Merry Christmas, Lincoln (A Take Care, Sara Christmas Novelette) (6 page)

She crossed the room and kissed his cheek. “Stop it. That’s where faith comes in. I had to learn that once too. Remember?”

“I know. You’re right. Again.” When she started to bend over, he cried in alarm, “What are you doing?”

Sara straightened. “Okay. What did we just talk about? I’m picking up the cinnamon roll I stupidly threw at you.”

“I’ll get it,” he told her, quickly swooping the soft, gooey bread off the cement floor of the garage. “You need to take it easy as much as you can.” Lincoln tossed the roll into the waste basket near the door.

She smiled, but it was tight. “Lincoln,” she warned. “Don’t make me throw something else at you.”

He stared balefully back.

“
Right. Easy. I’ll leave you to whatever it was you were doing when I appeared, so I can take it
easy
.” She muttered something as she turned away.

“
What did you say?” he absently asked, back to studying the lumber next to the workbench.

“
I said I love you,” she said sweetly.

“
Okay,” he responded, not really listening.

An image began to take form in his head and Lincoln let it, his hands eager to do what his brain wanted them to.

It felt like another presence was with him as he worked, gently guiding him, and he grinned, wanting to believe it was his brother and that he approved, and that belief gave him an uninhibited carefree feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. Christmas music played quietly from the radio and he let himself enjoy it.

The wood easily sculpted into what he pictured in his mind, the feel of it rough and then smooth; the scent of it adding a balm to his agitated thoughts. Pieces of discarded and unusable lumber piled around him, shavings floating through the cool air of his work station, the sound of a table saw high and loud. It all melded together and centered Lincoln, the perfectness of the moment surreal.

He was making it for his baby, but also for Sara, and even for Cole—for all of them.

A glance out the window told him the midday had turned into night, and still he worked, an unnatural ambition prodding him along. Sara quietly checked up on him some time into the late hours, setting a thermos of coffee on the table. Their eyes locked for a singular moment of meaningfulness, hers shining brightly, and then she wordlessly left.

He turned off the table saw at close to three in the morning, his soul spent, but whole. Purpose was reestablished inside him, and the confidence he’d felt wavering was there once more. All he’d needed to do was make something of importance to eradicate all the doubts he’d let plague him. He whittled by hand what couldn’t be carved by a machine, gluing together what needed to be, screwed and nailed other parts, putting a clear coating on the piece once the glue had dried. He carried it to a corner of the room, laying a tarp over it.

It was dawn on Saturday when he finally left the garage. Squinting his eyes against the white and gray morning world, he ambled his way toward the house and crept inside, the darkened, silent interior encompassing him as he slowly climbed the stairs and headed toward their bedroom. He made it to the bed, not even removing his clothes from the previous day, and nestled in next to Sara before exhaustion hit him.

The feel of her fingers threading through his hair and the gentle thumping of his baby against his back was enough to lull him to sleep with a content smile on his lips.

***

Sara and Lincoln were all about the things they did together. Watching ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’ on Christmas morning was one of the rituals they had. Presents opened, they cleaned up the wrapping paper and Lincoln made hot chocolate while Sara got the movie ready. She was wearing red and white-striped pajamas and she looked like an endearingly bulbous candy cane, not that he was going to tell her that. He had on a pair of black and cream-checkered flannel pants and a black Henley top, courtesy of Sara from Christmas the year before.

“
I got one more gift for you,” he called from the kitchen, putting a miniature candy cane in each of their cups of cocoa.

“
I have one more for you too,” she said from directly behind him, causing him to jump and spill hot liquid on his hand.

With a sigh and a grin, she helped him get cold water on his hand. “Every day you’re turning more and more into a liability.”

“It’s the baby. I’m all nervous about it,” he admitted.

“
Good thing I’m carrying it and not you,” she said dryly, rubbing his scruffy cheek.

Lincoln shuddered at the thought; not necessarily of the visual that invoked, but because of the mental and physical changes Sara was going through. He was man enough to admit he wouldn’t be able to handle it. She was strong; even stronger than maybe he’d realized. She was dealing with the pregnancy much better than he was.

“So what is it?”

“
What’s what?”

She grinned and kissed his nose, her breath smelling of chocolate and peppermint. “My present.”

“I want to spend all the rest of my Christmases with you,” he blurted as he stared at her, loving her smile. They had come so far together, healed so much better than they would have without each other.

“
Good. Because you are. Was that my present? If so, it’s an excellent one.” She swatted his backside and sipped from her cup of cocoa, her eye bright above the top of the cup.

He took the mug from her and grabbed her face, placing a lingering kiss on her mouth, longing and adoration and desire evident in the way his lips clung to hers, moved over hers, and slowly, regrettably, pulled away.

“No. That was just a promise. Yours first.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused. “What?”

“Your present. Gimme.”

“
Oh.” Her lips slowly curved up. She danced out of the kitchen, and then looked back, hesitation on her face. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. “Why would I get mad? Did you max out a credit card?”

“No.” She gnawed on her upper lip, turning him on with such a simple act.

“
Go already. Before I have my way with you.”

Laughing, she shook her head and disappeared up the stairs. Moment later she returned, holding a large manila envelope. She wordlessly handed it to him.

Lincoln stared at it with a frown on his face, wondering what kind of gift could possibly be inside. He opened it, pulling a glossy black and white picture from it. He stared at the grainy photo, wondering what he was looking at.

“
What is it?” he finally asked, raising his eyes to his wife’s.

“
Hang on. Maybe this one will be more obvious.” She rushed from the room, returning with a white picture frame.

He took it, again unsure what he was seeing, until he read the words:
Merry Christmas, Daddy. Love, Colette.

Suddenly the nondescript blob turned into a head, a face, the shape of nose and eyes, and it was beautiful, priceless. It was his baby. His heart swelled and tears burned his eyes. He wouldn’t have been able to speak if he’d tried, so he didn’t.

Lincoln stood like that for a long time with his head bowed. They were having a baby girl. He was going to have a daughter—and Sara had named him after Cole. Sara had made sure a part of his brother would live on, if only in a namesake.

“
What’s the middle name?” he asked; eyes still down.

“
What?”

He lifted his head, meeting Sara’s wary gaze. “Because if it’s Lena—“ He broke off, unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face. He was crying, tears dripping from his face, and he was unapologetic. He could cry over his baby if he wanted to—that’s what real men did.

“It’s not Lena. I’ll leave the middle name up to you.” She smiled softly. “I wanted it to be a surprise, the name and the sex. I hope you aren’t upset that I didn’t have you go with me.”

He shook his head, his throat thick.

Sara laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, though her own remained on her cheeks. “We’re having a
girl
, Lincoln.”

“
Number one rule is no dating. Remember that,” he said, only half joking. Allowing himself a moment for his emotions to steady, he took a deep breath.

Smiling at Sara, he threaded his fingers through hers and tugged. “Come on, time for your present.”

“Oh, is it in the bedroom?” she teased, walking up the stairs behind him.

“
Later.” He stopped in front of Colette’s bedroom door, his chest squeezing at their baby having a name, and wordlessly nodded toward it.

Sara gave him a suspicious look. “Did you repaint?”

“Open the door.”

She did, moving into the room and stopping, much like he did when he saw the transformed room for the first time. Her hand slowly, wonderingly caressed the wooden structure. Its highest point was almost as tall as Sara’s five feet six frame, the base thick and round, the limbs outreaching and spindly.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally said, her voice soft and sweet.

Lincoln laughed self-consciously. “I don’t know about that. It kind of reminds me of our Charlie Brown Christmas tree.”

She turned to him. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

“
I made it for all of us. You, me, Cole, Colette.” He grinned widely; positive he would be saying his baby’s name often just to make the reality of it sink in.

“
I see that.” Sara bent down to trace the word on the trunk of the tree. “Walker,” she murmured. “It’s your family tree.”

Excited to share his project with her, Lincoln knelt beside her, pointing. “Yeah. See how each branch has room for a name? There’s your name up there, mine next to it, and then I’ll carve Colette’s name near ours once she’s born. I can even put dates in too.” He paused. “I put my parents over here and Cole next to them.” He swallowed, not sure how Sara would respond to that with the estrangement between them and his parents.

A warm hand on his shoulder dispelled his misgivings. “It’s okay, Lincoln. Without them there wouldn’t have been Cole and there wouldn’t be you, so I can never hold a grudge toward them. The way things are isn’t desirable, but it’s just the way it is, and I’ve accepted that.”

“
I wish the same could be said about them holding grudges.”

“
Oh, I don’t know, babies have a way of bringing families together. Don’t give hope just yet.” A twinkle filled her eyes. “It fits with the room theme, only once she starts crawling, it’ll have to be moved.”

“
Crawling? Babies
crawl
?” He widened his eyes in horror, though a grin had found a permanent place on his lips.

She tugged him to his feet, immediately wrapping her arms around him. They stayed that way, looking at the room and the family tree made out of wood, but more than that; made out of hope and love.

“Merry Christmas, Sara,” he murmured against her hair, kissing her forehead.

Her arms tightened around him. “Merry Christmas, Lincoln.”

Colette chose that moment to kick him in the stomach, making them both laugh.

Epilogue

The Walkers welcomed a squalling, red-faced baby girl into the world on a cool day in April. She was early by three weeks, but obviously impatient to meet her parents and grandparents. Her name was placed on the family tree and that name was Colette Dana.

Her eyes were a piercing blue that never faded as time passed, her hair a dark brown reminiscent of her father’s and mother’s. As she grew, her lips and nose became her father’s, but her pale coloring remained her mother’s. She wondered where she got her blue eyes from and her parents told her stories of her Uncle Cole; a man who left the world before she was born, but who somehow gave her her eyes. She loved to
listen to the stories of her uncle, watching the way her parents' faces lit up, and listening to their voices deepen with emotion. She knew it made them happy to talk of him, so she often asked them to.

When Colette was four years old, her brother made an appearance into the world during a hot summer. In time, his eyes went from dark blue to gray, his hair was a light brown neither her parents nor she had, and he cried a lot, but he always stopped when she held him. His name was Mason Lincoln and she watched as her father carved his name into the family tree.

On Christmas day that year she asked her father why they decided to name him after Uncle Mason since he was still alive, not like Uncle Cole who was dead. He watched her for a long, quiet moment, his expression saying she’d asked a difficult question.

He finally smiled, answering, “Because he helped your mom to understand that you don’t have to hurt to remember someone you loved and lost. You have to find someone that makes you want to keep living in spite of that loss. We wouldn’t have you or your little brother if not for him and you and your brother are priceless to us.” 

“Like love?” she asked. They’d told her many times how love was a gift that never cost you anything.