32 Wonderful Gifts

Gillians parents didn’t do Christmas, but they had kindly given their permission for her to celebrate it with us. It had been a complex task, taking the girls shopping while everyone tried to keep everything secret from everyone else, all the while living on top of each other in a one bedroom apartment. But in the end the presents were piled up under the tree, and Caleb and I sat listening to the girls chattering away on the living room floor. I curled up to him,

“Oh, this is my best Christmas ever,” I said.

“Well, I… I hope we have many more,” he said, his voice breaking, and I suddenly caught my breath. Here I was rejoicing in something that was all to come crashing down in a few days or weeks.

“Hold me,” I said, “hold me and never let me go.” He did hold me… but when he fell asleep an hour or so later he eventually did let me go, and I lay there for a long time thinking, and mourning.

—

“Bobbi, Caleb, are you two ready to get up yet?” Jenny said, landing with a bounce on our bed. “Get up, get up, it’s Christmas!!”

“Jenny,” I said, “it is five in the morning!”

“Christmas morning, Christmas morning,” she said, bouncing back and forth and pulling at the covers, which I kept pulling back, “Wake up, get up, come already!!”

“OK, OK,” Caleb said, “Get out and close the door so I can get up, and we will be out in a second. Go make some breakfast or something.”

“OK,” she said, rushing out and grabbing Gillian, who had stood shyly by the door, and rushing into the kitchen. “Close the door, I said,” Caleb said, flopping back on the bed. “It’s five in the morning,” he complained.

“I’ll do it,” I said, and went across the room to the door. “I remember a certain young man whio used to come rushing across to our house at five in the morning on Christmas.”

“I was younger then, adn didn’t have you in my bed,” he  said, watching me pad into the bathroom.

“I still remember the smell of waffles,” I said, sitting, “I think that was the only reason my parents let you do it. Jenny and I loved it. We would race down the stairs to see you, and wonder about our stockings.”

“And then your folks would come down, and then, eventually, my folks would come over. What are you putting on?”

“Flannel pagamas,” I said, “It is a Christmas tradition. I can take them off later for  you.”

“Perhaps we should make that a Christmas tradition, too?” He said with a leer.

“As you wish,” I said, “are you going to get ready?

“I,” he said, climbing out of bed, “am going to take a shower. Have Jenny bring in the newspaper, will you?”

I wandered out into the living room toward the kitchen. “Is Caleb going to make waffles, Bobbi? We can’t have Christmas without waffles!” Jenny said.

“You can ask him,” I said, “he asked you to bring in the paper. Just pound on the door and ask. What do you have going?” I asked Gillian.

“Scrambled eggs, Aunt Bobbi,” she said, grinning, “And we were going to squeeze some oranges and a  lime.”

I shuddered. I had gotten used to Calebs favorite breakfast drink, but Jenny and Gillian loved it. I put up with a lot for love.

“He says he will,” Jenny said, rushing back. “So we can do just the other stuff.”

“Let’s heat up some strawberry syrup, too,” I said, “I love strawberry syrup. Get the strawberries out, Gillian. Grab the recipe, Jenny.”

“Here it is, Bobbi,” she said, and we read:

1 pound  strawberries

1 cup brown or white sugar to taste

3 tablespoons  orange juice

1/2 teaspoon  grated orange zest

Combine all the ingredients and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer until the strawberries are soft and the syrup is thickened and reduced by one-third to one-half in volume, 15 to 18 minutes. Serve warm.

“Ooooh,” Gillian said, “that sounds good.”

“Well, let’s get started,” I said. “Get to work on the strawberries.”

We had the syrup started by the time Caleb finally appeared, yawning and scratching. “I am going to spank some girls for waking me,” he said in his deep voice, and the girls giggled and fled from the kitchen. He came and hugged me and kissed me, causing the girls to giggle even more.

“Waffles,” I said, coming up for air, “you promised the girls waffles.”

“Yes, master,” he said, and begun to work on the waffles, while I stirred the syrup.

“Bobbi, Caleb, can we open the stockings?” Jenny asked.

“Sure, girls, bring them over to the table. Then when you have opened them, set the table for breakfast.” Suddnely the phone rang, and we all turned to it, startled. Jenny was the first to recover, and ran over, read the caller ID, and  picked it up, “Mom!” she said, “What are you doing up? You told me you would sleep in!”

She listenend, and laughed, putting her hand over the moutpiece, “She says that she is too used to waking up at five on Christmas, and where is Caleb with the waffles?”

“Tell her he is right her, and they are welcome to come if they want some.” I answered with a laugh.

Jenny repeated that, giggling, and all of  sudden the doorbell rang. We all looked each other, and it was left to Gillian to open it. “Mrs Smith??!” She said, and I leapt forward with a  yell,

“Mom!!” Then I reached the door, “Dad? Dad? Mom?” I said, which sounded innane, but my parents and Caleb’s parents were both there, standing on our, on my front step. “Come on in!”

I turned to wave them in, and saw Jenny staring dumbfounded at the phone in her hand. Mom laughed, “Call forwarding, dear. We had a freind of yours from school set it up for us, and he will come by when we get back to fix it. I’m sure I couldn’t. Oh, my daughter, my married daughter, my pregnant daughter!! Oh, how could we stay away on your first Christmas. We were sure you wouldn’t mind.”

’Mind?!“ I said, crying freely, ”Mind? Oh, Mom!! Caleb, you will need to make more waffles. Oh, and girls, we need to make more syrup. Oh, Mom…“

We didn’t have seats for any more than four, so we sat the Dad’s and Mom’s at the table, and we and the girls sat around the living room, balancing plates on our laps… and making me very nervous. But the girls did well, and all of the syrup stayed on the plates or went down in their stomachs, and eventually we were done eating. The girls sat on the floor, and I sat on Calebs lap in the chair, while the folks sat on the couch.

“Presents!” Jenny said, and Caleb, after waiting for my father to get started, said, “Gillian, you can distribute presents this year.”

She looked at him, and I explained, “Just pick a present for each person, and we will open them,” and she nodded.

The folks had brought presents themselves (in spite of having sent some along with us) and we looked to be in for a long morning. The present Gillian brought me was a sweater from the Jones’s, a very nice light and dark blue wool sweater. It got cold here, and the sweater looked very warm. She brought Caleb, all unknowing, a set of boxers Jenny adn I had bought him, and he blushed brilliantly.

My second present seemed interesting. It was from Caleb and it squished, like the sweater had, but different somehow. I had to wait my turn, and it seemed like forever before I could rip it open. I opened it, and held it up, an it was a second before it hit me what it was. It was long for a shirt, it was a beautiful light and grey plaid, wool and cashmere… adn then it hit me. It was a dress.

I dashed off into my room, gasping, clutching the dress to me. Seconds later I heard Jenny say, “I want to watch her put it on,” and she raced in after me.

’Are you OK?“ She whispered. ”Do you want me to tell them it didn’t fit?“

I shook my head, tears flowing from my eyes. “I love it,” I said, whispering myself as I stripped off my PJ’s and found panties and a bra, “It is from Caleb and I love it, do you hear?”

She nodded, looking close to tears herself, and I slipped the dress over my head and we looked at my reflection in the mirror as she zipped me up. Then I turned back and forth. “What do you think?” I asked.

’It is beautiful,“ she said. And it was. It was full length, and was tight in the bust and the abdomen and then flaired out to a full pleated skirt, all a georgeous dark and light grey plaid. It even had a small cape at the back.

“Are you ready?” Jenny asked, and I nodded, stepping behind the door, which she opened with a “Ta daaaa!” and I walked out to applause, mixed with concern in the eyes of my parents, and confusion in Calebs. But I met his eyes bravely and said, “Oh, Caleb, I love it!” And I meant it, too.

—

“Well, girls, sorry I won’t get to be taking you back,” Caleb said, kissing both girls as they stood, suitcases in hand, waiting to go down to the car with my Mom and Dad. “It was great to have you, come back anytime.”

“Thanks so much, Uncle Caleb,” Gillian said, while Jenny gave me a last, tearful, hug.

“Bye,” Jenny said, “Thanks. Bye.”

We stood on the balcony and waved as they got in the car and drove away.