Thanksgiving
“We’ll miss you,” Honey said quietly, her hazel eyes beaming with sincerity, “but I understand why you’re going. It’ll be weird—after all, we’ve spent the last six Christmases together—but we all get it. You love her.”
“Jamie’s important to me,” Ben admitted to his cousin, “more than I ever imagined. But, so are all of you guys, too, more than I ever thought possible. I don’t know how I managed to land such a great group of friends, especially after the way I acted…”
“Stop.” Jim Frayne held up his hand. “The past is the past, Ben. You were young and stupid. We were young and intolerant. Now look at us. We’re more than friends; we’re all family, too.”
“Common ground.” Ben lowered his head. He was lucky, and he knew it. Fate had allowed him to finish his senior year of high school in Sleepyside. Although the Bob Whites had been wary at first, Ben had been sincere in his determination to change. It took several months, but he slowly won their trust. Honey and Diana had been the easiest. Dan and Trixie the hardest, but by the time Ben had headed off to Harvard, he counted all of the BWGs as his chosen family.
Now, they were more connected than ever, all paired up; Tessa and Dan would soon be celebrating their third anniversary, Mart and Diana were still newlyweds, Jim and Trixie’s wedding planned for the following summer, and Brian and Honey just waiting for him to finish his residency. Soon his cousins would start bringing kids into the family, and while Ben looked forward to that, he often felt like a third wheel. He had been the only one without a significant other for most of the time he’d been part of the group. Having Jamie in his life for the past eight months had really opened his eyes to everything he had been missing—everything he had wistfully yearned for even while rolling his eyes at the overly romantic antics of the couples.
Before, he had dated a series of long-legged blondes and busty brunettes, so it had come as a surprise to everyone—including himself—when he had fallen head-over-heels for a petite, dishwater blonde with glasses. Ben smiled to himself at the thought of his girl. She was off somewhere in the house with Diana and Tessa, ostensibly getting a tour of the features he had redesigned, but he was sure she was being gently grilled at the same time. After all, she was the first and only woman he had ever brought to a family holiday.
She had thoroughly charmed his aunt and uncle, as well as the other parental units at the Belden open house. She had been a little nervous at the onset but had thrown herself into the festivities, winning over everyone along the way before rolling up her sleeves and plunging into the cleanup.
“I like her,” Honey’s soft voice brought him back to the present. “Don’t worry. Tess and Di like her, too.” She took his hand, drawing him to the sofa. Jim followed, taking a place on the loveseat.
Ben looked around the game room. It had originally been the rear parlor of Dan and Tessa’s house, but at his suggestion, they had opened it up to the sun room and made it into a spacious yet cozy gathering place full of plush furnishings and entertainment areas. In the corner, Dan and Mart were playing air hockey with Brian and Trixie. He smiled at his cousin. “It means a lot to me that you all like her.”
“Well, we do. We all do,” Honey said, “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you brought her home for Thanksgiving—even if it means we lose you for Christmas.”
“To Pittsburgh, of all places,” Jim chimed in with a head shake. “Tell me why, again? I thought Jamie was from Vermont.”
“Her mom’s family is from the Pittsburgh area,” Ben explained. “When they all can get together, they have Christmas in Pittsburgh; when they can’t, they have a smaller one in Vermont.”
Jim barked a short laugh. “So, not only are you spending Christmas with your girlfriend, you get to spend it with her whole family?”
“Extended family,” Ben acknowledged, closing his eyes. “Twenty to thirty rabid Pittsburgh fans. I’m a little terrified.”
“Ha!” Trixie exclaimed, dropping onto Jim’s lap and giving him a quick kiss. “Serves you right,” she told Ben. “I remember you laughing at me when I had to suffer through that engagement party last month.” She gave a fake shudder.
“Game over?” Jim asked, diverting her attention.
“I think Dan and Mart cheat,” she complained.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Freckles!” Dan called out from the table, “It’s not our fault your arms are short.”
“All of me is short,” she called back good-naturedly.
“Fun size,” Jim told her, kissing her again. “Perfect size.”
Ben watched them with a wry grin. It had always amused him to see his adopted cousin, usually so serious, became a besotted fool around his spirited and petite Trixie. Now, he totally got it, though, because his Jamie did the exact same thing to him, sending his rational brain into overdrive with a single look or touch.
“Who are you calling short?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. Ben turned to see the object of his affection standing in the doorway, flanked by his cousin and Diana.
“Trixie,” Mart responded, giving her a cheeky grin. “Trixie is the shortcake.”
“We’re the exact same height,” she told him. “So, if you’re calling Trixie short, then you’re calling me short as well.”
“Uh…” Mart, the wordsmith, was at a loss.
Ben took pity on him, but not too soon. He reached out his hand to his girl and smiled as she took it. He pulled her down on his lap, mimicking the same pose Jim and Trixie were in. “Perfect size,” he whispered in her ear. Out loud, he said, “By default, all of you ladies are shorter than we gents. But you’re also the perfect height for each of you. Mart, on the other hand, is the shortest of the menfolk. So…?”
He left the rest of his sentence up to their individual imaginations, and when they all laughed, Mart included, he knew he’d succeeded. He wrapped his arms around Jamie and reveled in the warmth of family.
Three Weeks Later
December 21st
His first impression was chaos. Pure, unadulterated, chaos. The kind that made him want to hide under a table, curled up in the fetal position.
Ben had grown up an only child, shuffled between boarding school and summer camps, with brief detours to his grandparents’ homes for holidays. Everything quiet and restrained. Even the last eight years with his much more boisterous, extended Bob-White family couldn’t have prepared him for this.
He had picked Jamie up at her apartment. That, in and of itself, had been an experience. That his girl liked to decorate was an understatement. Her apartment positively glowed with Christmas spirit. From the fiber optic tree to the fir swag draped across the mantle—have to get that authentic Christmas tree aroma she claimed—the wreaths on the doors and the decorative touches on every imaginable surface. It was truly a Christmas wonderland all contained in a single apartment.
After a few minutes taking advantage of the mistletoe strategically placed in every doorway, Ben had found himself packing gaily wrapped presents and pounds—literally pounds—of cookie dough down to his BMW, stowing them in the plug-in cooler in his trunk. A quick check to make sure the appliances were off and the doors locked, and they were off on the eleven-hour drive to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
The drive was pleasant. The roads were clear, and holiday traffic hadn’t reached its peak. Ben found himself singing along with Jamie as she ran through an extensive playlist of Christmas carols and songs on her iPod. He was surprised at how many of the songs he actually knew. She’d packed them a lunch—his favorite chicken salad with dried cranberries—and it was evident that not all of the cookie dough had gone into the trunk, as she presented him with an array of sugar cookie stars and cinnamon-covered snickerdoodles.
“Sorry they’re all stars. I’d already packed most of the cookie cutters,” she apologized. “Usually there’s a better selection.”
Ben looked at her to see if she was serious. She was. Her hazel eyes held not a glimmer of teasing. “James,” he said, “I don’t see the problem. Sugar cookie stars taste the same as sugar cookie trees, don’t they? It’s the same dough.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t know whether to call you a Neanderthal or a Troglodyte,” she gasped. “Of course they taste different. Stars are stars. Trees are trees. They’re different shapes, different decorations. Different taste. Were you raised in a cookie-free zone?”
“Well… yes,” he admitted. “I mean, there were always cookies, but they usually came from bakeries. Honey learned to make cookies when she was a teen, but I didn’t spend that much time with her until a few years ago. I just figure that cookies are cookies—although, I do like the spicy brown ones.
“Spicy brown ones?” She tilted her head. “Gingerbread?” she asked.
“Probably,” he said with a shrug. “The girls make them into little people and give them frosting clothes. I like them because they’re different. Spicy.” He thought for a minute. “Diana makes the ones with chocolate and jam on them.”
“Chocolate and jam cookies?” She looked somewhere between confused and horrified at the idea.
“Well, not together,” he struggled to explain. “They’re thicker than sugar cookies, round, and they have like, a dent, in them. She puts chocolate in some of the dents, and apricot or raspberry jam in some of the others.”
“Thumbprint cookies,” she said, looking a little relieved after his explanation. “Those are shortbread cookies, and the ‘dent’ is made with your thumb. Haven’t you ever made them?”
“Uh…no. I’ve never had the need to.” He shrugged again and gave her a sidelong grin. “Cookies just appear, and I eat them.”
“Well, my love, get ready for culture shock.” He quirked an eyebrow and she continued, “Either tomorrow or the next day will be the Cookie Mess.” He literally heard the capital letters in the title. “Once everyone gets here, we’ll head to Grandma’s house and start baking. You know that dough in the trunk?” He nodded. “Well, that’s only my portion. Every family brings some. My family has shaped sugar cookies and snickerdoodles. Uncle Curt’s family has chocolate chips with nuts, Aunt Jeanie’s family does peanut butter—sometimes with jam filling—someone always does oatmeal or chocolate another half dozen ways, and there will probably be thumbprint cookies as well. We bake together. For hours. Best get prepared.”
“That’s a lot of cookies,” was all he could manage to say.
“It’ll be a couple hundred dozen, easily,” she replied, and now he saw the glint of humor in her eyes as she witnessed his discomfiture. “Don’t worry, though. Christmas calories don’t count!”
“We get to do this together, right?” he asked, feeling a surge of panic. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever baked cookies.”
She smiled at him, and the anxiety waned. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll hold your hand. I promise.”
That had been all he had needed.
December 23rd
Cookie Mess
Chaos. That was his second, third and fourth impressions as well, but now he was kind of used to it. He still couldn’t tell Uncle Curt from Uncle Dean, nor was he confident in which cousin went with which name, but he was doing okay. It helped that he’d already met Jamie’s parents over the course of the nine months he’d been dating her. Her brother, David, who lived on one of the San Juan islands of Washington State, had been able to make it for Christmas this year, much to Jamie’s relief. She and David had a connection very similar to Mart and Trixie, and it made Ben happy to see her teasing with her brother. The fact that David was also an architect gave the two of them something to talk about whenever the sheer noise and enthusiasm of the clan became overwhelming.
This was threatening to be one of those times.
Twenty-four people in and out of one kitchen. Dough was on every flat surface. Cookie cutters flew around like bomb-diving birds. Chatter and laughter, and the delicious smells of baking cookies infused every molecule of the house. Ben found himself in the middle of a spirited debate over which particular decorative candy made the best lights and decorations for the cut-out Christmas tree cookies. At first, out of his element, he tried to remain neutral, but as the the debate became a little heated, he had to back his girl. That resulted in a puff of flour in his face from David, and a deeply satisfying kiss from Jamie.
The next batch of cookies came out of the oven, and Ben spun Jamie to the side as the tray landed on the counter next to them. “I don’t know, James,” David said. “This one looks like a bad batch. I’d better check for quality.” He swiped an angel off the tray and took a huge bite.
Jamie gave her brother a mock glare and kissed Ben again. David sighed and started lifting cookies off the tray and onto the cooling racks. “Oops! Lost a wing on that one. Uh-oh. That one’s a little sticky. Cookie down! Cookie down!”
She’d heard enough. She sighed against his mouth and pulled away. “Give me that spatula, you, desecrator of dough,” she growled at her brother. Snatching it from his hand, she began removing the fresh cookies.
David grinned and helped himself to the broken angel. “Look out,” he cried. “It’s a bird of prey. Awk! Awk! I’m going to get the rabbit!”
He moved his cookie towards a reindeer, and Jamie smacked at him with the spatula. “That’s a reindeer, not a rabbit, you dip.”
Ben, never one to back down from a prank, grabbed a church-shaped cookie from the rack and directed it towards David’s angel hawk. “Surface to air missile,” he intoned. “Target engaged. Missile locked on and fired. Pishooo!” He ran his church missile into the angel-hawk, and in unison, the two men shouted, “Kaboom!!”
Jamie just shook her head and muttered, “So much for Peace on Earth.” She placed the last cookie on the cooling rack and smiled. “The last of our trays should be out in a minute. Why don’t you two go watch whatever the current game is? I’ve got this.”
David didn’t need a second invitation. He turned and bolted from the room. Ben lingered. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I could stay and help clean up.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “I’m positive. That’s what’s great about this. Our cookies are done. I just need to get these last two batches into the tins, and wipe off the trays. Then Aunt Carol can get hers baked. Easy peasy. Then, we can head back to the hotel.” She waggled an eyebrow at him. “I admit the hotel was a good idea. Thank you.”
“I didn’t want to impose,” he told her. “I’m just glad you agreed to stay with me. That… that means a lot to me. I know how much you love your family.”
“I do,” she said, “and I appreciate that you recognize that. I also realize that they can be a little much sometimes. Give me another hour, and I’ll be ready. Just don’t let Jay and Greg talk you into a poker game. They cheat.”
“I’ll be on guard,” he promised. “I think I’ll just watch that weird dice game and try and figure out the rules.”
“Fill or Bust?” She laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“Well,” he said, pulling her close, “you could teach them to me when we get back to the hotel.”
“I can think of far better things to do,” she whispered, “but we’ll see.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me, James. Killing me.”
Aunt Carol called out, “Stop smushing, you two! I need to get these gingerbread men in the oven. Nobody wants naked gingerbread men.”
“Later,” Jamie promised. Then, she shooed him out the kitchen chaos and into the family chaos, solo.
Christmas Day
5:00 a.m.
“Merry Christmas!”
Ben wrenched open one blurry eye. “Wah?”
“Merry Christmas!” Jamie repeated, punctuating her greeting with a smooch on his forehead. “Time to get up! It’s Christmas!
Christmas or no, it was the butt crack of dawn, and it had been after midnight when they had crawled into bed after another day of family fun. By eleven o’clock, and more cookies than he’d ever seen in his life, he thought he had the gist of the Fill or Bust game. However, he’d been on a sugar high much stronger than any drinking high he’d ever experienced, and the letdown had left him groggy. Still, Jamie’s enthusiasm and excitement had him dragging himself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water revived him, and he found himself looking forward to the rest of the day.
With the car loaded and Jamie navigating, Ben drove to her Uncle Dean’s restaurant. It was closed, of course, reserved for family, and by the time they arrived at six, it was pretty full. Arms laden with gifts, they entered the building only to be greeted warmly and loudly by the cousins. Depositing their loads, Ben was swept up in the breakfast preparations. Jack, Jamie’s dad, handed both architects a stack of plates, and they set to work.
“Forks on the left or right?” David asked.
“Left,” Ben responded absently. “Knives and spoons on the right. Dessert fork or spoon at the head of the plate.”
“Dude,” David said with a snicker, “this is breakfast. We aren’t that fancy.”
“Sorry,” Ben snapped.
David stopped. “Ben, it’s okay. I was just kidding.”
“Oh.” Ben shrugged. “I’m just a little…”
“I get it,” David said, finishing the last place setting. “C’mon. Let’s go talk, architect to architect.” He stepped through the arched doorway, and Ben followed. Beyond the arch was a hallway that led to the restaurant office. It was small: a desk, a filing cabinet and two desk chairs. David plopped down in one, leaving the second for Ben. He sat down warily, thankful for the quiet, but not sure why David wanted him alone.
“So,” David said, leaning back in the chair, “you’re a poor little rich boy from New York?”
Ben bristled but didn’t respond.
“I checked you out,” Jamie’s brother continued. “You’re the only child of Genevieve and Christian Riker. You’re third generation ridiculously rich. You started Harvard in pre-law, but you gave it up after a semester and went architecture. I’ve seen tabloid pictures of you with Kristal Goeshe and a few other leggy blondes. According to my sister, you’re estranged from your parents, but close with your aunt, uncle and cousins. You’re working on the renovation of Mead’s Mountain Ski Resort, and you met Jamie when you stopped to change her flat tire on Highway 2. She bought you coffee to say thanks, and you started dating. How am I doing so far?”
“Stellar,” he replied in a clipped tone, allowing the icy edge he’d learned from his mother to slip into his voice. “Might I ask where you are going with this?”
“You’re sleeping with my sister. I want to know you.”
“Which parts?” Ben asked, biting the end of each word. “How I spent the first four years of my life being raised by nannies? Or the next twelve shuffling between boarding schools and summer camps? Or how I got myself kicked out of six schools over the course of eleven months and ended up warehoused at my aunt’s country home in Westchester—which happened to be the second best thing that ever happened to me?
Do you want to know about my parents? The two people who pretty much brought me into this world and then left me alone? Yeah, we’re estranged. I finally figured out that I was never going to please them and decided to please myself. Hence, switching to architecture. Which, I might add, I’m good at. I’ve been done with my initial designs for four months, but I stay in Vermont and make day trips back to New York, because on a snowy March afternoon, I used some of the good Samaritan-ness that must have worn off on me from my do-gooder friends—who are more family than my parents ever were—and stopped to change the flat tire for a damsel in distress. The snow was so heavy I could barely see her. She could have been sixteen or sixty, soaking wet, shivering and struggling. After, she offered to buy me coffee, and I accepted because now I was soaking wet and freezing. That was the very best thing that ever happened to me, because that unknown damsel was your sister.” He was working up a full head of steam. “And yes, I may have been photographed with a bunch of six-foot-tall, hot-ass blondes, but I’ve never taken any of them home to meet the people I call family. The only girl I’ve ever taken home is five-foot-four and wears glasses—and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She makes me laugh; she makes me feel like I can slay dragons; and she brought me into this chaotic mess you call Christmas; and even though the noise and confusion makes me as anxious as hell, I’m here. I’m here, I’m participating, and I’m loving it, because she loves it, and I love her!” He stopped, out of breath and slightly stunned at his revelation.
David clapped his hands together slowly. “Good answer,” he said. “Sorry I had to get you riled up to get you to show emotion. I just had to know if you were for real, or just some rich douche scamming on my sister.” He held out his hand. “Forgive?”
Ben stared at the proffered hand. “You were testing me? You checked my background—cyber-stalking, I presume—just so we can have this little tête à tête? Why didn’t you just ask me flat out?”
David dropped his hand to his knee and had the grace to look a bit chagrined. “You’re a hard read. Mom and Dad like you well enough, and Jamie’s nuts about you, but…” He shook his head, his mouth pursing. “You read cold. Standoffish. I know you come from money. I mean, you drive a freakin’ BMW, you know how to set a formal table, and you used the phrase tête à tête. Who does that? We’re blue collar and barely white collar around here. Kev, Gary and I couldn’t even get you to have a beer with us last night, and I’m just supposed to ask you your intentions toward my sis? Right. I don’t need to be brushed off by a guy who sounds like a snooty, British butler.”
Some of the anger had receded. In fact, the British butler comment almost made him laugh. “A British butler named Darius Crenshaw is the one who taught me how to set a formal table,” he admitted. “When I was home between school and camp, I rarely saw my parents, but Crenshaw was almost always there. He taught me a lot of things.” He smiled briefly, remembering. He shook his head. “Still, I can’t change my past, and I can’t change that my family is wealthy. Personally, I work hard for my money, but I admit that having a trust fund in the background makes it a lot easier to breathe. I’ve been investing and reinvesting my trust benefits since I turned eighteen, so a good portion of that, now, is money I made. I’m sorry you think I’m cold. It’s… look. I have anxiety when it comes to large crowds. Serious, nasty anxiety. I pretty much grew up alone. It wasn’t anything, anything, like your family.” He bit down on his lower lip, making the decision to be honest. “If I’m coming off as cold or standoffish, I apologize. There’re just a lot of you, and I… I need to take anxiety meds to cope. They keep me calm—maybe too calm, and I’m not supposed to drink alcohol when I’m taking them. That’s why I didn’t have that beer with you. It isn’t because I’m too good for beer—I like beer. It’s because I couldn’t. I couldn’t take the chance when I’d be driving Jamie back to the hotel. I’ll be drinking plain orange juice with breakfast, too, for the same reason.”
His openness worked. David’s face relaxed, and he nodded. “Okay, I can’t disagree there. Does she know? Jamie, I mean. Does she know about the anxiety?”
“She knows everything about me,” he answered. “More than any other human on earth.” He shrugged. “She’s easy to talk to.”
“Yes, she is,” a voice from the doorway agreed. Both men turned to see Jamie and David’s dad, Jack, standing there. “She also has a temper like a jalapeño pepper, and I guarantee you, son of mine, if she knew you were in here hassling Ben, she’d be the one forgetting about peace on Earth.”
David went as white as the snow outside, and Ben snickered. “He’s right,” David groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m satisfied. You’re cool. Please don’t tell my sister.”
“This is solid ammunition,” Ben told him with a grin. “I think I’ll hold it in reserve, just in case.”
“Wise choice,” Jack said. “Now shake hands and let’s get to breakfast. My dear Leticia is champing at the bit to get on with the stockings and presents, and if you think Jamie has a temper, you don’t want to see Tish’s.”
The two younger men rose in unison. Ben extended his hand first, this time, and David didn’t hesitate to take it. With their differences settled, they headed for breakfast.
Breakfast fell into the category of organized chaos. Mounds and platters of food—eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes and toast. Coffee, tea and six different juices—not to mention the bottles of supermarket champagne sitting on the counter ready to make mimosas. If it represented a celebratory breakfast, it was on the table in prodigious amounts. People were up. People were down. The fetching and serving of food and drinks went off like a well-choreographed dance. Ben opted to be a wallflower, enjoying the show, but afraid to join lest he break the rhythm.
The food was delicious, and the noise was somewhat less with everyone’s mouths full. They ate and drank and talked and teased. Ben noticed that David, seated to his right, deflected some of the questions being thrown his way, and he was appreciative. He let his left hand drop below the table and squeeze Jamie’s knee. She smiled at him, the reassuring smile that told him everything was going well. He relaxed a little and enjoyed the meal.
After breakfast had been eaten and the remains cleared and set right, the families split into small groupings and went off to various corners of the restaurant to exchange their family gifts. They started with stockings, a tradition with which Ben was only vaguely familiar. He was surprised when Jamie’s mom, Tish, handed him a stocking made out of a deep green, shiny fabric with white velvet at the top and his name cross stitched in red across it. When he emptied it out, he was genuinely touched, not so much by the fruit and candy inside, but by the little gifts that had obviously chosen with his career in mind. There was a set of coasters and a box of colored pencils with a coloring book—but not a child’s coloring book. This one was full of famous buildings like the Coliseum and the Eiffel Tower. The coaster set decorated to look like architectural drawings made him laugh, especially when he saw that David had the same set.
“It makes it easy,” Tish said, “when you have two people with so much in common.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, chuckling when he drew out a package of thank you notes with a compass and pencil on them. “These are great!” he enthused. “My grandmother is a stickler about thank you notes. Now I’ll be ahead of the game.”
Jamie brushed against him as she began handing out the presents. Ben felt his anxiety creeping up a notch. While Jamie had given him hints, he had chosen the gifts for her family members all on his own. He hadn’t even asked Honey for help. It had seemed important at the time, but right now, he was just hoping he’d gotten it right.
Jamie opened her gift from him first. “Oh!” she gasped as she lifted the lid of the box. “Oh Ben, they’re beautiful.”
He watched as she lifted one diamond snowflake earring out of the box and slipped it on, followed by the second. “The center stone is an aquamarine,” he told her, “I went with that because… well…”
“Because I met you in a snowstorm in March,” she finished, throwing her arms around him. “I love them! They’re perfect! You’re perfect!” She pulled away, dancing around the large room to show off the sparkles in her ears. When she returned, it was time for Tish and Jack to open their gifts.
Relief washed over him as her parents smiled with delight over the matching Pittsburgh Steeler jerseys, hats and scarves he’d procured. Then, David picked up the small box with his name scrawled across the top. It was about the size of a deck of cards, but thinner. He eyed it with mock suspicion and gave it a shake.
“It’s too big to be a business card holder,” he said, “and too small to be a flask. Hmmm.”
“Just open it already,” Jamie told him. “I want to see.”
“You mean you don’t know what it is?” he brother asked. “Didn’t you go shopping with him?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Ben asked me a few questions, but he did this all on his own.”
“Now I’m scared,” David told her, a grin belying his words. He slowly pulled back the green striped paper to reveal the cellophane covered trading cards below. His eyes bugged. “Dwight White? L.C. Greenwood? ‘Mean’ Joe Greene? Ernie Holmes?” He looked up, his eyes wide. “Are you shi…kidding me? You got me the Steel Curtain front four?”
“Jamie said you were a big fan.” The corner of Ben’s mouth curled up and he corrected himself, “Actually, what she said was that you’re a big geek when it comes to the Steelers. I understand from my cousin that rookie cards are collectible among geeks, so I thought…”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before David had grabbed him in a big hug, pounding him on the back. “You can stay,” he said decisively. “You can definitely hang around.”
“Uh… thanks?” Ben pried himself away and sat back down.
Jamie’s eyes were misty, and she squeezed his hand as she leaned against him. “Good job, Steeler Santa,” she whispered. “Really good job.”
He was confused but happy that his choices had been well received.
They came together in the center again to reveal their cross-family and Secret Santa gifts. When Jamie had explained the idea to Ben, back before Thanksgiving, he had understood it—after all the Bob-Whites had done something similar for years. He hadn’t asked to participate, though, because he really didn’t know anyone in the family besides Jamie and her parents. So he was quite surprised when a bright purple package with silver reindeer landed in his lap. The festive card read: To Ben, from Jenny. He had to think for a minute. Jenny? Oh yes. The oldest cousin. The one with the knitting needles. She was talented. He’d seen her play Fill or Bust, talk and knit at the same time. He leaned over to Jamie and whispered, “But I didn’t bring anything for her.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “Jenny likes to knit. Everyone gets a Jenny present. Hurry and open it. I can’t wait to see what we’re getting.”
“We share it?” he asked.
His question made her laugh. “No, silly. Jenny makes everyone the same thing, just in different colors. One year, it was scarves, another, sock-slippers. Last year, it was potholders. Hurry! Open it up.”
Somewhat bewildered, he did as he’d been ordered, revealing a… hat? The top of the beanie was grey, the bottom a light green, with darker green ear flaps with braided tails. There was a tassel at the top in the same light green as the base. He picked it up out of the paper and held it up for the room to see. His action was met with squeals of delight from all of the cousins. Because it seemed the correct thing to do, Ben tugged the hat onto his head, letting the flaps settle over his ears. It was soft, he mused, and it would definitely keep his head warm in both Vermont and New York. Pulling it off, he smiled at Jenny. “Thank you, Jenny,” he said. “This is great!”
“I got the pattern off of a Firefly fan site,” she said. “They call it a Jayne hat, but it’s actually called a Laplander beanie.”
Jamie tore the paper off of hers, revealing a beanie in three shades of blue. David laughed when he unwrapped a bright green and blue beanie with gray. “Great,” he told her with a groan. “Seahawks colors.”
“I just want you blend in up there in your new home,” she called back. “I understand some of those folks are still mad about Super Bowl forty.”
“None of the ones that matter,” he called back. “Thanks, Jenny!”
Soon, the room was full of brightly colored Jayne hats and the resounding echo of “Thanks, Jenny!”
Ben wore his beanie outside, one of the many, as they engaged in a snowman-making contest. He had to admit that it was warm and comfortable, and since he was only one of the multitude, he could appreciate the comfort and spirit of the gift, as well as the expert touch in the handcrafted hat. Each one the same, yet uniquely different.
Dinner would be ready soon. Ham and turkey. All of the fixings. Pies for dessert, and the never ending stream of delicious, home baked cookies. As he washed his hands, Ben looked at his face in the mirror. Behind him, Jamie had removed her beanie and was running a brush through her hair. It gleamed in the light, some magical shade between blond and brown, framing her face. His heart seemed to expand as he watched each downward stroke of the brush passing past the silvery glitter of his Christmas gift.
She was the true gift, and he knew it—even if he’d not allowed himself to say the words. He reached into his pocket for his bottle of anti-anxiety pills. Jamie’s eyes met his in the mirror, and she smiled at him.
It was all he needed.
He tugged off his beanie and put it in the travel bag they were sharing. He ran his hand through his hair to smooth it and dropped the medication in next to his new hat. Jamie set the brush in the bag and tidied his hair herself, taking a moment to kiss him. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I know this wasn’t easy.”
He bent down and kissed her, her lips soft against his. “Everything is easier, with you, Jamie. I love you.”
Her eyes went wide before filling with tears. “I know,” she whispered. “I knew, but that’s the first time you’ve actually said it.”
“That’s because I’m an idiot,” he told her. “I’ve known it. I just couldn’t seem to say it.”
“You aren’t an idiot,” she admonished him. “You’re cautious. I love that about you.”
He kissed her again, a little stronger and a little longer. A shout from downstairs broke them apart, and she reached up and wiped her lipstick from the corner of his mouth. “We should go,” she whispered.
“Down to the sea of humanity,” he intoned. He squeezed her hand. “I like your family, James. All of them. Thank you for bringing me home for Christmas.”
She smiled and took his hand. He patted his pocket, reassuring himself that the small Tiffany ring box was securely waiting.
He didn’t feel anxious at all.
Author Notes
This is my Secret Santa story for Jstar8. Merry Christmas, Julie!!
Julie gave me a lot of information, and I attempted to incorporate as much as I could. Ben seemed ready to meet a family as chaotic and fun as the one Julie described. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
I owe a big Thanks! to Susansuth, Mal and Dianafan for their editing. Thank you, ladies. You rock and roll!!
Happy Holidays to one and all!
Blessings in the new year to come.
2016, Wow!
