574 comments/  711067 views/  1115 favorites

Charity Begins Next Door

By: Tx Tall Tales



===================

Life isn't fair. So when you fight back, fight dirty.

===================

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year.

I married young, and had two perfect daughters, but my marriage was far from perfect. We had been young and in love. I was entering the community college and Denise was starting her senior year when we decided to tie the knot. Her family's ready acceptance of me was a huge factor - the family I'd never had, making me feel like a real member of theirs. I can admit it now; I probably loved being a part of the family as much as I loved Denise.

Our split up was inevitable, two teenagers who knew nothing about life thinking their infatuation with each other would make everything else workout. I wasn't an all-star, super jock, Rhodes Scholar with a 12" swinging dick. I was just your average student, A's and B's, spending some bench time on the football team to get my letter, and losing my virginity at 18 to the girl I'd eventually marry. 

When times got rough, we didn't know how to handle it, and struck out at each other. Her family often stepped in and helped out when they could, but time after time, the great sex wasn't enough to make up for the difference in our wants, needs and ambitions.

In the end, we gave up. Sometimes I think it's a miracle we made it through 5 years. Our devotion to our children allowed us to finally see past our own issues, and work out a remarkably amiable truce, with our girls at the center. Even though Denise and I couldn't live together, it turned out we got along a lot better divorced. We shared our daughters' time, lived only one neighborhood apart, and worked together as a team to make our personal differences have as little impact on our girls as possible.

I had initially shared an apartment uptown, but eventually bought one of the smallest houses in the same school district, just to make things easier. It was a lot more than I needed most of the time, but when the girls stayed with me it felt like a home. And we only lived a couple of miles apart.

The neighborhood was nice, predominantly younger families, in older, smallish homes. Most of the people were cordial, kept up their property, and after a few years I knew many by name and would exchange greetings at the grocery store, or when out shopping. I had become suburbanized.

This was our fourth Christmas since the divorce. Denise was living with Eric, who I wish I could despise, but he was a decent guy with a great job and lousy taste in sports teams. He doted on my girls without trying to take my place. It had taken a while, but we'd developed a friendship, which wasn't a bad thing.

My child support was pegged at just over $1500, with the kids on my health insurance. Even though we weren't married long enough for alimony to kick in, I was paying another $500 a month just to make the kids' lives better. And for me, that was all that really mattered. 

The expense had been rough at first, but with little to concentrate on other than work, my performance skyrocketed. Two promotions in three years had made the financial aspect much less problematic, but increased travel had made the ability to be available for the girls less guaranteed. Denise was good about it, and worked with me. In return I picked up some more of the girls' expenses, including music lessons and a piano.

Christmas was special. We celebrated Christmas an an extended family. I'd come over early, and we'd have a big family breakfast and open all the presents together. I really went all out to make sure the girls got their favorite items. At six and eight years old, they were still young enough to have simple wants, and the magic of Christmas was as real as it gets. Thes would come over in the afternoon with more presents and we'd have a good old fashioned Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It was nice to be part of something. 

I got a Christmas shut-down at work and Denise didn't, so we agreed that they'd stay with me from Christmas to New Year's, and any time she could get off, we'd usually work out something to get her time with the kids. It was understood that I wouldn't leave town, at least not for more than a day.

Summer was great with the 2 weeks I got to spend with them, and we'd usually spend it on the beach. Christmas was still different. Christmas was magical.

I always was given the girl's wish list, but I'd also start my shopping in late November for the must have items of the season. And I wasn't stingy; I'd buy them all up, just to make sure I didn't miss any. Stores, online auctions, Craigslist, I'd use any way possible to get my hands on the hottest presents. The first two years I'd caught hell from Denise for buying everything on the list, leaving nothing for them to get. Now I received a separate list of things I wasn't allowed to buy.

So it was that I had just finished wrapping my forty-fourth present, all in glitter Barbie paper for Briana, and in Hannah Montana paper for Allora. December 5th, my earliest date so far to finish the bulk of my shopping. Sure, I'd pick up a few more things, including something for Denise and Eric, but my girls were taken care of. The presents were carefully spread around my living room, where they'd remain on display until just before Christmas, when I'd bring them over to Denise's in a big ceremony.

The call came from Denise's mother, Sharon. It took me 11 minutes flat to get to the hospital. I was still too late. Denise and Briana had both died en-route. Eric had passed away only ten minutes before I'd arrived. But Allora, my perfect little Allora, was fighting for her life, in critical condition. She'd always been a fighter, would never back down from any challenge. She'd beat this too, I just knew it. 

It was a freak accident, with a car dodging out of the way to miss a coyote on the road. An 18 wheeler behind the car did his best to avoid the car in front of him, but ended up fishtailing, and taking out a suburban in the next lane over. That vehicle crossed the median and hit my ex-wife's family van head-on. Six dead already and one little girl still fighting hard for her dear life.

Sharon and I kept a vigil over the little towhead, and when the doctors came out after 6 hours and declared the worst was over and she was in stable condition, we fell into each other's arms and cried like children. 

We stayed by her side, one of us always present, and Sharon called me when my baby woke up and spoke. For three long days we watched her slowly heal in the hospital, the worst of her bruises, cuts and contusions blossoming on the second day, and only just starting to fade again. I'm not a religious guy by nature, but I found myself on my knees beside her bed, praying to God to take care of her, and giving thanks for pulling her through this horrendous disaster.

At 4:18 pm on December 7th she passed away.

No warning, no reason, she was there, and then she wasn't. The doctors suspected a clot. I suspected incompetence.

I finally understood how a person could get so down on themselves that life might not even feel worth living.

I went home and shut myself off from the world. After a while I took the phone off the hook. Hell, let's be honest, I ripped the fucking wires out of the wall so I didn't have to listen to one more bleeding heart tell me they were "sorry for my loss". The cell phone was easier. I just turned it off.

Several people from work came by and assured me that I could take as much time as I needed. They'd bring me food, and news, and would leave as soon as they felt they'd spent the minimum time required socially by the situation. 

Denise's family took care of the funeral arrangements. They attempted to call, and even stopped by for my input. I gave them a check for $10,000 to take care of the girls, nearly wiping out my savings. What was I going to spend it on now? I couldn't bring myself to go to the showing but I did take a shower and put on a suit for the funeral. It was a bleak day, gray skies, 20 mile an hour winds threatening to tear the top off of the outdoor tent. The ground was soggy from rain the previous night. Just perfect.

"Thanks, God. Piss on a guy when he's down. Well, fuck You too."

I shook the required hands, and kissed the offered cheeks until I just couldn't take it any longer. All these fake people. Fake emotions. Tell me how sorry they were then go home to their perfect little families and eat meatloaf. Fuck'em. Fuck'em all.

Fourteen days. Two solid weeks in that dark house. I wouldn't turn on any lights. No TV. I didn't bathe, I didn't shave. I sat in my chair or I lay in my bed and wallowed.

I had a few visitors after the first couple of days, but I'd rarely let them in, and before long they had the decency to stop showing up. Only Cathy from next door wouldn't let me sink into complete oblivion. Every day, at least 3 times a day, she'd check in on me. I wouldn't have let her in, but she had a key to the back door for emergencies and wasn't afraid to use it.

She'd open the windows a crack, and goad me into getting out of bed and at least sit in the living room. She'd bring food, which she'd set in front of me, and refused to leave until I at least tried it. I insisted on getting my key back, and she handed it over willingly enough. And showed up again the next day. She'd made copies. Meddlesome bitch. Again, she badgered me into eating her breakfast.

And she'd talk. God, how that woman could talk! I got tired just listening.

All the neighborhood gossip, town gossip, political gossip, school gossip - she was plugged in everywhere and knew it all. Who was doing what, or whom. Griping about people who still had Thanksgiving decorations up, or had Christmas blowups in their front yard. Church fiascos and neighborhood vendettas, she would sit there, drink her tea (or bourbon and coke if the sun had set) and fill me in.

I didn't care. 

It had been two weeks since the accident. I'd lost more than 10 pounds, and really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But Cathy wouldn't let me. She made it her personal mission to cheer me up, get me to respond, bring me back to life.

Then one day she let me have it with both barrels.

She walked up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. "Damn it Alex! Snap out of it! Life is hard. And it isn't fair, but as bad as you have it, there's always someone who has it worse. Often in your own backyard if you have the eyes to see it."

"What do you know about it?" I snapped viciously. "I notice your kids are alive."

"I know my mother died when I was six, and my father left when I was thirteen, leaving Mike to raise my sister and me. He was seventeen years old. But he manned-up and did the job the best he could. That's what I know. Life is hard."

"Life is hard. Life's a bitch and then you die. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When God closes a door he opens a window. If I hear one more God-damned cliché I swear I'll kill something," I growled.

"Alex, you got a raw deal. You had two perfect little girls, and now they're gone. Your past is shattered. Your little bit of immortality is lost. And as bad as you've got it, I'd remind you others have it worse, and they just press on. You need to as well," Cathy told me, kneeling beside me and holding my hands. 

The woman barely knew me. A middle-aged mother of three with grown kids, and a workaholic husband. Her life was her home, keeping it immaculate and decorated for every holiday and season. Now it seemed I was her newest project. Why should I matter that much to her? Couldn't she see I didn't want her help?

"Sure, starving Ethiopians, children in Nigeria dying of aids, Tibetan monks martyred, it's a tough world. Boo hoo."

"You don't have to look as far as Ethiopia or Tibet. There are people right here, right on your own block that are really struggling. Open your eyes. If you don't like the unfairness do something about it. Even up the odds a bit. Make a difference somewhere. Get back to living."

Something she said must have gnawed its way down to my subconscious. I spent my usual 14 hours or so in bed, but when I awoke I was thinking about her constant comments about someone in my own backyard that had it worse.

I cataloged each person on my block, in my head, and nobody really had it that bad. Sure, Neil, three doors down had lost his job, but his wife was still working, and he was looking. The Harris's on the corner had a boy in Iraq, but as far as I could tell he was still Ok, and they had three more at home. The Martins, one down from the corner, fought all the time, and even had the cops called in on them once but they were still together. What did Cathy mean?

I expanded the radius of consideration to include the blocks surrounding us. Then it hit me. Across the alley in back, two houses past Cathy's own. Six months ago. Barry Morrison had driven into an empty field behind the local middle school and eaten a bullet. I didn't know much about the family - I just knew there was one. 

When Cathy came over, I had showered off the top two layers of grime and sweat, and was drinking a Coke in the living room. 

"Good morning, Alex, beautiful day outside. Why don't we go out on the porch?"

"The Morrisons. Tell me about them."

She placed her mug of tea in the microwave, warming it up, then walked out my front door and sat in one of my rocking chairs out front.

Irritated, I followed, and sat in the chair beside her. "The Morrisons?"

"Sandy and her daughter Erica. You won't see much of her; she's working two jobs trying to keep the house over their heads. They're still fighting with the insurance company over payment. Suicide clause won't pay under two years. He had insurance for years, but just around two years ago he changed the terms. She's been trying to sell the house, but it's underwater, and nobody's buying."

"How's the little one?" 

"Erica's not doing so well. She's seeing a counselor twice a week, and hardly speaks anymore. The school's talking about holding her back," Cathy explained. She sounded sad.

"Do we know anything more about why he did it?" 

"No crimes, he wasn't fired, no embezzling, it's not clear what it was about. Apparently he'd been depressed for quite a while, but the underlying situation is still a blank as far as I know."

"Harsh on the family, going out like that," I told her, finding the whole idea hard to grasp.

"To say the least. The poor woman is worn to a frazzle."

"And how does this all matter to me?" I asked.

"It doesn't. It doesn't have to matter to anybody. They're on their own. Alone."

"No family help?"

"Not that I know of. If they're around, we don't see much of them, that's for sure."

"Cathy, how the hell do you know all this stuff?" I had to ask.

"People just like to talk to me. I'm a very good listener," she told me with a big smile.

We sat quietly enjoying the crisp air, finishing our drinks. 

"You're a good neighbor too, Cathy. Thanks," I said softly.

"That's what neighbors are for," she said, reaching out and patting me on my arm.

That's what neighbors are for.

* * *

Cathy brought me dinner again and I realized I was starving. She beamed at me when I finished the whole platter. 

"Let's go for a walk, Alex. You could use a stretch of the legs."

It had gotten chilly, and we bundled up a bit. She took the lead and we walked down the block and turned up the neighborhood. We headed back up the next block and she regaled me with the entire history and habits of the inhabitants of each place we passed. She might have been a good listener, but I had to wonder when she ever was quiet long enough to hear anything.

It was obvious when we got to Sandy Morrison's place. The "For Sale" sign was a dead giveaway. The unkempt yard and overgrown bushes indicated a lack of care for months. It couldn't help with the sales prospects. The door paint was faded, and there were no Christmas lights or decorations set up. I thought the Realtor wasn't earning their commission, letting the place show like this. Through the window I could see a desktop Christmas tree, maybe two feet tall, lit up all in white.

Strangely, Cathy stopped speaking before we got to the house, and didn't speak again until the end of the block. "Sad," was all she said.

We took a round-about path back to my house, and our conversation had returned to the safety of weather concerns, community issues, and such, carefully skirting any discussion of the Morrisons.

I was feeling the chill after the walk, and invited Cathy in for a cup of coffee, Irish fortified if she so desired.

We drank our coffee in front of my gas fireplace, warming our old bones. Damn that neighbor of mine, and her good intentions! She'd not only gotten me to think of something other than my own misery, and the unfairness of it all, but she had me thinking about those poor girls behind me, and what they must be going through. Damn it! It wasn't fair.

I guess I still wasn't ready for pleasant company. Angry at the world, I threw my mug at the wall, shattering it, and leaned over with my head in my hands, doing my best to hold back the tears. Big boys don't cry. 

Cathy stood and ran her fingers through my hair for just a moment before leaving out the back door. Kind enough to leave me alone to wallow in my misery a little longer.

* * *

December 22nd. Just three days until Christmas.

When Cathy came over that morning, I was already up and dressed. I had my working duds on and coffee and bagels ready. 

"You're up early," she commented, helping herself to the java.

"It's almost 10," I reminded her. "Not so awfully early."

She laughed. "Seems to me anything before noon is quite early as of late. Got plans?"

I nodded. "Thought I'd head over to the Morrison's and see what I can do about the outside of the house. Clean it up a bit. Make it a little more presentable if they're really planning on selling it."

"That's mighty neighborly of you."

"It'll give me something to do. I need to get out of this damned house."

After our coffee, she walked with me across the alley, all my yard-work gear in a wheelbarrow. The grass was dormant, but long, and the bushes were out of control. I didn't notice when Cathy left, but she returned in a few hours with some sandwiches for lunch, insisting I take a break. 

I'd finished the bush trimming and had mowed the lawn, bagging the trimmings. I was just finishing the edging when she appeared. I took a break, and listened to her chatter about the neighborhood activities, and how sad it was that in the past few months nobody had offered to do as much as I had.

"I guess we victims of fate need to stick together."

"It already looks 100% better. If you want to work in the backyard, I have a key to the gate."

"It figures you would."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It just doesn't surprise me. I bet you've been helping out when you could."

She sighed. "Not too much. She's too damn proud. Doesn't want any help from anybody."

I shook my head. "Now you tell me. She'll probably call the police on me."

"So what if she does? You know you're doing the right thing. I'll bail you out if need be."

I let her unlock the back gate, and saw I had my work cut out for me. The back yard was worse than the front. The fence needed work as well, some boards were broken and loose, and one whole section was sagging. Luckily, my tools were only a couple of hundred feet away, across the alley, and I was soon at work, determined to finish before the residents arrived home.

The biggest problem was one of the fence posts which had rotted out at the bottom. A new post and some quick-setting cement, solved that problem. Within an hour I'd be able to reattach the fence crossbeams to the new 4x4.

I turned to see a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, watching me from the porch. Crap.


Charity Begins Next Door



"Just thought I'd fix your fence, before it falls down. I hope you don't mind."

She just shook her head. 

She stood there watching me, and I felt ill at ease. I was a stranger. She shouldn't be talking to me. I should probably leave. "I'm just going to clean up here and head back home. I can finish up later when your mother's home."

I straightened up my clothing a bit, wiping my hands on my pants. "I'm Alex Reed. I live across the alley," I explained, pointing down a few houses.

She nodded. 

She reminded me so much of my own daughter, right around that age. Her hair was the same length, blonde, but not quite as light as Allora's. 

Allora. My perfect little Allora. I closed my eyes, seeing her in that hospital bed, bruised and bandaged, fighting for her life. Her hair tucked under the bandages, the few strands that stuck out dark from sweat. Her body so small in that antiseptic white bed. My Allora. 

Gone.

It felt like somebody had wrapped a band around my chest, and pulled it tight. I couldn't breath. I turned away from Erica, so she wouldn't have to see me lose it. She'd suffered enough already. I felt the tears rise, unbidden, and I started for the gate. I had to get out of there.

I barely made it as far as the driveway. It was too much. I closed the gate behind me and crumbled to the ground, seated with my head between my knees, my hands covering my head. It was Christmas, damn it! Christmas! My girls were supposed to be with me, shaking their presents and trying to guess what was in them. Instead Allora and Briana were gone. Their lives snuffed out before they could see anything of the world, before they could find their place, before they could fall in love. No shaking presents. No stomach aches from eating too many holiday sweets. No late night parties to drive me crazy with worry. No learning to drive. No struggling to find the right college. No bringing a boy home for the first time. No cramming for tests. No Spring Breaks. No proms. Nothing. Ever again. 

I was sobbing, and the little girl who had lost her father was standing on the driveway beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, while I made a fool of myself.

"Erica! You know your mother doesn't want you out if she's not at home. You should go back inside. Mr. Reed will be all right, he's just tired. Go on now." Cathy had me by the arm, and was doing her best to get me back on my feet. "C'mon Alex, not here. Let's get you home."

I knew she was right. I stood up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "I'll be alright. Just give me a minute." I pulled myself together, took a couple of deep breaths, and stood straight. "I'm Ok. Seeing her was just a little too much, too soon. But I'm fine now. I need to clean up here, and put the fence back together."

"Alright. I'll help."

It only took us a few minutes to clean up and cart the bags of yard trimmings out to the rear curb. I ran all the yard tools back to my house, and returned to finish the fence work. I braced the new post with a couple of 2x4's and reattached the two panels. Cathy's help made it a lot easier. When we were done we both stood back and looked over the yard. Much better.

"I'm going to go inside and fix Erica her after-school snack. It's about all that Sandy will let me do. Why don't you come with me?"

"I don't know if I should. Sandy doesn't know me. She may not want me in her house when she's not there."

"Never mind that. She'll be fine. Just come in a moment. It'll only take a few minutes."

I followed her inside, through the glass sliding door. Erica was sitting on the floor watching TV. I didn't even look that way. I was afraid that seeing the wrong TV show would dredge up more painful memories.

"Where can I wash my hands?" I asked Cathy.

She pointed to a door. "In there."

I headed to the bathroom. "Don't use the toilet. That one doesn't flush anymore."

I could hear the running water in the commode. I washed my hands and wiped them on my shirt. There was no towel in the bathroom. Then I took the top off the tank and examined inside. Nothing complicated. The chain that connected the stopper to the handle extension was missing. Lifting the rubber stopper, I saw it was under the lip, the cause of the running water. I reattached the chain, and tested the flushing. Worked fine.

"Fixed. The chain was just off."

Cathy nodded, and returned to making a grilled cheese sandwich. Briana loved grilled cheese. But you couldn't cut the sandwich, and you had to remove the crust. I wouldn't be cutting the crust off of sandwiches anymore.

I took a deep breath, and went to examine the front door. 

"Cathy? I'm going to head home and get my sander and some paint. This door needs some help desperately."

"Go ahead. Sandy won't be home until late, and if we're going to get in trouble for the yard and the fence, we might as well make it a trifecta."

Fifteen minutes later, I was running the battery powered hand-sander over the door, removing the worst of the existing paint. I didn't have too much to do, it was already mostly bare. I had brought over three possible paints to use, all of which I knew were approved by the homeowner's association.

"What color paint do you think I should use?" I asked Cathy.

"Let's ask Erica." She returned in a few seconds with Erica at her side. "We're going to paint the front door, Erica. What color would you like?"

We had a choice of off-white, light blue, and a dark brown. She pointed to the light blue, then seated herself nearby to watch.

I had already removed the hardware. I taped the hinges and bottom kick-plate, laid out my drip cloth, and started applying a coat of paint, top-to-bottom. I looked over at the young girl watching me so intently. I saw the tree beside her, so small and bare, with one little package underneath it. 

Christmas trees shouldn't look like that.

They should be big, full of decorations, all sorts, each one with its own story. Handcrafted special ornaments, with pictures of your family members. Popsicle stick ornaments with the Elmer's glue showing. Lights blinking in an assortment of colors, candy canes and tinsel, and an angel on top. There should be presents around the bottom, stacked and scattered, so many you can't even get near the tree.

It was the first year I didn't have a tree. 

We'd normally go out as a family and visit one of the Boy Scout tree lots, picking the biggest, fullest tree we thought could fit in my living room. Then we'd decorate it together, Christmas songs playing in the background, and sipping eggnog. We'd spend an eternity untangling the lights, replacing the bulbs that wouldn't work, and replacing the metal hangars on the decorations that needed them. It was an all day affair.

Not this year. Not ever again.

I realized I'd stopped painting, and I was staring. A long drip of paint from my brush was running down the door. The little girl looked at me, almost as if she understood.

"Would you like to help?" I asked.

She looked around, as if to ask if I was talking to her. 

"Yes, you."

She shyly nodded yes. I reached over to my bucket of painting supplies and pulled out a small brush. I pointed to the inlaid panels on the bottom half of the door. "You can paint here, around the edge of the panel. It needs to be done with a detail brush like the one you have. Get into the cracks."

She nodded, dipped her brush, and started painting straight down the panel edge, doing a good job.

"That's perfect. Just like that." I went back to work completing the top half, and had to work around her, sometimes leaning way over to paint above her. She saw what I was doing, and I saw the mischievous heart of a little girl for a moment when she started backing away from the door, making me lean further and further over.

"Hey!" I said in mock outrage. "You're doing that on purpose!"

When she giggled, apparently ignoring me, and continuing with her painting effort, I felt a small leap in my heart. It was nice to hear her giggle.

"When you're done with the painting, and done torturing me, you can paint around the edges of the two hinges and the kick-plate. If I won't be in your way."

Little Erica nodded, and continued her careful painting, working slowly and deliberately around the perimeter before moving onto the hinges.

I found myself kneeling beside her, painting the bottom-half of the door, while she detailed the trim. We switched places so I could work on the side near the hinges while she completed the bottom trim. 

"Not bad," I commented, holding out a drip bucket for her to dump her brush in. I sealed up the paint can, peeled off the trim tape, and stood back to get a look at the results. A little girl stood beside me, her blonde hair a poignant reminder of all I'd lost. I took a deep breath to compose myself.

"Not bad at all. Think your mother will like it?"

I looked down at her while she thought it over. A smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded twice.

I put my hand down for a fist bump, just like I would with my girls. She shrank away for a second, then glanced up at my face for a second before making a tiny fist and bumping her knuckles against mine.

We were enjoying the last of the natural light as dusk was settling in. Cathy walked out and stood beside us, giving her approval. "The blue is perfect. Great choice Erica."

Erica stopped admiring her work, looked at Cathy, and blinked like she was just seeing her for the first time. She looked up and down the block, then walked back into the house and planted herself in front of the TV. 

"Ready to call it a day?" Cathy asked.

"Yeah. Best get while the getting is good." I packed up my paint supplies and in just a couple of trips hid any trace that I'd ever been there. Except of course for the door, yard and fence. Oh, and the toilet, although that really didn't count for much.

Back home I cleaned up and sat down pondering what I'd just done. I had mixed feelings, a little guilt creeping in for taking liberties with someone else's house. But thinking about that little girl, and what she must be going through, made anything I could do to help worthwhile.

Thinking was dangerous. I realized I hadn't been very nice to the people who had tried to help me. I decided to rectify that if possible, and found a new phone cable for my phone and plugged it in. Picking it up I heard a dial tone. Good.

I made a list of phone calls, and went to work. Calling, one-by-one, my friends, neighbors and co-workers, I apologized for my behavior and thanked them for their concern. To a one, they blew off my boorish behavior, and promised they'd be there for me if I needed anything. 

I stopped, with just a few calls remaining, wondering where those people were for Sandy and Erica, who seemed to need it far more than I.

I picked up the phone and dialed Denise's family. I knew it was going to be tough. I apologized for leaving the funeral arrangements to them, and thanked them for all they had done. Speaking to Dan was difficult, but my conversation with Sharon almost did me in. The time we'd spent in the hospital, watching over Allora came up, and I had to take a break for a bit to get my emotions under rein, while I listened to Sharon sob. Even after the divorce we'd remained friendly, and I was glad that we'd had each other on that fateful watch. I promised I'd stop by in the next couple of days, she insisted there was some paperwork that needed taking care of.

My last call was to Steve, my roommate for three years in college, and best friend in the world. I had hung up on him twice that first day, and it was haunting me. He'd left more than a dozen messages on my cell-phone voicemail. Plus, I had ulterior motives.

The phone rang several times and went to the answering machine. I felt like a weight had lifted, I wouldn't have to face him. "Steve, Alex here. I'm sorry I..."

"Alex, I'm here, don't hang up, I'm here. Let me turn off this damned machine. Hold on." I heard some rustling and the echo of our voices disappear. "Jesus, Alex. You're killing me."

"Sorry. It hit me so hard; I just couldn't listen to one more well-wisher."

"I understand."

He would understand. His father had passed away while we were in our last year of college, and he took it hard. Started drinking heavy, cutting classes, and chasing anything with boobs. I took care of him as much as I could, going so far as to collect his homework and projects, even talking to his professors. He'd been slow to pull it together, but eventually came around. 

Five years later, less than a year out of law school, it was his mother. I had flown out and spent a week with him. I knew it would be hard - he was an only child, and he had few relatives, and none he was close to. He came out of that funk bitter, and it cost him his girlfriend - no loss there. We'd been as close as brothers, hell, probably closer. We still were.

Steven understood.

I opened my soul to him, and stayed on the phone for ages. I heard him send his wife off to bed, while I vented. It was a much needed cathartic outpouring that left me exhausted. 

"What can I do? Anything, you know it. Should I fly down?"

As much as I'd love to see him, it had been nearly a year, he was a family man now, and it was Christmas. "No. Stay with your family. I'm doing better, and if I need to I can call."

"Of course."

"I also wanted to say I was sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Sorry that I couldn't do more for you when you lost your parents. I never really experienced losing anyone like that, and couldn't comprehend what you were going through."

"Shut the fuck up. You were there for me, buddy. Always. When nobody else was. I'll never forget that. Enough said. Don't need to be getting sappy over it."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright. By the way, there's one other thing you might be able to do for me."

"Anything. That's what friend are for."

That's what friends are for.

* * *

The pounding on my front door was not unexpected. Ten o'clock at night might be a little of a surprise, but the knock wasn't.

I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was.

I opened the door. "Mrs. Morrison?"

She glared at me and nodded.

"Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?" I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room.

She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run her hands through her short hair. She looked young. Too young to be going through the hell she was currently experiencing.

"I don't want you around my house or my daughter," she finally snapped.

"I understand, and I'm sorry I interfered." I walked past her and sat down in the living room. "I can't explain it. I had to do something to get out of this house, and when Cathy told me about your situation I guess I got carried away."

She stared at me, and crossed her arms. "Don't mention her name. I could kill her."

I smiled. "Believe me, I understand that. She's been in my house every day, 3 or 4 times a day, meddling in my life."

"Meddling is right," she snapped. She walked over and sat on the loveseat across from me. "Listen. I appreciate the thought. And I'm sorry for your loss." She smirked. "Ha, listen to me. Sorry for your loss. Crap."

She leaned back. "We're doing fine. I don't need your help, I don't know you from Adam, and I don't want you around my daughter when nobody's around. Jesus, you painted my frickin' front door blue! A little presumptuous, don't you think?"

I smiled. "I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica's choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner's association."

She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. "Don't remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence maintenance, I'll rip their lungs out." She seemed to calm down for a second, maybe realizing that those notices would no longer be coming. "I know. I should be thankful but I don't need a stranger meddling in my life. Understood? No more doing things for me."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for that little girl. You don't know me. I don't know you. Agreed. I don't know what happened to you and your family or why. Not really. What I do know is that girl of yours doesn't deserve the hand she's been dealt. That's all I could think. I just wanted to help where I could."

She looked angry. "I'm sorry you lost your daughters. I am. But Erica is MINE. My daughter. My responsibility. Not yours."

"You are right. She's no responsibility of mine."

"That's right. I don't know you. We live three doors down and in two years you've never spoken a word to us. Six months we've been on our own. I certainly don't need you poking your head in now. I don't know you, I don't want to know you, and I'm not sure I'd like you if I did."

"Welcome to the club."

"Club?"

"I'm not sure I like me either. I'm sorry, alright? Now I'm tired. You can let yourself out."

She got up and stomped her way to the front door, closing it sharply behind her.

That had gone better than I'd expected.

* * *

December 23rd. I got up early, cleaning up, even shaving. I had errands to run. Cathy showed up in my kitchen while I was preparing breakfast.

"At least neither of us is in jail," were her first words.

"Not yet."

"You did a good thing. Don't forget it."

"I know. Still she was right. We should have asked permission."

"The hell we should! She'd never have given it."

"Then maybe we should leave her be."

"If a person was drowning, and they couldn't yell for help, wouldn't you still throw them a life preserver?"

"A little overly-dramatic, don't you think?"

"No. She's going down for the third time, and is in complete denial. By the time she accepts the fact she needs help it could be too late." She looked me over. "You clean up nicely. What are you up to?"

"I need to run some errands, see a few people, stop by work, some other stuff."

"Don't overdue it," she said, still in her 'caring' mode. "Need some company?"

"Thanks, I appreciate the offer. I can handle this."

"Ok, you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything."

* * *

The office visit was painful. I stopped in, thanking my bosses for their understanding, visiting a few friends and letting them know I appreciated their concern. The way they looked at me just drove home how alone I was. I was glad to get out of there.

I made a visit to the florist and picked up a trunk-load of Christmas cacti. I drove around to everyone I could think of, expressing my gratitude, and leaving the pretty plants behind. I used the same corny line with each one, comparing my 'prickliness' the last couple of weeks to the plant's spines. I left a few plants on doorsteps with a note. By mid-afternoon I felt I'd done my part. 

I stopped by Denise's parent's house, and Sharon greeted me at the door with a hug before she broke into tears. After she'd soaked my shirt she brought me in. 

"There's something you need to know, Alex."

She sounded odd, and I wondered what was up.

"Denise left a will. She left you the house and the lion's share of her insurance, to take care of the girls if anything happened to her."

I was stunned. It was so unexpected. "I... I don't know what to say."

Sharon reached out and patted my hand. "It's not what I'd expected, but if you think about it, it makes sense. What are you going to do?"

"I guess I'll sell the house. I certainly don't need two houses."

"She had mortgage insurance, it'll be paid off. You could rent it out, you know. Earn some steady income off of it."

It was too much too fast. I couldn't think straight. "I'll have to think about it. I just wasn't expecting anything like this."




Charity Begins Next Door



"I understand." She held my hand. "How are you doing?"

"Better. Not good, but at least I can get out of bed."

"We're here if you need us. You know that, right?"

"Yes. Thank you. After the girls, you were the best thing that came out of our marriage."

"We love you too. Don't forget it."

"I'm sorry I was so useful about the funeral arrangements, I don't think I could have handled it without you," I confessed.

"Don't even think about it. That's what family is for."

That's what family is for.

* * *

My day wasn't quite complete. A few more calls and I was putting things in motion I wasn't sure I should, but I couldn't resist.

Around dinner time, I ventured next door. Cathy's husband John answered the door. "The hermit has left the cave. Good to see you out and about." He shook my hand, letting me in. "Cath - Alex is here."

Cathy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "How'd your day go?"

"Not bad. A few surprises, but I survived."

"We're about to eat. Care to sit down with us?"

"Maybe. When do you think Sandy will be getting home?"

"Probably nineish, would be my guess. Why?"

"Just want to talk to her if I can."

"You have time for dinner then?"

"Sure."

* * *

By 8:30 I was enjoying a cigar with John, sitting out in their driveway, trying to figure out what our football team's chances were of going anywhere in the playoffs. We were strategically positioned so I had a view of the Morrison's driveway.

When Sandy drove up, I excused myself from John and jogged across the alley.

"Sandy, can I talk to you a moment?"

She looked ready to chase me off, but after a few awkward seconds she crossed her arms, leaned back against the car and raised her eyebrows.

"Again, I'm sorry I entered your house without your permission. I know that was wrong. All I can say is I wasn't really thinking straight."

She rolled her eyes. "Anything else?"

"Yes. I know you told me you didn't need my help, but there's someone I'd like you speak to. I have a friend that's a lawyer, and he's willing to check into your insurance situation pro bono. Like you and me, he's suffered a few losses in life, and he'd like to help you if he can. If you'd just give him a call, he'll see what he can do."

I could see she wanted to say no, but was torn. She gnawed on her bottom lip, which I saw were chapped. She looked exhausted. I pulled out his card and held it out to her. "It'll only take a couple of minutes. It can't hurt."

She finally nodded and took the card from me. "Is that it?"

"One last thing. I'm headed over to my ex-wife's house tomorrow to clean out the refrigerator, and to get rid of her tree. It's my responsibility now. I was going to ditch the tree; it's one of those pre-lit artificial ones which I never could stand. I thought, if you don't mind, and it's not interfering too much, I could bring it by here and you could take if off my hands. Otherwise it's going to the dump." I spit out the words quickly before she could find too much fault with me.

She seemed resigned to allow me to interfere, at least this much. She sighed and finally spoke up. "Alright. That would be nice. Now if that's all, I'd like to go in now. My feet and back are aching and I have to get up early tomorrow."

"That's all. You can call Steve tonight if you'd like, he's a night owl and is expecting your call. Good night."

I took off quickly before she could change her mind about anything.

* * *

I had recruited Cathy's help over dinner the night before, assuming things went Ok with Sandy, and by noon we were back at the Morrison house, knocking on the door. 

Erica let us in, and we hauled our goodies in after us. I had the tree folded up and left it on the front doorstep while we made room for it in the living room. After I'd put it in place, I hauled in a large plastic crate of Christmas decorations, and encouraged Cathy and Erica to get to work making the tree look 'festive'. Right on schedule my weekly cleaning crew showed up and I put them to work giving the entire house a thorough cleaning. I had felt guilty chasing them away the last few weeks, and had begged and cajoled them into doing me this one favor, on Christmas Eve of all days. The team of four went to work like whirling dervishes, storming through the rooms in pairs leaving sparking chrome and sweet smells in their wake. 

We only had a few hours if Cathy was right, and I had one more big task lined up. The Chem-Dry carpet cleaners were running a little late, but showed up not long after the cleaning crew had finished with the living and dining rooms, and I had moved most of the furniture into the hallways and kitchen. They went right to work, and had the downstairs completed in a little over an hour. While they worked at that, I spent the time decorating the front yard and the house with Christmas lights. I hoped that Sandy liked traditional multi-color displays. I wasn't all that fond of the 'all-white' look, and was using my own lights to decorate her house. By the time I had finished I was sweating up a storm, and was getting nervous about the time. 

The carpet guys left first, reminding me to let the carpet dry for another hour before returning the furniture to its place. The cleaning crew followed shortly after, and I'd rewarded them nicely, tipping them an extra $100 for coming out on Christmas Eve. I moved indoors, with the lights complete and lit up, to find a Christmas wonderland awaiting me. 

Cathy and Erica had done an amazing job, using what I had brought over and getting the Morrison's decorations out of the attic and putting those to use as well. You could hardly tell it was the same house. 

"You ladies have done an incredible job!" I announced, standing in the doorway.

Cathy looked a little disheveled but very pleased with herself. "Let's finish up quick. I have to get home; John's going to kill me."

I'd promised her we'd be done by 4:00 and it was already nearly 5:00. She was holding a Christmas Eve open-house and was expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. She only had a couple of hours left to finish her own preparations. I gave her a hug for all of her effort and shooed her off, while I started hauling the furniture back into place, working at a frenzied pace to get done before the unsuspecting benefactor got home.

Erica followed behind me, arranging all the lamps, baskets and knick-knacks, and adding additional holiday decorations as we went. With the last of the furniture in place, I turned and gave her a high-five.

"This is all our secret, right? If your Mom asks, the Christmas elves stopped by to help clean up. You did a great job, Erica."

She smiled and held her arms out to me. I leaned down and gave her a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered, just before she let go and disappeared up the stairs. 

I felt a lump in my throat. Whether it was fear of being caught by her mother, or the joy of hearing her speak her first words to me, I couldn't be sure.

* * *

By eight o'clock, Sandy still hadn't shown up on my front-doorstep with a shotgun. I guess she was going to wait until after Christmas to eviscerate me over meddling where I didn't belong.

I didn't care. I felt good, the best I'd felt in two weeks, thinking about that little girl celebrating a real Christmas. Kids should have Christmas. 

I had cleaned up and decided to make an appearance next door, as I'd promised, when I got a call from Steve.

"Hey-ho, Stevorino."

"Only my Grandma gets to say that, asshole."

"Merry fuckin' Christmas to you too." I teased.

I heard him chuckle. "Merry Christmas is right. At least for your neighbor."

"How's that?" I asked, suddenly interested.

"The insurance creeps were just stalling. They don't have a leg to stand on. The only change to the policy was upon their advice after an annual policy review by their own agent. A little legal pressure was all it took. It's not a lot, less than $300K, but she'll be getting her check next week."

"Steve, you're the man. I take back all those nasty things I said about you."

"Shit, they're probably true. If anybody would know, it'd be you."

"All kidding aside. You're a life saver."

I knew he hated any hint of seriousness. I could almost hear him blushing over the phone. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?"

"That's right. And I couldn't ask for a better one."

"Ditto. Asshole."

"Shit. You had to go and spoil it. Listen, I gotta run. Give your family my love and have a great Christmas. I'll give you a call next week."

"You got it. And Darla sends her love. She made me say that. Don't get any ideas."

"Got it. Give her a kiss for me. Scratch that. I'll come out after the holidays and give it to her myself. When are you going to be out of town next?"

"Funny guy. Start anything with her, and I'll make you keep her and the credit card bills."

"Ouch. You win," I had to laugh. "Thanks again."

"Merry Christmas. Hang in there buddy."

"You too."

* * *

I made my appearance next door, and stoically accepted the offered condolences which were definitely putting me in the wrong state of mind. After only half-an-hour I knew I had to get out of there, even if it did piss off Cathy.

John seemed to catch my mood, and dragged me outdoors to enjoy a cigar in semi-peace. With a heavily spiked eggnog in hand, and a more than decent Rocky Patel Decade burning nicely, I was willing to stick it out a little longer when he headed back indoors.

"I should skin you alive for that little stunt, you know."

I heard a voice coming from poolside, and headed that way to face the music. Sandy was sitting there alone, a large, mostly empty glass of wine at her side.

"I know. I was bad. But I'm done now."

"What were you thinking?" she snapped.

"I just wanted Erica to have a decent Christmas, and wanted to help you out a little in your effort to sell your house."

She cackled, and it wasn't a pretty sound. "You too? You just barely met me and you're so damn eager to get me out of the neighborhood."

Her words surprised me. "Not at all. I'm just trying to fight back a bit against the unfairness of the world. What are you doing out here alone, anyway?"

"I can't stand the way they look at me. Like suicide is contagious or something. They don't know what to say; they all avoid me, or look at me like I was a leper or something."

"People can be assholes."

She smiled. "I'll drink to that."

I sat beside her and drank my 80 proof eggnog in silence. We watched a small group come out and start talking while they lit up their cancer sticks. 

"I know you mean well, Alex. But you can stop now, Ok?" she said softly.

"One last thing."

"Please. Enough already."

"Steve called. Everything's cleared up with the insurance. You'll get your check next week."

She looked at me like I'd grown a third eye, completely stunned. "Really?"

"Really."

She finished her wine, gulping it down, then sat back. "Shit. Six fucking months they drag it out and then suddenly, like that," she snapped her fingers, "they're willing to pay up?"

"Steve's good."

She leaned forward and held her head in her hands. After a few seconds I could see her body was shaking. She was crying, silently.

"I'm sorry it took so long. If I'd been a better neighbor, we might have taken care of this months ago."

She sat up abruptly, and I could see the streak of the tears on her face. "Don't. Don't apologize. Just don't, Ok?"

"Ok."

I sat awkwardly, while she wiped her eyes and turned away from me, staring out at the backyard. I leaned over and took her empty glass. "Can I get you a refill?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, please. Thanks."

"Be right back."

It took a few minutes to navigate the crowd around the bar, and to endure the late arrivals expressing their sorrow over my "loss". Like they know anything about loss. Shit. I was happy to get back outside, away from the doe-eyed suburban mommy's pity and their awkward mumbling husbands. 

I plopped down next to Sandy. "Jesus. Next time you can make the booze run." I told her passing the wine glass over.

She gave me a twisted smile. "You volunteered, remember?"

"Don't remind me."

"That's what you get for being a Good Samaritan."

"That's it for me. Believe me, I've learned my lesson."

She chuckled. "Somehow I doubt that."

My cigar had gone out, and it would have been a shame to waste it. I ventured into the smoker arena long enough for a light, and immediately regretted it, catching the sidelong glances they gave each other, knowing what they were thinking. I didn't spend a moment there longer then I had to, hustling back to my solitude and Sandy. The only kindred soul at this soirée who might feel a tenth of the loss I that was consuming me.

There was one last thing I wanted to do, but I didn't know how she'd take it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, with one more glass of wine under her belt, she might acquiesce.

"Sandy?"

"Mmmm. I don't know if I like the sound of that. Are you up to something again?"

"No. Maybe. Not really. I mean, well, can I show you something next door?"

She gave me an odd look, which lasted quite a long time. "Can I bring my wine?"

"Of course. It'll only take a minute."

She stood, and followed me out the gate. We walked around the fence to my driveway and into my backyard. As we crossed my patio she piped up.

"Just because I've had a few drinks, and just because you did something nice doesn't mean you're going to get anywhere with me, I hope you know."

Her words slammed into me like a bucket of cold water. I hadn't even thought about anything like that. I turned and looked at her. She didn't look bad. Not at all. She cleaned up nicely, and even if she was ridiculously skinny, I could see she was an attractive woman. Funny that I'd never even noticed. I stood there trying to think of how to reply.

"Jesus, Alex. I'm just teasing you."

It took me a few seconds to reply. "That was the furthest thing from my mind."

"Of course. Believe me. I understand." Her sardonic reply was more surprising then the original tease.

Caught without a response, I entered the house and led her to the living room. 

"What did you want to show me?" 

I turned on the light in the living room, and moved out of the way.

"Holy crap!" 

I gestured toward the piles of gifts. "They were for my girls. I don't know what to do with them."

"That's all for your girls?" she asked, looking on in wonder.

"Yeah. I kind of over do it."

"I'll say."

"I'd like Erica to have them. She doesn't have to know they're from me. They can all be from Santa if you'd like. If you don't take them, I... I don't know what I'll do with them."

"It's too much, Alex. It's a nice gesture, really. But it's too much."

"Please. No strings. Do it for Erica."

She stood silent for a while, before she turned to me. "Why? Why now?"

"I don't know. Look, they're just sitting there. I'll end up donating them to some charity or something. I've got a ton of gifts, and nobody left to give them too. You've got a sweet little girl who has one present under the tree and could use a bit of joy in her life."

She wandered around the room, nudging the gifts with her foot, not answering, taking the occasional sip from her glass. She eventually wandered back and stood beside me.

She stood quietly for several seconds, apparently pondering a reply. "It's not fair," she finally muttered.

That wasn't what I'd expected. "No shit. Life's about as unfair as I could ever imagine," I answered honestly. "Good people get hurt for no apparent reason. Jack-offs seem to glide along easily without a care in the world. Innocent little girls have their lives cut short meaninglessly. Good-hearted neighbors have their lives crapped on as if it was some big cosmic joke." I could hear my own voice getting louder and more frustrated. "Life's a fucking kick in the ass, and every time it looks like something nice might come out of it, some cosmic comedian pulls the rug out from under you. What kind of God destroys a family for no good reason? Hunh? Answer me that!" I was almost shouting by the end of my tirade.

"I...I think I need to go home now." She turned and started walking away.

I chased after her, "Please, can you take just a few? Please. It's killing me to see them here."

She stumbled a bit, then paused. Without turning she said, "Bring over what you want around midnight." Then she slipped out the back door.

I took a few minutes to compose myself after she left. I'd made a complete ass of myself. Oh well. About par for the course. I decided to make another short appearance at Cathy's to at least say my goodnights. My nosy neighbor caught me the moment I made it in the door. "John told me you were around, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I ran into Sandy, and we broken people sort of hid out in your backyard."

She looked at me quizzically. "I was kind of surprised she came over. She didn't say a word about what we did this afternoon."

"Lucky you. I've still got the scars," I teased. Then I told her a little about our discussion, including the insurance situation and the deal with the gifts.

"Thank God. Maybe she can finally stop working 16 hours a day, and spend some time with her daughter. That'll be nice. I was wondering what you were going to do with all those gifts. I was afraid you were going to make a memorial out of them, leaving them there year after year, until the dust was an inch thick over them."

Her words stung a bit. "I'm not that bad."

"No, you're not. Although you had me worried there for a bit. It's just a hard thing to take. I understand that."

"I guess it's not a problem now."

She smiled. "I guess not. Erica's a lucky little girl."

"I don't know if I'd say that, but at least she might have a nice Christmas."

"I'm glad you came over tonight. A lot of our friends were worried for you. Your appearance was a nice Christmas gift for them as well."

"I can't say I really care too much. I know it sounds harsh, but how they feel isn't really high up there on my list of priorities at the moment."

"That's Ok. It's still nice that you came."

"I appreciate your inviting me. And for being the nagging neighborly meddlesome busybody you've been for the last couple of weeks."

She laughed. "That's the nicest thing anybody's said to me in a while, and in the nastiest way. I guess you are feeling a little better."

I sighed. "A little. Although I doubt Christmas will ever be the same for me again."

She moved in and gave me a hug. "It'll never be the same. But it may still, someday, be Ok."

I hugged her back, quietly. I doubted it.

* * *

Back home, I dressed down to sweats and a t-shirt, torturing myself a little by watching The Little Drummer Boy, Briana's favorite. Life was so fucking unfair. My girls were gone. It was Christmas and I was alone. I'd never, ever, spend another Christmas with Briana and Allora. Never.

An hour later I was at Sandy's back door with three huge garbage bags full of gifts. It had taken me two trips. I knocked softly and a few moments later Sandy let me in. She'd gotten rid of her party clothes as well, answering the door in a plain robe. She looked tired. I guessed that she'd been waiting up for me.

"Erica?" I asked softly.

"Asleep," she confirmed, taking one of the bags from me.

Quietly we headed to her front room and started spreading out the gifts. On each one, I removed the existing tag and she put a new sticker 'from Santa' on it. She asked me what was in each, but I couldn't remember all of them. Still, I was able to fill her in on the majority. She must have had some plan in mind, because she organized them according to my descriptions of their probable contents, separating them in neat little piles. After about 15 minutes I looked over and saw her shaking her head.




Charity Begins Next Door



"What?"

"It's too much."

"That's what my ex said every year. I never got a complaint from the girls."

She gave me a wry smile. "At least one of us is going to have a pretty spectacular Christmas."

"Isn't that how it should be?"

I saw her nod, and noticed that her eyes were glistening again. I decided to leave it alone. 

Until those moments, I really hadn't seen Sandy as a woman. I'd related to her as a person in need. But between her dressing up at the party, her comments on my patio, and the way she was dressed in just a robe, I'm almost ashamed to say I was scoping her out.

She was rail thin, with short dark brown hair, almost black. She wasn't very large on top, but when she was moving around on her hands and knees, arranging presents, I got a few glimpses inside the top of her robe, and saw the swelling of very feminine breasts. Her legs were as thin as the rest of her, but with decent calf definition. Some of her movements were less than ladylike, and I saw myself peeking up the bottom of her robe, looking at her pale inner thighs, or glancing at her round rear giving form to her robe.

Her face was cute. Small turned up nose, narrow mouth with bowed upper lip, and natural eyebrows fuller than was popular, above big brown eyes. Those eyes were extremely expressive, and somewhat mesmerizing.

I found myself looking at her too often, and she eventually caught me at it. 

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," I answered quickly. Trying to cover myself I explained. "You just look happier than I've seen you until now."

One corner of her mouth turned up. "I guess for once you're seeing me when I'm not completely pissed-off at you."

We finished with the gifts and I carefully stood up and gingerly stepped around the pretty wrapped up presents. I turned and held my hand out to Sandy while she did her best to maneuver around them without stepping on any. She almost made it before stumbling at the last minute, kicking a pile over and falling toward me. I caught her and held her up, pulling her backward with me until the wall halted my retreat.

She stared up at me, my arms still wrapped under hers, holding her closer than I intended. Her hair smelled like strawberries.

"I should be furious with you," she said, leaning into me.

"I know."

I pulled her upright, but she clung to me, pressing against me.

"We don't need anybody." She sounded angry again.

I shrugged, hard to do while holding a fragile woman in my arms. "I don't have anybody."

Her look softened. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'll be Ok." I closed my eyes, and thought once more of my kids. I could feel myself on the verge of losing it again.

Without warning her lips were on mine, gentle at first. Then I felt her fingers dig into my skin, and she was kissing me fiercely, her teeth pressed hard against my lips. I pulled her tightly against my body, opening my mouth to hers, returning her ardor. 

It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. She was clutching at me, kissing me, hugging me, hitting me, scratching me, while I stood there holding her, absorbing it all. I waited for her to calm down, and when she didn't I reached down and lifted her by the ass, holding her tight, while her legs encircled me. She bit my lip hard, and I could taste blood, while her claws sank into my shoulders. 

I could feel the anger and frustration in her, the desire to strike out somehow at the unfairness of it all. I echoed those feelings, accepting them, expanding them, and returning them in kind. Yes, I was angry too. Furious. The taste of my own blood on my lips just served to fuel the fire. 

Like everything else, having her vent her anger on me, while I was the only one in the world trying to help her was patently unfair. I was hurting too. I had lost so much more. So very much more. I was tired of being treated like dirt. 

Holding her by the rear in one hand, I grasped her hair from behind, pulling her hair back making her gasp. I lowered my mouth to her slender neck and bit her, sucking on her flesh. Both of her hands went to my head, entangling in my hair, and pulling my face down against her. Her hips ground against me, while her bare feet beat a tattoo against my back. 

Sandy pulled my head back by the hair, and I loosened my grip on hers. She stared into my eyes, hers flashing with pent up emotions.

"Damn you!" she gasped. She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine again, still fierce and unrelenting.

I turned and pressed her against the wall, trapping her there with my body. My hand lowered and slid into her robe, meeting nothing but bare flesh. I grabbed her breast and squeezed, causing her to moan into my mouth. Her hands weren't idle and she was pushing the top of my sweats down, using her feet to push them down in the back. She squeezed a hand between us, her other wrapped around my shoulders, and I felt her fingers wrap around my hardness. It was hard to believe how I was responding to her and her tantrum, but there was no doubt. 

I took over, pushing my sweats down, letting them slide down to my ankles, drawing my boxers with them. I was naked from the waist down and exposed. Our lips had never separated, and she sucked hungrily on my tongue, while I tore open her robe, roughly. Like me, she was naked underneath, except for a pair of loose shorts. She had my cock in her hand, and aimed it at her moist opening, pushing the leg of her shorts aside. I lowered her, easing into her, until I was fully sheathed. 

She groaned. Her hand now free, she grabbed me by the hair and tugged back, drawing her lips away. "You bastard," she gasped.

"Bitch," I growled. I pulled my hips back and thrust into her hard, pushing her into the wall, eliciting another gasp. I felt my own anger welling up inside of me. I knew I wasn't really angry at her, but she was the unintended victim of my fury. I slammed my cock into her hard, grinding against her. Pulling back, I did it again, even harder, doing my best to push her right through the wall. She gasped as if I'd struck her.

"That's right, fuck me," she whispered harshly. "Go ahead, fuck me you prick, like everyone else has."

I took her ass cheeks in my hands and pulled her away from the wall, lifting her up off my cock, before releasing her, letting her weight impale her on my aching staff. One at a time, I reached my arms under her legs, her thighs resting on my forearms, my hands gripping her ass cheeks tightly. I tugged her shorts down in back, exposing her soft butt-flesh, and grabbed her cheeks tightly digging my fingers in. She linked her fingers behind my neck, and leaned backward, exposing her upper body to my gaze. Her small breasts had the most perfect little nipples, hardened for me. I fucked her hard and fast, while my strength and fury held out. 

As my arms grew tired I walked to the living room. She released each of her arms long enough to let her robe fall, leaving her almost naked. I lowered her, setting her butt down on the arm of the couch. She let go of me, leaning backward, lowering her back to the couch. Her hips were now positioned well above her body, and I pulled her toward me hard, so her lower back was on the couch arm. I yanked her shorts off and threw them to the side, staring down at her sexy naked body. I opened her legs wide, slid my cock into her warm hole and pounded into her, fucking up into her tight opening, while she moaned so damn sexily. Holding her legs in my hands and lifting them high and wide, she was effectively immobilized by her own weight resting on her shoulders. I slid my cock in and out of her, banging away, free to do as I please.

She lay there, staring up at me, her eyes burning. I didn't want to look into those condemning orbs. I pulled out, roughly turned her over, her smooth soft ass raised up by the arm of the couch. I spread her legs and pierced her again, thrusting deeply on the first stroke, making her pay. I held her hips tightly and vented my feeling through my hips, hammering away viciously, fucking her as hard as I could. 

Looking between us, I was hypnotized by the sight of my thickness stretching her, filling her. With each stroke her flesh clung to me, stretching outward before yielding. I pulled out to the edge, spread her cheeks with my hands and toyed with her pink little slit, nudging my cock head into her, watching her opening stretch obscenely wide to take me. I slowed, squeezing her poor ass cheeks hard while slowly feeding her my cock. The incredible feeling was overcoming my ire, and I just enjoyed long-stroking her, making her feel every inch of my length, pushing deeply until I felt resistance deep inside of her.

I couldn't take much more. I grabbed her hips and leaned over her, driving into her, filling her. I could feel her moist channel grasping at me, dragging me to the edge of desire. I looked down and saw she'd twisted her torso to look back at me.

"Do it."

I slammed my full weight into her, unable to resist the urge any longer. Gasping, I came inside of her, the release painful in its urgency, exploding deep within her over and over again. Her legs were flailing, and as I slowed she relaxed, bent over the arm like a rag doll, lifeless.

She squealed when I lifted her up, spinning her around to sit on the arm. I took my still hard cock, and forced it back into her, pulling her against me, until just the edge of her butt was still resting on the couch. I could see she had tears in her eyes, and wet streaks running down her cheeks. I slid my arms around her, holding her close, squeezing her frail body. Her arms slid around my torso and she pressed her face against my chest.

I held her while I felt her body shaking. I felt horrible, sickened at what I'd done. I'd fucked her viciously, using her, venting my aggravation and unhappiness on the one person I knew who'd already suffered enough on her own. I could feel my own eyes welling up. 

We held each other, desperately, clutching to anything that might let us ride out this horrible time in our lives. My hands relaxed as did the tightness that had been enveloping my body. I caressed her back, feeling her ribs under the soft skin. I pressed my lips to her hair, kissing her softly. She was returning my kisses, pressing her lips to my chest and shoulders, rubbing her hands over the scratches she'd given me earlier.

I realized I was nudging in and out of her, surprised to find my cock staying hard, eager to continue. I held her, slowly screwing her, while she sobbed against me.

I massaged her back, nuzzling her hair, kissing her temples. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't," she sobbed. "Don't you dare apologize! Not now. Not ever."

I pushed her head back, and lowered my lips to hers, kissing her softly. "I won't."

"Good."

She looked up and touched my lip, drawing back a finger red with my blood. "Oh God! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"No apologies. Remember?"

She answered by reaching up and kissing my lip. When she drew back I could see a little red on hers. 

I kissed her back, feeling her return it this time, still moving inside of her. Her legs spread wider, accommodating me. I looked down to see where I was entering her. When I looked back into her eyes they were smoldering.

"Take me to bed," she whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"No. Do it anyway."

I stood carefully, my pretty little sister-in-misery still impaled on my rod. She wrapped her legs around me tightly and clung to me with both arms. I held her by her sweet little ass and slowly climbed the stairs. With each step I lifted and lowered her, screwing her along the way.

Nearing the top step she surprised me by giggling.

"What?"

"You're stronger than you look," she said, softening the words with careful little kisses bestowed across my chest.

"You're light as a feather. I need to feed you."

She smiled wickedly. "A protein oral injection?"

I almost dropped her, and she giggled, "What?"

"You, young lady, have a dirty mind."

I saw a storm flitter across her face, but she shook it off and smiled. "It's been a long time, Alex. I'm not so good at flirting and teasing."

"Ditto, beautiful. Bear with me."

She made a little rolling movement of her hips, ending with my cock completely sheathed within her moistness.

She giggled. "Damn! I can't believe you can just hold me like this."

I pulled her up and down on my cock a few times, drawing a quiet gasp out of her. "I could hold you like this forever."

I had cleared the last step and was walking her into her bedroom.

Once again a flurry of emotions danced across her face, ending with a smile. "But then how would you ever feed me?"

I reached back and closed the door behind us.

Mischievously, I pulled her high in the air, making her squeal. She really was as light as a rag doll. I doubted she weighed a hundred pounds. I held her in my arms like a baby, rocking her. A very sexy baby.

I had one arm under her legs, and the other under her back, and she turned in my arms, her lips closing around my nipple. I lifted her shoulder high, then removed the arm under her back, causing her to fall downward. Not far, since I caught her by the hips, hanging upside down. She gasped, her legs kicking out, her arms circling my waist. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her legs down onto my shoulders, pressing her warm pinkness against my face. 

Her face was down around my waist. She squeezed her legs tightly around my head, her thighs pressing hard against my ears. "You're crazy!" she gasped.

"See. I can hold you and still feed you," I teased, then licked her, my tongue probing her moist slit.

She giggled, and I felt her warm lips engulf the head of my cock. I grabbed her near the hips, and lowered her a bit, feeling my cock enter her mouth. I lifted and lowered her a few times, licking her on the upward movement, filling her mouth on the way back down. 

For all my bravado, it was amazingly difficult, and I could feel my arms trembling from the effort. I held her still, her mouth filled with my cock, and walked the few remaining steps to the bed.

She was getting more active, sucking me and moving her head back and forth. It felt incredible. I almost didn't want to put her down. But I knew if I didn't there was a chance I'd drop her soon. With one last herculean effort I lifted her up and leaned over depositing her in a squirming ball of flesh on her mattress.

She spent no time at all sitting up and pulled me onto the bed. I reached out for her but she pulled away. "Lay down. My turn now."

I stretched out in the middle of her bed, and watched her crawl to my waist, move between my legs and look up at me before lowering her mouth to my pulsating rod. She licked me, examining me, stroking me with her hands, kissing my cock with her warm, tender lips. Staring into my eyes she lowered her lips over the purple helmet and took most of my length into her mouth.

It felt so damned incredible I moaned loudly.

She pulled up and pressed her fingers against her lips. "Shhh. We don't want to wake anybody."

I mimed zipping my lips closed, barely containing another groan when she took me in her mouth again.

She sucked me as if she were on a mission. Her hands worked me just below where her mouth took over. I reached down and brushed her bangs aside so I could watch her. That was enough encouragement for her to pick up the pace, pistoning her face onto my stiff pole, gasping when she pressed too hard.

"Sandy," I started to warn her.

She held out her palm to me, sucking with complete abandon. I didn't say another word. I let her draw my juices up and out, and moaned softly when I finally achieved my much needed release, erupting between her lips.

She was breathing hard through her nose, holding me in her mouth, taking all I had to offer and gamely swallowing it down. She sucked softly when I was done shooting, and I could feel the pulses of tightness while she swallowed repeatedly. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be concentrating hard on completing her mission.

When my hardness started to whither, she took me in her hand and stroked me, her mouth tenderly sucking me, carefully tugging on my shaft, her tongue massaging the tender head. I relaxed on the bed and enjoyed her attention, concentrating on the amazing feeling around my waist. The idea of getting hard for her and continuing our play was combining with her devoted attention, and I finally responded after a few minutes, hardening in her mouth.

That seemed to be a signal to her and she sat up, sucking me more aggressively, restoring the steel to my cock, until it could stand on its own, full and ready.

Sandy moved up my body, straddled my waist and slid my trouser soldier back home. She slowly worked her way up and down my cock until I was completely sheathed once more. Then she settled all the way down and stretched. It was beautiful to see, her slender body straining upward, her arms reaching to the sky, her head leaning back, the curve of her rib cage accentuated by the hollow of her belly, her perfect little breasts standing out brave and eager, the pretty pink tips showing hard little caps.

After a few moments in that pose she relaxed with a sigh, settling back down and leaning forward until her hands were braced against my chest.

"Thanks for the meal," she said with a teasing smile.

"You are amazing," I confessed.

She gave me a sad little smile. "It's nice to hear someone say that. It's been a long, long time."

I reached out for her and she slid down to my chest, while I wrapped her in my arms. "That's a shame. You are so beautiful."

"You don't have to say that," she said into my shoulder.

"But you are." I held her, pushing with my hips, slowly screwing her while I held her.

"I'm not. I know it. It's Ok."

I reached down and lifted her face so I could lean forward and kiss her. 

It was a long tender kiss, and afterwards I just held her. I kept my hips moving gently, not wanting to lose the contact with her, staying hard and filling her.

"Just hold me a bit, Ok?"

"As long as you'll let me." I assured her, and I engulfed her in my arms, clutching her as if I'd never let her go.

I could feel her trembling, her arms holding me tightly. Her back was rising and lowering spasmodically, and I heard the tiny gasp of her crying against me.

I didn't try to quiet her or comfort her. I just held her, raining kisses down onto the top of her head, holding her tightly, and easing my cock back and forth into her.

We spent several long minutes like that, until she slowly relaxed and her death grip on me eased. I loosened my own grip, allowing my hands free rein in their exploration of her body, stroking her, fondling her, holding her tight little butt in my hands and pushing up into her. She slowly responded, pushing back against my strokes, her tits pressing into my chest.

I pulled her tightly to my body, rose up on one arm and rolled over, lifting her body off the bed, and settling it down below me. On top of her now, I let go, raising my torso the length of my arms and thrusting into her with long slow strokes. 

She looked so small and vulnerable underneath me. I leaned down and kissed her, and she grabbed my head and kissed me back eagerly. She finally let me go and I resumed fucking her, happy to be right where I was. I gazed down at her, wondering how I'd failed to notice how pretty she was right from the start.

"Stop staring."

"I can't help it. You are so beautiful. I want to memorize everything about you."

"I'm not too skinny?" she asked.

"Nothing a few more meals can't fix," I teased.

I fucked her in silence for a bit, then rose up to pound her more thoroughly, opening her legs up for better access. She pulled her legs back, holding her own ankles nearly parallel with her head.




Charity Begins Next Door



I spread my legs and straightened them, raising my hips high before plunging down into her. She gasped and I smiled, pummeling her from above, fucking her fast and hard, her wide open pussy screaming out to be filled.

For the first time that night I felt her responding deeply, shivering. She released her feet and clutched her legs behind her knees, her shins bracketing her pretty face.

I rose up to my knees, leaning over and pushing down on the back of her legs, screwing her as fast as I could, feeling the need to cum growing in me. 

"Harder," she gasped, "harder."

I slowed down just a bit and put some more weight behind my strokes, pulling her forward to meet my onslaught. She was gasping continuously, her toes curling up and her feet stretching out. I watched in delight as her head tilted back and her eyes rolled back into her head, while she came on my cock, her entire body quivering, her chest blushing bright red. 

Just as she appeared to be settling back down, gasping hard, I grabbed her thighs and fucked her as fast as I could, feeling my own need peaking. I couldn't hold back any longer and buried myself deep inside of her, shooting hard, my hips jerking forward of their own accord, filling her. 

Sandy cried out, releasing her legs which kicked out and trembled while she came with me.

I stretched out over her, while her legs slowly wrapped around me. Her eyes were large, staring at me in ego-soothing wonder. I kissed her softly.

"You are amazing," I told her.

She blushed. "I...I never...not like that," she murmured.

I was exhausted, from head to toe, and my legs and arms were trembling from my exertion. The front of my hips were sore from pounding against her, and my cock felt like it had been run through a wringer. I rolled off of her, lying on my back, breathing hard. She rolled over and leaned her upper body into mine. I reached around her, holding her close.

There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn't know how, or where to start. Instead I just kissed the top of her head while she held me. I reached across with my opposite hand and stroked her side before allowing my hand to settle over her breast, holding it gently, my fingers idly toying with her nipple. She moved closer, lifting her leg over mine, laying half on top of me. It allowed my arm holding her to wander, touching her, feeling her. I could feel the wetness of her crotch pressing into my hip, cold and wet. 

I closed my eyes, my arm stretched across her back, my hand holding the warm flesh of her ass cheek. Her breathing was slow and steady, her arm thrown across my chest. I pressed my lips against her hair one last time, leaned back and relished holding this sweet, sexy, troubled woman.

* * *

I woke abruptly, confused. I was alone in a strange bed, the covers pulled up to my chin. Daylight was streaming in the window, and I sat up, disoriented. It took a few seconds for me to recall the previous evening, and I looked around for Sandy. I started to get out of bed, and realized I was naked, my clothes were still somewhere downstairs. I pulled the covers over my waist, and looked around for something to cover up with, before spotting my clothing from the night before folded on a chair nearby. 

I pulled on my shorts and ducked into the bathroom for a much needed leak. I splashed some water on my face and borrowed her brush to run it through my wild hair. I took a swig of mouthwash and did my best to look partially human before heading back to the bedroom. I was pulling on my sweats when Sandy appeared with a cup of coffee. It smelled delicious.

She smiled and passed it to me. She was dressed in pyjamas, and had clearly showered and cleaned up. Her hair was still moist. "Hurry up. There's a little girl downstairs almost bursting with the need to open her presents."

I took a sip of the coffee, hot and strong, then passed it back to her for a second while I pulled on my shirt. I straightened it out and retrieved my coffee for another sip.

She was watching me intently, a sad little smile on her face.

I started to speak but she cut me off.

"No. Let's not talk about it right now. It was something we both needed, but it doesn't have to mean anything. It just happened. I don't regret it. Right now we need to go downstairs."

I moved to her and grabbed her chin. I saw she was nervous and wondered if she'd practiced that little speech. I leaned over and kissed her softly, continuing until she responded.

"I just want to say you are amazing. Really."

"So you keep saying," she teased.

"What is Erica going to think?"

"I told her you had a sleepover. She probably has a good idea what that means, kids are so precocious these days, but she seemed alright with it."

"Shit. I feel like a jerk, spoiling her Christmas with you."

She hit me, her little fist landing solidly on my chest, almost making me spill my coffee. "Shut up. It's because of you that she's having a Christmas worth mentioning at all."

She turned and headed downstairs, and I had to pull my eyes away from her cute little butt, before I had a physical response that would be almost too much to bear. I realized she was walking tentatively, and wondered if she was as sore as I was this morning. Probably. Maybe more so.

We headed straight for the living room, and sat back on the couch about a foot apart while Erica waited for us, standing beside the presents almost shaking. She watched her mother anxiously, glancing my way long enough for a quick smile. When her mother nodded she dove into the presents grabbing the closest and tearing it open. 

She oohed and aahed over each new gift, while the pile of unwrapped ones grew smaller and an ever growing field of toys gradually overtook the room.

She shrieked and jumped up and down when she opened the iPod touch, pulling off the $50 iTunes gift certificate. She'd been pretty quiet up until then but she climbed over to her mother and gave her a big hug. 

"He knew, Momma, he knew!" she shrieked in joy, stopping her present opening to crack open the iPod box and pull it out, looking it over, holding it reverently in her hands.

I felt a warm hand settle onto mine, giving a soft squeeze. I turned my wrist and held her hand in mine, interlocking our fingers. I looked over to Sandy, and saw the tears in her eyes. With a sniffle she carefully brushed them away.

As usual, the new clothing got short shrift, being tossed into a growing pile, but she did look each one over, holding it up against her body, asking her mother's opinion on several before moving on.

I listened to Sandy laugh at her daughter's antics, and thought it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in ages.

Erica was about halfway through the gifts. I watched her reach for a big box, and I gave her mother's hand a squeeze. "Maybe that one should be last," I whispered.

"Erica, darling, that one's from Mr. Reed. Why don't you open it last?"

Erica looked up, her surprise matching my own. She moved it to the side and continued her quest to eliminate the pile of wrapped presents. 

The small purse with five $10 bills was another big hit, as were the rollerblades, each calling for another shriek and a visit to her mother's lap, bringing forth more giggles and laughter from the woman beside me. Sandy was smiling hugely, taking the wrapping paper from her daughter and filling a garbage bag with it as we went.

I was torn. Each gift I'd so carefully picked out for my girls was disappearing. I couldn't help but think about how I should be spending my Christmas, if I hadn't received such a kick in the teeth from fate. A couple of times I felt myself tearing up, my breath catching in my chest. Sandy moved closer, her leg pressed against mine, holding my hand in both of hers, tightly, in her lap. 

Then I would see the joy on young Erica's face, and I'd wipe the tears away, taking a deep breath, knowing that it was what my daughter's would have wanted. Their hearts had been as big as the world.

I felt Sandy's head lean into my shoulder, and I gave her hand another squeeze.

Finally the presents ran out. There were two gifts remaining. The one that had been there on that first day, which seemed so long ago but had only been three days earlier, and the big one. 

She looked over at us, then starting peeling away the paper off of her mother's present. There was a book sized jewelry box inside, and she opened it shrieking. "Grandma's necklace?" she asked.

"You always liked it," Sandy said. 

Erica came over and sat between her mother's legs, lifting her hair up out of the way so her mother could attach the chain behind her neck. I could now see it was an old-fashioned locket and Erica was clutching at it like she'd never let it go. Sandy finally got the chain latched, and gave her a little shove.

Erica stood up and ran to the mirror, looking at herself. She came and stood in front of us, striking several poses. It was so damned cute. I couldn't help but laugh.

That got Sandy's attention, and she giggled as well, cuddling up next to me and pulling my arm around her shoulders. 

We watched Erica go to the last big box, glancing back at us as if waiting for permission. 

"Go on," I teased, "you can't stop now!"

She grabbed the edge of the wrapping paper, and tore into it. She ripped large chunks of paper off, tossing them toward her mother, before suddenly coming to a complete stop. She screamed out, stood up and danced in place. I'd never seen anybody so excited. She bent over and tore the paper away roughly exposing the PS3 and the piles of games taped to the top. 

"Mom! Mom! It's a PS3!" she cried out, bending over and lifting the box, twirling around with it, before stumbling and dropping it to the floor.

Sandy laughed, "Careful! You don't want to break it before you get a chance to use it."

Erica scrambled across the coffee table between us and launched herself into my lap. She gave me a huge hug, squeezing me so hard I thought she might break something.

I felt her breath against my ear. "Thank you, Santa." I felt her soft lips press against my cheek, bringing a tear to my eye.

I hugged her to me. "I hope you enjoy your present." I could feel the tears welling up, threatening to overflow, and I clung to her for a few seconds. "Go on now, open it up."

She jumped up and started tearing at the box, peeling off the games, instantly separating them into piles. So much like her mother. I felt Sandy shifting on the couch next to me, and I turned toward her, just as her arms wrapped around me. She kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you." 

I hugged her. "I should be thanking you. I never thought I could enjoy Christmas again."

She smiled. "That would be horrible," she said softly, "if Santa couldn't enjoy Christmas."

I thought we were finally done, but Erica went behind the tree and returned with two gifts wrapped in newspaper comics. She gave her mother one, and gave me the other.

Sandy and I looked at each other, then she opened her gift. Inside was a hand-made ornament, a picture of their little family, Sandy, Erica, and the missing father, smiling as if everything was perfect in the world. The picture was framed in popsicle sticks, with pipe-cleaners glued to it. It was too cute for words.

"If we hang it on the tree, then Daddy can share Christmas with us from heaven," Erica explained.

I saw Sandy choke up, then give her daughter a big hug. "It's beautiful."

"Hang it up, mom!" Erica insisted.

Sandy got up and placed it in the middle of the tree, carefully arranging it so it faced the room. "I love it Erica, thank you."

Erica was standing in front of me, hopping from foot to foot. "Your turn," she announced.

I opened the paper carefully, and saw a hand drawn picture, colored in crayons on some light colored cardboard. It took me a second to realize what it was. "It's us painting the door, isn't it?"

"Yep. And that's momma, trying to look angry." She pointed to a stick figure at the side.

It must have taken her a while. The picture was pretty big, more than a foot tall, and she'd carefully drawn the door in great detail, coloring it blue, and she had little Christmas decorations all around it. She was kneeling down painting the bottom, and I had this ridiculously long body, bent over at the waist, painting the door just above her head. 

I pointed to the figure to the side. "If she's angry, how come she's smiling?" I asked.

Erica laughed. "She's only trying to be angry. She's really happy. She just isn't allowed to show it. She has to act sad because Daddy's gone."

I held the picture up, then made a show of hugging it. "It's my very favorite Christmas present. I'm going to frame it and put it on my desk."

Erica climbed up on the couch and hugged me. "Will you hook up my PS3?"

"Of course I will," I told her, returning her hug.

"And I'll start breakfast," Sandy announced. I looked up, and she was wiping tears from her face again. What a roller-coaster of emotions.

It only took a few minutes, and we had the game system hooked up and Erica was debating which game to start with. She barely got it loaded before we were called over for breakfast.

"Mo-om!" Erica pouted.

"It's not going anywhere. You can play after breakfast."

It was surrealistic, sitting there at the table, with eggs, toast and sausage on my plate, and a glass of orange juice at the ready. Erica had cereal in her bowl and a tall glass of milk. Like a normal family.

I was still stunned by how talkative Erica had become, as she told us all about her gifts. "Can Taylor come over later and play?" she asked.

"We'll see," Sandy told her. "It's Christmas, her parents may want her to stay at home today."

"What are your favorite gifts?" I asked.

She seemed to think about it, and I watched her hand move up to the locket around her neck. It was cute watching her face scrunch up as she really thought it over.

"I think it was your sleepover," she finally announced, catching me off guard and almost making me spit my orange juice across the table. 

Sandy was just as surprised, "Really? Better than the PS3?" she asked.

Erica nodded vehemently. She looked at me, "Momma's happy."

I looked over at Sandy, and saw her blushing furiously.

I reached over and tousled Erica's hair. "I'm happy too. Happier than I thought I could be."

Erica nodded solemnly. "I know. Your girls went to heaven too. These were their presents, right?"

I nodded. "I knew they'd want you to have them."

She took a bite of her cereal. "Allora was nice. We made a poster for her in class. I drew an angel."

Hearing her name was tough. Suddenly everything felt wrong. I should be sitting at a table with her and Briana, listening to them chatter. Watch them fight over playing with each other's gifts. No chance of that now. The room was becoming blurry, tears for my lost girls filling my eyes.

"Don't be sad," Erica said, reaching out and touching my arm. "They're in heaven now, and they get to watch us. They wouldn't want you to be sad."

I forced myself to smile. "I bet the poster was beautiful. I wish I could see it." 

"Mrs. Viola would probably let me take it home for you," she said.

"I'd like that."

Erica was eating her cereal as fast as she could, and she pushed the empty bowl away. "Can I play now?"

Sandy gave her the go ahead, and she made a beeline toward the TV.

Sandy and I looked at each other. "She's become quite the chatterbox," I mentioned.

"Thank God," Sandy said, standing up and taking up the plates. "Let's hope it sticks."

I cleared my own stuff and joined her at the sink. "I should go home soon."

"I understand," she said softly.

"I have to stop by thes. I promised. But I'd like to come by later if you don't mind. Maybe we can have dinner together."

She seemed a little distant. "You don't have to. You've done enough already."

I put my arms around her, and felt her stiffen. "Don't tell Erica, but her drawing was only my second favorite Christmas gift."

I felt her relax a bit, and she turned toward me, allowing me to hug her properly. I leaned down and kissed her softly.

She giggled. "Oh, really?"

"Really. The sleepover was my favorite."

"That gift will have to hold you over for a while. Another sleepover and I don't think I'd ever be able to walk again. You beast." Her smile took any sting out of the words.

"No kidding. I'd have to learn to talk with only one lip."

Her eyes opened wide, and she raised her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

I kissed her again. "No apologies, remember."

She smiled. "Alright. Dinner would be nice, but I didn't have anything special planned."

"Let me take care of the dinner."

She grinned salaciously. "That's right. You did promise to feed me."

That made me blush.

"As a matter of fact, if you're not in a huge hurry, maybe you could feed me again, before you have to leave."

I looked over at Erica.

"She'll be fine. You won't be able to tear her away from those games for hours." She took me by the hand, and drew me over to the stairs.

Half-an-hour later, I'd fed her, but not before proving to us both that we fit each other perfectly. It was quiet, and gentle, and just what I needed to make it clear that the previous night wasn't a one-time accidental thing.

* * *

It's been a year since that first Christmas. Things weren't always easy between us, we still had sharp edges and wounds that weren't quick to heal, but we stuck to it.

Any talk of holding Erica back in school ended quickly. She's an A student, smart as a whip, and even talking about playing volleyball. Her quiet spell snapped that Christmas. 

Within six months I'd moved in with Sandy and Erica, and we'd become landlords, renting out my two houses, and using our new found wealth to buy a few foreclosures, renovate them and rent them out as well. Sandy quit her jobs and was relishing her new real-estate magnate career. Even if the rentals can be a headache sometimes.

By September we were talking about marriage, and decided to forgo any big ceremony and flew off to Vegas for a mini-vacation and a quick wedding. We even conned Cathy and John to join us for a couple of days. Cathy was our matron of honor. Steve and Darla surprised us by showing up as well. He insisted that if I was going to put on the noose again willingly, he'd be my best man. He always was.

We're wrapping Erica's gifts now. I guess overdoing it at Christmas is one habit I'll never get over. Every once in a while I can't help but reach over and rub Sandy's belly. Erica's excited by the idea of having a new baby brother by summer. 

Me? I'm excited by our new Christmas tradition. I get to re-enact our first Christmas sleepover. Sandy's even wearing that silly, ratty old robe. She's promised never to get rid of it.

Christmas will always be bitter sweet to me, and sometimes I still get the blues and need some time to myself to think about those little girls that had their lives cut short so unfairly. I miss them terribly, and think about them every day.

Christmas will never be the same. But I'm not complaining. 

======

I hope you enjoyed this little story. Votes and comments are always welcome and appreciated.