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"That eggnog will sneak up on you."
Ember was sitting on the couch watching Sage and Sawyer argue about who had made the lopsided snowman ornament in second grade. It was made from clay and painted with a white glaze. The point of the carrot nose had broken off. And his black top hat was missing the brim on one side.
Sage held it to her chest. “This one is mine. Yours is the one that broke ten years ago.” She looked at Jake as he sat on the couch next to Ember with a glass of spiked eggnog. “Dad, this is mine, right?”
He held out his hand, and she brought it to him. He looked at it, then looked at the initials scrawled on the bottom of it. “S O.” He handed it back to her.
“We’re both S O, Dad.”
He shrugged. “There’s no way to tell who made this particular snowman. All snowmen made by second graders tend to look alike. Especially by you two. I was hoping it said J O. That’d put an end to this juvenile argument weseem to have every year.”
J.T. laughed and held up a clay reindeer. “I made a reindeer in Mrs. Blanchet’s class. And it’s a hell of a lot better than that snowman.”
Sage looked at the cock-eyed smile and uneven eyes of the snowman. “I know this one is mine.” She went to the tree and hung it on a branch, then stepped back and looked at it.
Sawyer studied it for a moment. “You’re right. That one has to be yours. Mine was a lot better, too.”
Jake sighed and took a sip of his eggnog. “Can we move on to something else, please?” Ember smiled, and he nudged her. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just really love you guys.”
Genny came in with a plate of decorated sugar cookies and set it on the coffee table. Jake reached for a cookie while J.T. brought Genny a peacock ornament.
“Here you go, Aunt Genny.”
“Oh, I forgot about this one.” She hugged J.T., then looked at Ember. “My tree is covered with bird ornaments. Every now and then, we find another one tucked away.” She smiled at Jake. “And my sweet brother usually brings one to me when he takes his summer trip.”
Jake sat up, sprinkling crumbs from his sugar cookie on the front of his shirt. “Shit. I found one for you. It was in my truck. Those bastards probably threw it in the trash.”
J.T. laughed. “Bastards? Plural? I thought you couldn’t remember the attack.”
“I don’t. But there had to be more than one.”
He nodded. “I suppose it would take more than one guy to bring you down, Dad.”
“Damn right.” He looked at Genny. “It was a rooster. A really funky rooster. I got it in Boulder.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet. Let’s hope one of the bastards brought it home to his wife.”
Jake scowled. “And it’s hanging on his Christmas tree? I’d rather it got thrown in the trash.”
She smiled. “We’ll go with that, then.”
Ember patted his leg. “And let’s be thankful you only lost a few hours. It’s probably better that you don’t remember the attack.”
J.T. nodded. “Yeah. The memory of what really happened could be embarrassing.”
Jake scowled again. “Seriously?”
“Sorry, Dad. I’m just kidding. They came up behind you, right? You didn’t have a chance to react or fight back.”
“Yeah. I can live with that.” He rubbed the back of his head where he’d been hit six and a half months ago. “I wouldn’t mind seeing them again, though.” He looked at Sawyer. “I’d sic my son on them.”
Sawyer laughed. “I don’t generally fight out of the ring, Dad. But for you, I’d make an exception.”
Jacob was sitting in an easy chair near the fireplace and held up his cup of eggnog. “If you all are done arguing about snowman made in the second grade. And the men who coldcocked your father and left him for dead behind a bar in Santa Fe, I’d like to make a toast.”
Everyone gathered their cups spread around the room, then returned to the tree.
