Page 58 of Season of Gifts

Two hours passed before a young man in clean scrubs emerged and led him on the familiar path to the cardiac care unit.“—stabilized with supplemental oxygen, but we’ll keep her here until Doctor Clark can talk with you both about heart failure and the route forward.She can answer any questions that my explanation didn’t cover.”He gestured Henry toward bay four.“Sleep is the best thing for her.The chair at the bedside reclines, and if you need anything—”

“Ask Amy at the nurses’ station, yes, thank you.We’re acquainted.”

The younger man nodded, his eyes soft and dark.Shaggy black hair spilled across his forehead.“You did the right thing, getting help so fast.This was just a setback.”The chipper voice, the hint of a smile—reality wavered, painting Jay’s features atop a stranger’s face.“With the right care plan, your mom’s gonna do great.”

A fierce longing crashed through him, for the comfort of turning over in bed and seeing his loves sleeping peacefully, their warm breath pulsing in steady intervals.He rocked back on his heels, waving off the young man’s assistance.“Thank you, yes.I’ll sit with her now.”

He slipped inside, into the hushed glow of the monitor tracking his mother’s life in every peak and valley.Shadows bruised her eyes.The full oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth once more.Her bed rested at an angle, elevating her to a nearly seated position, but she slept nonetheless.

With the seven-year-old howling inside him, he settled heavily into the chair and silently wept.

Chapter thirty

Jay

Todaywasgonnabea great day.Stellar, even.

As pale winter sunlight flooded past the flimsy second curtains, Jay launched himself out of bed and bolted for the shower.He had to get moving.Henry would be calling to talk about getting him up to Maine so he could help set up the Christmas decorations and entertain Mom while she recovered.

A mental replay of his submission last night zipped his shower along to a satisfying conclusion.His phone chimed from the counter as he roughed a towel over his hair.Good enough.It would finish drying in the wind on his way to work if not before.

He still didn’t have a regular replacement for Mrs.Eickhoff’s morning slot, which meant—oh joy of joys—he could spend the whole morning running the year-end numbers and get a head start on planning for next year.And he could drop everything in a hot second once Henry called.

He thumbed to the new message.Nothing from Henry yet, but Alice had checked in.Hell, it was an hour earlier there, and she was already at the “office.”

Her selfie showed her in a highlighter-colors safety vest and a hard hat.Must-have fashion accessories for the factory floor.Thinking of you and missing our lunch today already.Love you, sweetheart.

With a little strategic towel placement, he sent her back a selfie with bare chest and bedroom eyes.Thinking of you, too.I love you, Alice.First sunny day we can, I’ll get out your helmet and we’ll go for a ride together.

HerCan’t wait!came with a string of hearts and fire.

Setting the phone aside, he got back to his morning routine.He didn’t want to be that guy, always interrupting his wife at work like he couldn’t survive ten minutes without her.Even if today was their one-month anniversary and he hadn’t said happy anniversary yet.There’d be time later.It was still early.

No need to send Henry a photo of his outfit today; he’d see when he called.Plus, Jay didn’t technically have any routes to run, unless a rider called in sick.So far, Carrie hadn’t sent him a heads-up on any potential disasters.

Breakfast went fast.He’d forgotten yesterday to get more fresh fruit, but a stash of sliced summer peaches fell out of the freezer when he grabbed an oatmeal, and a little help from the microwave and a sprinkle of cinnamon fixed that.

The envelope taunted him from the basket.Seventeen.What would Henry have for him today?

Patience, my boy.

He forced himself to finish eating first, then carried his dishes to the sink and rinsed them before stashing them in the dishwasher.Washed his hands so he didn’t smudge anything on the card.It would go upstairs in Alice’s collection before bed tonight.

Taking his seat, he sat up straight and rested his hands flat on the table.His heels drummed against the floor.His heartbeat matched their go-go-go excitement.“Now?”

Yes, now.

The paper tickled his fingers.It was thicker and rougher than printer paper, more like the specialty archival documents he sometimes couriered.Slipping his finger under the flap, he eased open the wax seal.Those initials—Henry’s initials—were on his collar and cuffs, too.Permission to wear them—to wear everything, his harness, too—would be the best cure for missing his spouses.

His wedding ring helped some, especially outside the house, because people could see he’d been chosen.But they didn’t know what that meant to him.Only people who understood the harness could know that.Sleeping in it every night probably wasn’t what Henry and Alice had had in mind a month ago when they’d buckled him in.But he’d do it if he could.

The card slid out with a tiny rasping noise that shivered down his back.A pair of penciled pillows decorated the front.

He lifted the top.

My loves.It hardly seems possible a month has passed since we spoke our vows and made public our commitment to one another.This evening we shall celebrate our union.You are to present yourselves to me in the playroom after dinner, bearing the gifts you received yesterday.Let’s put them to good use, shall we?

His throat burned.The peaches must’ve been extra acidic.Scraping his fingernail down the edge of the card, he laid it flat on the table.The pencil strokes blurred.

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