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After living with Vash for six months, Meryl was used to most of his quirks, his stress baking included. He’d bake up to a batch of cookies a day each week; in a better mood, he’d slow down to one or two a week.
Today, though, he was practically going on a marathon, and dressed for it, wearing a sky-blue apron with red flowers embroidered on the bib over his white button-down and jeans. Sugary, sweet smells had filled the combined kitchen and living room of her apartment for nearly ten hours now, and nothing—not his half-finished library paperback, or the watercolor he’d started yesterday, or the puzzle they were putting together, or an offer of kisses and cuddles she’d thought would be too tempting to resist—could pry him away from that oven.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, leaning on the vinyl counter that faced the living room.
He was bent in half in front of the oven, his black spikes dangerously close to brushing the top of the open door. He usually wore his hair down around the house now; he must have slicked it up to keep it out of the way. Or maybe because baking was serious business.
“Stand back,” he called. “You’re right next to the trivets.”
In one fluid, elegant motion, he stood up straight with a tray of cookies in his mitted hands. Crack! His back popped loudly enough for her to hear.
He gritted his teeth and winced. “Oh, that’s gotta hurt!” he boomed.
Meryl frowned. “You’ve been at this all day. It’s almost four. Soon you won’t have the time to go to the library. Let alone the energy. And then you’ll have to make dinner, and—”
Vash’s uncharacteristic belly laugh stunned her into silence. “Ho, ho, ho!” In a deep, clear voice, he said, “‘My back feels fine! Never felt younger! Never felt stronger! Haven’t got a symptom any longer!’ Besides,” he said in his own voice, “yesterday, you insisted I take a break from cooking, for which I’m very grateful. Now, stand back, my love. This pan is smoking hot! Like you.” He winked.
Meryl’s ears burned. She tried to hide her embarrassment by scowling. “That had better be the last batch,” she said. She didn’t like to scold him—after everything, it wasn’t in her nature the way it had used to be—but sometimes she had to use her old tricks to get him to settle down. “Don’t make me drag you away from that kitchen, Mr. Vash.”
Vash giggled, high-pitched and wavering like he’d been the victim of a tickle attack, another method she employed to stop him from spiraling. “What are you talking about, Meryl?” Removing his oven mitts, he reached for a metal spatula to transfer the cookies to a cooling rack almost entirely filled with cookies in several colors and shapes. The ones on the pan were round, covered in powdered sugar, and smelled chocolatey. “This is my last batch.” He scooped up the last cookie, plucked it off the spatula, and stuffed it into her open mouth. Beaming proudly, he announced, “I’m done!”
Meryl raised her hands to her face to cover her mouth as she bit into the cookie. It crumbled and fell apart, half of it dropping into her cupped hands, the other half, warm and gooey in the middle, melting on her tongue. There was no chocolate cookie on the planet that tasted like his chocolate crinkles, and she knew that for sure because of her and Milly’s brief stint filling in for one of NLBC’s food reporters around the holidays. Where had he gotten his recipes? She quickly shoved the other half and the crumbs in her mouth.
Vash popped a cookie in his mouth, too. He chewed and swallowed with a pleased hum, then turned to her with a quirked brow. “So?” He rounded the counter and ambled toward her, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Is that offer of kisses and cuddles still on the table? And is a back massage extra or is that part of the package?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
He dropped his arms limply to his sides. “Aww, why not? We’ve got a few minutes to spare before we have to head to the library!”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” She pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped the cookie crumbs from her lips, then reached up to wipe his mouth, too, his stubble rustling beneath her touch. “You’ve never baked all day like this. Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong.”
“What is it? Talk to me. Tell me.” Swallowing, she glanced at his right arm to make sure she hadn’t missed a stray feather. “Or if you can’t talk, show me.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Meryl. I’m fine.”
“Then why were you baking so much? We can’t eat five kinds of cookies in two weeks. Well, maybe you can, but I don’t think you want to.”
“These are to share.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Milly’s out of town visiting family. Who are you going to share them with?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned with his eyes shut. “It’s that time of year!”
“The middle of July?”
He nodded. “It’s time for me to visit my family.”
“The people of the ship?”
“This is a different family. A more recent one. I want you to meet them. I think they’ll really like you.”
Heat rushed to Meryl’s cheeks. “You’re… introducing me?”
“I might have said I was coming tonight.”
She gasped. “Vash! Why did you—” She cut herself off when his shoulders seized up. Closing the short distance between them, she took his right hand in hers. “Were you afraid I’d say ‘no’?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said.
“Is that the truth?” She wasn’t sure.
He opened his eyes. “It’s… a special trip.” His brow knitted in worry. “I wasn’t sure about bringing you along. But I didn’t want to leave without explaining. I haven’t done that since I moved in with you, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that to you again.” He gazed at her; his beautiful blue-green eyes made her breath hitch. “I already broke one promise, and I don’t want to break another. Please come with me.”
Speechless, she flung her arms around him in an impulsive embrace. He flinched but quickly returned her hug, stroking her hair with his warm, callused right hand. A “special trip” to meet members of his family she’d never met sounded exciting and intriguing. She was touched that he loved and trusted her enough to take her along and introduce her.
“So, is that a ‘yes’?” His chest rumbled in her ear when he spoke.
“Yes,” she said, blinking back tears. She lifted her head to look up at him. “I’d love to meet them.”
Vash gave her a small smile. “That’s my girl.”
He leaned down for a quick peck on the lips, then squeezed her, guiding her to sway back and forth with him in their tight embrace. She liked how snug his hugs had become lately. Over the past months, she had become far less afraid of being close to him, and he was no longer afraid of upsetting her by touching her.
“No time to waste on cuddles, my love!” he cried, letting go of her and leaving her bereft of his warmth. “To the library!”
—
It was a fifteen-minute walk to the library, so they arrived at a quarter after four; it usually closed at five on Saturday. Vash assured her he’d have more than enough time to pick out what he wanted.
Letting go of his hand, she opened the tote bag she’d brought along so she could drop off the novels he’d finished at the circulation desk. She expected him to head straight for the fiction section. Instead, he grabbed her hand and tugged her along, past fiction and nonfiction, to the children’s section.
After a moment of confusion, it dawned on her why he wanted to browse there. Turning to face him, she asked to confirm, “Is there a child in your family?”
“Yes. His name is Carlos, though he goes by Carlito.” He scanned the books’ spines, mouthing titles or authors’ names to himself while idly rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.
“How old is he?”
“About eight.”
Vash’s eyes lit up, and he pulled a book from the shelf. Meryl caught a glimpse of the title, Snowmen at Night, before he tucked it under his left arm. He grabbed another one with the name Arthur on the front, though she didn’t see the rest of the title. Moving from B to D, he picked out his next book. The watercolor illustration on the cover depicted a field of fir trees full of rainbow-colored lights.
“Christmas Lights All Around,” she read. Vash let go of her hand, walked behind her and over to M, and grabbed a copy of The Night Before Christmas. Stumped again, she asked, “What’s with the holiday theme?”
He beamed at her with closed eyes for the second time today. Worry briefly gnawed at the back of her mind—was he upset, and refusing to tell her something?—but she shook the thought away. “’Tis the season!”
“I don’t know that much about Christmas.” The holiday had mostly died out, a long-forgotten Earth custom, but had stayed alive in the homes of a relatively small number of families, hers not among them. From what she understood, some of those families attended church, and others didn’t. “But I know it’s not traditionally celebrated during July.”
“You’ve never heard of Christmas in July?”
“But on Earth, it didn’t snow in July, did it?”
He opened his eyes, his smile slackening into something more natural. “That depends on what part of Earth you’re talking about. Earth’s climates and seasons were, and still are, far more varied than ours. Anyway, Christmas is a wonderful time of love and peace and togetherness! It’s about eating meals with family and singing together and giving from the heart. Why should we have to limit it to one day a year? Except that Santa was considered an outlaw for a time, so I understand why he only travels on the holiest night.”
“Huh? I thought Santa Claus was a jolly old man, not a dangerous criminal!”
“You’re dating a ‘dangerous criminal,’ aren’t you?” Vash winked. “It’s true he was breaking the law. But they were pretty strict laws. Imagine not being allowed to play with toys!” He walked over to her, picking up another book on the way that said Christmas Carols for Everyone! on the back cover. “I need one more. It’s called Christmas Mice Are Very Nice, and it’s right by your feet.”
Folding her arms, Meryl asked, “Does Carlito know that Christmas isn’t celebrated in July?”
“Trust me, Carlito’s old enough to know that Christmas isn’t usually celebrated in July. But this is how we do it. This is our tradition, Meryl.”
“Tradition…” She trailed off.
Though she’d celebrated very few holidays aside from birthdays, tradition had once had its place in her life, too. Big Fall Day was observed in most cities and towns all over the planet, on the day that the ships had first crash-landed on its surface. Any town that was big enough to have a square had a tall white monument at its center. Everyone in the town gathered around the monument and sang the song of humanity together. Last year, she had been assigned to report on Big Fall Day observances and discovered that in some smaller towns, the words of the song had been changed or lost to time.
Where she’d grown up, the song hadn’t had words. She had simply hummed along with everyone else. Her parents had lit a single candle, and they had silently eaten dinner together, an ode to those panicked early days when their ancestors had dwelled in darkness without functioning plants to light the way. Big Fall Day was an austere occasion, nothing like the grand festivities she associated with what she knew of Christmas. Every year, the chaos and danger of daily life on No Man’s Land seemed to come to a screeching halt, and everyone was united for a single day of peace and remembrance.
“Tradition is very important,” she finished. “I’ll celebrate Christmas in July with you.”
“Great! Excusez-moi!” He bent over to retrieve his last book, then stood up and flashed a winning grin. “Let’s check out. We need to get moving.”
“Wait!” She grabbed him by the front of his button-down. “Where are we going? It’s not more than a couple hours away, is it?”
“It’s a bit of a haul. But we’ll get there before dark.”
“Where are we going?”
“Mesa Probe Church.”
“Mesa Probe? That’s three and a half hours from Dece—” She cut herself off and looked into his eyes. “Mesa Probe?” she asked, more quietly this time.
“Where you and Milly found me.”
Her face grew hot. “Of—of course. I know the way.”
Lifting his free hand to cup her face, he caressed her cheekbone with a gloved thumb. “I know you do.”
“Are you sure—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Go on, ask.”
“Will they be upset if I come by? Milly and I played no small part in disturbing the peace of such an isolated place.”
Vash chuckled. “Yeah, it sees its share of tourists now and then. I’ve figured out the best times to come. Just another reason we celebrate Christmas in July. And it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t trying to capture me that day.”
“Except on film,” she said lamely.
“You did capture my heart, though.”
He tucked a hair behind her ear and rubbed the base of her neck with his gloved pinky finger. Shyly, she gazed up at him. His lips were slightly parted, and he was staring at her lips. Burning up, she bowed her head.
“Aww,” he cooed. “Meryl, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a quick public smooch.”
“We’re in the library!” she hissed, though the tender touch of his gloved left hand was giving her goosebumps. “In the children’s section, no less!”
“You’re so sweet when you’re embarrassed, ma puce. I’ll kiss you when we get home instead.”
He tapped her chin with the tip of his thumb, the seam of the leather tickling her skin, and let go of her face to hold her hand. She blushed from head to toe all the way to the circulation desk.
—
They went home to get ready. Vash took a five-minute shower and changed into cargo khakis and a long-sleeved dark green V-neck; the color complemented his dark hair, which he wore down, and blue-green eyes handsomely. After agonizing over what to wear, Meryl chose a gray turtleneck and wide-leg white pants, paired with her usual gold earrings and a gold fan-shaped statement necklace.
They packed the cookies in white cardboard boxes and shoved them in the trunk of her car, along with his bag and her suitcase; he’d told her to bring it along in case they ended up staying the night. He fished a cassette tape out of his bag and popped it in the car’s tape player, and soon he was singing along to Christmas songs and teaching her the lyrics, from “Jingle Bells” to “Silver Bells” to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” He never purposely missed a note, and his vocal range was shockingly wide; his impression of the suave crooner who sang “Blue Christmas” was spot-on. When the line “Somebody waits for you, kiss her once for me,” came up during “Holly Jolly Christmas,” he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
Most of the songs were upbeat, about celebrating Christmas together with family and friends in the spirit of the winter season, but some of the more solemn songs were sacred rather than secular. Vash sang along to those, too, but more subdued; she listened without joining in. “O Holy Night” and “Mary, Did You Know?” were among her favorites of that type.
Two and a half hours into the ride, the first sun was halfway to setting, and they finished listening to side B of the cassette. Vash ejected the cassette and stowed it in his bag, then started rambling about Christmas movies and specials he’d watched as a child and on the SEEDS ship as an adult. By the time he finally directed her to park near the church, she had a pretty good grasp on the different kinds of animation, including stop-motion, as well as all the varieties of Muppets, from Kermit to the Fraggles to the Sesame Street gang to Emmet Otter and his mom. It was especially encouraging that he’d seemed enthusiastic about the topic, and hadn’t just been prattling on to fill the silence.
Vash only took a minute to stretch his arms and legs after they got out, groaning dramatically. She walked around the car to ask if he was okay, right as a small child wearing a felt hat came running up to him.
“Merry Christmas, Vash!” the boy cried, throwing his arms around Vash’s legs.
Vash laughed. “Hey, there, squirt! You almost knocked me over.” He knelt down to hug the boy back. “Merry Christmas, Carlito.”
“I missed you,” Carlito said, muffled by Vash’s shirt. “The tree missed you, too.”
“I know.” Vash’s smile was tinged with melancholy. “Want to help bring the cookies inside?”
“Yeah!” Carlito let go of Vash and started for the trunk, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Meryl. He looked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Turning around, he asked Vash, “Who’s this?”
“This is Meryl. She’s my girlfriend.” Meryl’s cheeks burned, butterflies dancing in her stomach. “We used to travel together, and now I live with her in her apartment in December.”
“Hi,” she said, waving at Carlito. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Carlito mumbled. He scampered away.
“He’s a bit shy,” Vash explained as he got to his feet. “Mind lending me a hand?”
He and Meryl grabbed two boxes of cookies each, Carlito took the last one, and together, they walked up to the house. A middle-aged man with stringy black hair past his shoulders, opaque glasses, and a frown stood in the doorway.
“Hey, Dr. Bond!” Vash greeted him.
The man’s frown brightened into a smile. “Good to see you, Vash. And who’s this? Are you the lady friend he’s told us about?”
“She is. This is my girlfriend, Meryl.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her or say anything about how much she was blushing.
“All my friends call me ‘Jim,’” Dr. Bond said. “Except for that one.” His chuckle was raspy and rough around the edges. “Come on in. Let me take those cookies for you.”
She and Vash handed him their boxes. Carlito stepped inside and put his box on the table, which he was barely able to reach. For almost eight, he was pretty short; Meryl hadn’t been any taller at that age. Like her, though, he’d figured out how to get around being vertically challenged. He climbed up on top of one of the metal chairs next to the table and sat on his feet. Then he leaned over to open the box labeled “Choc. Chip” on top in Vash’s script handwriting and swiped a cookie.
“Rascal.” Dr. Bond playfully smacked Carlito’s shoulder and headed to the sink. “Glass of water for both of you?”
“Yes, please,” Meryl said. “I’d really appreciate that.”
They’d shared a single canteen on the way down. She had tried not to drink a lot since she didn’t want to have to stop. Vash, who’d needed to keep his throat from going dry with all that singing and talking, had emptied it half an hour ago.
“I’d like one, too,” Vash said, setting down his bag. “Be right back. If I drink anything else right now, I’ll explode.”
Carlito laughed loudly and spewed a few cookie crumbs out of his mouth. Dr. Bond wrinkled his nose and said, “Carlos, please keep your food in your mouth while you’re eating.”
“But it was Vash’s fault! He’s the one who made me laugh!”
“He was probably tellin’ the truth.” Dr. Bond turned on the faucet and filled a glass with water. “Imagine sitting in a car for three hours, not bein’ able to hit the can or get up and walk around. I get stiff just thinking about it.” He filled the second glass and walked back over to Meryl. “Here ya are, missy.” He handed one of the glasses to her. “And the other for your beau when he gets back.”
She quietly thanked him and took the other glass. Utterly parched, she wanted to chug it in one go, but settled for taking a polite sip, and another, and another, and another.
Dr. Bond picked up a vegetable peeler and a shiny red-and-gold apple. Murmuring a festive-sounding tune in a language she didn’t recognize, he peeled the apple to reveal pristine white flesh—not too firm, but not mushy, either.
Vash waltzed into the kitchen humming “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” He paused at the table to open the box of chocolate crinkles and sneak one. Then he came over to Meryl and accepted the glass of water she offered him, thanking her and Dr. Bond.
“C’mon, Vash, let’s go decorate the tree!” Carlito rushed over to him and tugged on the front of his shirt. “We have to do it while it’s still light outside. C’mon!”
“But what decorations am I going to use?” Vash put his hands on his hips, tilted his head, and pouted.
“The ones in your bag! I know you brought them!” Carlito lunged for Vash’s hands. Smirking, Vash held them out of reach. “Come on, pleeease,” he begged.
“Are you talking about…” Vash crept over to his bag and loosened the drawstring on the top. He pulled out what appeared to be a garland made of scraps of multicolored red and green fabric. “These decorations?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Carlito’s feet thumped against the floor as he ran over to Vash. Vash grinned and blocked the door. “Moooove!” He pounded Vash’s thighs with his fists. “Let’s go! I wanna go outside and decorate our tree!”
“Can Meryl help us?”
Carlito’s face fell. Wringing his hands, he glared at her and mumbled, “Does she have to?”
“It’s okay,” she said with a smile she hoped was encouraging. As an only child with older cousins, she wasn’t very experienced with children. But working as a reporter had taught her how to think on her feet, and she knew exactly what to say. “This is my first Christmas, and I have a lot to learn. I’ll stand back and watch so I can learn how the experts do it.”
Carlito’s face lit up again. Vash and Meryl turned to face each other at the same time. He smiled at her, and she smiled in return.
The three of them headed outside, and Meryl noticed for the first time the apple tree standing in the middle of the flat, dusty yard. Barely a feel taller than Vash, it was rife with healthy green leaves and still sported several perfect-looking apples. Vash took the garland out of his bag, handed it to Carlito, and lifted him in his arms, helping him drape it across the tree’s branches. They arranged a string of multicolored lights to follow the path of the garland. Vash flicked on a battery pack, and red, green, blue, yellow, and pink lights came to life.
Vash produced a fascinating array of two dozen colorful miniature decorations from the depths of his bag called “ornaments.” Like the garland, they had been sewn from fabric scraps; the stitches were rudimentary, and each ornament was small and flat, likely so he could fit more of them in his bag. Each ornament had a twine loop strung through a hole in the top so it could be hung on a tree branch. Some were simple squares or diamonds in a solid color, while others were more complex, like eight-pointed stars and slim, upside-down triangles that Vash called “icicles.” Once the tree was full of ornaments, Vash put Carlito down and dug in his bag.
Carlito scampered over and tried to sneak a peek. “What’s the new ornament this year?” He was practically trembling with excitement. “I can’t wait to see what it is!”
Vash smiled as he showed off a bird skillfully carved from black stone that reflected the orange light of the second sunset. A metal loop was strung through a hole in the bird’s tail to allow it to be hung up. “Here, feel it. It’s not heavy at all.”
He placed it in Carlito’s hands, and Carlito’s eyes lit up. “It’s so light. Maybe even light enough to fly!”
“My friend Livio heard we decorate our tree for Christmas, so he carved this bird for us. Isn’t it pretty?” Winding a thick piece of wire around the loop, he carefully affixed the bird to a branch in in the tree’s center. “Look at how it reflects the lights. Ooh. Ahh.”
“Ooooh. Aaaahh.”
The final touch was a star-shaped decoration with a battery pack attached. Meryl was unsure how Vash had fit it into his bag. As big as Carlito’s head, it consisted of two glass and metal sections connected to each other by cylinder-shaped lightbulbs at each point of the star and in the star’s center. Vash tied the star to the branches with wires so it wouldn’t fall off the tree’s top and turned on the battery pack.
Vash turned to Meryl and asked her, “What do you think?”
Meryl had never seen a Christmas tree, and she was mesmerized. “It’s beautiful.”
“Sounds like we did good again this year,” Vash said to Carlito. “Thanks for your help.”
“De nada,” Carlito said. He offered his hand for a high five.
Vash slapped their palms together, grabbing onto Carlito’s hand and shaking it up and down vigorously. “Muchas gracias, muchachito.” Carlito grinned. “Now what should we do?”
“Read to me! Read to me under the tree!”
“Are you sure?” Vash placed his hand under his chin, stubble rustling, and scrunched his brow in an exaggerated display of deep thought. “Maybe we should grab some cookies first.”
“Cookies are for after dinner. Don’t spoil your dinner! It’s spaghetti and meatballs and breadsticks and baked apples!”
“And salad, right? Vegetables are very important. Say, how’s the arroz con pollo going? Has your dad figured it out yet?”
“Well…” Carlito started picking at the tree’s bark. “He says he still has to practice. A lot. And that it’s hard for him to make it because he didn’t grow up with it like Mamá did. But he has her recipes, and he ate it lots of times. I mean, they were married for ten whole years before I was born. He knew her for twelve years.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “That’s a long time.”
“That’s probably why it’s so difficult for him,” Vash said gently. “He got used to the way she made it, and now he feels like it isn’t right when he tries to make it.”
“I guess.”
“He misses her a lot, huh?”
“Yeah. He blames himself sometimes, but I tell him to knock it off. ’Cause it wasn’t his fault she got sick and died.” He laced his hands behind his back and bowed his head. “And he says, ‘I know, mijo. I’m bein’ a silly old man.’ And then he says that the hardest thing for a doctor is accepting that there wasn’t anything else you could have done. Like with, um…”
Carlito became very interested in prying dirt out from underneath his fingernail. The corners of Vash’s lips twitched downward, but he corrected it so quickly that Meryl almost missed it.
“Anyway,” Carlito said, “can we read now?”
“Is Meryl allowed to sit with us?”
“Aww, well…” Carlito pouted and sulked. “I guess so.”
Vash pulled one of the books out of his bag and sat down underneath the tree. Carlito sat on his right side and Meryl his left. Vash opened the book to a page with an illustration of a village. The houses’ roofs were covered in snow, and the trees were adorned with bright lights. He began to read.
“Christmas lights all around,
Snowflakes falling to the ground.
Santa’s coming tomorrow night,
Everyone is merry and bright.”
He turned the page. The picture showed a family sitting and standing around a table eating together. A small brown dog with a bright red collar was tugging at the trapdoor of a toddler’s footie pajamas while the toddler reached for a plate of cookies. Carlito pointed at the toddler’s exposed bottom and laughed. Vash read further:
“Christmas cookies on the table,
Try all the flavors if you’re able.
Hot chocolate by the fireside,
Jingle bells, happy yuletide!”
The next illustration depicted large red stockings hanging in front of a chimney. On the staircase, the children from the previous page clung to the banister and peered through the gaps. The dog stood on its hind legs in front of them.
Vash nudged Meryl’s shoulder. She glanced at him, asking with her eyes if he was sure. He nodded, so she took a deep breath and read the next four lines.
“It’s Christmas Eve and we can’t sleep,
To take a peek, downstairs we creep.
Empty stockings are what we dread,
But they won’t be full if we don’t go to bed!”
The next page showed the mother and father of the family standing outside the door to the children’s bedroom. A tiny bundle of green leaves with white berries dangled from the threshold, and the father kissed the mother on the cheek while she beamed from ear to ear. Blushing, Meryl continued:
“Grown-ups have to close their eyes, too.
Or Santa won’t come, that’s the rule.
Under the mistletoe, they share a kiss!
A moment alone is their Christmas wish.”
“Eww,” Carlito said, grinning as he wrinkled his nose. Looking at Vash, he frowned and asked, “Hey, why didn’t you say it this time?”
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Vash leaned over to give Meryl a peck on the cheek. She kissed his nose, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. If Carlito hadn’t been watching, she would have attacked his face with a flurry of kisses from his forehead to his chin.
Carlito flared his nostrils and stuck out his tongue. “Yuck. I don’t wanna understand. Keep going!”
Turning toward Carlito, Vash said, “Do you want me to read the rest?”
“No. I like Meryl. I want her to read Snowmen at Night and I want you to read Christmas Mice Are Very Nice. And I want you to read Arthur’s Christmas.”
“I think your dad’s going to call us in for dinner before that,” Vash said, patting Carlito on the shoulder. “But I’m glad you like Meryl.”
“I like you, too,” Meryl said, leaning forward so Carlito could see her smile.
Grumbling in half-hearted protest, Carlito burrowed into Vash’s side and nestled his head next to his armpit.
“Aww.” Vash slung an arm around him. “You can’t already be getting sleepy, peque. The child sun is still up.”
“I’m not sleepy at all. I’m wide awake.”
“Buenas noches, Carlos,” Vash cooed.
“Buenas noches, Vashito!” Carlito took off his hat and tried to put it on Vash’s much bigger head. Vash limply batted him away while he giggled and attempted to cover Vash’s eyes with his hat.
The headlights of a car glared in Meryl’s peripheral vision, and she glanced over her shoulder to see it park behind hers. “Someone’s here,” she said. “Are more guests supposed to be coming?”
“Ah!” Vash sat up straight and gently pushed Carlito off of him. “Just one, but that must be him!”
The headlights turned off, and the driver opened the door. He was about five years younger than Dr. Bond, slouched when he stood, and had a head of dark curly hair. He sauntered around the front of the car and offered the three of them a wobbly smile. It was Marlon, the gunsmith and Vash’s close friend.
Marlon waved. “Hey, Lightning!”
“Hi there, stranger!” Vash shot up to his feet and, true to his nickname, bolted over to Marlon to give him a friendly handshake and a brief one-armed hug.
Marlon chuckled and slapped him on the back. “Still in one piece, I see. How the hell are you?”
“Fantastic! How are you?”
“Not bad. The scruff really suits ya, by the way. With your hair down, too, you look more relaxed. More yourself.”
“Thanks! I sure hope I look like myself!” Vash grinned at him. “Meryl’s here, too. You remember Meryl? We’re dating now!”
“Course I remember. Hi.” He waved at her, and she awkwardly waved back. “Always thought she’d be a good match for ya. If anyone could keep you in line, it’d be her.”
Vash let out a strained laugh. “Well, she’s done a lot for me, so I try to behave myself.” He smiled and said, “I’m so glad you could make it again this year.”
“Yeah, it’s a hell of a haul. But you got good folks, her included, so it was worth it.” He fished a metal flask out of his jacket, unscrewing the lid to take a swig. To Carlito, he said, “And how are you doin’, scamp?”
“Merry Christmas, sir,” Carlito mumbled.
With a hearty guffaw, Marlon tucked his flask into his jacket. “Shy as last year, I see.” Lowering his voice, he muttered, “Jeez, my nerves are shot. I hate drivin’.”
He reached into another pocket for a cigarette, followed by a folder of matches. With his fingers shaking as much as they were, it took him three attempts to light up.
“Everything all right, Brandon?” Vash asked, brow knit in concern.
“I’ll be fine. Long as I get my vices in me.” He smirked and punched Vash’s shoulder. “Picked up a familiar face along the way,” he said around his cigarette. “You’re in his way, though.”
“Oh, sorry!”
Vash stepped aside, and Marlon’s passenger opened the door. He was bundled up in a sweater, scarf, and his fur-collared coat, and he grumbled in a distinctly teenage way as he got out and stood up.
Vash’s mouth fell open with a gasp. “Brad?!” He grinned and burst into loud laughter. “Aaah! What a surprise! So good to see you!”
Brad rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes. “I didn’t want to impose. But Brandon said it was a small gathering, and I’d already eaten before I left the ship. He convinced me.”
Marlon pointed his thumb at him. “He brought drinks. For everyone. Can you believe this kid?”
“Just orange juice. Fresh-squeezed from the ones in the ship’s garden. He said there’d be cookies, and they go together.”
“They do!” Vash said brightly. “I’m so glad you thought to bring it.”
“And here I was thinkin’ it was milk went with cookies,” Marlon said.
“It’s his tradition! His mother is an amazing baker, and his father worked in the garden. So he always ate cookies with orange juice when he was growing up.”
Brad was simultaneously smirking fondly and acting like he wanted to slink away and melt into the ground. Meryl couldn’t help but giggle. When she was a teenager, her dad had constantly embarrassed her, from praising her talents in front of strangers to simply saying “dad things.” It had been a while since she’d written to him and her stepmom. Maybe she’d pick her pen back up tomorrow.
“Let’s head in, kid,” Marlon said. He stubbed his cigarette on the sole of his shoe, elbowed Brad, and reached up—since Brad was nearly a head taller than him—to sling his arm around his shoulders. “I’ll introduce you. Nothin’ to worry about. Jimbo’s a good guy and a damn better doc than the one we got where I’m from.”
Vash watched them head in with a warm, almost relieved smile on his face. Meryl sighed, and some of the tension dissolved from her shoulders. He seemed to smile more widely when Marlon was around. And while Brad showing up had definitely surprised him, it had clearly been a welcome surprise.
“Sorry for the interruption!” Vash called as he bounded back over to the tree. Settling in between Meryl and Carlito, he said, “Now, where were we?”
Carlito was worrying his hat in his hands. “Does Brad like to read?” he mumbled.
“Brad loves to read. And he loves eating cookies. I think you’ll get along just fine.” He patted Carlito’s head and ruffled his overgrown dark hair. “Brad is like you, you know. Only he’s missing his dad instead of his mama.”
“And Marlon doesn’t have his mom or his dad. Or a girlfriend or boyfriend or brothers or sisters. Or anyone.”
“That’s right. He’s by himself. But when people like us come together, we feel so much better, don’t we?”
“Yeah. It’s like we’re all missing a little piece. But we find a way to fit together so our missing pieces don’t matter.”
Meryl stared at the book in her lap, at the picture of a family asleep in their beds. She wondered who Vash’s missing piece was, but maybe she should be wondering which missing piece was on his mind. The first time she’d been enveloped by his feathers, she’d glimpsed flashes of the pain of loss, but the memories he’d shown her shortly after he’d moved in with her had filled her in on the agonizing details of everything she’d missed before and after their reunion in Octovern. Wolfwood and Knives were both gone; he’d lost so much more than she’d realized or known. Chest tightening with dread, she lay one hand on his shoulder and took his left hand in the other, squeezing it hard so he could feel the sensation even through the glove.
Vash faced her and smiled. He planted a delicate kiss on her forehead that sent a shiver down her spine.
“I’ll be all right,” he whispered, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. She had no choice but to believe him.
Carlito piped up with, “How many books do you think we can get through before dinner?”
“I think,” Vash said, “we should take our time and enjoy this one.”
He looped his left arm around Meryl’s middle, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. She cleared her throat and started to read.
“Now the whole family are sleepyheads,
Slumbering away in their quilted beds.
Santa slips in and gets it done,
Presents and joy for everyone!”
—
By the time dessert—apple cake, mulled cider, and Vash’s cookies—was served, Carlito had finished all but one of the library books. While Vash was taking seconds, Meryl was nearly full, and Marlon and Dr. Bond were chatting and working on their first plates, he crawled underneath the table and snuck over to the couch, where he’d left Arthur’s Christmas when they’d come in for dinner. Brad quietly read to him, and he listened with wide eyes, sipping orange juice and nibbling on chocolate chip and sugar cookies.
Once everyone was done eating, Carlito begged Meryl and Vash to join him. But Brad needed to fill Vash in on some news from the ship, leaving Meryl in charge of Carlito. While she read, she tried to listen in; from what she pieced together, it sounded like Luida was busy negotiating with the Earth Federation forces. She resolved to ask Vash about it later.
Meanwhile, Marlon and Dr. Bond continued their long, winding conversation. At one point, Meryl overheard the doctor scolding Marlon that alcohol and cigarettes would rot his teeth, give him “stray dog breath,” ruin his liver and lungs, and send him to an early grave. He had quit smoking for his and Carlito’s sake, he said, and Marlon needed to follow his lead. Marlon replied with unimpressed grunts and irritated eyerolls. Yet though he unscrewed the lid to his flask a few times after that, she didn’t see him light up again that evening.
Dessert was followed by a short carol sing. Everyone threw on their jackets and walked into the cold night air. Vash and Carlito sang five songs in front of the tree. Meryl joined in for two of them, doing her best to ignore her shyness about singing in front of others. After that, they headed inside, and Dr. Bond read aloud from The Night Before Christmas. Everyone listened with rapt attention as he narrated the ancient storybook in his raspy voice, pausing after each page to show off the illustrations.
Carlito whined about having to go to bed, and he wasn’t happy that Brad and Marlon had to leave. Vash reminded him that Santa wouldn’t come if he didn’t go to bed, just like in Christmas Lights All Around, which got him to give in. He left cookies and orange juice on the front stoop for Santa and complained that he was too tired to go to bed. Vash hardly needed any encouragement to scoop him into his arms and carry him to his room.
“Will Santa come again this year?” Carlito whispered to Vash, who was kneeling next to his bed. “Even though we don’t have a chimney or a fireplace to hang up stockings?”
Vash squeezed his hand. “Our gifts will be under the tree, like last year.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Because… our tree’s a special tree?” Carlito’s lower lip started to quiver. “Vash—”
“Shh. I’m okay, peque.” In the light from the hallway, Meryl saw his brow crease slightly, casting a shadow over his gentle smile. “Our tree looks wonderful. I think he’ll love it. Good night.”
“Good night.” Carlito’s voice wavered. He didn’t close his eyes until Vash had turned his back on him.
Meryl glanced up at Vash. His features had hardened with sternness, and his gaze was distant. Heart clenching, she touched his arm and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going outside.”
Meryl’s heart pounded in her throat. Blood rushed to her ears. “What’s the matter?”
He said nothing.
“Tell me,” she begged, terrified as she was of the answer. Tugging on his sleeve, she whispered, “Please, Vash, tell me what’s going on.”
He remained silent, his face like a stone as she walked alongside him. She only stopped at the coat closet for her coat, pulling it on as she followed him outside.
He approached the decorated tree with shuffling steps. He paused for a moment in front of it, staring at it with a furrowed brow. Closing his hand around one of the apples, he yanked it from the branch, shaking the decorations and causing the star on top to sway. He bit into it, and the crisp crunch was so loud the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
“What do you think of these apples?” he asked in a stoic monotone.
Caught off guard, she paused to come up with an answer so she didn’t stammer uselessly. “I thought they were delicious.”
“Exactly. They’re perfect. Everyone loves them. They’re sweet and crisp and never overripe. Always just right.” Vash took another bite and chewed with a furrowed brow.
“Yes. They’re wonderful.”
“They make me sick.”
Meryl almost never heard him complain about anything he ate, unless he was trying a new recipe and it hadn’t worked out. Since he was such a good cook, that rarely happened.
“You don’t have to eat it,” she ventured. But he continued to chew in silence.
Bite by bite, he tore into the apple until only the core was left. Then he threw it on the ground and kicked it hard, watching it tumble away. He curled his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching them. Meryl felt so tense she couldn’t stand it. She opened her mouth to call out for him, but he spoke first.
“You got what you always wanted.”
Meryl swallowed. He hadn’t been speaking to her, so who had that been directed at? The tree? Vash had shown her a memory of a tree that looked a lot like this one, and then he’d told her that Knives—
“And then you threw it all away.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Bastard.”
Her head spun, and her eyes welled up with tears. Clutching the front of her coat in her hand, she asked in a trembling voice, “Does this tree… have something to do with him?”
He lifted his head and faced her with wide, guilty eyes, looking like a child caught misbehaving. “Meryl, please go inside.” Giving her a soft, sad smile, he hung his head and said, “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”
“Please, answer me.” She wrung her hands, then clutched her elbow. “Is this tree—did Knives—” She cut herself off when Vash flinched, his shoulders tensing. A hollow feeling sat in the pit of her stomach, but she had to press on and ask. “Did he leave it behind? When he died?”
“Nice of him, huh?” Vash sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “To finally give something to humanity in his last moments. ‘Thanks for helping my brother survive. Here’s a tree. See ya!’ Bastard.”
“I don’t think that’s how you really feel. I know he left scars on the planet that might never heal. I know what happened in July. And the fifth moon incident, too.”
“So it should be as easy as cursing his memory and meaning it. I should be glad he’s gone. Shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I?!” he spat, baring his teeth.
Two enormous white feathers the size of her forearm sprouted from his right arm, writhing and curling around each other. She shrieked and stumbled backward, heart fluttering in her chest. Terrified enough to run, she remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. Like the first time his feathers had engulfed her.
She ignored the feathers and focused on his face. The pain in his furrowed brow, the fury in his glimmering eyes, and his twisted grimace. Clearing her throat, she steeled herself and continued, “That’s not what I meant. I meant that in spite of everything, he was still your brother. That’s why you come back here every year, isn’t it? To see him.”
Vash’s eyes softened slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. The air was completely still, but the twin feathers danced and twirled around each other like ribbons in the wind.
So softly she had to strain to hear him, he said, “Do you know today’s date?”
“Um, it’s the longest day of the year. The meteorologist at the office told me that yesterday. That was July twentieth, so…”
“Today is the twenty-first.”
“The twenty—” Meryl squeaked in fright and covered her mouth with her hands. Her racing heart throbbed in her ribcage. Cold sweat beaded on her brow. The spiraling void, the feathers, his horrified screams rattling her lungs—
“The day it happened,” she forced out.
“I’ve started coming here on the twenty-first every year,” he said, “because I’d like to forgive him.”
“You want to forgive him?”
“Not really. But also, yes? Maybe? I don’t know.” He threw up his hands, the now-limp feathers flopping with the motion. “I wish say that this was his attempt at making amends. He left this tree here so they could thrive. It was a thank-you gift. A nice little going-away present.” He sighed and pinched his brow between his left thumb and index finger. “Is that what I should believe? Is that what I should say? I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”
“Is that why you brought me along?”
He dropped his left arm to his side. “I thought I’d feel better this time, with you here. I was doing so well. I really was. Carlito and Jim, Brandon and Brad. Spending time with them was such a joy. A good distraction. But it wasn’t enough. I’ve only made things more difficult for you.” He mashed his lips together, and his eyes shimmered. “If you don’t want to put up with this, with me, I understand. You’ve been so good to me. So much better than I have. I’ve tried so hard, but this is more than you should have to shoulder.”
Without thinking, Meryl stepped forward. “I’m not letting you go through this alone.” Her hands were shaking, but she hid it by curling them into tight fists.
Almost as if he hadn’t heard her, he continued, “I’ve already hurt you so much. I don’t want to—”
She cut him off. “That’s enough!” His eyes went wide, watery blue-green reflecting the multicolored lights from the tree. “You asked me to come along. I want you to rely on me.” She took another step forward, then two more. Soon she was an arm’s length away from him, from the twin feathers dangling from his arm. Reaching out, she took his hands in hers. “Let me be there for you.”
“Not for this. You don’t want to.”
“I do. I want to.”
“But it’s hard. This is hard.” He bit his lip and bowed his head. Tears spilled when he blinked, trickling from the corner of his eye down to his angular jaw. “We could never have gone back to the way it used to be. But Carlito and Jim loved him, and they miss him, and damn it, he should have at least tried!”
He started to sob in earnest, and she wrapped her arms around him, unable to stop herself from crying, too. She tucked her head in his chest and held on tight to him, swaying with him until he caught on and started to move with her, too. His ragged breathing gradually evened out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the white feathers recede into his arm until they disappeared completely. She looked over at the tree; the lights had turned blurry and haloed in her watery vision.
“It’s a beautiful tree,” she said.
“‘I never thought it was such a bad little tree,’” he whispered, imitating a childlike voice she didn’t recognize. He sniffled. “‘It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love.’”
“Who said that?”
“Linus. Right before they decorate the tree and surprise Charlie Brown. I should show you that one first when we go back to the ship.”
“I’d love to watch it with you. Or any of the ones with Muppets. Or whatever you want to watch.”
“Charlie Brown Christmas always was his favorite. I think he identified with Linus. He was the kind of kid who would have carried around a security blanket.”
She lifted her head to look at him and make sure he wasn’t joking. He was smiling a little, his lips turned up at the corners. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. He used to be so emotional. He’d cry at the drop of a pin. You could say I was the ‘big’ brother in some ways.”
“That sounds like you. Always the caretaker.”
“Never the care… taken?” Vash offered her a lopsided grin. With her vision better accustomed to the darkness, she noticed the bags under his eyes looked deeper than usual.
“That’s what I’m here for.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin, bristly stubble scratching her lips. He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Let’s stay the night, all right? You need to rest. We both need it.”
“Fine with me. The guest bed’s a bit uncomfortable, but it beats sleeping upright in a car.”
“We’ll make it comfortable. You never got your promised cuddles, after all. Maybe that can be your Christmas present.”
He hummed in interest, quirking a brow. “Cuddles, huh? Do these cuddles come with kisses?”
“It’s actually my most popular package, and what you’re getting right now is a free sample. If this feels nice, I have a lot more where that came from. Act quickly enough, and I’ll throw in a back massage.”
He laughed, a low rumble, and stroked her hair. “Were you in sales before taking that risk management job? You would have made a good salesgirl. Hard to resist.” He caressed the corner of her lips with his callused right thumb. “Tempting indeed.”
As he leaned in, she was strangely comforted by the thought that Knives had, in fact, left something wonderful behind as his final act. Not only because it was life-sustaining, but because it ensured that Vash had a reason to come back year after year to celebrate Christmas in July with his family.