Page 85 of Surrender

“It’s plastic.” Jack shrugs and returns to preening over the tree.

I sit on the floor and help Lucy select appropriate ornaments. Ones that seem generic to prevent her from breaking something with sentimental value.

Jack returns to the bins and leans over to catch my eye.

I startle.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great.” I swallow hard. “This is... this is really nice of you, Jack.”

A pink flush appears on his cheekbones. “It’s not much. I just thought you deserved to spend Christmas the right way. I set up a tree at the motel for the same reason. So my guests can sit by a tree and a fire, and maybe the holiday won’t feel so cold.”

Jack holds out his hand. A candy cane-shaped ornament rests against his palm. He looks at me, then jerks his head at the tree. “Come on. It’s your turn to hang something up.”

I pick up the light object, but he doesn’t remove his hand, waiting for mine so he can help me up from the floor.

Suddenly, I’m eight years old again, helping my parents decorate our tree. The smell of cinnamon infuses my memories, and the strains of Christmas music float through the air. I hang the candy cane, then find a Christmas playlist on my phone.

The first strains of “It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas” fill the air.

“Now it’s perfect.”

I set my phone on the fireplace mantel. Looking back at the scene, I find Jack’s gaze steady on my face.

“Yeah,” he says gruffly.

I think he might be talking about something other than the Christmas cheer.

* * *

White snowflakes drift lazily to the ground through the window beside the Christmas tree. I sit in the dark room lit only by the yellow lights on the tree and the flames dancing in the fireplace. The haphazardly placed ornaments draw a smile to my face.

Lucy worked tirelessly on the left side of the tree, covering a small group of branches about waist high where she could reach best. The rest of the tree where Jack and I placed ornaments is sparse. All the breakable ones sit near the top.

I love it. It’s the best Christmas tree I’ve seen in my entire life.

I unwind a strawberry sucker a coworker passed out at work today and tip my head back against the recliner. The crackle of the fire serenades me, distinct from the faint sound of the shower running. Cooper sits beside me, his warm body pressed along my legs. I drag my fingers over his fur and close my eyes as the strawberry flavor explodes on my tongue.

I think I’m falling in love.

How couldn’t I? His effortless care for my kids and me is attractive in and of itself. But it’s so much more than how he helps with Bennett and how he calls Lucy,Luce.How he’s concerned himself with our safety, first from the weather and then with Devon.

It’s a hundred percent him.

The men who get it get it. And the ones who don’t never will.

And that’s effort.

I’m not asking for Jack to perform cartwheels around me. I haven’t asked him to perform anything. And that’s just it. It’s like he knows the things that might make my day easier, so he goes out of his way to take care of them for me. Holding Bennett so I can eat with both hands, or keeping an eye on the kids so I can take a shower and not accidentally forget to shampoo my hair because I’m in such a rush to finish. It’s taking turns with the cooking and cleanup without arguing about whose turn it is. It’s coexisting yet being aware of one another’s needs without having to ask him.

It’s being heard without speaking.

It’s being seen without putting on a show.

It’s everything I would have asked for if I knew how to ask and everything I’m not sure I’ll be able to hang on to when this temporary situation is over.

I can say with certainty that Jack Powell didn’t just set the bar. Jack Powellisthe bar, and it’s constantly moving in an upward direction. There’s not a chance I will ever settle for less.

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