A Christmas Family Miracle. Rebecca Winters
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“That and a lot of prayers.”
“Raoul insisted on flying to Colorado for you. I’m so grateful he followed his instincts.”
Raoul, Raoul.
“I should have come sooner. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Arlette touched Crystal’s cheek. “You weren’t ready to deal with anything until now. We understand.”
Except that they didn’t understand this new agony. How could they? Crystal needed to be alone.
“You’re the most marvelous in-laws anyone could have. Philippe and I are the lucky ones.” Crystal kissed both of them. “I’m going to let you two have this time together while I get more shopping done without a little body knowing what I’m doing.”
Both of them smiled. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“Not this evening, Arlette. After school, Philippe’s going to help his uncle buy a Christmas tree and decorate it.” Since Philippe would blab the news to everyone anyway, there were no secrets. “I’m going to provide the food.”
“That sounds delightful.”
“Are you going to cook?” Jules asked.
“No. We’re having chicken nuggets.”
At their horrified expressions, she laughed, but all amusement faded after she left the hospital room.
“I BET THAT’S MOMMY!”
Raoul’s back was against the picture window, where he was hanging the last strand of white lights on the tree. He’d put on a CD of Christmas music both he and Philippe were enjoying. The two songs he had to learn for school were on it. Before the evening was out, he’d have the words memorized.
“Go ahead and open the door for her.”
“Okay.”
He heard Philippe’s excited voice before the two of them came into the living room. His nephew put the food she’d bought on the coffee table.
“Hello,” Raoul called out as if they were in the woods.
She glanced across the room and pretended to look for him. “Oh … there you are. Hello-o,” she called back the same way, making Philippe laugh. As she took off her parka and hat, his heart skipped a beat. The firelight gleamed in the lighter streaks of her blond hair attractively mussed about her face and shoulders. Crystal was a natural beauty.
“For a second I thought you were Père Noël hiding behind the pine boughs.”
“He’s not Père Noël, Mommy. You’re funny.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure, not with that deep voice.”
“Some day I’ll have a deep voice just like his, huh.”
“Yes, honey.” She moved closer to the fire. “This feels good. It’s cold outside.”
“It is that,” Raoul murmured. Last year she and Philippe had left before Christmas. At that point in time he couldn’t have imagined this day.
“Do you like our tree? Uncle Raoul let me pick it out.”
“I love it!”
“Can I put on the decorations I made now, Uncle Raoul?”
“Let’s do it!”
“Where are they?” she asked.
“On the kitchen table. I’ll get them.”
“Do you want us to eat in the kitchen, Raoul?”
“No. I think it’s more fun by the fire.”
“So do I!” Philippe quickly opened one the sacks. “What’s this?”
“Grape juice. They didn’t have apple.”
“Oh.” He took a drink. “Mmm. It’s good.” Then he grabbed a chicken nugget and hurried out of the living room munching on it.
Raoul couldn’t help but smile. He’d brought a box out of storage and moved it in front of the tree. “The old ornaments are in here.”
Out of the corner of his eye he watched her reach for some and begin hanging them as high up the tree as she could. Her figure did wonders for the stunning outfit she was wearing, a beige sweater toned with cream-colored wool pants.
Philippe came running back in with some drawings he’d cut into diamond shapes. Raoul had given him a few ornament hangers so he could pierce a hole in the paper.
“Guess what this one is?” Philippe held it up to his mother.
As each ornament was hung carefully on the tree, Crystal and Raoul guessed all the characters he’d drawn from his favorite cartoon show, much to Philippe’s delight. As Raoul reached over to take a decoration out of Philippe’s hand, he brushed against Crystal’s arm accidentally. The contact seared him, and he quickly focused his attention back on Philippe.
“You’re a good artist, do you know that?”
“I know. Madame Fillou told me.”
“Philippe, you’re supposed to say thank you.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
Raoul grinned. “You’re welcome.” In a few minutes they finished decorating the tree. He moved over to the CD player and turned it off. “While your mother and I eat, why don’t you impress her and sing the songs you’ve been learning.”
Crystal sat on the couch by him and they began eating. Philippe only needed help here and there. When he’d finished, she clapped her hands. “I’m very proud of you to learn those words so fast.”
“So am I,” Raoul murmured.
“Thanks.” The purple grape juice had stained Philippe’s upper lip. Raoul would always retain this picture of him. “Can we sleep here tonight?”
“That’s up to your mother.”
“Please, Mommy? Uncle Raoul has a pullout bed in the loft where we can play spy.”
He felt her body tense. “But we don’t have pajamas, and you don’t have a change of clothes for school tomorrow.”
“Uncle Raoul bought me and Albert some Bigfoot Monster pajamas and our own toothbrushes for when we sleep