The-Hummingbird-s-Cage(89)

Simon padded over to me in thick wool socks, blowing on his bare hands to warm them. He was windblown, his cheeks ruddy. His tan was faded enough that a sprinkle of freckles showed through.

“Brrr. The frost is really biting today.” He embraced me from behind as I looked the tree over, and laid his cold cheek against my ear.

I rubbed his arms. “It got your nose pretty good.”

“I think we even spotted Jack Frost in the woods out there. Isn’t that right, Laurel?”

Laurel was at the fireplace with Olin, holding her hands to the fire.

“Jack Frost isn’t real,” she said. “That was a rabbit.”

“Was it a jackrabbit?” Olin asked, his mustache twitching.

She pulled a face at him. “Ho, ho, ho.”

Jessie called out from the kitchen. “They back yet? There’s hot cocoa for those who want it!”

I turned and gave Simon a quick kiss. “You guys go on. I’ll stay here and do the bough thing.”

As Simon passed by the fireplace, Laurel planted herself in front of him and raised her right arm high. “Let’s show her the fireman’s carry,” she said.

“The what?” I asked.

In answer, Simon leaned down, grasped Laurel’s raised arm and swung it behind his neck. When he stood straight again, Laurel was slung around his shoulders like a fur stole, giggling, while Simon held her right leg and arm with one hand, anchoring her in place.

“The fireman’s carry,” Simon said before turning to head toward the kitchen.

Laurel’s head popped up from his shoulder, her hair swinging. “They use it to rescue people,” she called as they disappeared through the door.

Their low voices carried from the kitchen as I arranged the evergreens and pinecones on the mantels—the one in the dining area and the other in the living room. I’d found rolls of gold satin ribbon in one storage box, and cut and tied them into bows, placing them here and there among the boughs. I stood thick beeswax candles at either end of the mantels, and lit them. They smelled like honey.

I stepped back and studied the effect. Simple, but not plain.

Laurel padded out from the kitchen, a mug in her hand. “This is yours, Mommy.” It was almost too hot to drink, but not quite. Exactly the way I like it. Topped with tiny, melting marshmallows.

Laurel stood in front of me facing the fireplace. She took my free arm and wrapped it around her, holding it with both her hands, which were warm now. I marveled at how much taller she seemed. As if she’d sprouted inches since the summer. I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

“It looks happy,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happier fireplace.”

We’d never decorated a mantel for Christmas before, so I didn’t doubt it.

“Me, either.”

She tipped her head back to peer up at me. “I like it here.”

“Really? What do you like about it?”

“I like Oma and Opa. I like Simon and the dogs. The horses.” She paused, lowering her head again to look at the fire. “And I like you. You’re not like back home, scared all the time.”

I drew a deep, steadying breath.

Out of the mouths of babes . . .

So. Despite all my efforts, I hadn’t been able to shield her. Not from everything.

Not from me.

“You used to be only two colors. Maybe three, on good days,” Laurel said, as if she were drawing me in crayon. “Now you’re all of them.”

I couldn’t speak for a moment. And I couldn’t disagree with a single word.

“I think . . . I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you.”

She tipped her head back again. This time she was smiling up at me.

“You’re welcome.”

I leaned over and kissed her again. “Want to help with the tree?”

We started with the strings of lights. Before long, Jessie, Olin and Simon came from the kitchen to join in, Jessie ordering Olin about to make sure the lights were well distributed around the tree.

The last string to go up was the one with the old cartoon figures. I handed the box to Simon. He stared at it thoughtfully, moving his hand slowly over the characters on the lid as if he weren’t standing in that room anymore but in another one, at another time. A smile flickered. When he looked up again, I was still studying him, seeing the boy he’d been and the man he’d grown into. I reached to brush his cheek. He caught my hand as I pulled it away, and kissed it.