“More than I’ve ever been,” he assured her, stepping closer.
“Choosing one, though... How can I possibly—”
“Choose with your heart, my dear Joy. You have more than enough to share,” he encouraged.
“Then we’ll need another stocking,” she mused, already lost in thoughts of which child might soon call their house a home. “It will be hard to choose just one…”
“Stockings, bicycles, marbles…We’ll need a bigger mantle,” Thomas teased.
“Help me with these trays, will you?” Joy motioned toward the counter.
“Only if I get to sample the goods,” Thomas bargained. He thought about how much he’d changed since their wedding in June. In six months, he’d learned to garden—albeit poorly—and now he was helping in the kitchen. He’d never dreamed he would do either of those things before, and now they seemed like they were normal things to do.
“Deal,” she said, passing him a cookie. “But only one, or we won’t have enough for the children.”
“Of course, just one,” he agreed, although they both knew his resolve would crumble like the sugar cookie in his hands.
Together, they worked in harmonious disarray, the kitchen a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and laughter. And as each cookie was placed on the tray, they thought of the child who would eat it. Christmas would be glorious!
*****
The first light of Christmas morning barely tinged the Boston skyline as Thomas and Joy, bundled against the cold, stood before the towering wrought-iron gates of the orphanage. They’d brought a horse-drawn wagon full of presents with them, eager to give them to the children.
“Ready to play Santa and Mrs. Claus?” Thomas asked, his tone teasing but his hand squeezing hers with affection.
“Only if you’re prepared to be outdone by Mrs. Claus’s superior gift-giving abilities,” Joy shot back, a playful glint in her eye.
Thomas chuckled, the sound mixing with the jingle of keys as he unlocked the gate. “I must concede, your cookies have probably already made us the heroes of the day.”
“Ah, but your bicycles might just turn us into legends,” she countered with a grin.
They navigated the cobblestone path leading to the main building, their arms laden with bundles of sweets and toys. The early hour meant the children would still be nestled in their beds, visions of sugar-plums—or Joy’s gingerbread men—dancing in their heads.
They walked to and from the wagon many times leaving everything just outside the door.
Joy paused at the door, her heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. “Do you think they’ll like the rocking horses?”
“If they don’t, I suppose you’ll have to take up riding them yourself,” Thomas said.
“Ha! A sight that would be. Me, atop a miniature steed, leading a cavalry of orphans into battle against imaginary dragons,” Joy said. “And my stomach would undoubtedly be the first to arrive.”
“An unbeatable force, no doubt,” Thomas agreed.
Their entrance roused the matron from her office, her stern look softening at the sight of the couple’s festive intentions. “Mr. and Mrs. Worthington, to what do we owe the honor?”
“Christmas, Mrs. Graves,” Joy replied, her voice warm as freshly baked bread. “We’ve come bearing gifts for the children.”
“Gifts and the promise of adopting one lucky soul today,” Thomas added.
“Adopting? My word…” The matron was visibly moved, dabbing her eye with the corner of her apron. “That is a gift beyond measure.”
“Let’s get all the gifts inside,” Joy suggested. “We have an entire mountain of presents just outside the door.”
Mrs. Graves looked as if she was the one receiving the gifts. “We’ll put them in the living room around the Christmas tree!”
The three of them worked quietly to bring all of the toys inside. Finally, the scene was set, and they were ready for the orphans.
“Should we wake them, or let them get up on their own?” Joy asked.
