Season of Gifts (Neighborly Affection #8)

74. Jay

Chapter seventy-four

Jay

C hristmas morning coasted in on the dreaminess of the night before. Jay woke to the fluttery chirps of classical music from Henry’s phone at seven-thirty, way more reasonable than shrieking nieces and nephews before sunup, especially when Henry sweetened the deal with real hot chocolate. Only when everyone had drinks and cinnamon rolls—cranberry with the orange glaze!—did the gift-giving get going. With all the lounging around and laughing and fuzzy-warm family feelings, Jay didn’t even scoot back upstairs to trade pj’s for real clothes until after eleven.

He pushed up the sleeves on his new Christmas sweater just enough to study the bracelets Henry had clasped around his wrists. Day collars, really. Like the necklace for Alice. Everyday pieces for public consumption, still thrumming with the heat of Henry’s ownership. The braided leather matched the brown of his harness, of his new formal collar and cuffs. The silvery infinity symbol wrapping around the three loops matched the platinum chain on Alice’s necklace. And the two green stones on either side promised Henry’s eyes were on him. He could look down and see that claim whenever he wanted. All day long. All life long.

The sweater marked him as part of the family, too—a gift from Henry’s mom. A perfect fit, just roomy enough to move in with a turtleneck underneath. That and jeans would be fine for shoveling the walk. Fall yard cleanup had taught him where everything lived in the garage, and the overnight snow had left a good three-four inches behind. Henry hadn’t said anything, but if they needed to get Mom out to the car for any reason, they wouldn’t be doing it on a snow-covered walkway.

Downstairs, he grabbed his jacket to block the wind and carried his shoes to the nearby bench. The high back and carved arms gave it the imposing weight of a church pew. Would’ve felt as hard, too, if not for the plush red cushion along the seat. He shoved his feet into his high-tops. After the stiffness of his cycling shoes, his regular sneakers slouched like an old pair of sweats dangling off his hips. Not for real, but they sure felt loosey-goosey. As he tightened up the laces, the kids came strolling from the kitchen with empty hands. “Plates in the dishwasher, huh? Good job. Bet you got lots of plans for the rest of today with your new haul of stuff from Santa Claus.”

The littler one curved off his path back to the music room and stood before Jay, studying him intently. Even he had a formal pajama set like his dad’s, only smaller, and he was just six. Both boys had the same tidy haircut, sandy brown hair cut short and combed flat. “What are your plans, Uncle Jay?”

“Welp”—he exaggerated the puh sound, and Gabriel’s cheeks rounded as he smiled—“figure that snow outside isn’t gonna clear itself.”

“You’re going outside?” The older boy glanced toward the front door. Snow drifted down past the tall looky-loo windows on either side. “In the snow?”

The thinnest thread of want hung in that restrained tenor. Fuck if Jay didn’t know that itch to be outside, to be free of the rigid demands and the please s and thank-you s for a while. “Sure am.” He double knotted the lace. “Could use some help, if you two aren’t busy.”

“We’re not bu—”

“We should ask—”

The boys exchanged looks. The older one was the rule-follower; the younger must not have fully gotten that message yet. Jay gently shrugged, trying not to favor one side over the other. “Can’t hurt to ask.”

The asking took a minute and a half, tops, with Jay leaning in the doorframe and nodding when Henry’s brother gave him the Are you sure about this? look. As if he hadn’t wrangled four times as many nieces and nephews at once for years. They’d be done with unwrapping gifts at the farm by now too.

As Henry’s nephews trotted upstairs to put on outside clothes, Jay reclaimed his seat on the bench and called Nat. She’d give him the skinny without an interrogation. At least he knew his gifts had gone over like whipped cream on a waffle—Becky’s text blast included a dozen shots of the kids opening everything and a quick video chorus of them all, mostly in unison, shouting Thanks, Uncle Jay!

Nat took three rings to pick up, audio-only.

“Catch you stuffing your face?”

“What? No. Why would you ask that?” Nat coughed like she’d choked on a drink. “Merry Christmas, little brother. Good time in Maine?”

“Real good time.” Maybe better than any Christmas at home, but his chest twanged, and he pushed the thought aside. That was okay; Danny said Jay could examine thoughts on his own schedule, not just when they shoved their way to the front. “Alice got me this cool physics set, and I think maybe after dinner I’ll ask Henry’s nephews to help me figure it out. Waiting on them now to get out and play in the snow.”

He’d shovel first, real quick, but he could hardly be the best uncle if he didn’t at least build something with snow. Although—was he competing with Henry for best uncle? Henry was the read books aloud uncle, and Jay was the fling snow around uncle. He’d only become their uncle this morning. Yesterday he’d been Mr. Kress, and Alice had been Ms. Colvin. He was catching up fast.

“Of course you are.” Nat’s laugh tumbled down and landed on his shoulders like a cozy blanket. “How’s Henry’s mom doing?”

He gave her the short update. No big medical talks because of the holiday, but Henry and his brother were gonna have a confab, and tomorrow they’d sit down with Mom. “So no cardiac rehab today, but it’ll pick up again after. Like every day for six weeks, I think. How’s everyone at the farm? You and Peggy at each other’s throats yet?”

“Actually…” A long silence ended with a low, reedy sigh. “I don’t know. I’m not there.”

“You didn’t go home for Christmas?” Yikes, that was loud. Everyone else was still relaxing around the corner in the music room. He dropped his voice. “Everything okay with you?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing. Better. I, uh…” Nat chuckled, a quiet burst of happiness. “You inspired me.”

“I did?” Hell, maybe he’d started a mass exodus. Not ready to think about how that felt. He’d just tuck it under his hat until his next therapy session. Things might be getting crowded up there. “You’re fed up with Peggy too?”

“No. I mean yeah, I am, but that’s not what I mean.” Flustering Nat took a lot of doing. She was all snark and attitude, not the fumbling for words type. “Partly I’m not attending in solidarity with you. But also I, uh, your wedding was—and I thought—so I looked somebody up.”

Nat didn’t have big attachments. She had short-term flings and imaginary people she made up to keep Peggy off her back. He tipped his head against the wall. “Somebody who?”

“An old flame that I never should’ve left.” Her voice turned soft and syrupy sweet before she cleared her throat. “Gotta go. Thanks for the nudge, Jay. Give my love to Henry and Alice and your new mom-in-law.”

“Love you, Nat.” The call blipped out, and he tucked his phone away as Henry’s nephews came down the stairs wearing dark jeans so stiff they could’ve been yanked straight off a dry-cleaning rack. He’d get Alice to chatter at Nat later and find out about the mystery flame. Smacking his hands together, he grinned at the boys in their socks. “All right, so you’re ready to go? Let’s hoof it.”

“We can’t go yet .” Robert trotted to the closet and dragged out winter boots and heavy coats. “We need proper attire.”

“Ohhh, snow gear. Good thinking!” Would their kids talk like that someday too? Growing up around Henry, they’d kinda have to pick it up. The nephews hadn’t even gone to the fancy boarding school yet, so they must’ve gotten it from their dad. “What else do you think we’ll need to clear the snow?”

“Shovels!” Gabriel shoved his arms through the jacket his brother handed him and fussed with the zipper, struggling to get the track lined up.

Jay flipped his hands in front of him like a magician promising no tricks up his sleeves. “I guess that’ll be faster than using our hands. I bet I can clear a lot of sidewalk squares, though.”

“I can too.” The stubborn zipper shot all the way up the track. The puffy down practically shrink-wrapped Gabriel. He pushed his way backward onto the bench and bent forward, snagging the edge of his boot and missing the opening, sliding his foot down the side. “A whole lot.”

“You think so, huh?” Jay made thinking face, pinching his chin and tapping his lips with one finger. The older kid had done his boots first and stood zipping his coat. “I bet I could do two squares.”

Robert squinched gray eyes at him. “Two isn’t a lot. The term ‘lot’ is imprecise, but not that vague. Even three would only be a few.”

Glancing up at Jay, Gabriel missed the boot again. “Two because you’re old? How old are you?”

“Don’t ask that. It’s rude.” Robert adjusted his knit cap over his ears.

“Nah, I’m thirty. Ancient as the dinosaurs.” Bending over, Jay looked Gabriel straight in the eyes and widened his, lifting his eyebrows. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I rode a woolly mammoth to school in the winter.”

Gabriel’s giggles bounced around him, pinging off the tiled floor. “You’re silly, Uncle Jay.”

He swallowed back the sting of tears. Henry’s family might be smaller, and they might start off a little more formal—okay, a lot more formal—but they accepted the real Jay faster than his own did. “Thank you! I’ve had lots of years of practice. Five times as many as you.”

“I don’t know my times tables yet, but Robert does.” Gabriel twisted toward Jay, puffy coat rustling, boot dangling from his hand. “Can you put my boots on? My feet won’t go in.”

His heart pulled a reformed Grinch and grew three sizes in his chest. Crouching in front, he scooped up the offending boot. “I dunno, Gabe, if it won’t fit your foot, I don’t think it’ll fit mine either.”

That earned him a snort-laugh. “Nobody calls me that.”

“’Cause you don’t like it?” He could do without hearing Peggy call him Jay Michael ever again. If Gabe was strictly a Gabriel, he’d stick with that. He loosened all three straps and slipped the first boot onto Gabriel’s dangling foot. “One down, one to go.”

“Gabe. Gabe. Gabe.” Head bobbing, Gabriel chanted at the ceiling. “No, I like it. But everybody uses my big name.”

“Well, I have a sister who uses my full name, and I don’t like it.” The second boot went on just as easy, and he tightened down the straps. “It’s okay to be called by whatever name you want. It’s your name; you get to choose it.”

“No we don’t.” Robert stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m Robert because that’s Father’s name, and that was his father’s name, and his and his.”

That was the thing about rules. Sometimes a guy followed them because he didn’t know other options existed. And then it turned out the rules weren’t good ones anyway, or they hadn’t been meant to be rules at all. Danny said because we’ve always done it that way wasn’t a deep enough answer. Jay pushed up from his squat. “Is there a name you’d rather be called?”

“I like Gabe.” The younger boy scooted off the bench; his boots thunked against the tile. “You can call me that, Uncle Jay.”

“Then I will, Gabe.” He pitched his voice softer, trying to catch Robert’s eyes. “How about you?”

Twisted lips and a shrug greeted him. Hell, that was the first proof the boys actually could shrug. “Something that’s just mine would be nice.”

Easy enough. “What’s your middle name?”

“Edmund.” The boy glanced toward the music room, his voice low. “Same as Father’s.”

Shit, right, the kid didn’t own any piece of his name to himself. He was the fifth or whatever. How could they expect a kid to find his own identity when they didn’t give him any space to be someone else? Something fun. Robert the Fifth was more serious at nine than Henry at thirty-nine. Jay whipped up his best detective-solving-the-mystery index finger. “Ahh, but does your dad ever go by Eddie? I bet he doesn’t.”

Robert cracked a smile. “He’d say it’s undignified.”

“But what would you say?”

Robert bit his lip; his gaze went distant. After a few moments, as Gabe walked heel-toe around them both, Robert blinked his way back. “That it’s mine.”

Jay put out his hand for a grown-up handshake. “Then that’s who you are to me, Eddie.”

Small fingers gripped his tight and shook firmly. “Thanks, Uncle Jay.”

He shooed the boys out the door in front of him and stepped into the winter wonderland beyond. Cocoa and presents around the tree were grand, but the crisp air in his lungs and the delicate crunch of snow under his shoes? That was heaven.