Chapter 14 Kingston
KINGSTON
This was our first Christmas morning since finding each other again and in our new home. Money had a way of making things happen at record speed, including this move. I couldn’t regret a cent of the money I threw at this to give us the Christmas miracle of being in our new home for the holidays.
I walked from the kitchen into the bedroom, and the footsteps bounced off the wooden floor onto the walls and echoed. I’d put a large mat on the living room floor, but there wasn’t much in the way of furniture or fittings to dull the sounds.
We’d moved into our new house days ago after weeks of delays.
I’d brought over a few pieces from my old place, so we had a sofa, a bed, and kitchen equipment, but neither of us wanted our new home to have the feel of my former one.
This was ours, not mine, and it had to be stamped with our personalities.
Father disapproved that it wasn’t a mansion big enough to sleep twenty people.
Rather, it was three bedrooms with a study and plenty big enough for us.
We had a walk-in closet because Father had contacted the architect and altered the plans without us knowing.
Even Merrick agreed it was practical and a necessary luxury, and we’d opened a bottle of champagne in there and toasted on our first night.
“King, can you help me with this?”
We’d only chosen a Christmas tree yesterday, and it was a little bedraggled being one of the last on the lot, and Merrick was trying to string tinsel over its branches. My mate was wearing identical Christmas pajamas to me, and I stood in the doorway as the winter light streamed in the windows.
“I haven’t said good morning to the baby yet.” The news was less than twenty-four hours old, and I’d sat up late, reading about birth plans—I did love a good plan—and cupboard safety catches.
He giggled. “The baby is the size of a sesame seed.”
“Doesn’t matter. I want to greet our little one every morning and say good night in the evenings.” We were going to have a cub; even if the baby was human, they’d be our cub, though my bear hoped he’d have a shifter friend in the house.
You won’t meet any bears for years.
But I might sense them, perhaps give them a nudge and have them arrive early.
I doubted Merrick would agree with that decision, but it was a long way off.
There were two open boxes at Merrick’s feet, one from my family and the other from his. Thanks to the Christmas rush, one had only arrived yesterday, and Father’s driver had delivered the other just before he went on vacation.
“I can do that.”
“It’s the ornaments I’m talking about.” He shoved mine toward me and sat on the cushion and pulled an ornament from his box.
I peered inside my box. My omega dad had organized the sending of the box, but one of Father’s assistants must have packed it.
It was organized into sizes and colors and shapes, with an itemized list attached.
Glancing at Merrick’s box, I grinned because his ornaments were jumbled together with newspaper and tissue paper, and I spied a birthday card from ten years ago.
“They’re very on brand.” My mate pulled out a star, covering his finger tips in silver glitter.
I held up an ornament I'd made at school in the third grade. There was me, missing my two front teeth. Charming and a little embarrassing. Merrick giggled and told me I was so cute.
My mate’s ornaments were all endearing, as they were hand-made. There was a popsicle-stick reindeer and a stocking with Merrick sewn in uneven letters.
“We’d make an ornament together every year, sitting around the kitchen table surrounded by glue, glitter, paint, and tinsel.”
I had no similar memories unless I counted what I’d made at school.
“I remember the Christmas Arnold got sick. We spent most of our time at the hospital, waiting for an organ donor.” He paused, and while I couldn’t read his mind, the flip side to donation was that in this case, someone had died to donate it.
He held up one that he’d been given at the hospital and explained that there were a few Christmases that weren’t happy. He placed the ornament in a prominent position on the tree so it’d be a reminder of how grateful he and his family were.
Digging deep into my box, I pulled out a tiny toy bear with a red ribbon around his neck.
Merrick took it from me and said that was sweet. “So you do have some precious Christmas memories.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t all gloom and doom.” My parents’ relationship didn’t fracture until I was older. “My omega dad bought this for my first Christmas.”
That looks nothing like me, my bear huffed, and I explained he and I didn’t meet until I was thirteen.
So we didn’t know.
Merrick hung it beside the hospital ornament and poked around in my box. He pulled out a small silver box and brought out a crystal star that was engraved with my name.
“Let me guess. This was from your father, right?”
I sighed. “Mmmm, it was one year where he combined a corporate retreat with our Christmas vacation. Every kid got one.” I held it up to the light. “Stunningly beautiful and expensive, but not what a child wants for Christmas.”
“Ta-da.” My mate dangled something in front of me. “I have a star too, one I made in art class.” It was made of clay and painted silver. “My classmates and I were covered in clay the day we made these.”
We continued unpacking, and the stories associated with our ornaments wove into the fabric of our lives. Mine shone a light on how my parents’ bond had faded but they stayed together for me, whereas my mate’s family was close knit and they endured the ups and downs by clinging together.
We stood and admired our handiwork. “It’s a clutter of memories,” my mate announced.
“I like that. It’s messy but real.”
Merrick shrieked. “What? My mate just said he likes things messy.”
“Don’t get too excited. This mess is contained, and it’s more of a figurative mess than a real one.”
Merrick put his arms around me. “We should make something for the baby because technically this is their first Christmas.”
“Okay.” I remembered that some cultures celebrated a child’s age by adding one extra year. Peering around, I wondered what we could use. But we had a lot of boxes, so I grabbed an empty one and cut two pieces of cardboard, one for each of us.
Merrick dug around a packing case and brought out art supplies. I painted a bear paw print, and my mate drew stars.
“A gaggle of stars.”
“Huh? Gaggle? Isn’t that a word for geese?”
“Probably, but I like it and I'm determined to use it more. How often do we discuss a group of geese?”
“Fair enough.”
We hung the ornaments at eye level so we’d see them whenever we walked past.
“I’m hungry.”
“Shall we order in and have a floor picnic Christmas dinner?”
“Absolutely.”
We ordered Thai food, and I rummaged in one of Merrick’s boxes for Christmas lights. After stringing them on the tree’s branches, they made the place appear festive.
“When do we tell our families about the baby?” I asked as we waited for the food.
“Not yet. The pregnancy is so new, I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.”
“Same here.” I was scared that I’d make a mess of being a dad, as I hadn’t had great role models growing up. But while Father hadn’t been aware of what he’d been doing, I at least knew some of the pitfalls to avoid.
The delivery guy’s Christmas Day got a lot better when I gave him a huge tip.
“This is so good.” Merrick sniffed. “I hope the baby likes Thai food because I’ll be eating it a lot during the pregnancy.” He blew his nose as tears rolled over his cheeks. “It’s spicy but so good.”
“Me too.” I flapped a hand in front of my face, feeling as though I was breathing fire.
My mate gazed at the tree while gulping a glass of milk. “You know what we did?”
“Is that a trick question?” I pondered what special significance we could attach to us decorating.
“We put up reminders of our past and we painted our future.”
Awww, that’s so sweet. Give him a hug.
I will, I am.
I slid my butt over the floor and kissed him. “Merry Christmas, my love.”
“Merry Christmas.” He held up his curry and I got mine. We clinked them and each took a swig of our milk.