She didn’t think she’d ever enjoyed a Christmas Eve more. When Chris had driven up in her car, both Jimmy and Flynn had come out smiling. They’d hugged her as if she hadn’t left so abruptly, though Jimmy did notice that she was a bit more mussed than she should have been for a one-hour car ride.
She’d apologized right away, and they accepted. In fact, Flynn had informed her with a secretive smile, they were counting on Chris to return with her. When they opened the door to the cabin she found out why.
Mistletoe. Mistletoe was everywhere. Hanging from every inch of the wooden rafters, tucked into the bookshelves. Hovering over the door. Jimmy had shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable before saying, “We’d ask you to dance, but not a damn one of us ever learned how.”
It was her favorite story. Her grandparents at the Christmas dance. The mistletoe. They’d done that for her? She knew there was only one response to a gesture that incredibly romantic.
She spent the night teaching them to dance.
The lessons were interspersed with long bouts of another physical activity that each man excelled at. And when she’d woken up to more kisses, all blamed on the mistletoe of course, she decided that Christmas was hers again. Her birthday. Her miracle. Her favorite day of the year.
The men had made her breakfast and then, unable to wait, they’d shown her what they’d each bought Roux for Christmas. Three grown men who’d never had a puppy. Roux was going to be spoiled rotten.
So was she.
“I think it’s time to open our Christmas present from Nicholas.” Flynn was wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a smile, holding a small square box in his hand.
Georgia sat between Jimmy and Chris as Flynn opened the package. On top of the tissue paper was another envelope. His second letter of the year. She leaned her head on Jimmy’s shoulder and placed her hand on Chris’s thigh, knowing this was still rough on them.
Flynn started to recite the letter. “Merry Christmas, guys. I hope you had a good week together. That you talked. That you finally started making plans to build that indoor swimming pool we talked about, or the movie room. Most of all I hope that you all liked last year’s present.”
Georgia noticed Chris frown and look her way, unsure. She squeezed his leg to reassure him as Flynn continued. “The reason I hope you liked it, apart from the fact that it’s a great book, is that in a not so roundabout way, this year’s present relates. You know most of my life story. Heck, you are most of my life story. You know I was given up in the hospital where I was born. That I grew up in the system. You know that not long before I came to live with you and my last set of foster parents, I lived in a home that was worse than the one we left behind.”
Georgia wished she could hug the man writing the letter, the little boys they had all been. She didn’t know how they did this each year, but if they did, then she would. For them.
“What I never told you was that there was one time, one day, when I gave up. When I was going to run away, and I didn’t care where I went or what happened to me. I was in Oklahoma at the time, and I found my way to the train station. I wasn’t sure how I was going to afford a ticket, but I’d always wanted to see a train up close, so I went. I sat down next to this older man who was humming to himself and writing a letter. He saw that I was crying and he started talking to me. There was something so kind about him, Chris. You reminded me of him a lot through the years. Steady and good. So I told him everything. He listened to every word, and then he started telling me the most amazing story.”
Georgia smiled. She could picture the scene clearly in her mind. A young boy lost in a train station. A kind old man who told stories. It all somehow sounded very familiar.
“We must have talked for hours. He said he was returning home after visiting a friend, but he’d come to the station early, because he liked meeting new people. He talked about his granddaughter, how pretty she was. How smart. That she’d been born on Christmas Day, just like I was.”
Georgia gasped and lifted her head, all her instincts on alert. She was born on Christmas day, just as the sun came up, and named after two famous Christmas characters. Christmas had belonged to her, though for a while she’d stopped believing it. Now…Flynn frowned and stopped speaking in concern but she shook her head and urged him to continue.
“In that moment I wished I were her. That I had someone who loved me that much. As it got closer to his time to leave, I knew I had to go back and face my dragons. If I ran, I’d hurt myself and the other kids still in the house would suffer. I had to report the foster parents and protect the others. It was only years later that I realized his story had helped me make that decision. And it was the right one, since it brought me to the three of you.”
Flynn stopped again, shaking his head. “He said it was bad, but I had no idea.”
“But he went back in,” Jimmy smiled fondly. “That was Nick. He never gave up.”
“Must have been one hell of a story,” Chris murmured.
Flynn nodded and lifted the letter once more. “Before the old man left, he opened his bag and rummaged through it, as if looking for something to write on. I noticed a stack of postcards, the one on top was of the most beautiful mountains I’d ever seen, topped with snow.
He said he had lots of friends that sent him blank postcards with pictures of far off places so he could create his stories. He also told me that Colorado was his favorite postcard, but I could have it, because he could see I was a mountains kind of guy. He wrote his address on
it and scribbled a note, and told me that if I ever needed help, or a friend, I could write and he would be there. My present to you this year is my lucky postcard, and that secret. I don’t know why I never told you about him. I guess I thought of him as my guardian angel. I didn’t want to share him with anyone.”
Georgia wiped the tears from her eyes. She was sure now, but she still needed to hold it in her hand. “May I see the postcard, Flynn?”
He handed it to her as he finished the letter. “You’re probably all wondering how this relates to the book. Well, I finally started writing him again a year before I joined the Marines. He said he remembered me, remembered that postcard. He also told me his granddaughter was still pretty, still smart, but now she was going to be a famous author. He was so proud of her. So proud that she named the book after him. I bought it as soon as it came out, and wrote to him to tell him about it. That’s when I found out he’d died. I always thought I’d see him again. It occurred to me then, that as long as I read his story, in a way he’d still be around. So I’ve read a little bit every night from that day to this. And I still feel like he’s looking out for me. Just like I’ll always be looking out for you. That’s why I’m giving you this card now. So you’ll always know I’m nearby. That’s what family is about, right? Being there? See you next year. Love, Your Brother Nicholas.”
They all looked at her, but Georgia couldn’t speak. She knew she wore the same expression of incredulity that they did. Even as she held the postcard in her hand, she couldn’t quite believe it.
The address was Grandpa Bale’s. It was the PO Box that he’d used to keep in touch with all his pen pals. When he was in the hospital, Georgia would go there faithfully every other day to bring him new letters from distant friends. He loved getting them.
“Georgia? Honey, how?” Jimmy ran his hands over his face and stood up, trying to take it all in. The way they all were.
Chris’s blue eyes were wide, like a child’s the first time they come down the stairs Christmas morning. He shook his head, gazing at her in wonder. “Happy Birthday, Georgia.”