Two hours later, Finn stirred on his own. He rolled to his back and gazed up at Diego. “Good morning, my hero. Are you saving me from myself again?”
He combed his fingers through the inky silk of Finn’s waist-length hair. “I’d fight dragons for you if I had to. Though I’d rather not have to. And it’s almost dinnertime.”
Finn chuckled, then cried out when he tried to sit up. “Ach, bloody, blasted head. Feels like it’s full of jagged rocks.”
“No more coffee for you. Ever.”
“I’ll mount no protest on that account.”
While Diego cooked dinner, Finn sat at the kitchen table sipping willow-bark tea and talking more sensibly to Miriam. She brought presents out of her bags for both of them while they waited—a box of good sable brushes and a black silk shirt for Finn, and a pair of arctic weather gloves for Diego.
“I need you to protect your fingers,” Miriam explained. “Gotta keep those little digits typing on your dragon edits.”
They both thanked her, and Diego kissed her cheek before he went back to the stove.
“Why do people give presents in winter?” Finn rested his head on his arms.
Miriam laughed. “Because it’s Christmas, silly boy.”
“And if you have never celebrated Christmas?”
“Well, then, Hanukkah or Solstice or Yule, or whatever. Why are you asking, sweetie? I know they’ve got Christmas in Ireland.”
Diego rescued them before the conversation became too bizarre. “I think he means in a more general sense. People give presents for lots of reasons,mi vida. Sometimes to gain favor or as part of a courtship or because it’s the socially accepted thing, like for a birthday. Some people only give presents because they want to get them.”
“Rather mercenary.”
“Yes, it is. But I think this time of year, for a long time, people have gathered closer together because it’s darker and colder. You just feel warmer about your family and friends, the people you love. And the best reason to give presents is to see the light in their eyes.”
“Oh.”
Finn sounded so despondent, Diego whirled to look at him. “What’s the matter?”
“I have nothing to give Miriam.”
“Oh, hey, gorgeous, don’t sweat it.” Miriam gave his arm a pat. “Starving artist and all. It’s not like I expect it.”
When Finn was uncharacteristically silent all through dinner, Diego put it down to exhaustion and headache. Apparently, he had been deep in thought, though.
“Miriam,” he said. “Could I give you the painting of Diego?”
“Oh, hon, no,” Miriam said with a snort. “That’s an incredible piece. You need to sell that.”
“I have no wish for a stranger to have it. You think it beautiful. I would like to give it to you.” He turned to Diego, one black brow arched. “Am I not doing this correctly?”
Diego laced his fingers with Finn’s. “Perfectly,mi amor. Please, Miriam, it would mean a great deal to him for you to have it. You helped us so much, been nothing but kind to us.”
“Don’t you ever say that where people can hear,” Miriam grumbled. “Kind. Trying to ruin my reputation.” She took Finn’s free hand. “Thanks, gorgeous. It’s a very thoughtful gift.”
Her eyes shone with a suspiciously wet glint, and Finn managed his first brilliant smile in weeks.
Finn lay curled under his indoor sun on the soft nest of blankets Diego had made for him in the study. He found if he lay naked, letting the light hit as much of his skin as possible, his energy increased. Clothes were such a bother in any case.
Miriam had been so pleased with his present, still beaming as she’d left that morning to visit family on Prince Edward Island, and her delight had wrapped a warm glow about Finn’s heart. He rather liked the feeling. Giving was a new experience, a difficult one if a person had never owned anything before to give, although he supposed one could give other things as gifts—pleasure, peace, comfort. Or did those not qualify as gifts?
He buried his head under his pillow, confused all over again.
The Winter Solstice, one of the four days of the year when the tides of magic ran highest, was the next day. It struck him as the most appropriate day for the giving of gifts, from everything Diego had said.