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THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS, Reagan was determined to spend as much time with her family as possible. Miles agreed to let her spend the rest of the holiday with them—which meant she likely had twenty-four hours before he took her away. She had no idea what to expect from the afterlife, but her guardian assured her it was nothing to fear, and encouraged her to think of it as “a new beginning.”
Her mother and father were sitting by the fire, staring at their unlit Christmas tree. Cathy was cradling Reagan's stocking in her hands, tracing the letters with her fingertip. R-E-A. When her finger landed on G, tears exploded from her eyes. John slid an arm around his wife's back and attempted to reassure her with a squeeze.
“It's not going to be the same without her, John.” Cathy dabbed her eyes with a sodden Kleenex. Her tears from twenty minutes ago had already soaked the tissue “I wish I could wake up from this nightmare. It just doesn't feel real.”
“I know how you feel, Cath. Believe me, my heart is broken too.”
“She was our girl. Our baby.” Cathy covered her face and bellowed into the tissue. “A child should never die before her parents.”
“I'm so sorry, Mom.” Reagan stood behind the sofa and tried to stroke her mother's hair. According to Miles, her mother would likely feel the caress as an inexplicable chill. “I wish I could tell you I'm okay.”
“I'd trade places with her if I could,” her father suddenly said.
“Don't say that, John.”
“No. It's true. I would trade places with her in an instant. I can't stand it, Cathy. I can't stand to think that we'll never see her again. I can't stand the thought of putting her in the ground... and never seeing her smile, her face...”
“Dad...” Her father's words pierced her to the core. “I guess I should apologize to you too. I could have been a better daughter.”
Miles was standing by the window, watching flurries swirl around the pane. When he heard Reagan's self-criticism, he rushed to her defense. “That's not true. I've been watching over you for several years now, and I think you were a fantastic daughter.”
“I could have been better. I could have called more. I could have been nicer.”
“They loved you. That means something.” As Miles crossed the room to stand beside Reagan, his lips flicked into a faint smile. “Whether you know it or not, you were lucky. Having a loving, caring family makes you luckier than anything.”
“Didn't your parents love you?” When she realized she knew nothing of his life before—or if he even had one—Reagan added, “or did you not have parents?”
“I had parents.”
“What were they like?”
Miles' tremulous smile weakened, and he looked away from her. “I'd rather not speak of them.”
“Oh.”
When she saw her mother rest her head on her father's shoulder, Reagan slowly backed out of the room. If they were cozying up to each other, she thought they deserved privacy. Miles followed her to Chelsea's room, where her sister was sitting on the bed with earbuds in her ears and a Nintendo 3DS in her hands.
“We used to play Mario Kart together,” Reagan told her guardian angel. “It was one of the few things we did together. I think I've said this before, but I... I could have been a better sister too.”
“Don't be so hard on yourself, Reagan.” Miles sat at the end of Chelsea's bed, and Reagan sat across from him. “Everyone has regrets, but you should have very few. When you reflect on your life, you have every reason to be proud.”
“Thanks, Miles.” When she patted her sister's foot, she swore she saw Chelsea shudder. “I love you, Chelsea. I might not have told you that much when I was alive, but it's true. I love you tons and tons.”
“I'm sure she knows.”
“I... hope so.” Reagan thought she saw a tear fall from her sister's eye, so she leaned forward to get a better look. The tear left unmistakable evidence on her sister's sullen face. Her cheeks were obviously tear-stained. “You know, I think this is the first time I've seen her cry.”
“She was trying to be strong for her parents. Your sister prefers to look like the strong one,” Miles explained. “She might not show it on her face, but she misses you as much as anyone.”
“Are you just guessing, or is that really how she feels?”
Winking, Miles said, “I have good intuition.”
“I keep thinking about everything I'll miss, and it tears me up inside. I would have loved to see my sister graduate... to see her get married...”
Miles gave Reagan a nudge, but she was unprepared, and she nearly toppled from her sister's bed. With a chuckle, he said, “Don't be so dramatic! It isn't as if you'll never visit. You can see your family as often as you'd like. You can be at your sister's wedding.” Suddenly, Miles' smile turned a bit sly.
“Why are you grinning?”
“Well, I was just thinking... our wedding will be another thing entirely,” Miles said with a snicker. “When you and I get married, sadly, your family won't be able to attend.”
“Our wedding...” Reagan repeated his words with a roll of her eyes. “You never give up, do you?”
“My confidence is truly unsinkable.” He rose from the bed and tried to sneak a peak at Chelsea's game. “I daresay you won't be able to resist my charm forever!”
Miles was a bit strange, but Reagan did not mind his relentless flirtation. It was a welcome distraction from everything going on around her. “What game is she playing?”
“Link? At least, I think that's Link,” Miles said. “Sprite-like man, green clothing...?”
“That sounds like Link to me.”
“I hail from another time period, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm not too familiar with modern video game characters.” He saw the curiosity in Reagan's eyes, so he swiftly changed the subject. “Why don't we leave your sister alone for a bit? We're watching the poor girl cry. Considering how proud she is, I doubt that would make her too happy.”
“I guess you've got a point.”
Reagan followed Miles out of the room and went to visit her brother. The boy was nestled in his blankets, staring at the ceiling, clutching his teddy bear with all of his strength. He was so devastated by his sister's death, he was likely too depressed to move. In a way, Reagan hated herself for leaving her brother. She hated herself for dying so easily.
Reagan sat in a chair at her brother's bedside and said to Miles, “Do you know the poem, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas?”
“Of course. It was a classic long before my time.” When he saw Reagan's curious eyebrow raise again, he nervously cleared his throat and asked, “Why do you ask?”
“I had this book, a children's book, and I used to read it to my brother every year. David really liked the illustrations. I read it so many times, I think I memorized the words.” Reagan saw her brother's lips quivering, as if he was always fighting off tears. “I was always afraid he'd get too old for it, and the tradition would end, but... I guess I don't have to worry about that now.”
“If he could have his sister back, I'm sure he'd love to hear you read it every year... until he was ninety,” said Miles.
“Maybe.” Reagan closed her eyes and recited the words from memory. “Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.”
“Should it be hanged or hung?” Miles interjected, which earned him a scowl from Reagan. Apparently, she did not take kindly to being interrupted. “I've never understood that. English is a funny little language, is it not?”
“People are hanged, stockings are hung,” Reagan answered, then she raised her voice and continued, “The children were nestled, all snug in their beds—”
His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was David who recited the next line. “While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.”
When Reagan spun in Miles' direction, her eyes were wide with shock. “D-did... did you hear that, or am I imagining it?”
“No. You heard correctly. Your brother was reciting the poem with you,” Miles confirmed. “Sometimes, we can affect them in surprising ways.”
“Can he hear me?”
“Not exactly. It's more like... he might sense that you're with him.”
Reagan sat beside her brother, laid her hand on top of his, and continued to recite the rest of the poem from memory. There were a few lines not properly memorized, so she murmured through them, but for the most part, she recited it well. By the time she reached, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,” her brothers' eyes were closed. For the first time in many hours, the boy was allowing himself a chance to sleep.
“Twas the night before Christmas,” her guardian angel began, “as they traversed the house, Reagan thought Miles was her perfect spouse.”
“More like: Reagan thought Miles was a louse,” she countered, grinning.
“I'm offended, Reagan!” Miles playfully whined. “A louse doesn't have wings, whereas I quite clearly do!”
“You do have nice wings.” As Reagan complimented him, she left her brother's room, and motioned for Miles to follow. “Nice hair, too.”
“You like my hair, do you?” Miles raked a hand through his thick black locks, determined to draw attention to his best asset. “I was thinking about wearing a Santa hat tomorrow. What do you think?”
“I think you'd look cute.”
Her recent barrage of compliments had him grinning without restraint. “So all this time, you were really just pretending to be annoyed by me?”
“I've never been annoyed by you, Miles. I think you're funny and kind, and you somehow managed to make me laugh, even in the worst of times.” Side-by-side, they headed down the hallway together. When they reached the stairs, Reagan said, “You know, I really loved them.”
Miles was tempted to wrap an arm around her, to comfort her, but he kept his arms at his sides. “I know, sweetheart.”
“Now that I won't be with them anymore, it makes me realize how much they meant to me. I wish I'd told them that while I was alive.” From the top of the stairs, Reagan could barely see the pale, white, twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Her parents had turned on the lights, and that was somehow reassuring. “I hope they loved me too.”
“Of course they did. They still do. No matter how much time passes, they'll always love you.” Miles smiled at her again, giving her a glimpse of his devastatingly adorable dimples. “Believe me, Reagan, you're a very easy person to love.”