Christmas Tales - Brandon Witt Page 0,8

ready by six. Todd Fleece is an hour late to everything, every time. Unfortunately, he figured out I was adjusting the time a few years back, so now he thinks he has even more time to primp. I was able to hold dinner until six-thirty when he finally showed up.

And, sure enough, Steve brought a new trick of the month—out came the spare place setting. True to form, Gabe forgot the Horny Elf gift, he and his date—two more prewrapped presents appeared under the tree.

By the time all of them were there, I began to feel a little more like myself.

I was surrounded by my chosen family, and with them, I was enough. I was happy.

It had even begun to snow again.

I paused in the doorway, the platter of molasses and mustard pork loin heavy in my hands. They were beautiful—my friends. They laughed and gossiped around the table. The candles spread throughout the room cast a warm, gentle glow. Just beyond, the Christmas tree reflected in the living room window.

Suddenly the events of the night before didn’t hurt any longer. I would treasure the memory and the gift of those few hours.

I’d just set the pork loin down in the center of the table and started to take my seat when the doorbell chimed.

My heart leapt in my chest for the briefest moment, and then I pushed the thought aside. I’d received my quota of Christmas miracles.

Excusing myself, I hurried to the door and opened it without checking the peephole.

Logan grinned at me as he stood on the porch, snow falling around him, once again without a jacket. “Hi. I hope you meant your invitation and that you weren’t just being nice.” He held out a horribly wrapped something. “I brought my own Horny Elf gift, if that helps.”

Yeah. Yep. No doubt. I was still buried in snow beneath a recently fallen spruce. The only reasonable explanation.

“Yes, of course I did. We are just sitting down to dinner.” Though I’d managed words, my body had yet to move.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to get my nerve up.” He looked anxious, which made no sense at all. “You sure you’ve got room?”

I moved. Thank God, I moved. Out of the doorway and to the porch. “Yes. For sure. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here.”

There was the confident smile once more. “Good.” Logan leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

Before he pulled away, he took hold of my hand.

I looked at him in disbelief. His beautiful face highlighted by the flashing Christmas lights I’d strung over the doorway, snow drifting down behind him like stars from the night sky.

I smiled at last, starting to believe.

“Come in.”

He did, closing the door behind him and wiping his feet on the entrance rug. Yeah, I was falling.

Logan didn’t let go of my hand as we joined the others at the table.

I couldn’t keep the stupid, ridiculously happy grin off my face. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Logan Charles. He tried to kill me with a snowmobile last night.”

One

Feathers were going to fly. It was only fair. I told Faloola the time before that if she wandered off again, it would be her last. I gave her too much leeway. Pretty soon all the other turkeys were going to start taking little holidays as well.

I kept threatening to turn her into turkey noodle casserole.

We both knew I wouldn’t.

But damn, she had to pick a day like this to wander off. Even with the thermal underwear, thick felt hat, gloves, and wool scarf, the freezing air cut through me as surely as if I’d jumped into my icy pond. Snow was pretty looking out from my window, but that was it. When I was a child, five decades ago, I’d loved the white shit, thought it the best thing ever. Those days were long gone. Now it just made my bones ache and tried to give my cattle’s noses frostbite.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been nearly sunset, I wouldn’t have worried about it. Faloola always came back. Even though she was my favorite, she wasn’t a kindred spirit. She liked adventure, travel, seeing new things. In all of my fifty-six years, I’d yet to leave the Show-Me State. Not even once. I used to be proud of that fact. Made me the most genuine of all Missourians. Somehow made me better than the rest, even if I didn’t completely fit in with them.

Of course, maybe if I’d traveled some, I’d have