A Home For Christmas

“Will this do?” Missy asked.

Annie and Joey nodded in unison.

She spread the paper on the table. “How big?”

“Big,” Annie said. “Real big so the wise men can see it.”

Missy sketched a five-pointed star on the one-foot-square piece of paper. “Is this good?”

The children nodded, their gazes riveted to the sheet.

She cut the star out.

“I’ll carry it,” Joey said, and Annie didn’t argue.

Joey returned to the window. “Uncle Wade won’t forget, will he?” Worry darkened his voice.

Missy glanced past him. “Look. He’s just leaving the barn.”

The children rushed for their coats, except for Grady, who held back. “Mama, they said I could go, too.”

Linette glanced at Missy, who nodded. “Wade said it was okay.”

“Very well, you may join them.”

There ensued a flurry of activity—struggling into coats and hurrying to do up the buttons, finding hats and scarves and boots. By the time Wade stepped inside, three children bundled up for winter waited at the door.

He gazed at the children, a puzzled expression on his face. “Looks like you’re going out.”

Three heads nodded.

“Got something planned, do you?” He kept his voice quizzical, but Missy saw the flash of teasing in his eyes and leaned back to watch how it would play out.

Annie nodded decisively, but the two boys looked at each other as if to check if they had misunderstood the plans.

“Anything I should know about?” Wade asked.

“Uncle Wade.” Annie’s voice dripped with impatience. “You know we’re going to the barn for Boxing Day.”

“Oh, that. I thought we had all day to do it. I didn’t know you were so eager.”

“We’re ready now.” Annie emphasized the last word.

Joey watched.

Missy sensed his uncertainty. The child half expected to be disappointed. She wanted to warn Wade not to tease too long, but before she could speak, Wade tugged his nephew’s hat. “You ready, too?”

Joey nodded, his eyes filling with eagerness.

“How about you?” Wade tugged Grady’s hat next.

“I’m ready.”

“Then let’s go.” He reached for Annie’s hand.

Missy hadn’t been included. She hoped her smile looked sincere, when inside she fought disappointment. Somehow she’d seen herself as part of this mysterious celebration.

Wade waited at the door. “Hurry and get your coat,” he said to her.

Missy hurried.

Joey reached for her hand at the door and she offered her other one to Grady.

They trooped down the snow-crusted hill to the barn and stepped into the dim interior. The smells of horses and hay filled the air. Dust motes drifted past the squares of light from the row of windows. The nearest horse turned and whinnied a greeting.

Eddie stood to one side, watching without intruding.

Wade led them toward an empty stall. “Here we are. A manger for us to prepare. Who wants to put in fresh hay?”

“That’s my job.” Joey handed the paper star to his sister and took the pitchfork that had been placed nearby. He lifted fresh hay from a little pile and spread it as carefully as a hand-knit blanket.

The door swung open and Daisy and her sister and brothers slipped in. They approached the group, each clutching something in their hands.

Again the door opened and closed as three cowboys stepped inside and came to stand by Eddie.

Wade grinned. “Seems word got around about the Boxing Day event.”

“You don’t mind?” Missy wasn’t sure if this was a private family occasion.

“Everyone is welcome, right, kids?”

Annie and Joey murmured agreement, but their attention remained on smoothing the hay in the manger. Finally satisfied, they stepped back. “The manager is ready just like it would have been for baby Jesus.”

“I have the star.” Annie handed it to Wade. “Can you please hang it for me?”

Wade must have known about the star. Of course he would. This was a family tradition. He stuck it on a nail above the manger.

The children stepped back, forcing Wade to crowd to Missy’s side. She thought of moving, but there was nowhere to go, so she stayed where she was, Wade’s arm brushing hers. She felt him in every pore, the scent of him, fresh hay and old leather, the size and strength and determination of him. And something more. Something that transcended the five senses. She didn’t know what it was, but knew she wasn’t mistaken in thinking there was more to him than what a person saw on the surface.

Her nerves twitched. Her cheeks burned. Why was she assuming to know his feelings? She knew practically nothing about the man, and what she did know she wanted to change. Her desire was to see the children stay with him, not go to strangers, despite his reasons for feeling he had to make this decision.

She stiffened, trying to pretend she was unaware that their arms touched. She was here only to encourage and support the children and to help take care of them. But she fully intended to use what little time she had to convince him not to send away two little ones who adored him.

Joey signaled to the waiting children and Daisy led them forward.

“I brought a blanket,” she said, and spread a worn cloth over the hay.

Daisy lifted her youngest sibling, little Pansy, who dropped a bright button to the blanket. “I bring shiny.”