A Nantucket Christmas (16 page)

Sebastian entered the living room with a tray of flutes and an opened bottle of champagne. He set it on the side table by the window. “Champagne for everyone.”

“Even me?” Maddox asked.

Sebastian and the other adults laughed indulgently.

“It’s a special day, so you may have a sip of mine,” James told his son.

Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling. He stepped away from the table for a moment, drawn inexorably to the sight of his granddaughter. He leaned over the back of the chair where Katya sat holding the baby while Maddox raised himself up on tiptoes to peek at the blanketed bundle.

There they were, Nicole thought. Everyone together who belongs together. By the window, the tall Christmas tree she’d decorated twinkled like love made visible. In the fireplace the logs burned low, crackling with sparks as the bark snapped. Stockings hung from the mantel. The crèche sat in perfection on the table. Nicole didn’t belong in this intimate, elementary family group. She had learned in harder times how to steel her heart, and now she did her best to remember. She took deep breaths. She tried to count her blessings.

The phone rang.

“The phones are working again,” Nicole noted to no one in particular.

Sebastian answered. His tense shoulders softened. “Katya? It’s for you.”

Katya hesitated, briefly, before laying the baby in James’s arms. She reached for the phone.

“Hello?” Katya’s voice was wary.

While the others watched, Katya’s face began to glow. “Yes, I miss you, too. Wait a moment.” Putting her hand over the receiver, she said, “It’s Alonzo. I’ll take this into the other room.” She left, head high, triumphant.

Father Christmas, I owe you one,
Nicole thought. Exchanging glances with Sebastian, she could see he was thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, Maddox flew across the room and pitched himself at Nicole. Hauling himself up onto her lap, the little boy leaned against her. “Nicole, Pooh is in the kitchen,” he whispered.

Maddox’s sweet breath in her ear, his easy confidence in her being his friend, expanded Nicole’s heart into confetti and fireworks. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.

She cleared her throat. “That’s wonderful, Maddox. Is he okay?”

“Yes. I kept him warm all through the storm.”

“Maybe he needs something to eat,” Nicole suggested.

“Oh, yes!”

Sebastian was pouring the champagne and handing it around.

“I’ll be right back for mine,” Nicole told him.

Maddox took her hand and pulled her from the room, down the hall to the kitchen, where Pooh lay curled up on Sebastian’s sweater, snoring, deeply asleep. An empty bowl and plate were on the floor.

“It looks like Granddad has already fed Pooh,” Nicole said. Dropping down to Maddox’s level, she put her hands on his shoulders. “You must be hungry, too, after your adventures. Can I fix you something?”

Maddox’s eyes sparkled. “You make the best grilled cheeses, Nicole.”

“Then I’ll make you one right now,” she said, and set to work, while Maddox sat next to Pooh, scratching him softly just behind the ears.

Christmas Eve passed in a blur for Kennedy.

While her father drove off in the blizzard to fetch a friend of his who was a physician, James helped her into their bedroom so she could shower and slip on her maternity nightgown. Dr. Morris turned out to be an older woman, even calmer than Nicole, with gentle hands and a way of humming when she examined Kennedy. Not only did she pronounce Kennedy in A-plus condition, she presented her with a box of pads she’d brought from the hospital, a great relief for Kennedy on this night when every drugstore in town was shut tight. Overloaded with emotion and the drama of the evening, Kennedy thought that this humble, ordinary gift meant more than silver and gold.

Dr. Morris checked the baby, proclaiming her perfectly healthy. She put the necessary antibiotic ointment on her eyes, before, obviously pleased to be so useful, presenting Kennedy with a bag she’d prepared at the hospital. It held disposable diapers, tiny cotton shirts and several sleep rompers with infinitely small cotton cuffs that folded over the baby’s hands to prevent her from scratching her face.

After Sebastian drove Dr. Morris home, Nicole set out a buffet on the dining room table: the beef Wellington sliced into pieces, vegetables, warm bread. No one sat at the table, but wandered here and there with a plate and a glass, perching on the edge of a chair, saying over and over again, “Isn’t it amazing? Can you believe she’s here? And on Christmas Eve!” Everyone was still animated and vaguely flustered, constantly peeking at the baby as if to be certain she really existed.

After some discussion, James helped Maddox rouse the sleepy little dog and take him out into the backyard where the animal performed his physical duties with alacrity, then raced back into the house. Tonight, James and Kennedy agreed, during a private conference, Pooh could sleep on the floor in Maddox’s bedroom. After all, Kennedy thought with a private, slightly guilty smugness, if the dog did something on the rug, it wouldn’t be her job to deal with it.

Because Pooh was allowed to sleep in his room, Maddox went to bed easily, and after his adventurous evening, he fell asleep at once. The dog, James told Kennedy, curled up on the rug next to the bed as if he considered himself Maddox’s protector.

Kennedy was thankful that Maddox had the animal at least for a few nights. It would keep him from feeling excluded in the commotion over the new baby. Perhaps she’d even let him keep the dog.

Kennedy was utterly drained. Her head swam with the buzz of her family’s conversation. People loomed up at her like boats through the fog.

“How is she?” Sebastian asked, or James, or Katya.

“Is she still sleeping?” Katya inquired, or Sebastian, or James.

“Would you like me to hold her while you eat?” offered James, or Katya, or Sebastian.

Nicole came to her rescue. “Kennedy, you shouldn’t overexert yourself. It’s time for you to get in bed and go to sleep.”

“But the baby, where will she sleep?” Kennedy worried.

“In a dresser drawer, just as infants have throughout the centuries.”

Kennedy recoiled with dismay. “The wood will be so hard.”

Nicole shook her head. “I’ve lined it with quilts. Besides, she’ll probably end up in bed with you and James.”

Nicole showed Kennedy how to wrap the baby “like a burrito”—so snugly the baby felt as contently secure as she had been Kennedy’s belly.

“Now go to bed and get some sleep. We’re not as wiped out as you are. In fact, we’re all rather overexcited. So until we all go to bed,” Nicole told Kennedy, “someone out here in the living room will hold your baby.”

“I want to hold her,” Kennedy confessed. “I don’t want to let her go.”

“The best thing you can do for her now,” Nicole assured her, “is sleep.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, darling.” Katya kissed Kennedy’s forehead. “Before I leave for Boston.”

Nothing had ever felt as soft as the plump mattress Kennedy lay on. Clouds, or perhaps it was a down comforter, warmed her weary body. Sleep came at once.

And good thing, for when the baby’s thin cry from the drawer woke her at four in the morning, everyone else was asleep. Next to her on the bed, James snored loudly, a chainsaw noise that drowned out his daughter’s cries.

Kennedy lifted her daughter from the dresser drawer and carried her into the living room. She changed her diaper and wrapped her snugly again. She decided to rest on the sofa, holding the infant in her arms.

The windows were black with deep nigh t. The blizzard had passed. The wind was gone. It was silent throughout the house and over the island. The fire had burned out in the fireplace, but the room was still warm. Kennedy turned on the lights of the Christmas tree to keep her company as she rested with her babe in her arms.

She couldn’t believe her good fortune. Now she had a son and a daughter, and a husband who loved them. Her mother was leaving in the morning to meet Alonzo in Boston. And now she could finally admit it: Kennedy had never seen her father look so happy as when he was with Nicole.

As for Nicole—all Kennedy’s animosity had vanished, replaced by the cheering assurance that she would have her father’s new, steady-handed and knowledgeable wife in her life as she went forward as a mother. She wished she had some way to thank Nicole, to express her inexpressible appreciation for all she’d done. What could she possibly do to articulate her gratitude?

In the morning, Kennedy decided sleepily, she’d tell James what she’d like to name their new daughter.

Nicole Katya Noel.