His Christmas Gift ; Decadent Holiday Pleasures

by Janice Sims

  His friends cheered and made a couple of toasts to him with the remnants of their drinks. However, Calvin wasn’t finished. He peered into Evie’s eyes. “Evie, darling Evie. You and I have known each other for over twenty years. I think I’ve loved you since we were both sixteen, but I never got up the nerve to say anything to you. And when we met again here in America, I figured you weren’t interested in me in that way. But now that we know we’re on the same page, I don’t see any reason why we should wait any longer to be together forever.”

  Tears appeared in Evie’s emerald-colored eyes. She remained silent, though, as she waited for Calvin to continue.

  “Evie, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Calvin asked as he withdrew from his pocket a gorgeous diamond solitaire.

  Evie, hand trembling as she stretched it toward him, cried, “Yes, yes, Calvin, I will! I’ve been hoping for this so long. And we didn’t just meet here again here in America by coincidence. I took a job at the institute because I wanted to be near you. I never thought you’d see me for who I really am—a very patient woman who truly loves you!”

  “Oh, Evie, I’ve been a blind fool!”

  Evie was nodding in agreement. “Yes, but now you’re my blind fool, and I’ll cherish you forever.”

  They kissed while everyone at the table stood up and loudly applauded them. Seeing the scene unfolding, the rest of the restaurant’s patrons followed suit.

  Adam beckoned to their waiter. “Champagne all around,” he called, indicating their table.

  The champagne was brought with alacrity, and the waiter poured it into flutes and served each of them. Adam stood and raised his glass. “A proper toast to the happy couple,” he said. “Calvin—it’s about damn time. And, Evie, I was rooting for you all along.”

  Everyone laughed and clinked glasses, tossing back the champagne, all except Alia, who was not drinking alcohol these days. She just smiled warmly, her heart full.

  * * *

  Later, as she and Adam pulled back the covers on their bed in the hotel room, she said, “I can’t believe Calvin has known a woman like Evie for over twenty years and never recognized her worth until recently. Is he dense?”

  “Yes, he is,” Adam said, laughing. “Some men can be very dumb when it comes to women. He thought having beautiful models on his arm made him a stud. He finally realized that they were using him only for a moment. And for what they could get out of him. He was a part of a transaction. He paid for their time and attention. I’m glad he woke up, because a woman like Evie wasn’t going to wait forever.”

  They got into bed and held each other. Alia sighed contentedly. “Lucky for me, you had Ramona for a mother. And, ‘Ramona don’t raise no fool’!”

  Adam laughed at her attempt at imitating his mother’s voice.

  He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Alia Joie.” He placed his hand on her stomach. “And I love whomever you have baking in there. He or she is going to be a joy to raise, I just know it.”

  “I hope you still think that when he steals your car and goes on a cross-country trip with his friends,” Alia quipped.

  Adam, lying behind her, pulled her closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, little Momma. You get testy when you’re tired.”

  * * *

  The next day, the Presidential Medal of Freedom ceremony started at five. Adam looked for Alia Joie in the audience in the vast East Room of the White House. He strode in with the other recipients to applause as their names were read by a soldier in uniform at the podium. There were six other recipients besides him and his team. He recognized a couple of famous actors, a musician and a retired judge, but didn’t recognize the other two people. All of them were seated onstage in a couple rows of upholstered bright blue chairs, which matched the White House decor of mostly blue and gold. After they were seated, the soldier at the podium announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the president and first lady of the United States!”

  The president strode in, his wife following, as “Hail to the Chief” was played by the United States Marine Band. The first lady sat down on a chair in the front row, and the president, wearing a blue suit and a red tie, took the stage and stood behind the podium, which had the presidential seal on it, cocking his head side to side, taking in the recipients, the audience and the prompter in front of him, which he would be reading from shortly.

  Adam and his team were in the back row of the recipients’ section of the seats onstage. He was nervous. Arjun, Calvin and Maritza also seemed a bit uncomfortable, all of them dressed in their best conservative clothing, but that was to be expected. The ceremony was being televised. His eyes were still roaming the audience, and he finally spotted Alia Joie. She saw him, too, and smiled proudly. He managed a grimace. He would be glad when this was over.

  He’d once seen this ceremony on C-SPAN under a previous presidency. It had been entertaining to watch. He hoped that would be the case today.

  Unsmiling, the president began speaking into the microphone. “Good afternoon, everyone. It gives me great pleasure to honor people who have contributed their talent and hard work to making America the great country that it is. You probably already know some of these remarkable people. You’ve seen their faces at the movies and on television, but there are others here who have quietly served their country, and you might not know them by sight. Men like Albert Charles Wilkinson, who has devoted his life to the education of African American children and has raised enough funds to send over a hundred African American kids to college.”

  He continued listing the merits and accomplishments of every one of the recipients. When he got to Adam and his team, he finally smiled. “This last group of recipients are a team of scientists who more than two years ago answered the call to serve their nation by inventing a way to defuse deadly missiles aimed at our men and women fighting for your freedom. But while in the midst of accomplishing their mission, they were kidnapped by people who wanted to steal their ideas. No, they were not taken by terrorists, but by a rich munitions company owner who didn’t want them to accomplish their mission. That would put him out of business. Unfortunately, this man is an American. Not a very good American. A traitor to his country, and he will be punished for his actions. However, today, I’m here to apologize to the following scientists for not getting them out of Abu Dhabi sooner. No reflection on the men and women of the military, because they were ready and willing to risk their lives to get you all out of harm’s way. No, the decision was mine as I tried to please other politicians and avoid embarrassment to the government.

  “But the president should act from a moral standpoint, not a political standpoint, and because I didn’t act the way I should have, you and your families had to suffer through an extended separation. To say nothing of the horrors you four were subjected to while being held captive. To Dr. Adam Braithwaite, Dr. Maritza Aguilar, Dr. Calvin Hobbes and Dr. Arjun Sharma, my sincere apologies. Your mission began with a heartfelt desire from the nation’s leaders to help save lives of military personnel. You achieved your goals, and because of you, thousands of men and women will come back to their families alive and well.”

  There was thunderous applause. The president looked happy with the reaction and took a moment to bask in the glow of his personal triumph.

  After his moment was over, he took a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the 2019 recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom!”

  After that, each recipient walked up to the president, where they shook hands with him and turned their backs to him while he put the medal, which was suspended on a blue ribbon, around their necks.

  When it was Adam’s turn, he walked up and smiled at the president, who smiled back. The president shook his hand and said, “It’s my pleasure, Dr. Braithwaite. Thank you for your contributions to the American people.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Adam said respectfully.

  Adam could
hear Alia Joie in the audience hollering “Yeah!” as the medal was placed around his neck.

  * * *

  Later, at the reception, Arjun summed up the day quite appropriately. “All’s well that ends well,” he said as they stood in a group sipping drinks and enjoying very nice finger foods. “The president’s likability will go up, and we got our acknowledgment. Let’s go home and invent something else that’s worth a medal.”

  “What was that about a medal?” Colonel Butler asked as he walked up to their party. He was smiling warmly and was holding hands with a lovely African American woman in her late thirties whom he introduced as his wife, Claudette.

  Everyone greeted him and Claudette warmly, after which they all chatted the evening away while interacting with some of the other recipients, who were, understandably, in the best of moods. Adam had gotten his wish, and the day had been enjoyable, after all.

  Chapter 13

  Even for someone whose family made its living via the media, there was a bit too much attention focused on them in the next few weeks for Alia’s comfort. She was watching a late-night talk show after they’d gotten back home from DC, and the host joked, “Is the president growing a heart? Was that an apology I heard him make to those scientists who were held captive in Abu Dhabi for two years? Could America be gaining a new and improved president? One who genuinely cares about us?”

  Alia turned the channel. She and Adam were in the great room, sitting on the sofa, feet up. “Don’t they have anything better to do?” she asked.

  “That’s what they do,” Adam said. “Take current events and make them fodder for their comedy. Don’t let it get to you. This’ll all blow over soon. Too much is happening in the world for their focus on us to last long.”

  * * *

  Adam was wrong, though. When he returned to the institute, news vans from the major networks were camped out on campus. He counted himself lucky that they hadn’t been able to find his home address. When he tried to cross to the building that housed the lab, four or five reporters hurried toward him, but it was a female reporter who got to him first and shoved a microphone in his face. “Dr. Adam Braithwaite? Jocelyn Meadows. Our viewers want to know what you and your team are working on next. Any more fantastic inventions in your future?”

  Adam, who had been looking forward to enjoying the beautiful April day with the first hint of warmth in the air in a very long time, forced a smile and said, “I’m sorry, but we don’t talk about our work. Sometimes not even to each other.”

  The reporter was determined, though. “My sources say that you and your wife, Alia Youngblood-Braithwaite, of the Youngblood Media Youngbloods, are expecting a child! If so, congratulations! I’m sure our viewers wish you the best. They’re excited that you and your diverse team are all under forty and are conquering the scientific world. They want to know more about you. Would you like to tell them something they don’t already know about you?”

  “I can be a son of a bitch when it comes to protecting my family’s privacy,” Adam said bluntly. “Good day to you.”

  Frowning, the reporter hastily stepped aside and let him pass. None of the other reporters had the temerity to approach him.

  Adam walked rapidly to the front door of the building, opened the door and strode in.

  When he got to the lab, Arjun, Calvin and Maritza were already there working in their individual offices. They must have heard him come in because one by one they converged on the center desk in the lab, questioning looks on their faces.

  “I see you made it through the blockade,” Arjun joked.

  Adam set his leather satchel that had his laptop and other essentials in it on the desktop and sat down on one of the four stools around the high center desk. “I was rude, hoping that would scare them off.”

  Maritza laughed. “You should be so lucky. But, on the upside, I did hear that the president of the institute’s phone has been ringing off the hook. He’s getting offers of support money from all over the world, according to Tricia, his secretary.”

  “Good for him,” Adam said. “But we have work to do, and it’s not getting done when we’re being waylaid by cameras getting stuck in our faces.”

  “True,” Arjun said. “But I kind of like all those memes about the president’s apology to us. They have him all over the internet apologizing for anything and everything.”

  Arjun showed Adam a few memes on his phone. Adam couldn’t help laughing. “Okay,” he admitted, “that’s funny. I’m sure the president has tweeted about them.”

  “Of course he has,” said Calvin, laughing, too.

  “But the time for fun and games is over,” Maritza said, a stern look on her face. “I had an idea about your string theory hypothesis, Arjun.”

  And they were off and running, sharing ideas about their projects, minds once again focused on work.

  Adam smiled with satisfaction. This was why he’d become a scientist.

  * * *

  Alia’s belly was expanding, and she’d had some episodes of morning sickness, but nothing debilitating. She was in her fourth month when her sister-in-law, Petra, gave birth to her nephew, Benji, who was named after her father, James, and Petra’s father, Alphonse, and grandfather, Benjamin. A lot of names for such a cute little guy. She and Adam volunteered to babysit as often as they were needed, just to be near the adorable guy and to glean some experience taking care of babies.

  They were babysitting one Friday night so that Petra and Chance could enjoy a night on the town about three months after Benji’s birth, when Benji, who was safely ensconced in a bassinet in their bedroom, started screaming his head off.

  They jumped up from their seats in front of the TV in the great room and ran to see what the problem was. Alia had put Benji to bed not half an hour earlier, making sure his diaper was dry, that he was positioned correctly in his bassinet and the blanket covering him wasn’t anywhere near his face.

  Adam was the first to get to Benji and adeptly picked him up, cradling him in his arms. Benji stopped crying immediately and looked into Adam’s bearded face, his brown eyes stretched in curiosity as if Adam’s face was the most remarkable thing he’d ever seen. Alia supposed that could be the case, since he’d only been on earth for ninety days.

  She’d noticed earlier that Benji’s eyes followed Adam even when she was holding him. That could be because Benji wasn’t around any other men who had beards. Neither her father nor either of her brothers wore beards.

  “Let’s take him back with us,” she suggested to Adam. “He’s wide-awake anyway. God knows my nerves can’t take screaming from a baby. I automatically want to comfort him.”

  “Petra said a little crying’s good for him.” Adam reminded her of her sister-in-law’s theory that babies learned to self-soothe when their parents didn’t rush to cuddle them at every sound of discomfort.

  “Just a few minutes,” Alia said, holding her arms out for Benji. She was becoming addicted to his baby smell and the feel of his reassuring weight against her chest.

  “You’re going to spoil him,” Adam warned.

  Alia smiled at her husband. “Who was the first person in here when he started yelling?”

  Adam laughed, peering down at Benji’s scrunched-up face. Benji gave him some gum action, grinning widely, all of his gums showing. “God did a good job making babies so adorable,” he said, carefully transferring Benji to Alia’s arms.

  Alia held Benji close as they walked back to the great room. “Petra doesn’t have to know we couldn’t resist cuddling him. We’re his auntie and uncle—it’s our job to spoil him.”

  In the great room, they had been watching a movie when Benji had called them. They resumed watching after they’d settled on the comfortable couch. They sat close, Adam’s arm draped on the back of the couch.

  Benji, breathing evenly and as calm as can be, closed his eyes and was soon sleeping soundly i
n his aunt’s arms. Nothing alarmed him, not the sound of the film through the TV’s speakers, nor the cheering from his uncle whenever one of his favorite scenes came on the screen.

  * * *

  They enjoyed the movie, gave Benji his midnight feeding, changed him again and continued to hold him while he slept. Alia was holding him when their doorbell rang at one in the morning.

  Panicked because they shouldn’t be coddling Benji, they looked at each other with widened eyes. “I’ll go put him in his bassinet,” Adam said. “Take your time letting Petra and Chance in.”

  “On it,” Alia said, slowly maneuvering Benji into Adam’s arms. Once Adam was on the way to their bedroom with Benji, she took a deep breath and went to answer the door.

  When she opened the door for Chance and Petra, the couple was kissing. Alia laughed softly. “You two are already working on a brother or sister for Benji, I see,” she joked.

  Chance and Petra parted, smiling. “What can I say, sis,” Chance said. “I’m very much in love with my wife.”

  He and Petra stepped inside, and Alia closed and locked the door after them.

  Petra blushed at her husband’s words, but didn’t look the least bit embarrassed to have been caught kissing Chance in front of his sister. Alia felt that she and Petra were beyond those sorts of uncomfortable feelings. They had bonded like sisters. And they were both strong women of the world who were fiercely protective of their families. They knew the score.

  “Did you have a good time?” Alia asked, walking into the kitchen and hoping they’d follow, which they did.