True Blue Miracle: December 24th
Title: True Blue Miracle: December 24th
Rating: PG
Summary: Christmas Eve, polishing silver, pass the cranberries please, paternal hugs in treehouses, snowball alarm clocks
Note: I tried really hard to find at least some of the text for the book that’s mentioned in here online and I couldn’t. And it’s in a box somewhere in our basement and I’m not that dedicated to fic to find it at 1:00 in the morning. Sorry.
December 23rd
Noise and commotion and shouts announcing new arrivals in tones that command take-it-out-of-the-kitchen-now-please filter up the stairs and through the floor to Addison’s ears and she slowly blinks herself awake, knowing that her efforts to hold onto those last shreds of sleep are useless no matter how she tries. Her initial maternal instinctive panic at Eden no longer being in her arms or back in her own bed dissipates upon realizing that her daughter has been replaced by a pillow and she laughs, recognizing Adair’s trademark gag that began with dolls and stuffed animals when they were little and expanded over the years to include textbooks, framed pictures of boyfriends and now, apparently, children. She shakes her head and snuggles under the covers just a little tighter, figuring that she should be allowed until at least 8:05 before pulling herself out of bed and looking presentable but muffled thuds against her window become too annoying too quickly and she rolls out of bed to investigate even though history has taught her exactly what she’ll find.
Drawing back the curtains, she rolls her eyes at the round splotches of snow that have stuck to the glass window and the two brightly-colored people shouting at her from below. Knowing far better, she pounds twice at the top of the window with the side of her fist to knock it loose and then pushes it up, immediately taking a snowball to the shoulder. The cold snow melting into her pajama top is worth it, though, as she sticks her head outside and hears her daughter giggling happily as she sits in her bright purple snowsuit, proud to be part of Aunt Adair’s conspiracy. Addison simply blows her daughter a kiss and shakes her head at her sister and ducks back inside and shuts the window, determined to get at least one good snowball hit on her sister before breakfast.
--
After settling Eden down for an afternoon nap, Addison finds the stimulation of the overcrowded house too much and bundles up and slips outside for a walk, knowing that her absence won’t be missed by anyone who will speculate and panic for at least an hour. She stuffs her hands in her pockets and tries to blow smoke rings with her frosty breath as she passes the sled ramp near the bottom of the hill constructed by Adair’s and Aidan’s boys. Looking back over her shoulder and deciding that she’s far enough from the house that no one can hear her, she sighs and keeps walking until she finds herself at the bottom of the ladder to the tree house her mother pretends not to know about. She grasps the top rung and pulls herself up, marveling at how not high it seems now compared to when she was younger, and brushes off some snow from the floor and sits down.
“I miss you, you know,” she whispers quietly as if he were sitting right next to her with his arm around her shoulders. Feeling her breath catch in her throat she leaves it there and stays silent, letting the cold air on her cheeks keep the tears at bay for now. Most of her pregnancy was spent in tears, hurting more than she ever thought possible, and while she tried her best to enjoy being pregnant and cherish the moments when Eden kicked or turned over she inevitably began to think about how Derek was supposed to be there to enjoy it all with her and her smiles would turn sad. She taught herself to control it after Eden was born, firmly believing that if her daughter had to grow up with only one parent it should be a parent who was fully and completely there rather than lost in her own world, and every day became a few times a month which became a few times a year and she figured that that was good enough for now.
Addison peers over the edge at the sound of snow crunching under boots and smiles at the sight of her father looking confused at the sudden disappearance of tracks. “Up here,” she says quietly and waves and tries not to laugh as she helps him climb up.
“I thought I’d check in on you,” he says with a smile and hands her a thermos of hot chocolate. “Are you okay?” He’d watched his normally-involved daughter watch from the sidelines that morning as her brother and his family arrived and remain quiet during lunch and not complain too loudly after being assigned the job of polishing the silver for dinner.
She shrugs and takes a sip. “This shouldn’t be this hard. It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake. The insanity should take my mind off of him not being here, not make me dwell on it.” She screws the lid back on and sets it next to her and decides that mentioning how watching Aidan and Adair be so clearly happy in their marriages doesn’t help is childishly selfish and keeps it to herself.
Robert drapes his arm over his youngest daughter and tugs her close to him. “That you’re here this week at all is something, Addie. Don’t forget that.”
“I know,” she sniffles. “He’s just supposed to be here with me.” She gives up trying to hold back her tears and turns, burying her head in his shoulder and sobs in his embrace, comforted by his warm arms and soothing silence.
--
“Mommy!” Eden protests as Addison blows her hair dry, the heat a little too much on her sensitive skin.
Deeming her curls dry enough, Addison turns off the blow dryer and gently kisses Eden’s cheek. “I know, sweetie. I want to wear jeans and a sweatshirt, too.” She rolls her eyes at the formalities that come along with Christmas dinner. It took three hours for her and Adrian to perfectly polish enough silver to accommodate seventeen people, each of whom is expected to dress up and look their best for dinner. Pulling a deep green sweater and black slacks for herself and a happy blue dress for Eden out of the closet, she smiles at the smells wafting upstairs and the occasional shouts by her mother for everyone to just stop hovering already. “Arms up,” she says and tugs the dress over Eden’s head and zips it up the back.
Eden pouts earnestly at having to spend the night in a dress and tights and - worst of all - shoes but at her mother’s pleading look and promise that she can wear pants tomorrow all she wants, she wrinkles her nose and goes along with it, whimpering occasionally when Addison accidentally pulls on her hair a little too tightly as she brushes it up into pigtails. She breaks into a smile when Addison sets her on the floor in front of the mirror and she sees herself. “Pretty!” She exclaims and looks up at her mother with a big grin.
Addison laughs and bends down to give her a kiss. “Yes you are. And now it’s my turn.” Hair and makeup already done, she easily slips into her pants and sweater and steps into a pair of comfortable yet stylish black shoes. “Please?” She begs when Eden sternly shakes her head at the presence of her own shoes. Though she knows that her mother is a little bit more relaxed with her this year because of it being her first big Christmas without Derek, Addison knows that she isn’t above giving disapproving looks about grandchildren without shoes. “I’ll let you have a cookie before bed…oh, thank you.” She smiles, relieved, when Eden sticks out a foot.
--
“Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yay God?”
“Adair!” Rose’s stern scold only encourages laughter from the rest of the gigantic table.
“Well, Mom, you did ask who wanted to say Grace and she’s been whining about being hungry since four,” Aidan points out the flaw in his mother’s logic.
Addison kicks him under the table, loyal to her sister sitting at the other end of the table and unable to kick him herself. “Shut up, Republican,” the two sisters say in unison.
“Crazy Democrats,” he accuses, long used to his family teasing him for his political allegiances that bear no resemblance to their own.
“Silence. You are all absolutely insane but we are at least doing this correctly. Now,” Rose says, her voice softening, “let’s try this again.” She keeps her eyes open a little longer than everyone else, making sure that everyone has their eyes closed and head bent. “Lord, thank you for this meal tonight, a meal that so many are unable to afford themselves. Thank you for this family and thank you for allowing us to be together on this holiday. Thank you for the strength to continue through seemingly impossible days.” She squeezes Addison’s hand a little tighter and receives a tiny squeeze in return. “And thank you for giving us the ability to give to others who are less fortunate and the bravery to do so. Amen.”
A chorus of amen floats quietly across the table and, after several seconds of smiles and nods, platters and bowls of food are picked up and passed around.
Addison shrugs at her mother’s disapproving glance as she doesn’t put any green beans on Eden’s plate. “Why would vegetables suddenly become an edible food just because it’s Christmas?” Though it had been brought up many times, the idea of a kid table had been routinely shot down even though it made perfect logistical sense: Christmas is about family, Rose always said, and sitting kids away from their parents is not family. Thankful for that in this moment more than any other in her life, certain that her composure wouldn’t make it two minutes into dinner without her daughter by her side, Addison careful cuts up some turkey for Eden and tells her that if she doesn’t like it, she’ll make her peanut butter and jelly. “Oh, hi, cranberries. Give,” she reaches out across the table and glares at her older brother when he acts like he’s going to continue forgetting that the cranberry sauce began in front of Adrian, two seats down from Addison. “I will shove a stethoscope so far up your…”
“Addison!” Though trying to maintain some element of parental authority, Rose can’t help but laugh. If it were any other year, she’d truly scold about the use of that kind of language at the dinner table and around children but she’s just happy to see her daughter happy even if she still sees flashes of sadness behind the sparkling eyes.
“Favorite! Thank you.” She spoons a little onto Eden’s plate and gives a larger spoonful to herself. “Anything else you want?” She leans over and asks in Eden’s ear, wanting to make sure her daughter has exactly what she wants before Addison starts eating. At the shake of Eden’s head, Addison nods. “If there is, ask Uncle Adrian.” She grins and kisses Eden’s forehead.
At the mention of his name, Adrian looks up from buttering a roll. “Hey! I’m not your…” he glances at the number of young children at the table and catches sight of his mother’s firm glare that tells him that, while Addison may be exempt from clean language for the night, he is not. “…slave.”
She shrugs. “You’re closer to the middle. Where all the food is.”
Though clueless as to the content and history of any of the exchanges going on around her, Eden smiles and giggles and kicks her short legs in the air under the table and eats everything on her plate.
--
“Santa’s bringing an army this year, I see.” Addison smiles as her daughter carefully picks out cookies and places them on a plate to sit by the fireplace. She glances up and grins at Adair and Aidan, both watching their small children do the same. She heard stories of gigantic fights between their children last year as they tried to share a plate for Santa and, knowing the personalities of her nieces and nephews, is glad they decided to spoil Santa with individual plates this year.
“He needs energy,” she says stubbornly. “Carrots?” The girl smiles widely when Addison holds up two carrot sticks already pulled from the fridge. “Reindeer food,” she explains even though Addison remembers doing the exact same thing to her mother when she was little.
“How much milk?” Addison takes the carton out of the fridge and sets it on the counter, opening the cupboard to find a glass. “Big, small, medium?”
She thinks for a moment and then proclaims “Medium” very confidently. As Addison pours milk into the glass, she pushes a few cookies around on the plate to get them in just the right pattern and stealthily checks over her shoulder to make sure her mother isn’t looking before she sneaks a small star-shaped cookie and sticks it in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt, a snack for later.
Addison sees it but ignores it and follows her daughter into the living room and sets the glass of milk down next to the plate with two carrots and far too many cookies for one man, no matter how fat. “Alright, Eden. One present.” She smiles as the girl heads right to a thin rectangular package wrapped carefully in green paper with a silver bow, a choice clearly thought out days in advance. “You sure?” An enthusiastic nod. “Okay.”
Eden tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she carefully walks away from the pile of presents under the tree to sit on her mother’s lap on the couch. Already yawning and in pajamas, Eden settles herself into Addison’s embrace and looks up at her through long eyelashes and smiles when she receives a nod that it’s okay to go ahead. Biting her lip in concentration, Eden slips a finger under a piece of tape and carefully pulls the paper apart from itself. Tomorrow morning will simply be a flurry of wrapping paper and giggles but tonight the goal is a sheet of paper as unharmed as possible.
Addison takes a sip of her hot chocolate and watches her daughter unwrap the gift, smiling at the focus and intensity that won’t be there in the morning; she suspects that it has something to do with this gift being special and different from the others. Even though she knows what’s inside, Addison finds herself willing Eden to hurry up. Her nieces and nephews, having finished with their own cookie trays and glasses of milk, are scattered throughout the living room with small packages of their own to open in tradition but she only has eyes and ears for her daughter.
Though unable to read yet, Eden grins proudly as she tugs the last bit of wrapping paper off of a Christmas book and snuggles deeper into her mother’s arms as Addison picks up the book and begins to read quietly.
“How the Little Porcupine Played Christmas…” She waits for Eden to nod before opening it up to the first page.
--
With Eden finally asleep, Addison quickly runs back downstairs to grab her coat and scarf. She hadn’t been to traditional Christmas Eve services in years, either celebrating Christmas with Derek’s family or choosing to stay in with him, and made her mother and siblings promise to wait for her before heading out in the snow. Though she should have expected it, she ends up waiting for them: she watches in amusement as, just like their children fought the previous year about cookies, Aidan and Adair argue quietly about whose child’s present from Santa gets to go where. The argument is quickly solved by their mother who tells them both to shut up and get coats on and, when they aren’t looking, rearranges absolutely everything. Addison places her few From Santa gifts for Eden in scattered places around the gigantic pile and smiles as everything sparkles and looks absolutely magical, the metallic paper and ribbon reflecting the lights of the tree and dancing flame of the fire.
Deeming everybody ready - whether they have their hats and gloves on or not - Rose opens the door and ushers everybody out lest they be even later and forced to sit either very far in the back or have to stand. The cathedral just a few blocks down the street and parking lot always crowded, they choose to walk. Adair and Adrian catch Addison's hands the moment they step outside in the snow and she smiles at them and thinks her own prayer of thanks, thanks for surrounding her with people who can help her with the strength her mother mentioned when she thinks she doesn’t have any left.
The walk home after the service is full of snowballs and laughs and twirls and trying to catch snowflakes on tongues. Following a tradition begun when they were six and seven, respectively, Addison and Adair stay outside once they reach their house to build a snowman. Addison snuck a carrot out of the kitchen for his nose before they left and Adair stole some coal from the basement for eyes and a mouth.
“I don’t remember them ever looking that good when we were kids,” Adair remarks, their handiwork finished.
“Well,” Addison shrugs and rests her head on her sister’s shoulder. “We weren’t quite tall enough to make one that big.” She opens her mouth to mention that, in previous years, they were too anxious to get back inside to their husbands, but closes it again because she knows that Adair is still anxious to get back inside to her husband but will stay outside as long as Addison needs.
Wrapping her arm around Addison’s shoulder and hugging her sideways, Adair laughs. “How about next year, we make one that’s anatomically correct.” She laughs even harder when Addison looks at her askance as if to ask how they’re supposed to make an anatomically correct male snowman. “I’m an architect. I have a year to figure it out.”
--
Addison smiles softly at the sight of her daughter hugging her teddy bear and curled up as tightly as possible underneath her blanket on top of Addison’s bed. Shaking her head she gently wakes up Eden just enough to get her underneath the warm covers before she brushes her teeth and changes into pajamas and crawls into bed herself.
“Merry Christmas, Eden,” she whispers and brushes a kiss against Eden’s forehead. Eden makes a soft noise and cuddles into Addison’s arms without waking up. “Merry Christmas, Derek,” she whispers even quieter, just in case he’s somewhere near, and closes her eyes and falls asleep with the expectation of being woken up all too soon by giggles and smiles and demands for presents now.
December 25th
Rating: PG
Summary: Christmas Eve, polishing silver, pass the cranberries please, paternal hugs in treehouses, snowball alarm clocks
Note: I tried really hard to find at least some of the text for the book that’s mentioned in here online and I couldn’t. And it’s in a box somewhere in our basement and I’m not that dedicated to fic to find it at 1:00 in the morning. Sorry.
December 23rd
Noise and commotion and shouts announcing new arrivals in tones that command take-it-out-of-the-kitchen-now-please filter up the stairs and through the floor to Addison’s ears and she slowly blinks herself awake, knowing that her efforts to hold onto those last shreds of sleep are useless no matter how she tries. Her initial maternal instinctive panic at Eden no longer being in her arms or back in her own bed dissipates upon realizing that her daughter has been replaced by a pillow and she laughs, recognizing Adair’s trademark gag that began with dolls and stuffed animals when they were little and expanded over the years to include textbooks, framed pictures of boyfriends and now, apparently, children. She shakes her head and snuggles under the covers just a little tighter, figuring that she should be allowed until at least 8:05 before pulling herself out of bed and looking presentable but muffled thuds against her window become too annoying too quickly and she rolls out of bed to investigate even though history has taught her exactly what she’ll find.
Drawing back the curtains, she rolls her eyes at the round splotches of snow that have stuck to the glass window and the two brightly-colored people shouting at her from below. Knowing far better, she pounds twice at the top of the window with the side of her fist to knock it loose and then pushes it up, immediately taking a snowball to the shoulder. The cold snow melting into her pajama top is worth it, though, as she sticks her head outside and hears her daughter giggling happily as she sits in her bright purple snowsuit, proud to be part of Aunt Adair’s conspiracy. Addison simply blows her daughter a kiss and shakes her head at her sister and ducks back inside and shuts the window, determined to get at least one good snowball hit on her sister before breakfast.
--
After settling Eden down for an afternoon nap, Addison finds the stimulation of the overcrowded house too much and bundles up and slips outside for a walk, knowing that her absence won’t be missed by anyone who will speculate and panic for at least an hour. She stuffs her hands in her pockets and tries to blow smoke rings with her frosty breath as she passes the sled ramp near the bottom of the hill constructed by Adair’s and Aidan’s boys. Looking back over her shoulder and deciding that she’s far enough from the house that no one can hear her, she sighs and keeps walking until she finds herself at the bottom of the ladder to the tree house her mother pretends not to know about. She grasps the top rung and pulls herself up, marveling at how not high it seems now compared to when she was younger, and brushes off some snow from the floor and sits down.
“I miss you, you know,” she whispers quietly as if he were sitting right next to her with his arm around her shoulders. Feeling her breath catch in her throat she leaves it there and stays silent, letting the cold air on her cheeks keep the tears at bay for now. Most of her pregnancy was spent in tears, hurting more than she ever thought possible, and while she tried her best to enjoy being pregnant and cherish the moments when Eden kicked or turned over she inevitably began to think about how Derek was supposed to be there to enjoy it all with her and her smiles would turn sad. She taught herself to control it after Eden was born, firmly believing that if her daughter had to grow up with only one parent it should be a parent who was fully and completely there rather than lost in her own world, and every day became a few times a month which became a few times a year and she figured that that was good enough for now.
Addison peers over the edge at the sound of snow crunching under boots and smiles at the sight of her father looking confused at the sudden disappearance of tracks. “Up here,” she says quietly and waves and tries not to laugh as she helps him climb up.
“I thought I’d check in on you,” he says with a smile and hands her a thermos of hot chocolate. “Are you okay?” He’d watched his normally-involved daughter watch from the sidelines that morning as her brother and his family arrived and remain quiet during lunch and not complain too loudly after being assigned the job of polishing the silver for dinner.
She shrugs and takes a sip. “This shouldn’t be this hard. It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake. The insanity should take my mind off of him not being here, not make me dwell on it.” She screws the lid back on and sets it next to her and decides that mentioning how watching Aidan and Adair be so clearly happy in their marriages doesn’t help is childishly selfish and keeps it to herself.
Robert drapes his arm over his youngest daughter and tugs her close to him. “That you’re here this week at all is something, Addie. Don’t forget that.”
“I know,” she sniffles. “He’s just supposed to be here with me.” She gives up trying to hold back her tears and turns, burying her head in his shoulder and sobs in his embrace, comforted by his warm arms and soothing silence.
--
“Mommy!” Eden protests as Addison blows her hair dry, the heat a little too much on her sensitive skin.
Deeming her curls dry enough, Addison turns off the blow dryer and gently kisses Eden’s cheek. “I know, sweetie. I want to wear jeans and a sweatshirt, too.” She rolls her eyes at the formalities that come along with Christmas dinner. It took three hours for her and Adrian to perfectly polish enough silver to accommodate seventeen people, each of whom is expected to dress up and look their best for dinner. Pulling a deep green sweater and black slacks for herself and a happy blue dress for Eden out of the closet, she smiles at the smells wafting upstairs and the occasional shouts by her mother for everyone to just stop hovering already. “Arms up,” she says and tugs the dress over Eden’s head and zips it up the back.
Eden pouts earnestly at having to spend the night in a dress and tights and - worst of all - shoes but at her mother’s pleading look and promise that she can wear pants tomorrow all she wants, she wrinkles her nose and goes along with it, whimpering occasionally when Addison accidentally pulls on her hair a little too tightly as she brushes it up into pigtails. She breaks into a smile when Addison sets her on the floor in front of the mirror and she sees herself. “Pretty!” She exclaims and looks up at her mother with a big grin.
Addison laughs and bends down to give her a kiss. “Yes you are. And now it’s my turn.” Hair and makeup already done, she easily slips into her pants and sweater and steps into a pair of comfortable yet stylish black shoes. “Please?” She begs when Eden sternly shakes her head at the presence of her own shoes. Though she knows that her mother is a little bit more relaxed with her this year because of it being her first big Christmas without Derek, Addison knows that she isn’t above giving disapproving looks about grandchildren without shoes. “I’ll let you have a cookie before bed…oh, thank you.” She smiles, relieved, when Eden sticks out a foot.
--
“Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yay God?”
“Adair!” Rose’s stern scold only encourages laughter from the rest of the gigantic table.
“Well, Mom, you did ask who wanted to say Grace and she’s been whining about being hungry since four,” Aidan points out the flaw in his mother’s logic.
Addison kicks him under the table, loyal to her sister sitting at the other end of the table and unable to kick him herself. “Shut up, Republican,” the two sisters say in unison.
“Crazy Democrats,” he accuses, long used to his family teasing him for his political allegiances that bear no resemblance to their own.
“Silence. You are all absolutely insane but we are at least doing this correctly. Now,” Rose says, her voice softening, “let’s try this again.” She keeps her eyes open a little longer than everyone else, making sure that everyone has their eyes closed and head bent. “Lord, thank you for this meal tonight, a meal that so many are unable to afford themselves. Thank you for this family and thank you for allowing us to be together on this holiday. Thank you for the strength to continue through seemingly impossible days.” She squeezes Addison’s hand a little tighter and receives a tiny squeeze in return. “And thank you for giving us the ability to give to others who are less fortunate and the bravery to do so. Amen.”
A chorus of amen floats quietly across the table and, after several seconds of smiles and nods, platters and bowls of food are picked up and passed around.
Addison shrugs at her mother’s disapproving glance as she doesn’t put any green beans on Eden’s plate. “Why would vegetables suddenly become an edible food just because it’s Christmas?” Though it had been brought up many times, the idea of a kid table had been routinely shot down even though it made perfect logistical sense: Christmas is about family, Rose always said, and sitting kids away from their parents is not family. Thankful for that in this moment more than any other in her life, certain that her composure wouldn’t make it two minutes into dinner without her daughter by her side, Addison careful cuts up some turkey for Eden and tells her that if she doesn’t like it, she’ll make her peanut butter and jelly. “Oh, hi, cranberries. Give,” she reaches out across the table and glares at her older brother when he acts like he’s going to continue forgetting that the cranberry sauce began in front of Adrian, two seats down from Addison. “I will shove a stethoscope so far up your…”
“Addison!” Though trying to maintain some element of parental authority, Rose can’t help but laugh. If it were any other year, she’d truly scold about the use of that kind of language at the dinner table and around children but she’s just happy to see her daughter happy even if she still sees flashes of sadness behind the sparkling eyes.
“Favorite! Thank you.” She spoons a little onto Eden’s plate and gives a larger spoonful to herself. “Anything else you want?” She leans over and asks in Eden’s ear, wanting to make sure her daughter has exactly what she wants before Addison starts eating. At the shake of Eden’s head, Addison nods. “If there is, ask Uncle Adrian.” She grins and kisses Eden’s forehead.
At the mention of his name, Adrian looks up from buttering a roll. “Hey! I’m not your…” he glances at the number of young children at the table and catches sight of his mother’s firm glare that tells him that, while Addison may be exempt from clean language for the night, he is not. “…slave.”
She shrugs. “You’re closer to the middle. Where all the food is.”
Though clueless as to the content and history of any of the exchanges going on around her, Eden smiles and giggles and kicks her short legs in the air under the table and eats everything on her plate.
--
“Santa’s bringing an army this year, I see.” Addison smiles as her daughter carefully picks out cookies and places them on a plate to sit by the fireplace. She glances up and grins at Adair and Aidan, both watching their small children do the same. She heard stories of gigantic fights between their children last year as they tried to share a plate for Santa and, knowing the personalities of her nieces and nephews, is glad they decided to spoil Santa with individual plates this year.
“He needs energy,” she says stubbornly. “Carrots?” The girl smiles widely when Addison holds up two carrot sticks already pulled from the fridge. “Reindeer food,” she explains even though Addison remembers doing the exact same thing to her mother when she was little.
“How much milk?” Addison takes the carton out of the fridge and sets it on the counter, opening the cupboard to find a glass. “Big, small, medium?”
She thinks for a moment and then proclaims “Medium” very confidently. As Addison pours milk into the glass, she pushes a few cookies around on the plate to get them in just the right pattern and stealthily checks over her shoulder to make sure her mother isn’t looking before she sneaks a small star-shaped cookie and sticks it in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt, a snack for later.
Addison sees it but ignores it and follows her daughter into the living room and sets the glass of milk down next to the plate with two carrots and far too many cookies for one man, no matter how fat. “Alright, Eden. One present.” She smiles as the girl heads right to a thin rectangular package wrapped carefully in green paper with a silver bow, a choice clearly thought out days in advance. “You sure?” An enthusiastic nod. “Okay.”
Eden tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she carefully walks away from the pile of presents under the tree to sit on her mother’s lap on the couch. Already yawning and in pajamas, Eden settles herself into Addison’s embrace and looks up at her through long eyelashes and smiles when she receives a nod that it’s okay to go ahead. Biting her lip in concentration, Eden slips a finger under a piece of tape and carefully pulls the paper apart from itself. Tomorrow morning will simply be a flurry of wrapping paper and giggles but tonight the goal is a sheet of paper as unharmed as possible.
Addison takes a sip of her hot chocolate and watches her daughter unwrap the gift, smiling at the focus and intensity that won’t be there in the morning; she suspects that it has something to do with this gift being special and different from the others. Even though she knows what’s inside, Addison finds herself willing Eden to hurry up. Her nieces and nephews, having finished with their own cookie trays and glasses of milk, are scattered throughout the living room with small packages of their own to open in tradition but she only has eyes and ears for her daughter.
Though unable to read yet, Eden grins proudly as she tugs the last bit of wrapping paper off of a Christmas book and snuggles deeper into her mother’s arms as Addison picks up the book and begins to read quietly.
“How the Little Porcupine Played Christmas…” She waits for Eden to nod before opening it up to the first page.
--
With Eden finally asleep, Addison quickly runs back downstairs to grab her coat and scarf. She hadn’t been to traditional Christmas Eve services in years, either celebrating Christmas with Derek’s family or choosing to stay in with him, and made her mother and siblings promise to wait for her before heading out in the snow. Though she should have expected it, she ends up waiting for them: she watches in amusement as, just like their children fought the previous year about cookies, Aidan and Adair argue quietly about whose child’s present from Santa gets to go where. The argument is quickly solved by their mother who tells them both to shut up and get coats on and, when they aren’t looking, rearranges absolutely everything. Addison places her few From Santa gifts for Eden in scattered places around the gigantic pile and smiles as everything sparkles and looks absolutely magical, the metallic paper and ribbon reflecting the lights of the tree and dancing flame of the fire.
Deeming everybody ready - whether they have their hats and gloves on or not - Rose opens the door and ushers everybody out lest they be even later and forced to sit either very far in the back or have to stand. The cathedral just a few blocks down the street and parking lot always crowded, they choose to walk. Adair and Adrian catch Addison's hands the moment they step outside in the snow and she smiles at them and thinks her own prayer of thanks, thanks for surrounding her with people who can help her with the strength her mother mentioned when she thinks she doesn’t have any left.
The walk home after the service is full of snowballs and laughs and twirls and trying to catch snowflakes on tongues. Following a tradition begun when they were six and seven, respectively, Addison and Adair stay outside once they reach their house to build a snowman. Addison snuck a carrot out of the kitchen for his nose before they left and Adair stole some coal from the basement for eyes and a mouth.
“I don’t remember them ever looking that good when we were kids,” Adair remarks, their handiwork finished.
“Well,” Addison shrugs and rests her head on her sister’s shoulder. “We weren’t quite tall enough to make one that big.” She opens her mouth to mention that, in previous years, they were too anxious to get back inside to their husbands, but closes it again because she knows that Adair is still anxious to get back inside to her husband but will stay outside as long as Addison needs.
Wrapping her arm around Addison’s shoulder and hugging her sideways, Adair laughs. “How about next year, we make one that’s anatomically correct.” She laughs even harder when Addison looks at her askance as if to ask how they’re supposed to make an anatomically correct male snowman. “I’m an architect. I have a year to figure it out.”
--
Addison smiles softly at the sight of her daughter hugging her teddy bear and curled up as tightly as possible underneath her blanket on top of Addison’s bed. Shaking her head she gently wakes up Eden just enough to get her underneath the warm covers before she brushes her teeth and changes into pajamas and crawls into bed herself.
“Merry Christmas, Eden,” she whispers and brushes a kiss against Eden’s forehead. Eden makes a soft noise and cuddles into Addison’s arms without waking up. “Merry Christmas, Derek,” she whispers even quieter, just in case he’s somewhere near, and closes her eyes and falls asleep with the expectation of being woken up all too soon by giggles and smiles and demands for presents now.
December 25th