steven
“Are you sure we have time?” Sierra asked, walking down the sidewalk next to me.
I stopped at the crosswalk with her and zippered up her jacket all the way. “Yes, love.”
“Dinner doesn’t start until six?”
She was full of questions this morning, wasn’t she? And I still didn’t know where she was taking me with this sack full of presents that I had draped over my shoulder. We had been walking for ten minutes in the cold.
“Right,” I said. “Dinner doesn’t start for another five hours.”
“Good,” she said. “Because I don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
We continued up another block of the Pittsburgh streets in the frigid winter air.
I tightened my grasp on the red sack and arched my brow at her. “Would you like to tell me where we’re going?” I asked. “We could’ve taken my car.”
“It’s one of your gifts,” she said, chewing on her inner cheek and stopping on the side of the road. She glanced across the street at a building, then pulled me toward it when we were allowed to cross.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I promised the kids at my work that I’d come visit them today. They’re all either waiting for adoption or between foster homes right now, and they don’t really have anyone else besides the adults who work here.”
As soon as Sierra pushed the door open, I listened to footsteps padding down the hall.
“Miss Sierra!” a little girl with blonde pigtails yelled, running up to us. She wrapped both small arms around Sierra’s knee and stared up at her with a big, toothless grin, her chin on Sierra’s thigh. “You actually came!”
My smile dropped, uneasy feelings rushing through me at her words. She—and the rest of the kids—had wished that Sierra would come, but they had been let down so many times that they didn’t believe that she actually would.
God, I knew that feeling too well.
“Of course I came,” she said, twirling her fingers around the child’s pigtails. “I promised.”
The girl turned to me and pointed. “Did you bring your family?”
Sierra glanced over at me, gave me a soft smile, then crouched down to be at the girl’s level. “Something like that. He’s my helper. Sorta like Santa’s helper but a lot cooler.” She giggled and nodded to the bag. “See, he brought all the gifts.”
The little girl’s pupils grew even wider as she stared at the sack. A couple of other young children jogged up to Sierra, wrapping her up in big hugs. She whispered something quiet to the kids, and they all looked at me.
And then, in a moment, ten of them ran over, grabbing my hands and pulling me toward a back room. A fit of, “Come on,” and, “Let’s go,” escaping their mouths.
I stumbled along, peering over my shoulder at Sierra, who smiled and picked up the girl with pigtails to follow us.
“Where are they taking me?” I asked.
“To the multipurpose room,” she said.
We walked down a hallway that was covered with paintings of Christmas trees, Hanukkah menorahs, and snow falling from the sky, then into a large room, filled with easels and toys as well as all types of holiday decor.
“This month, we’ve been learning about all our different cultures and the holidays that we celebrate,” Sierra said, crouching down in front of a couple of the children once they released their hold on me. “And for the past couple of days, they’ve been preparing for Christmas for those of us who celebrate.”
My lips curled into a small smile as I leaned against the door, a lightness in my chest as I looked at Sierra. “Well, you’ve done a great job. The drawings hanging up on the walls are brilliant. Some of the best I’ve seen.”
“We heard that Sierra and you celebrate Christmas too!” the girl from earlier exclaimed.
I nodded. “We celebrated this morning.”
“Well,” Sierra said, glancing at the kids, “who wants to do it?”
“Me!” a handful of kids shouted at the same time, hands shooting up.
“Do what?” I asked, brow arched as the kids disappeared behind a wall.
A moment later, they reappeared with a large holiday gift bag in their small hands, all of them working together to hold it up. They walked over to me and lifted it into the air for me to grab. Confused, I took the bag from them and looked at Sierra.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s a gift for you,” she said. “The kids made it.”
Warmth exploded through my chest, my gaze flickering from the bag to the children giddily jumping up and down, waiting in anticipation. I opened and closed my mouth a handful of times, my words suddenly lodged in my throat.
“F-for me?” I asked.
“Yeah!” all the kids shouted.
After swallowing hard, I crouched to their level and set the bag on the ground. I pulled out some tissue paper and gazed inside at all the small canvases, covered in globs of paint.
I took the first one out, and a small boy raised his hand and leaned forward. “That one is mine!”
“Wow,” I breathed out, a smile on my face. “I love it.”
“Do you know what it is?” He beamed.
“What?”
He pointed to two large figures in the center. “That’s you and Miss Sierra.” Then, he gestured to all the smaller stick figures next to us. “And that’s us! Miss Sierra said that you both don’t celebrate Christmas with anyone, so I wanted to draw us as one big, happy family.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I stared down at the painting, attempting not to cry in front of all these kids and in front of Sierra. I continued to pull out more and more canvases, each similar to the first, but us cooking or playing in a pool, at the beach or having a party.
After I pulled out the last canvas, I wiped tears from my eyes and glanced up at Sierra, who held the girl with pigtails in her lap. She rested her head against the girl’s but stared at me with a soft smile.
“Why don’t you open your gifts?” she said, nudging the girl toward the sack of gifts that the other kids were getting into.
And when the girl ran off, Sierra walked over to me slowly, fiddling with her dress.
“Come here,” I murmured, taking her hand and drawing her closer to me. “Why’d you bring me here?”
“If you don’t want to stay, I can meet you back at your place before six,” she said.
I drew my thumb across her cheek. “Why’d you bring me here?”
“Because …” She shrugged and peered down at her shoes shyly. “I wanted you to experience what Christmas with a family feels like. Even though they’re not related to you, I thought—”
Before she could finish her sentence, I pulled her closer and pressed my lips to hers.
She sucked in a surprised breath. And then she placed her hands on my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt, and kissed me back softly. Warmth exploded through my chest, and I seized her waist.
Why had I kicked my gift to her underneath the couch earlier? Why had I been so scared, so afraid that she’d leave me? She was … more than I could have asked for. The best damn thing that had ever happened to me.
Whispers erupted around us, and I slowly pulled away to see the kids had stopped playing with their toys to watch us. Sierra giggled and rested her head on my chest, staring at the children.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered breathlessly to me.
I pushed back even more tears building in my eyes. “Merry Christmas, love.”