poem out loud.

  “This year my hand is little,

  But one day, when I’m tall,

  This reindeer will remind you

  Of the time when I was small.”

  His throat tightened, and he reached out to hug his daughters to him, one in each arm. “Thank you for the reindeer banners,” he managed to choke out. “They’re the best gifts I’ve ever gotten.”

  It was true. And he needed to remember to embrace this moment, not focus on the past or the future. This Christmas, at Redemption Ranch when the girls were six, would never happen again. One day, he’d look back and long for the sticky kisses and chocolaty handprints and excited bouncing of his twins, who were growing up at a way-too-rapid pace.

  He cleared his throat. “Two more gifts for each of you,” he said. “Skye, you first.”

 
So Skye ripped into her art set. And then Sunny squealed over her remote-control car. And they both expressed dutiful enthusiasm for their third packages, containing warm winter outfits. It wasn’t the extravagant set of gifts some kids got, he knew, but he’d done what he could, within his budget.

  Besides, he liked to keep the focus on the real meaning of Christmas.

  He stood to get a garbage bag for the wrapping paper scattered all over the floor and realized both twins were looking at him expectantly. “Go ahead,” he said, “you play with your new toys. I’ll clean up.”

  “Where is it?” Sunny asked.

  “Where’s what?”

  “The puppy!” they both yelled.

  He looked at them, confused. “What puppy?”

  “He’s joking!” They both hurled themselves at him, tugging his hands. “Daddy, stop joking! Where is it?”

  He was getting a really bad feeling. He sank to his knees on the ground, still grasping their hands. “Hold on a minute,” he said. “There’s not a puppy.”

  Skye was the first one to realize he was serious. He could tell, because her eyes welled up with tears.

  Sunny glanced at her twin, read the expression on her face and started beating her fist against Carson’s chest. “There is a puppy! There is!”

  “No, there isn’t.” He caught Sunny’s fist in his hand as a heavy sensation settled around his heart. “No hitting. I don’t know where you got the idea you were getting a puppy, but it’s not true.”

  Skye turned to Sunny, hands on hips. “You said.”

  “Miss Lily said. And Krissy Morgan’s getting a puppy, and her daddy isn’t even very nice, so I thought—”

  Lily had told them they were getting a puppy?

  “Our daddy isn’t nice, either,” Skye stated. Then she sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

  “We wanted a puppy,” Sunny said, big tears rolling down her face. “We really wanted a puppy.”

  Carson pulled them both into his arms, his chest aching. “Sometimes we don’t get everything we want,” he said, trying to soothe them even as the words rang hollow in his own ears. Looking over their heads to the candy wrappers scattered across the floor, he realized that the crash from their sugar high wasn’t helping things.

  You’re the worst father ever.

  Pam’s words, yelled in anger and quickly retracted, still rang in his ears. He looked at the ceiling. Right now, his angry wife seemed just about right.

  Which didn’t mean he could lash out or give up. He was the grown-up. “Look,” he said, “I’m going to go make us some eggs. Sunny, you can come help me while Skye washes her face, and then you can trade places. After we’ve had some real breakfast, we’ll play a board game or build a snowman.”

  He went into the kitchen, Sunny trailing mournfully after him. As he got out eggs and broke them and then let her beat them with a fork, he berated himself. He should have realized they’d be hoping for a puppy. It was what they’d been talking about for weeks.

  He should have sat them down and talked seriously about what was realistic, rather than just saying “no” and letting his refusal be laughed off.

  “I’m sorry you were disappointed, kiddo,” he said when Sunny handed him the bowl of beaten eggs. “What are you going to play with first, your doll or your car?”

  “I don’t care,” she said sulkily, but then she added, “Probably the car.”

  He set butter melting in a pan and then told Sunny to go wash her face. “Send Skye in to help with the toast while you get cleaned up,” he said, realizing belatedly that he should have had her wash her hands before cooking. Oh, well. Priorities.

  A moment later, Sunny came back into the kitchen. “Hey, Daddy.”

  “Yeah.” He turned down the heat and poured the eggs into the frying pan.

  “I can’t find Skye,” she said.

  * * *

  Lily headed down the road that cut across the ranch. It was the only spot where the walking was easy, since some Good Samaritan had already been through to plow the foot and a half of snow that had fallen last night.

  She shouldn’t have even glanced in the window at Carson and the girls, but their cabin had been lit up like a theater. A theater showing the perfect family Christmas. The girls ripping open their packages, and Carson’s hug when he’d opened his; lots of smiles and laughter. The way Christmas should be but rarely was, especially in her experience.

  Then again, Carson and the twins didn’t have things perfect: missing from the picture was Pam.

  And her absence was Lily’s fault.

  She pushed away that thought and tramped along, her ancient boots crunching on the packed snow and ice. If she stayed here, she’d need to get some new ones.

  But what was she thinking? She wasn’t going to stay here.

  She looked out across the wide-open spaces. The air was so clear that the distant mountains seemed to be cut out of cardboard, so crisp and distinct were the edges of them against the blue sky. The snow sparkled bright, making her wish she’d remembered to bring her sunglasses along. But who would have thought you’d need sunglasses in the dead of winter? Lily associated them with hot Phoenix sun.

  Her breath made clouds as she debated whether to go back and get her sunglasses. It would be more comfortable. And why not? She had nothing else to do on Christmas Day.

  No self-pity, she warned herself as she turned to climb back up the road. Plenty of people have things a lot worse than this. She’d get her sunglasses and take a nice long walk, then go inside and eat the leftovers Long John had pressed on her last night. In the afternoon, she’d get busy on her project of photographing the dogs. It would be good for them to get the extra attention, and good for her to get a big chunk of her project done. Unlike people, dogs weren’t busy with family activities on Christmas—at least shelter dogs weren’t.

  When she got closer to her cabin, she heard a sound, like a kitten crying. She walked faster, craning to see.

  A flash of bright pajamas. One of the twins, huddled by her front door. What in the world?

  She ran the rest of the way to her cabin and picked up the little girl. “Honey, you’re not wearing your coat! Let’s get you back home.”

  “Can I come in your house?” she asked, sniffling.

  “For a minute.” It wasn’t a bad idea to get a blanket to wrap around the child before carrying her back over to Carson’s house. “You’re Skye, right?”

  The little girl nodded and sat obediently on the couch while Lily found a fleecy blanket to wrap around her. “Does your father know you’re here?”

  She shrugged.

  “He must be worried sick about you. Let’s get you back over there.” She picked the child up and carried her out onto the porch.

  “I wanted a dog so bad.” Skye buried her head in Lily’s shoulder. “But we didn’t get one.”

  Lily’s heart ached as the little girl clung to her. Christmas disappointment was the worst when you were a kid.

  “I thought maybe you got us a dog,” Skye said as Lily shifted her to her opposite side to shut the front door. Man, six-year-olds were heavy.

  “You thought what?” she asked absently.

  “I thought maybe you got us a dog, because you said...”

  Lily closed the cabin door, shifted Skye into a more secure position and started down the steps, careful of her footing. “What did I say?”

  “You said, dogs are gifts. And we thought that meant...”

  “Oh, honey, no!” Lily’s stomach twisted and she hugged the child closer, still walking toward the cabin next door. “I meant dogs are a gift from God, such wonderful companions, but I didn’t mean that you’d get a dog as a Christmas present.” Trust a child to be literal that way.

  Skye buried her head in Lily’s shoulder and shook with a couple more sobs as Lily
approached the other cabin.

  The door burst open, and Carson came out, bundled up, with Sunny right behind him. “Skye!” he cried when he saw her and Lily. He rushed forward and took her from Lily’s arms. “Where did you go? I was worried!”

  “She was on my porch when I got back from a walk,” Lily said. “I wrapped a blanket around her, but she’s still shivering.” Like she could tell this experienced parent anything about his daughter.

  He was already turning back to his cabin. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Lily stopped and watched the trio head into Carson’s cabin. Her work was done. She’d get her sunglasses and go back to her walk, which now felt even more solitary.

  Had she really made the girls think they’d get a puppy? How awful. Chalk it up to her inexperience with kids. Head down, she turned back toward her cabin.

  “Lily!” It was Carson’s voice.

  She pretended she didn’t hear. Cowardly, but she didn’t want to be berated for her mistake.

  There was the sound of crunching footsteps, and then a small, cold hand clasped hers.

  “Daddy wants you to come over to our house,” Sunny said, smiling up at Lily. “Will you?”

  “Oh, honey, I...”

  “He wants to say thank you. And you could look at our new toys. Please?”

  No human with a heart could turn down the childish plea in those round eyes, that sweet face. “I’ll come over for a few minutes,” she said. She’d pay a little visit, confess to Carson about her unfortunate choice of dog-related words yesterday, and ooh and aah over the girls’ toys. And then she’d get on with her hike.

  Inside the little cabin, Carson sat in a big chair next to the fire, holding Skye. He smiled up at Lily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you for helping Skye,” he said. “Won’t you stay and have some scrambled eggs with us?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t, I—”

  “Have too much else to do?” His eyes were too observant.

  “Maybe I do,” she snapped, and then felt awful for it. “I’m sorry. I... Sunny mentioned wanting me to see their new toys, but I don’t want to intrude on your family Christmas.”