She and Kitt made quick work, creating six piles of packages, then Kitt surprised Truck when he placed the sodden rectangle to one side, patting it. “Truck.” Kitt kept his hand on it for a moment, then looked at Truck, his expression severe as he said, “Wait.”
“Okay, son, I’ll wait,” he replied and Kitt held his version of a lock on their gaze, eyes cutting up and down, glancing away and back, away and back before holding a moment longer. Then his eyes darted to the rest of the packages.
Twenty minutes later nearly all the packages had been opened, paper and ribbons discarded in a flurry of tearing and shouts of joy. Cadence had abandoned the action early and was now seated nearby in a large box, happily playing with the set of brightly-colored building blocks she’d received.
Kitt held the last package with his name on it, and Truck felt Vanna tense beside him. Looking at her he saw her lips had rolled to a thin line, drawn between her teeth in her nervousness. “What is it?” he whispered his question and without looking up she answered, her voice low and uneasy.
“A promise.”
Kitt had one long edge of the box pried open, tape torn away when he suddenly stopped and looked at the black case beside him. Dropping his package, letting it land in a noisy jangle in his lap, he leaned over and picked up what Truck now realized was an electronic tablet in a thick case. The boy’s fingers worked the buttons on the side as Kitt woke it up. Oh man, it took a bath in the creek, Truck thought, hoping that case was waterproof.
Kitt’s motions were deft as he called up an app, then stopped and stared at the tablet for a moment before extending it to Truck. “Present.” Kitt’s fingers didn’t let go, though, his eyes flicking up and down, catching and releasing Truck’s gaze a half-dozen times before Kitt finally relaxed his grip. This was important to him, his present to Truck. Kitt’s voice was soft when he spoke, his face expressing how much he saw and knew, even if he found it hard to express. “Vanna Mom’s Santa.”
Turning the device so he and Vanna could look at it, Truck’s breath caught in his throat as Vanna’s fingers clutched tight on his thigh. On the screen was an image of him and Vanna. Standing close, he held her in his arms as they danced in the living room last night. The picture captured them in mid-laugh, his head angled down and hers up, intently looking into each other’s face, identical expressions of happy discovery in place. He remembered thinking that he would gladly do the same thing every Christmas Eve if given the chance. So much possibility captured in this image, it was a promise of its own. The potential of a full, rich life filled with laughter and love.
Truck turned his head to study Vanna seated beside him, her fingers wound around his leg and she raised one hand, fingertips tracing his face on the screen. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she offered him a tremulous smile and he reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm, loving how even in this small way she fit him. “Beautiful,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across those lips he so wanted to kiss. “Santa’s Vanna.”
“DOG!” Kitt’s excited shout cut through the moment, jerking Vanna’s attention to the side and Truck took advantage of her distraction to lean forward, his hand bringing her face back to his so he could press his mouth to hers. “DOG!” Kitt had finished opening the last present and was excitedly clambering over Vanna’s lap to get to Truck, dangling a brilliant blue collar and leash in his face. “DOG!”
“Getting’ a dog, Kitt?” He asked, grinning to see Kitt’s head bob up and down in a vigorous nod. “What kind of dog?” Kitt’s eyes widened, and he twisted to look at Vanna, the question echoed in his gaze.
“Brutus got a girlfriend,” she told Kitt and the boy hooted. Turning to Truck she said, “Brutus is Blackie’s Great Dane.” He nodded, because he had met Brutus more than once. Stories for another day. There’ll be another day, he heard, I see good things. “We’ll go pick her up in a week, honey. Seven wakeups.”
“Nope,” Gunny drawled, shoving up from where he sat on the floor, torn pieces of paper fluttering from his tree trunk legs. “Just so happens we swung through Texas on our way.”
Kitt