Christmas in the City - Jill Barnett Page 0,54

name was a prayer on his lips, his name a whisper of love from her.

And when he was deep inside her, loving her tenderly and gently, it was good,—so very, very good. He cried when he felt her passion explode, because he was so in awe that she loved him and was his.

They loved all night and most of the morning. It was late Christmas afternoon before they got up. She tried to hide her body in the bright daylight. He chased her, pulling off her clothes until she stood naked before him.

She had trouble looking at him. "My body is old," she mumbled, looking embarrassed and ashamed.

"Not to me. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"But I'm not perfect. I'm not young."

He walked over to her and placed his knuckle on her chin and tilted her face up. Her eyes met his. "No, but your body's got something else that's better than perfection, my beautiful wife."

"What?"

"It's got character."

And she burst out laughing.

Epilogue

New York City, Christmas Eve, 1905

Giant Gymnasium still sat in the belly of New York, except now there were two entrances—one for the gentlemen and one for the ladies. There was also a separate smoking room. This Christmas, like the last seven, there were holly wreaths on the doors, one with red ribbons and one with green, and garland was draped on the fire escapes.

In the rear alley where carriages used to park there was now a brand spanking new Pierce Arrow sedan that still had pine needles scattered in the back from this year's Christmas tree. Inside, the lobby was still huge, but there was a homey wood stove with a basket of pine cones next to it, and Christmas music played on a Victrola with the RCA dog painted on the horn.

The message board was no longer there, because a large black telephone switchboard sat in its place. Behind the lobby was a small office, where Mrs. Nell Donoughue took care of the gymnasium books.

Up the stairs, the family home was now both the third and fourth floors, with an inside staircase that connected the floors. High above the fourth floor, the ceiling was still glass and two telescopes sat on their bases in the center of the main room.

Conn Donoughue stomped up the stairs, his huge arms filled with brightly wrapped packages. He shook the light snow from his shoulders and walked through the front door, stepping around cat toys and a scattering of children's mittens.

He set the packages down by the crooked tree and turned around just as his five-year-old son hollered, "Catch me, Daddy!"

Adam Donoughue leapt off the tall oak cabinet, bounced on his mother's new brocade sofa, and flew toward his father with his arms spread like an eagle.

He smacked into his father's chest with a thud. But his father would catch him; he always did.

Conn carried his son into the kitchen, where there were small hand prints of fudge on the table, the icebox, the walls, and his wife's face, and where nine cats with Christmas bows tied around their scrawny necks played under the work table.

Three-year-old Julia sat in her mother's lap, her small hands cupping Nell's cheek while she gave her a kiss. "Happy Chrith-muth, Mama."

"What's this? No happy Chrith—muth for your father?" Conn gave her a mock frown.

Julie looked up with a very serious face that looked exactly like her mother's. She planted her fudgy hands on her waist and frowned at him, scolding, "Not Chrith—muth, Daddy! It'th called Chrith-muthl"

He leaned down and planted a loud smooch on her small face, then bent toward his wife. "I believe it's not only Christmas, now, is it?" He kissed Nell and tasted chocolate and love and everything that was important in his life. "Happy Anniversary, Nellibelle."

"Ah, mush!" Adam screwed up his face. "Yuk! I'll never kiss a girl!"

Conn looked at him. "I'll remind you of that someday, son."

And later that night, when the children had been tucked into their beds in their rooms on the fourth floor, Conn stood one floor below, in the their bedroom and pulled his wife into his arms. "Happy Christmas, Nellibelle."

Then he started to kiss her.

Above him, someone whispered, "Ah, mush!" Then a small giggle that sounded like his Julibelle sounded from the ceiling. He snapped his head up and saw one small eyeball, just like his son's, peering down at them from a small hole he'd never seen before. There was some whispering, and second later, he saw his daughter's eye