For what seemed an eternity, she gazed at him, her nipples pressed against his chest, her body ripe with a longing so sharp and sweet it hurt. She could feel their hearts beating together again. When she kissed him, it was with everything she had, all the good times and the bad and the in-between. It was a kiss that peeled back the hard layer of years and made her feel young again, carefree and hopeful.
She touched his cheek in wonder. Perhaps this was how women felt when their men came home from war. Sad somehow, and yet more in love than they’d thought possible. “Love me,” she whispered.
“I tried not to. It didn’t work,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
Much later, when Angie could breathe evenly again and the trembling in her body had stilled, she rolled out of bed and went in search of her robe. “Will you come to Mama’s with us?”
He grinned. “That would certainly start up the old rumor mill.”
“Please?”
“Where else would I be on Christmas morning?”
Angie laughed out loud. That was how good she felt. “Get dressed. We’re already late.” Finding her robe, she slipped into it and went down the hall to Lauren’s room. She expected to find the girl dressed and awake, chomping at the bit to open presents, but she was sound asleep.
Angie went to the bed and sat down. “Wake up, honey,” she said, brushing the hair from her eyes.
Lauren blinked awake. “Morning,” she murmured.
“Get up, sleepyhead. It’s Christmas.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Her eyes slid shut again.
Angie frowned. What kid didn’t jackknife out of bed on Christmas morning?
The answer came fast on the question’s heels: a kid who wasn’t used to much of a Christmas. She couldn’t help thinking of the apartment building … of the woman—mother—who’d walked away without a word.
She leaned down to kiss Lauren’s head. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. We have to be at Mama’s in fifteen minutes. We open presents early in this family.”
Lauren threw the covers back and ran for the bathroom. They both knew there would be lukewarm water for the second shower and only cold water for the poor third-place loser.
Angie returned to her bedroom. She found Conlan dressed in her father’s old plaid bathrobe, standing by the window. He was holding a small silver-wrapped box. They’d always had their private Christmas before going to Mama’s, but she hadn’t expected him this year.
“You got me a present? I didn’t—”
He came toward her, gave her the box. “It’s just a little something.”
She peeled the foil paper off and opened the white box. Inside lay a beautiful handblown Christmas ornament. A silvery angel with crystal highlights and impossibly faceted wings.
“I found it in Russia last month, when I was interviewing Svetlaska.”
She stared down at the beautiful angel that fit in the palm of her hand, remembering another Christmas morning, so many years ago. It’s because I’m always thinking of you, he’d said, giving her a small wooden shoe ornament he’d bought in Holland. It had been the start of a collection. A tradition. Finally, she looked up at him. “You bought this last month?”
“I missed you,” he said quietly.
She went to the dresser then, pulled open the top drawer, and dug through her underwear. When she turned back to Conlan, she was holding a small blue velvet box. “I have a present for you, too,” she said moving toward him.
They both knew what it was.
He took it from her, snapped it open.
Her wedding ring was inside. The diamond sparkled against the dark velvet. She wondered if he, too, was remembering the day they picked it out. Two kids in love, going from store to store, holding hands, believing in forever with all their hearts.
“You’re giving this back to me?” he said.
She smiled. “I figure you’ll know what to do with it sooner or later.”
It’s a wonderful life.
Miracle on 34th Street.
A Christmas Story.
For most of her life, Lauren had watched those famous holiday movies, and dozens of others, and thought: Yeah, right. Perfectly shaped Christmas trees dressed in thousands of lights, wrapped in garland and covered in hand-chosen, heirloom ornaments. Evergreen boughs that draped fireplace mantels and coiled up banisters.
It wasn’t real, she would have said. It wasn’t Christmas the way ordinary children saw it.
Then she walked through the wreath-decorated DeSaria front door and found herself in wonderland. There were decorations everywhere, on every table and windowsill and picture frame. Tiny glass reindeer and porcelain snowmen and brass sleighs full of brightly colored balls. The tree in the corner of the room was huge and so clustered with ornaments you could barely see the green of branches. A beautiful white star glittered at the top, its tip just touching the ceiling.
And the presents.
Lauren had never seen so many gifts in one room. She turned to Conlan. “Wow” was all she could say. She couldn’t wait to call David tonight and describe it to him. She wouldn’t leave out a single detail.
“That was my thought the first time I came for Christmas,” Conlan said, smiling. “My dad used to give my mom a toaster for Christmas and not bother to wrap it.”