Christmas Miracle: Their Christmas Family Miracle. Shirley Jump
as they ran excitedly out of the room, he met Amelia’s eyes and they both let out their breath on a soft laugh.
‘Kids,’ he said, and she nodded, her smile touched with sadness. On his behalf, he realised, and wanted to hug her. Nothing to do with those crazy cat pyjamas under a baggy old jumper that made him want to peel it off over her head and unwrap her as his very own Christmas present.
He cleared his throat. ‘Right, how about that tea?’
‘Sounds great. What on earth are you doing up this early, by the way?’ she added as he went over to the kettle, and she sounded slightly amazed.
‘Making tea, letting the dog out.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear him.’
‘He didn’t make a sound, but I was awake and I wanted to see the snow.’
‘You surprise me. I wouldn’t have thought you were best friends with snow at the moment.’
He chuckled. ‘It wasn’t the snow’s fault. It was the idiot skiing up above me, but we were well off piste and if I hadn’t had an avalanche kit with airbags to help me float on the snow cloud, it would have been very different. So, not the snow at fault, just someone who didn’t know what they were doing, and anyway, it isn’t often we have a white Christmas. Besides, I was already awake.’
She made a soft sound of sympathy. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’
‘On the contrary,’ he told her, pouring their tea. ‘I didn’t think I’d sleep, but actually I slept better than I have for ages.’
‘It must have been the whisky.’
‘Maybe,’ he agreed, but he knew it wasn’t.
It had been the warmth—the human warmth from having a family in a house so obviously built with families in mind. And the fact that it had been a good day, and he’d enjoyed it. Well, most of it. The supermarket had been pretty hellish, but even that had had its high points. ‘Here—’ he said, handing her some tea, ‘and there’s a bottle for the baby cooling by the sink.’
‘Oh, you star, thank you,’ she said softly, sounding stunned. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘I knew he’d be awake soon. I made it according to the directions, so I hope it’s all right and not too weak or strong. And it might still be a bit hot.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ she said with a smile that threatened to send him into meltdown. Damn. Last night she was ripping him to shreds, and today he just wanted to undress her and carry her off to bed.
He took a step away and pretended to check the temperature on the Aga. ‘What time do you want to put the turkey in?’
‘It needs four hours in a moderate oven.’
He frowned at her. ‘What does that mean?’ he asked, and she laughed, the soft sound running through him like teasing fingertips.
‘It means not too hot and not too cold. I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’ve got ages. Why don’t we go and see what the children are doing before they “accidentally” tear the paper?’
He chuckled and followed her, the dog trotting between them, not sure if he should be with the woman who fed him and loved him, or this new friend who’d taken him out in the magical white stuff and played with him. It occurred to Jake that he was having a good time—that, although he’d thought this would be his worst nightmare, in fact he was enjoying himself.
And that, in itself, was an amazing Christmas present.
He’d been wrong.
His presents weren’t nothing. They were thoughtfully chosen, simple but absolutely perfect. Laura’s had been extravagant, as she’d guessed, and just made her feel guilty and inadequate, and Kate’s were very simple and sweet, the children’s handmade by Megan, and an outrageous pair of frivolous lacy knickers for her to cheer her up, apparently—only she’d opened them in front of Jake and turned bright red with embarrassment and stuffed them in her pocket.
Her presents to the children had been things they needed, because there simply wasn’t the money for anything else, but his—they were just fun, and the children were delighted.
‘Oh, Mummy, look! It’s that book I wanted!’ Kitty said, eyes sparkling, and Millie looked up and met Jake’s wary eyes and smiled apologetically.
‘So it is. You’ll have to be careful with the glitter, it goes everywhere. Say—’
But she didn’t need to finish, because Kitty had thrown herself at Jake and hugged him hard. Very hard—hard enough to make him wince, but he was smiling, so she didn’t think he minded.
‘Edward, what’s that?’ she asked, watching her meticulous son peel away the last bit of wrapping and reveal his present.
‘It’s a kit to build all sorts of things—it’s brilliant. Thank you, Jake!’ her son said, and although he didn’t hug him, his eyes were shining and she could see Jake was pleased that he’d got it right.
So very, very right. ‘Thomas, look at this!’ she exclaimed, unwrapping the shape sorter and giving it to him, and he picked it up and shook it and laughed happily.
‘Tull!’ he said, and Jake’s face creased in bewilderment.
‘Tull?’
‘He thinks it’s a rattle,’ Edward explained. ‘Look, Thomas, it opens, and you can put these bits in. See this one? It’s a square. Look!’
And Thomas stared, fascinated, as the little shape went into the hole as if by magic, and Jake stared, just as fascinated, it seemed, and Millie blinked away the tears and looked back under the tree. There were still two presents there, and Kitty dived under and pulled them out.
‘This is for Rufus, and this one’s for you,’ she said, handing Millie a soft, squashy parcel.
‘Me?’ she said, horribly conscious that she hadn’t bought him anything, or made him anything or in fact done anything except make his already difficult life even harder.
She swallowed and met his eyes, and he smiled tentatively. ‘Go on, open it. It’s only silly.’
‘I haven’t—’
‘Shh. Open it.’
So she did, and when she saw the fingerless mitts that could turn into proper mittens, her eyes filled. He’d listened to what she’d said about not being able to do anything with gloves on, and he’d found her a solution.
A silly, crazy pink solution, with a matching scarf that was soft and cosy and gorgeous, and her eyes flooded with tears that she could no longer hold back.
‘You’ve made Mummy cry,’ Kitty said, staring at her, and Edward looked at her worriedly, but she dredged up a smile and scrubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands and met Jake’s eyes.
‘I’m fine, really. Thank you, Jake. Thank you for everything.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘What about the dog’s?’
‘I hope it’s not food.’
‘It’s not food. Here, open it,’ he said, handing it to her, and she knelt up beside him and tore off the paper and her eyes filled again.
‘It’s a coat!’ she said, choked. ‘Oh, thank you, he’s been miserable in the cold and he hates the rain. Oh, that’s lovely.’
And then, because she couldn’t hold back any longer, she leant over and hugged him. Not as hard as Kitty, careful of his bruises, but hard enough that he would know she really meant it.
And he hugged her back, his arms warm and hard and strong around her, and it would have been so easy to sink into them and stay there for the rest of the day.
The rest of her life.