Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
The House
The Christmas lights twinkled, and the gas fireplace crackled. Mildred was curled up on the plaid tree skirt, her head resting on her paws as she watched us get settled on the couch.
It was Christmas Eve, and we were having our own quiet celebration because we would be spending Christmas Day at the ranch.
I’d fixed the broken popsicle stick ornament and it hung haphazardly on a tree branch. Lenni touched it before she said, “Should we do stockings first?”
She gestured to the mantle at the five stockings hanging from nails. We’d hung Blair’s stocking even though it was empty. Still, it had made Lenni cry tears of joy when Archer had suggested it when we’d decorated the tree with all of her old childhood ornaments.
The old and the new.
“Mildred should go first,” I said.
Lenni nodded and pulled out a gray mouse toy and a bag of homemade dog treats that Muddy and I had baked.
Lenni tossed the mouse toy across the floor and Mildred darted after it. Soon, she was engaged in a game of must destroy furry creature.
“You go next, Wyn,” Lenni urged.
I looked at Archer. “You guys sure?”
“Yeah,” Lenni said.
“Okay.” I got up off the couch and went to the red and white stocking that had my name stitched across it. I reached my hand down into the stocking, my fingers encountering a square velvet box.
I looked at Archer, who was watching me with glittering eyes. Lenni’s grin was wide.
“You guys got me earrings,” I teased.
“No!” Lenni shook her head.
“A bracelet?”
“Wyn,” she whined. “Open it!”
“Yeah, Wynelope. Open it,” Archer commanded.
I extracted the box as I held my breath and then flipped it open.
A gorgeous oval aquamarine encased in a gold setting with small diamonds around it peered back at me.
“You said you didn’t want a big show,” Archer said, rising and coming toward me. “But if you want me down on one knee—”
I flung myself at him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, bathing his skin with my tears.
“Do you like it, Wyn?” Lenni asked.
I pulled back and held my hand out to her. She rushed forward and the three of us wrapped around each other like a Celtic knot.
“It’s perfect,” I said, holding my hand out to Archer.
He took the ring and slid it onto my finger before kissing the back of my hand.
“I helped pick it out,” Lenni informed me. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. And I love it even more since you helped.”
Lenni backed away and smiled.
“You next,” Archer said to Lenni, squeezing my hand as we watched Lenni dig through her stocking and pull out folded papers.
“What’s this?” she asked in confusion as she opened them. “Stepparent petition for adoption?”
“I want to adopt you,” I explained.
She looked up slowly from the papers, swallowing several times, like something was caught in her throat but she couldn’t get it out. She glanced at me and then at her father.
Lenni shook her head.
My heart fissured.
“I won’t let you adopt me,” Lenni said, her voice strained. “Not with my last name the way it is. I want to be a Keel. I want us all to be Keels.”
“God damn it,” Archer said, his voice gruff. “You know how to pull a fast one.”
Lenni’s lips trembled.
“You sure that’s what you want?” Archer asked.
Lenni nodded. “Yeah. I want that . . . Dad.”
My own throat was suspiciously tight. “I have an idea.” They looked at me. “What if, on the day we get married, that’s the day you become a Keel too? So when we celebrate our anniversary, we celebrate you too?”
Lenni began to cry.
And then I began to cry.
And then Archer’s eyes grew misty.
“Okay, enough of this,” he groused. “There’s no crying in baseball.”
Lenni sniffed. “What?”
“Oh Lennifer, we have some movies to watch,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Is it my turn for my stocking?”
“Go on,” I said.
Archer dropped his arm from around me and walked to the mantle. He shoved his hand into the stocking. “There’s nothing in there.”
“It wouldn’t fit,” Lenni said as she went to the tree. She picked up a flat box that was wrapped in shiny green paper with a red bow. She handed it to her father.
He took it and sat down on the couch to unwrap it.
And then he pulled out the leather-bound book that had arrived with Lenni’s things.
He flipped it open. It was Lenni’s baby book.
Her hospital bracelet. Her footprint. Photos of her through the years.
He began to pour through it, like he was memorizing what he saw as if his life depended on it.
We sat patiently while he flipped the pages, his face stern with longing.
The last page had photos of us from Poet’s wedding, but then there were no more pages.
“I thought we could start a new scrap book,” Lenni said.
It was Archer’s turn to be rendered speechless. “I’d like that,” he finally croaked.
“Okay, good.” She smiled. “Whose turn is it now?”
“The rest of the presents are for you,” I said. “I got everything I wanted.”
“Me too,” Archer said.
She ripped into the biggest box. It was the record player and vinyl we’d bought for her in Libby, Montana. She riffled through the records, squealing in excitement when she held them up.
“ABBA Gold!” she yelled. “I can’t wait for Summer to listen to this with me!”
“Dancing queens,” I said.
Archer squeezed my thigh.
Lenni reached for the next box. She opened it and lifted the teddy bear with button eyes.
“I made it from one of your mother’s wool sweaters that had holes in it. I know you’re too old for a teddy bear, but . . . I hope that’s okay,” I said.
Lenni stared at the teddy bear for a long moment and then she looked at me again.
“I miss her. But I think . . .” She swallowed. “I think she knew Dad and I would need you, Wyn. I think Mom sent you to us. Thank you for the gift. It’s perfect.”
I let out a watery laugh as tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’m surprised I have any tears left.”
“Hang onto that thought,” Archer said as he reached for the buttons on his flannel shirt. He pulled it open to reveal a bandage on his chest. He peeled it back and showed off a new tattoo.
It was an outline of the earth. My name was on one continent. Lenni’s was on the other.
“You and Wyn are my entire world,” Archer said through a strained throat. “As you get more brothers and sisters, I’ll add their names too.”
“Fuck a duck,” I blubbered.
“Wyn!” Lenni admonished through her own tears.
“Is it time for Wyn’s medley of Norwegian cookies?” Archer asked as he began buttoning his shirt. “I say we get a plateful and then watch A League of Their Own.”
“You don’t want to watch Miracle on 34th Street or It’s a Wonderful life?” I asked.
“Nah.” He smiled. “What fun is it to watch Christmas movies on Christmas? We have to start our own traditions, don’t you think?”
“Does that mean no Die Hard?” I asked.
“Woman, you wound me.”
We got a plate of cookies and all four of us piled onto the couch.
Lenni fell asleep halfway through the movie.
Archer picked her up and carried her to bed while I turned off the TV and put the cookies away.
Mildred was outside when Archer came back downstairs.
I let Mildred inside and then Archer took her upstairs to sleep with Lenni.
“This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” he said.
“It’s about to get better,” I said, my voice tantalizing.
We fell into bed, but this time we went slow. Teasing and toying with each other. Him sliding into me and our eyes meeting.
I felt him everywhere, even deep down in my soul.
We came together in breathless pants and earnest, tacit promises.
“Okay, now it was perfect,” he said, sliding out of me and kissing his way down my body until he pressed a kiss to my belly. “I can’t wait to see you change, Wyn. I can’t wait to see what we’ve made together.”
I smiled and traced the curve of his jaw, the apple of his cheek. “I love you, Archer.”
“Love you too, Wynelope.”
We got up and I shoved a T-shirt between my legs and waddled my way to the bathroom, causing Archer to laugh.
“Not gonna lie though. I love seeing me drip out of you.”
I shivered. “God, if I wasn’t already pregnant . . .”
He grinned.
We brushed our teeth, and he took out his contacts. I crawled back into bed, languid and sleepy.
“Oh damn, hang on a second,” I said. “I hid something in the sock drawer.”
“Hid what?”
“Your stocking stuffer gift,” I said with a grin.
“Why didn’t you put it in the stocking?”
“Because it would’ve made Lenni ask questions and I didn’t want to lie to her.” I opened the sock drawer, moved some pairs of socks around and pulled out what I’d hidden.
I climbed back into bed and gave it to him.
It was a handmade chart, with squares just big enough for the gold star stickers I’d bought.
He laughed. “Gold stars, huh? What do I have to do to earn the gold stars?”
Clearing my throat, I took the stickers, pulled off two and stuck them into two blank spaces. “What do you think you have to do to get a gold star?”
“Ah, I’m following. What do I get when the chart is completely full?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, biting my lip.
“Hmm, I think you have an idea, but you don’t want to say.” He paused. “Something sexual, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
He paused again. “A new frontier?”
“Where no man has gone before.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well,” he tossed the chart and stickers aside, “I better get to work . . .”