The Poacher
The kids woke at the butt crack of dawn on Christmas morning, squealing and shouting as they discovered the gifts Santa had left in their stockings.
Vicki moaned from her place in the bed beside him, not unlike how she’d moaned last night when he’d “stuffed her stocking.” After the kids had gone to bed, he’d surprised her with an early present of her favorite perfume. She’d slipped her clothes off, slapped a bow on her bare butt, and summoned him to her bed with a crooked finger.
Knowing he was still on thin ice with her, he sat up. “I’ll start the coffee.”
“Wake me when it’s ready.” With that, she rolled over to go back to sleep.
Torn wrapping paper, colorful bows, and ribbon covered the living room floor, the kids happily playing with their new toys. Well, all but the biggest toy.
The Poacher gestured to the rocking horse in the corner. “Harper, aren’t you going to ride the horsey Santa brought you?”
She made a face. “I’m too old for a rocking horse, Daddy.”
His heart splintered. Harper had been thrilled when Santa had given her a rocking horse three years ago, then later devastated when the police seized it as evidence he had stolen from the Toys “R” Us store he’d worked at. He wondered if she remembered, hoped to God she didn’t. Regardless, he’d sworn to himself back then that he’d make it up to her. Maybe some things can’t ever be fixed.
He padded into the kitchen, got the coffeepot going, and rounded up a rusty frying pan. “Who wants pancakes?”
His older son hollered, “I do! I do! I do!”
The younger one looked up to his brother and attempted to say the same thing but it came out, “Ah-doo. Ah-doo.”
Harper raised hopeful brows. “Can you make the smiley-face kind? Pleeeeeease?”
She’s still my little girl. “Anything for you, squirt.”
After breakfast, the whole family cuddled on the couch to watch the same holiday movies they had already seen a hundred times. It was like the warden and his John Travolta movies all over again. Harper had squeezed in between him and Vicki. When the third show ended, Harper’s patience ran out.
She looked up at him. “Can we open our presents now?”
He gestured to all of the new toys lying around. “What about the things Santa brought you? Tired of them already?”
“We’ll play with them more later,” Harper said. “Please?”
Vicki glanced at the clock on the cable box. “It’s not even noon yet.”
“I don’t care!” Harper said. She looked up at the Poacher and, seeming to sense he was on her side, began pumping her fists. “Pres-ents! Pres-ents! Pres-ents!”
Her brothers joined in, the youngest shouting gibberish. “Pez-iss! Pez-iss!”
“All right.” Vicki waved a hand toward the wrapped presents under the tree. “Harper, you pass them out.”
Harper was more than happy to provide present-delivery services, picking up each gift, reading the name on the tag, and stacking them before their intended recipient. When her little brother started pulling on the paper, she wagged a finger in front of his face. “Not yet. You have to wait until they’re all passed out.”
His lip began to quiver and he was on the verge of blubbering when Harper leaned down and gave him a hug. “It’s okay.”
His expression was confused now, but at least he wasn’t going to cry.
When all of the gifts had been distributed, Harper took her place on the rug. “On your mark!” she cried. “Get set! Go!”
The air filled with the sounds of paper tearing and children screaming.
Vicki reached into his gift bag and pulled out the lace teddy he’d bought her. When she realized what it was, she shoved it back into the bag before the kids could see. She sent a coy look his way. “Is this for me or for you?”
“Both of us,” he replied with a wink.
Harper opened the small box he’d wrapped for her and held up the gift inside, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. “My own cell phone!”
His little girl was thrilled. His heart warmed. Finally, he was showing her he could be the kind of father she deserved, a good father who provided well for his family. Looks like things can be fixed after all.
Vicki was less delighted. She turned a frown on him. “What does a seven-year-old need with a cell phone?”
“Aw, c’mon,” he said. “Lots of kids her age have them. Besides, she’s always asking me questions I don’t have the answers to. If she has her own phone, she can look them up herself.” Maybe he could’ve answered more of his daughter’s questions if he’d spent less of his time in prison working out and more of it reading.
Vicki frowned again, but it was a smaller frown this time and her tone had softened a little. “I still say it’s ridiculous.”
He returned his attention to Harper, basking in her delight until she suddenly froze. Her smile faded and she turned to him, her eyes lit with worry, and said something that hurt worse than the time he’d been shanked in the prison shower. “Do we get to keep our presents this time, Daddy?”