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“Merry Christmas, little one.”
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
Melchior
Why am I not surprised to find Seraphina in the kitchen?
Flour dusts almost every surface and a stack of batter clumped mixing bowls fill the sink. Chocolate macaroons garnished with cherries cool on the table between a huge white mixer and a pile of wax paper with crumbs from her earlier baking.
Obviously, she’s been in here for hours. She’s happy though, with her Christmas music playing and her candles burning, so who am I to judge?
I guess that’s why my brother and father don’t have her on her back or on her knees. She needs more than them mauling her to be satisfied living here with all of us.
“There you are.”
I stride directly to her and engulf her in a backward hug, breathing deep. “Hey baby girl.”
With her arms pinned under my embrace, she pauses in icing her gingerbread men. “Hi.”
“Something smells good in here.”
Just like her not to be mad from my intrusion, she giggles. “It’s the cookies.”
“It’s you.”
She’s the only goodness in our world, and I want to absorb as much of her as possible. Lest the greed and brutality consume me completely.
“Do you want to help?”
I immediately release her and jog backwards as if I can’t get away fast enough. Her sweet laugh bounces through the expansive room again. She knows I’d rather eat her goodies than perform the actual work required to make them.
“Okay, I get it. I get it.” Her wholesome expression still manages to implore me. “Do you at least want to keep me company?”
“That I can do.”
Today is Christmas Day, and since Mary’s off visiting with her niece, I don’t have to worry about her fussing at me. Luckily, she made a feast ahead of time so that all we have to do is warm up the food because I don’t like to cook either.
I grab a beer from the fridge and plop down on a stool across from Seraphina’s work area.
She frowns at me as I twist off the top and take a long swallow.
“It’s not even noon.”
This time I laugh. “I’m celebrating.”
I hold up the bottle in a mock toast. “Happy birthday, Jesus!”
Her braids flit across her shoulders as she giggles and shakes her head. “You’re terrible.”
“I know.” I grab her gift from my pocket and slap the rectangular case on the counter. “But maybe with this, I’ll redeem myself.”
The way her lips part and create a perfectomakes me wish I liked pussy. Or at least her in that way. Alas, I don’t. So, friends we shall remain.
A blush explodes on her cheeks as I pop the lid revealing a silver anklet with four charms—three crowns and a snowflake. “Balthazar has your finger and Dad has your throat, so I thought I’d take your leg. Together, all of us claim you as ours.”
“Oh my gosh!”
She drops the piping bag and quickly bends to shove off her sock.
