Page 54 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

“That too.” He let her go into the house. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard her whisper the word asshole as she went.

Bobby still looked a little guilty, but he was smiling. “I drove.”

Tommy laughed and went in for a kiss, but Bobby stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Don’t get mad, Tom.”

“Just saying that tells me there’s something to get really mad about, Bobby.”

Bobby cringed, but rather than say anything, he stepped to the side so Tommy could see the two carrier bags with wrapped presents in them.

Tommy closed his eyes and let out a long breath as he counted to ten in his head. “I need a cigarette.”

“You quit.”

“I still need one.”

The laugh Bobby let slip didn’t help much. Tommy opened his eyes, and Bobby said, “I brought some mistletoe, if that helps.”

“If you think I’m kissing anything of yours tonight, you’ve lost your mind.”

Bobby laughed again. It seemed like he could tell Tommy was putting up a protest for the sake of it rather than hoping to gain any ground.

“How about if I do the kissing?” he asked, stepping closer.

Tommy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Bobby. “Keep it in your pants, copper. Apparently we’re having a party.”

Before Bobby could say anything else, Judy called from the living room. “Tommy, would you help Bobby with the bags? And close the door, you two, you’re letting the cold in.”

Tommy grunted in response, but he did what she asked and picked up one of the bags.

When they came inside, all the kids were wearing their matching hats. Judy was on the floor with Zoe while Carrie pulled the ornaments out of the box. She was showing one to Judy, a little elf dressed in blue. Just a little piece of plastic with white fuzzy trim. Its blue suit used to be fuzzy too, but it had been handled so much the flocking had rubbed off over the years.

“This one has been in our family for generations,” she told Judy solemnly. “It’s a little beat-up, but it’s my favorite. Pop told me once that it was his great-great-grandmother’s.”

Tommy hated that ornament. Mostly because he remembered the day he went into the gas station with their old man to buy a pack of cigarettes, and Cal had pocketed it from a small display of ninety-nine-cent Christmas decorations. Even then, Tommy couldn’t figure out why Cal took it. He had enough money to buy the smokes and the bottle of booze in his coat, but he stole that little thing? It was a mystery to him. Made more bitter a few years later, after Carrie and Collin came along, when he heard Cal telling them the story of how special it was and how it had come all the way from Ireland on a coffin ship with one of their dearly departed ancestors. Tommy had never found a way or a time to tell Carrie the truth, and as much as she loved the damn thing, he was never sure if he should.

The look on Judy’s face when she glanced at Tommy made him think she’d guessed the truth too, but she didn’t point it out to Carrie.

She said, “That’s lovely, dear. That one needs a special spot, doesn’t it?”

Carrie agreed with a nod. “After the lights go up.”

One strand of lights was already on the tree, and the boys were trying to untangle the rest.

“Of course,” Judy said with a smile.

When Tommy set the bags down near her, Judy reached into one and pulled out the only unwrapped box.

“This one isn’t a family heirloom like yours, but it’s very special to me.” Judy spoke so softly, Tommy found himself stepping closer to hear. “It was given to me by a darling friend who stayed with us for a while when she was a little girl, younger than you.” She placed the box in Carrie’s hand.

Carrie carefully pulled the top off the box. She glanced at Tommy, as if to make sure it was okay. He forced himself to smile at her, and she pulled out what looked like a round ball. It had white glitter shimmering down the top. When Carrie turned it, Tommy could see it was hollow with a small bird inside, its wings wrapped around five others. A red stripe stood out on its black feathers and it sat on a pile of glitter that looked like snow.

“That’s an acorn woodpecker,” Judy said, pointing inside. “Their call sounds like a laugh, and when a female lays the eggs in a hollow tree she has helpers, sometimes the siblings of the new eggs, to incubate them and feed them once they’ve hatched.”

“It’s so pretty,” Carrie whispered. She held it back from Max as he tried to reach for it, but she made sure he could still see it. “You shouldn’t give it away, though.”

Judy smiled at her and touched the tip of Carrie’s nose with her fingertip. “The things that make your heart sing,” she said quietly, “are the things that should be shared.”

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