Page 16 of Tying the Knot with her Sweet Scrooge

“Whoaaaa,” he chuckled softly. “First of all, everyone else has slept in too. Secondly, we have four other very capable adults in this house alone, not to mention the other four— well, three anda half adults who can make their own breakfast while my wife gets some much-needed rest.”

“Three and a half?” she smiled, sitting up and lounging against the pillow as he handed her a cup of coffee.

“Merry Christmas, my love… and happy anniversary.”

“You know our anniversary is tomorrow,” she smiled tenderly, taking a sip of her coffee. This was the same conversation that they had shared nearly twenty times, and each time it was the same. Waiting expectantly, she saw his smile widen as he let out a knowing laugh.

“It might as well be today,” he began, and she joined in, their voices combined as they looked at each other with so much emotion. “Because being married to you is a gift like none other.”

“Happy anniversary,” she repeated softly.

“Gosh, I love you woman,” he breathed emotionally. “Now, get up – and shave your legs.”

Eh?

“What the heck did you just say to me?” she said in disbelief, choking on her coffee. That single sentence was enough of a scratching record in her brain to cause someone to seize up like a porpoise coming out of the water and jumping backward. “How can someone go from so sweet, loving, and romantic…to being an utter troll?”

“It’s a gift,” he grinned and slapped her on the knee through the blanket. “You’ll thank me later. I’ve got you some junk on the counter in the bathroom, too. So, suck that down, get moving, and hurry it up because I’m starving. Hustle, sweetheart.”

He got up and left the room, leaving her sitting there in disbelief and boiling emotions. It was Christmas. It was almost their anniversary. The sweetest man in the world could morph into something so jarring. Throwing back the covers, she dragged her cup of coffee with her as she padded across the floor of the cabin toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna ‘jar’ him,” she muttered hotly. “I shaved my legs, and it looks nothing like your missing beard and chicken-butt-faaaaa…” her voice trailed off as she stared at the counter of the bathroom in disbelief – and nearly dropped her coffee.

There, beside the sink, was a version of her mother’s pillbox veil that she’d worn during her own wedding. Jill had worn her mother’s yellowed one on her head with a cream-colored dress at the courthouse when they’d married twenty years ago – and unfortunately lost it in the move here. The veil was sitting on a velvet form, stark and beautiful, beaded intricately with tiny sequined flowers on it and beneath it on the counter was a pair of pretty pale blue stockings and a garter to match. A wedding garter with all the ruffles and frippery that would make any blushing bride happy.

He had gotten this for her?

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she dragged in a deep breath and hesitated, seeing a cream-colored dress hanging in a plastic bag behind her on the robe hook. This time, Jill put the coffee cup on the counter before she dropped it, leaning briefly to steady herself and rubbing her eyes.

She wasn’t that young girl anymore. Weight had settled around her middle and backside, her chest had sagged slightly with gravity, and there were frown lines on her forehead from so many nights of worrying about how her husband was doing overseas, waiting for word from him.

Was she dreaming?

Reaching for the gown, she saw that it was fitted at the bodice with a sweetheart collar and flowed with no waist. Her clever, clever man had selected something that would fit no matter what she weighed or how big she got with the baby. He knew she was anxious about her pooch, the pinch-an-inch over her jeans, and was always frowning when she commented on it, but this would make her look like a princess and feel comfortable.

Without hesitation, she set about to get ready. Her husband had a surprise up his sleeve for their anniversary – and she knew it now. If he was having her dress up, she couldn’t wait to see him, and time was wasting!

Less than an hour later, Jill was pinning the veil to her head when she heard a knock at the bedroom door. If someone was knocking, then it wasn’t her husband. Hurrying, she padded barefoot over to the door and opened it slowly, peering around the corner in curiosity only to see a strange boy standing there.

“Well, hello,” Jill said in disbelief. “Where did you come from?”

“The sky,” he replied, smiling up at her, and handed her a long-stemmed red rose. Jill accepted it with something across from horrified disbelief to panic starting to take over. Whose child was this, and where did he come from? Where were his parents? Was she seeing a ghost in her beloved cabin?

“Where’s your Mommy?” she whispered as he extended his hand, waving it pointedly as if to say,‘I’m waiting’and then stomped his foot. “Am I having some weird psychotic break…”

And she heard a laugh in the distance.

Then a curt and hushed ‘shhhh’from Rose…

“All of you, please be quiet.”

“She’s coming out of there sometime today, right?”

Logan, John, and someone else’s voice carried, bouncing against the walls of her cabin. She hesitated the moment her hand touched the child’s, realizing it wasn’t an angel or a changeling but anactualchild belonging to someone who had arrived at her home on Christmas morning.

Why in heaven’s name would someone come…and she paused mid-thought as she rounded the corner of the short hallway. There, in the living room of their cabin, was her husband standing in his dress uniform beside Logan and John. The trio were standing just to the right of a man holding a Bible before him - complete with this arrogant smirk on his face that immediately bothered her. Panic was standing silently a short distance away and kept looking at the pastor. Ortega was standing silently, his eyes on Lena the entire time. Lily, Juliet, Lyndsey, and some strange woman with dark hair were standing on the left – beaming at her.

Rose, Michael, and Griffin were all sitting on the couch in their pajamas, holding a present in their laps and squirming impatiently. It was written clearly on the children’s faces that they had been told to just hold the boxes – and not to open them yet.

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