a bigger kid about the holiday than Matt. Every year she’d helped Gabe hang the outdoor lights the weekend after Thanksgiving. Every year they decorated the tree on December first. Every year they lit candles on an Advent wreath and followed a seasonal prayer guide at the beginning of their evening meal.
And Matty … oh, dear Lord, Matty. His joy during the Christmas season knew no bounds. He scrambled out of bed every morning and opened the appropriate door on the Advent calendar even before he dashed to the toilet to pee. He walked around the house yelling “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas” for weeks, and he could quote an amazing amount of dialogue from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie. For as long as he lived, Gabe would never forget his son on his last Christmas morning. Dressed in the goofy Santa’s elf pajamas—complete with a pointy hat—that his mother had bought him, Matt had stood before the Christmas tree totally silent. He visibly shook with excitement.
Tears stung Gabe’s eyes. He closed them and rested his forehead against the cold windowpane, wondering if he could talk his in-laws into skipping Christmas, just pretend it wasn’t happening. They could all hit the slopes tomorrow and wear themselves out. Avoid the holiday altogether.
The idea held an undeniable appeal.
He glanced back over his shoulder toward the Christmas tree and wished for the millionth time that God would turn the clock back, let him have that moment over again when he’d reacted just a tragic moment too slow.
He felt a nudge against his legs, and Gabe smiled down sadly at the goofy-looking boxer dog. The dog licked his hand, then Gabe scratched him behind the ears and sighed. “Might as well get this over with, hadn’t we, dog?”
Gabe heaved a heavy sigh, braced himself, and returned to work. Lifting the cover off a box, he absorbed the impact of the contents. Reverently he lifted from the box the tablecloth they’d signed with their names, date, and a message or drawing with paint pens every Christmas Eve. He swallowed hard when he uncovered the three stockings Jen had made from red and green felt. His lips twisted with a crooked smile as he brushed his thumb over the tiny charcoal grill she’d made for his stocking.
Next he tackled the box of ornaments and reached for a crystal heart engraved with the words “Our First Christmas Together” with a trembling hand.
He got it on the tree. He managed the Baby’s First Christmas ornament and a dozen other memory-laden decorations. Just when he thought he might actually make it through the task, he found Matt’s Rudolf. Made from a white paper plate colored with brown crayon, it had a red felt circle for a nose, plastic glue-on eyes, and antlers formed by the outline of a kindergartner’s hands. Of Matt’s hands.
“Dear Lord.” Gabe’s knees gave out. He sank to the floor, breathing as if he’d run a marathon. He wanted to curl up in a fetal position and whimper.
Instead, when the dog approached him and attempted to lick his face, Gabe wrapped his arms around the boxer’s neck and held on, hugging him tight. He allowed the memories to come.
How long he sat there, lost in the past, he didn’t know. It must have been awhile. At some point, though, he heard his cell phone ringing. He was tempted to ignore it, but with his family traveling, he didn’t dare. He fished the phone from his pocket, checked the display. Sure enough, it was Pam.
He tensed and dragged his hand along his jaw. “Hello?”
“Hi, Gabe.”
“Hey, Pam. Are you calling from the airport?”
“I wish.” She hesitated just long enough that his heart sank. “I have crummy news. Nathan broke his leg. We’re not going to make it to Colorado for Christmas.”
“Ah, Pam. That poor kid. What happened?”
“He wasn’t paying attention and slipped on the ice. He’ll be okay, but he’s really uncomfortable and traveling is out of the question. I’m so sorry, Gabe. We really wanted to be with you today and tomorrow. I needed to be with you.”
Gabe braced himself and asked, “Do you want me to come there?”
“No, we’ll be okay. I’m worried about you, though.”
His gaze drifted toward the half-decorated tree. “I’ll be okay, too,” he told her, knowing he lied. “You just take good care of Nate. Tell him I said he’s supposed to break his leg when he’s on the slopes, not before he gets there.”