Page 73 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
They both slid out of bed. Holly wrapped herself in a blanket and awkwardly climbed down to the ground floor one-handed. Jace followed her a minute later, wearing nothing but his pants.
He’d left a lamp on; now he turned on a couple more, and turned up the heat. Outside the windows, snow was still falling. Holly retrieved her coat from the hanger by the door, then sat in front of the heater on the floor with the coat in her lap. Meanwhile, Jace rummaged under some cushions piled behind a chair.
“Who goes first?” he asked, turning around with his hands held behind his back.
“You’d better give me mine,” Holly suggested, finding herself slightly nervous. What in the world did he have there? Had Dad given him something to give her? “Mine’s safely hidden in my coat, but it doesn’t look like yours is going to stay secret very long.”
“In that case, close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
Holly obediently closed her eyes and raised her hands. She giggled. “What on Earth is it? I don’t even have a guess.”
“Feel.”
Something soft settled into her hands. Holly squeezed it gently. She felt folds of fabric, with some kind of core that was firm but not completely hard. “I still don’t have any idea what this—oh!” Her groping fingers had just found a hard section loosely connected to the main part, and suddenly she realized she was holding a doll’s china hand. “This is a doll. One of my dolls?”
“Open your eyes.”
Holly did. And then her eyes flew even wider.
“Betsy! Thisismy doll. The doll Rob damaged.” She turned it over, stunned. “Did you—fix this?”
“Yeah, I did the gluing yesterday, and stayed up late fixing the rips in the dress and washing it. It was drying by the heater most of today.”
Holly was still fingering the doll, turning it over and over. Now that she knew what he’d done, she could see the mends and cracks. Jace had clearly done his best, but he was an inexpert sewer at best. The mends were evident.
But this doll had been through several generations of Porter girls. It had surely been mended several times over the years already. Jace’s inexpert but wholly heartfelt gift felt like a metaphor for this entire Christmas: imperfect, a little messy, and better than anything she’d ever known.
“Okay, I know some of the sewing isn’t great,” Jace said. Holly realized she’d been sitting in total silence, staring at the doll. “If you hate it, I could maybe pick out some of the stitches and try again ...”
“No. Don’t. It’s wonderful. It’s—perfect.” Sudden tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged the doll to her chest. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“That’s .... good crying, right?”
“You dork.” She pulled him in for a hug, with the doll squashed between them. “Of course it’s good crying.”
Hugs turned to tear-flavored kisses, and Jace snuggled down next to her, sharing a fold of her blanket. Holly ran her fingertips over his chest. The swirling scar patterns contrasted with the furry patches, creating a fascinating map that she felt she could spend a whole lifetime exploring.
“So are you going to grope me all night, or do I get to open my present now?” Jace asked, his eyes sparkling.
“We can do both.” She moved her hand away from his chest, with a final wistful caress, and laid the doll carefully in her lap before feeling in the pockets of her coat. “You created a tough act to follow, big guy. Don’t get your hopes up too high. Mostly I just didn’t want you to have to come to a Porter family Christmas completely empty-handed, but after that lead-in ...”
“Stop dissing my present and let me find out what it is.”
Holly smiled. She pulled out an envelope from one of the coat pockets. She had written Jace’s name on it, and then added a couple of Christmas stickers from their cards and stationery drawer to make it a little more festive. It still looked sad and plain next to the pile of festively wrapped gifts under the tree that she found herself comparing it to in her mind’s eye.
“Do I get to open it now?”
“Like I said, really don’t get your hopes up.” Holly pressed the envelope into his hand. “This cost me nothing, and you might not even want it.”
Jace opened the envelope flap with his thumb and unfolded the sheet of paper inside. He stared at it for a moment, and Holly, her heart in her throat, had sudden sympathy with Jace’s anxious anticipation while he had waited to find out what she thought of the doll.
“This is ...” Jace frowned, although it seemed puzzled rather than scornful. “It’s a ... deed to Mistletoe Manor?”
“Yes. It’s all subdivided up here. When Mom and Dad firsthad these places built, the original plan was that each of us girls would get one of these cottages, if we asked for it, to do whatever we want with. I talked to Dad about it today, and told him I was ready, and I had chosen. I wanted this one. So this is going to be mine. And, if you want, it can be ours.” She swallowed, feeling suddenly, terribly exposed. “It’s not legal yet because we need to do all the paperwork, and of course if you hate this one we can pick another. In fact, maybe this was a dumb idea to begin with?—”
Jace reached over, pulled her close, and kissed her.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said, smoothing out the paper carefully. “I’m in shock, honestly, I think. You’re talking about giving me ahome, Holly. What in the world do you mean, it’s not much of a present? All I gave you was a doll that was yours anyway.”
