Steve’s daughter was staring expectantly at him up from the kitchen stool, and he knew that he was in over his head. It didn’t happen often, but this time he really was.
“Will it be ready in time?” Stephanie asked with a hopeful enthusiasm that Steve was doing everything he could not to quash.
“Cross your fingers, Little Sweetness,” Steve replied as he pondered the absolute mess covering every inch of counter space in the kitchen, “I think third time’s gonna be the charm.” Steve palmed the back of his neck and then looked up at the clock. It was just after 4pm, and a full array of food intended for consumption in two hours was in various states of preparedness.
The three of them had spent all day having a very Christmasy kind of Christmas Eve – the first one this Stephanie would ever spend with both of her parents, and they wanted it to be the most special thing she’d ever had. They wanted to give her the world and spend every minute they could watching her enjoy it. Because the only thing she wanted for Christmas was to be together doing all the things that families are supposed to do. She did ask very, very hopefully, however, if she could plan the menu. They were completely amused by this and told her to go for it. What she then came back with was – well, it was going to be a feat. Which was why Kayla now stood amusedly watching Steve direct his mental will at the stove while Stephanie’s excitement lit up the room. Because every one of the foods on their daughter’s menu were British Christmas foods from the world of Harry Potter, and some of them existed only in fiction.
The very real Christmas pudding – now in its third iteration – was hard enough. But the butterbeer? That put Steve and Kayla over the edge. Harry Potter was not yet a veritable way of life, so there were very few resources to work with. And this was no lark. Not for Stephanie, and frankly, not for Steve, either. Harry Potter wasn’t just a story they read at night, it was something they shared, its significance living like a bond between them now. It could have been any book and the deep connection they found with each other as father and daughter would have been the same, because the meaning was in the sharing. Kayla knew this and felt no envy. No jealousy that Book Club was exclusively for the two of them. Because seeing the daughter she raised alone now have her father was Kayla’s very own invaluable gift. She hated Rolf, but she was grateful for this, wanted this for them, and took it very seriously. So they wanted nothing more than to make this symbolic Harry Potter Christmas happen. For Stephanie, and for themselves.
That didn’t mean Johnson family traditions that Stephanie had grown up with were out the window, though. First and foremost, they had to bake cookies for Santa and put out reindeer food. Steve was mildly surprised that Stephanie still appeared to believe in Santa and asked Kayla when she’d figured it out. Kayla remembered this well, because every parent remembered the milestone of when that innocence of believing in Santa Claus went away. Stephanie had been eleven with some extremely probing and doubtful questions beginning right now. Kayla really had to work for that last year when her Stephanie had been a very observant and inquisitive ten-year-old who was in a big hurry to be more grown up. Now, however, things had changed. Stephanie was holding onto that innocence in a very keen eagerness to have it for herself, but also to give Christmas to Steve. To give it to all of them, really, but it was the presence of her papa that made Stephanie perfectly happy to be ten going on ten, not ten going on 14. Deep down, she had a sinking feeling that her mother was really Santa Claus, but she suppressed it, because her father was home for Christmas.
Kayla loved watching Stephanie and Steve together, but she was also taking enormous delight in, once again, experiencing her favorite holiday with her little girl. They hadn’t put out reindeer food or made cookies for Santa since he stopped being real, so every moment reliving this was bittersweet. Kayla never became teary, though. She found only joy today. In her daughter, her little family in this little house, and herself.
They’d figure out some way to get into the backyard to put out the reindeer food, and making cookies wouldn’t be a problem. But Christmas dinner? That was going to be a challenge. The very abstract “Christmas Feast” was easy enough, turkey, stuffing, carrots, done. But the British cookbook Kayla had picked up from the library on her way home one night had both of them scratching their heads. Treacle tart called for British specialty ingredients, Christmas cake was a clear cousin of the fruitcake, not to mention complicated as hell, and neither of those two things looked the least bit appetizing. There was some slight pouting when they said no to those two items, but Stephanie had been trhough more since Thanksgiving without a single complaint than any child should be asked to go through, so they were making Christmas pudding, and they were inventing a butterbeer recipe come hell or highwater.
As it turned out, it was the most fun Steve had ever had in the kitchen – and that was really saying something, because he’d done lots of cooking and other things in lots and lots of kitchens. They all stayed in their pajamas most of Christmas Eve and spent most of it cooking, baking, and telling one family story after another. Stephanie could not get enough of hearing them, and they reveled in doing the telling. The delight and love shrouding the room like a cloud of contentment must have had a karmic effect, because Steve and Kayla were in blatant shock when the butterbeer turned out damn near perfect. And it was no small feat, ‘cause it took an entire day emailing, mulling, then emailing some back earlier in the week to concoct the thing. That’s how seriously they took it. They agreed that it should be a cream soda hybrid of some kind, but they went back and forth on obscure baking extracts to add to it, to say nothing of this white froth. Their secret email account got quite the workout that day.
It’s called butterbeer so it’s got to have a butter flavor. Like butter pecan.
But why an extract? Why can’t we just use real butter?
No baby we need an extract. Otherwise all that fat’s gonna coagulate. While you’re there, I need essences. Anything fruity or weird. Those aren’t for the butterbeer, but extracts won’t work, got to be essence. Surprise me with a few flavors.
Kayla smiled. She knew exactly why Steve wanted the essences and knew exactly where to go get them. She mentally shrugged on the butter extract, though, because Steve was probably right about using real butter. But she was still at a loss for how they were going to make the froth. This conversation had taken, literally, all day, because Kayla had a very full day of patients, paperwork, and crazy scheduling. The whole thing seemed a lot more dependent on molecular gastronomy the more they talked about it – neither of them were adept at this.
Soda foam will disappear the minute we try to scoop it out. That just leaves beer. But that’s a head of beer, Steve, how are we supposed to make a head of beer without beer?
Let’s just pour a beer and scoop the froth from it onto the cream soda, he replied even while he wrinkled his nose as the tastes married up completely unpleasantly in his head.
You’re joking. No. What about meringue?
Real men don’t make meringue baby.
Well, real men better come up with something, cause I’m out of ideas. Or we can just buy a jar of Fluff and call it a day.
Wait, that was it. Steve wanted desperately to make a joke about fluffers, but a lightbulb went off above his head, and he realized exactly what they were going to do.
There you go being the smart one again Sweetness. Looks like real men are going to make meringue, after all.
As it happened, the first attempt at froth was positively disgusting. Steve had hoped the meringue would thin out the fluff just enough to make it like a sweet head of beer, but the whole thing bubbled and gurgled ike a tower of suds and had to be scrapped. Before he could panic Kayla spotted the whipping cream in the fridge. Sure enough, it was exactly what they were going for.
The tiny amounts of butter and rum extracts they added turned the plain cream soda into something like a lightly carbonated butterscotch. But it was the topping that made the drinks visually pop. Steve whipped the cream into the fluff, added more rum extract, and all three of them were shocked at what it became: a completely pourable, liquid marshmellow. The whole thing smelled incredible. Kayla got out three beer stines, and Stephanie could barely contain her excitement as Steve assembled them.
“They look exactly like the book describes them! They really do!”
“I can’t believe it. They do, Steve.” Kayla was incredulous.
“Ok, how ‘bout we try ‘em together?” They all nodded and picked up their glasses.
“I kind of don’t want to drink it. It’s too beautiful. Wait, let’s take a picture!” Stephanie disappeared into the guest room and came back with the camera. It was a small 35-millimeter. “It’s really fancy, it can take a picture automatically. I’m really good at this, Aunt Kim showed me!” Steve glanced at Kayla knowingly. Stephanie had to stack several books on the counter, but she finally got it lined up, no one had taken a sip yet, and truth be told, all of them were dying to do just that. She hit the button, then ran back to her stand between her parents, all of them holding up their butterbeers and smiling with the most genuinely joyful smiles.
Then Kayla raised her glass a little higher and said, “Merry Christmas!” To which her husband and daughter repeated it back as merrily as Kayla had. They all drank at the same time, and their identical and simultaneous reactions were like a chocolate lover getting a bite of decadent chocolate cake. Positively, deliciously magical.
“Ohmigod,” Stephanie gasped. “It’s so good!”
“We need to bottle this, Steve!”
Steve smacked his lips and held the stine up in front of him, inspecting its contents with his own genuine wonder. “Egg nog shmegg nog.” They all laughed but then Stephanie sobered with appreciation.
“Thank you for making this,” she said glancing meaningfully from her father to her mother. “It’s perfect.”
Kayla stroked Stephanie’s hair. “You know wht else is perfect, Baby Girl? That butterbeer mustache of yours!” Then she reached out and tickled her daughter mercilessly while she cackled in laughter.
Between the butterbeer and the cookies already out of the oven they were all on a bit of a sugar high when Kayla’s ISA phone rang mid-afternoon. Shane had good news and bad news. The good news was that a neighbor that Kayla didn’t know had had enough of the strange men in their unmarked van parked in front of his house and had called in a complaint to the police. The bad news was that this certainly meant that they’d be changing their strategy. The devil they knew was always preferable to the devil they didn’t, so this was more bad news than good. The LAPD was cooperating with the ISA and detaining these men into tomorrow, but it was a Christmas skeleton crew, and Stefano’s deep pockets were going to be able to plow through them before the holiday was over. Shane was sure the goons would change surveillance tactics, including a new vehicle. Tonight they were ok, but tomorrow they’d all have to be extra careful.
This Christmas Eve together was spectacular, but it wasn’t easy to come by. It took a lot of double talk and manipulation to get Kayla out of hosting Kimberly and her family for the holidays. Shane had to assist here by using Kim’s request to have the kids out of turn on New Year’s Eve so that he could get them on Christmas. That had made it all a lot easier for Kayla to back out. Kimberly sounded quite disappointed in her at this but on the other hand, Christmas Day at Cedars Sinai was always an event that reminded both of them so much of Christmas at University Hospital. Stephanie, Andrew, and Jeanie would be coming along to work with their mothers that day to help in the Children’s wing before Shane picked them up, and Kim looked forward to that Christmas Day celebration instead.
The final challenge on the day, however, was that Christmas pudding. Seemed reasonable but damn if they could get this thing to work. Steve knew exotic foods, and Kayla was pretty good with desserts, but the baking of this “pudding” wasn’t done in an oven or even in a pan. No, this had to go into a special bowl that would then be intricately wrapped up in parchment and foil, secured with string, and submerged in boiling water. That was after the wacky ingredients they had to find, like golden syrup and muscovado sugar.
“Those are very English ingredients, Steve,” Shane said warily when Steve called with a list of favors earlier in the week.
“Why do you think I’m askin’ you for ‘em, Donovan?”
“I’m not sure why you can’t just get both of those in specialty grocers here in LA.”
This was before his little field trip to Venice Beach, otherwise he might have tried to procure this stuff on his own. “Because I can’t exactly get out to the boutiques this week, man, that’s why.” Last I checked you were English, though, right? I’m sure your butler dude has them lyin’ around somewhere.”
“I’m sure he does, actually. Are you baking something?”
“I’m not writing a rain dance.” Steve pracrically heard Shane’s eyes roll. “Yeah, I’m baking something.”
“Very well, I’ll have a look.”
“Look fast, I gotta make sure I get it lined up.”
“Yes, alright. Anything else,” he asked half-heartedly.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve got a list.” Shane heard Steve flick the paper with his finger. “You ready?” Shane let out a pfft but told Steve to proceed. “Most important, I need a rock tumbler.”
“You need a what?”
“A rock tumbler.”
“What for?!”
“I told you, I’m baking something.”
“You’re baking something. In a rock tumbler.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t have to be a fancy one.”
“Well, that’s a relief, then, isn’t it?”
“Just get me somethin’ at like a toy store for kids. That should work. But if they don’t have one, you gotta find me somethin’. Nothin’ more important than that, not even the other ingredients, ok?”
Steve ran down the rest of the hard-to-find ingredients he was going to need for this very special Christmas with his girls, Kayla picked up the rest of them during the week, and now a good portion of them were strewn about the kitchen counters. It took them three tries, and every last raisin they had left in the house, but when the 2nd mess went into the garbage and the third batter replaced it in the bowl, Steve could only cross his fingers and tell his little girl that it should be done baking or cooking or steaming, or whatever the hell it was doing, in time for dinner.
Third time was absolutely the charm, and the look on Stephanie’s face was worth every minute it took. She squealed in delight, the house smelled truly amazing, and the table was decked out in Anglophillic perfection. Stephanie made everyone a placecard, and all of them were in Gryffindor colors. Steve asked with a lopsided smile if she was sure they weren’t Slytherins, and she got very indignant.
“Papa, all the heroes are Gryffindors!”
“Well, that about sums it up, doesn’t it?” Kayla agreed.
They ate till they were stuffed and went into the commensurate food coma after no fewer than two full helpings a piece. There would be plenty of leftovers. The one thing they had none left of when the meal was done? The Christmas pudding.
Thanks to that neighbor that Kayla was going to have to go thank one day, they all went out into the backyard and laid out a very impressive array of whole carrots complete with stalks, celery, and a large bowl of water. Stephanie made a big display of how this is done, and all three of them indulged in it like kids. Then Stephanie wrote Santa a note and placed it next to the cookies and milk that Steve and Kayla would be making disappear once she was asleep to keep up appearances.
It was very fitting that the last chapter in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone fell tonight on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t planned that way, but what a way to wrap it up. It was one of the longest chapters in the book at 21 pages, but it came and went in a blink. Steve watched the last lines of the book approach, and it felt like he’d only just started yesterday, not seventeen chapters ago.
“’Oh, I will,’ said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face.” Steve took on a sly smile; Stephanie loved when he embodied the story this way, and Steve loved doing it for her. “’They don’t know we’re not allowed to do magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer. . . .’” A very complex silence fell after Steve read this last line. It bathed the room in loving warmth, but it was also bittersweet, because it was over. Steve slowly closed the book, and Stephanie studied the dust jacket with meaningful attention to the whimsical artwork.
“You sure liked that, didn’t you?” Stephanie nodded. Then she hugged the book to herself and leaned up very snugly against her father’s embrace.
“That was the best book club ever,” she said softly. Then she looked up at him with a youthful fear that squeezed at Steve’s heart. “What’s going to happen now?” This was no longer about a book.
“Oh, Stephanie. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Stephanie smiled at his reassurance. “That was the last chapter in a book, baby, not the last of me here bein’ your papa.” Steve didn’t want to be done with the book any more than Stephanie did, but there was more story to tell. “Thanks for lettin’ me read it to you. For … bein’ my little girl I missed all those years.” It was so special. Steve felt so blessed.
It was after midnight when Kayla disrupted the reindeer food and tossed half of it over the fence while Steve ate most of the cookies, leaving just one with a huge bite out of it and poured out half the milk. Steve and Kayla had so much fun with this, parenting their daughter together at this age, and making sure everything was just right for her to dicover in the morning. They then collapsed onto the bed and didn’t move until a certain ten-year-old couldn’t take it anymore.
In the morning, all three of them were shocked to receive presents. When did anyone find the time and ability to give any presents to anyone?! Somehow they had. Kayla had forgotten all about the very intricate ceramic pot that Stephanie had made for her in school, but it all came back to her when she opened up the layer upon layer of newspaper it was wrapped in. Kiln-fired and glazed in bright pastels that swirled and dappled amongst each other, Kayla felt a happy nostalgia.
“It’s beautiful, Baby Girl, I love it.” Stephanie was very pleased with herself. “I would love to put this over on the window sill above the sink, so when I’m in the kitchen I can always see it there in the sunlight.” It was exactly where she put it the first time. When they moved to the condo it ended up in a box that to this day in 2009 it had not come out of. “How does that sound?”
“Great!”
It wasn’t the last ceramic gift that Kayla would open. When Steve took out his gift for her from its hiding place behind the tree, Kayla was shocked. She figured this had to be something repurposed from inside the house, but it wasn’t. “How did you do this?” she asked.
“Just open it, Sweetness.” Stephanie smiled, because she loved hearing her father call her mother that. Kayla made short work of the small package and finally freed it from the thin layer of bubble wrap surrounding it.
“Wow, Papa, that is really cool!”
It really was. The small, white, ceramic box now sitting in Kayla’s palm was speckled in blue flecks to look abstractly like ocean waves with gold detailing around it’s aperture and a small anchor shape for a clasp. At the top of the box was a ferris wheel standing as tall as the box was wide. The wheel really spun, and the cars really rocked. If it weren’t for the dead giveaway “Santa Monica Pier” emblazoned in cheap gold leaf across the front of the box, it might have passed for the authentic Limoges box it was clearly modeled after. Kayla gave Steve a warm and knowing smile. She realized that her husband was even sneakier than she’d given him credit for and must have bought this and stuck it in his pocket while she was in the bathroom.
“How did you get that, Papa?” Stephanie asked.
“I dunno,” he winked at her, “it’s a mystery.”
“Your papa’s very clever, that’s how,” Kayla said. “I love it,” she then directed to her husband, her smile lighting up the room. “Did you see this anchor?” she asked holding it up to her eyes to look at it more closely. “I can’t believe it has an anchor.”
Steve returned his wife’s smile, then reached over and poked at a tiny car near the top of the wheel so that it swung. His expression went way over Stephanie’s head but had the intended effect on his wife. “I saw it. I take my vows seriously.” It was a reference to what he’d promised her up in the attic loft in the first hours of her arrival into this body. That he’d never again fail to be her anchor, no matter how much he hurt, no matter how hard it got, he’d never fail her again. “I was pretty shocked when I saw it there, it’s like it was callin’ to me.” The box would sit on her nightstand for the remainder of their existence in this destination.
Steve took his turn next. Stephanie insisted that he open hers first. It was so moving to get a gift from this version of his daughter in this timeline, but his enthusiasm waned to concern for who helped her accomplish it when he saw the curiosity in Kayla’s face. That was not what he was expecting, as he figured Kayla took care of the purchasing. “You, uh … go with your mama go get this?” he asked, thinking maybe it was destination Kayla. “It’s kinda heavy.”
“Nope, I made this, too!”
When he opened his own layers of newspaper, he couldn’t believe what they held. A flat, metal, 8×10 plate held one word on it. “Papa.” Spelled out in fan belts, spark plugs, pulley wheels, and bolts superglued onto the plate.
“Stephanie,” he breathed. “This is beautiful.” He ran his thumbs over the very secure P, a, p, and a and couldn’t help it when tears watered his eye. But it was her next sentence that momentarily stopped his heart in true wonder.
“They’re all from the Bluesmobile.” Steve was stunned. Absolutely, positively stunned. “I know you’re supposed to throw the fanbelts away, but I just didn’t want to get rid of anything. It was all yours, and I didn’t know what you had installed and done yourself, so … I just kind of … kept all those little parts in a box.” This wasn’t that long ago, and Kayla remembered that Rubbermade bin against the side of the house when she took a walk around the property to re-familiarize herself with it when she got here. “I thought this way I can finally use them.”
“You did this yourself?” he asked quietly, no longer feeling worried, because it was too hard to feel anything but overwhelming love for this little girl that meant so much to him.
Stephanie nodded. “I was so worried you were gonna find it, it’s been under my bed. Do you like it?” she asked hopefully, her hands clasped under her chin in a move her father now understood in every context she used it in.
Steve took his daughter in a fierce hug and allowed himself to be emotional. He didn’t have a chance in hell that he’d be able to cover it anyway. “I do, Little Sweetness,” he said as he held her to him. “I love it. It’s beautiful, baby. It’s really beautiful.” Stephanie smiled into her father’s chest and held him back very tightly.
She didn’t know if this was something her Destination self was in on or not, but her daughter was beaming, her husband was moved, and Kayla was so happy to take it all in.
“This one’s from me,” Kayla said, taking something small out of the pocket of her pajama bottoms. She took Steve’s left hand, placed it in his palm, then closed his fingers over it. Then she kissed his ring fnger. “I do,” she whispered. When he opened his hand, he found his wedding band. He had not sought it out or worn it on this jump. He’d thought about it several times, but the distractions of staying free and alive had taken a front seat. Steve kissed his wife sweetly and then smiled as he returned it to where it belonged on his finger. Kayla was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read, though.
“What is it, Sweetness?”
Kayla smiled and rubbed her thumb over the ring now on his finger. “It’ll keep.”
Stephanie was giddy with the chocolaty contents of her stocking, which relieved her parents, because they sure didn’t have a lot of time to plan much; but she positively squealed when she opened the gift from Santa. It was the remaining three Harry Potter books that were currently in publication.
“Wow, Steph,” Kayla said with an impressed tone, “that’s a lot of days of book club!”
Suddenly Stephanie got worried that her mother was feeling left out. “Is that ok? I mean, you can come, too! Papa can read to both of us, right, Papa?”
But Kayla nipped that right in the bud. “Ya know what, Baby Girl, I think Book Club is pretty perfect just the way it is. I don’t mind sharing you a bit.”
“Really? You’re sure?” Clearly, she was hoping very hard that Kayla would say yes she was sure.
“I am very sure,” she insisted scooting over to Stephanie’s position on the floor and engulfing her with a hug like a crab. “I got ten years with you, Papa’s got some catch up to do. I want as much father-daughter time for you two as you want. Besides, I’ll bet he’s not interested in getting a pedicure any time soon, so we can do that together.”
“I’m out on the pedicure,” Steve confirmed.
“So, there ya go,” she assured them.
Stephanie opened the gift from her mother, which was the next automotive class. These were expensive, but she didn’t see any evidence of any other gift that her counterpart had purchased. She remembered that Stephanie went to more than one of these automotive classes on Saturdays while she worked her weekend shift, and they just had no idea when Steve would be sprung to watch her. So after confirming that Jessie would be there, she figured signing her up for the next class beginning in January was the way to go. Kayla threw in a new set of tiny butterfly clips, flavored lip glosses, and funky sunglasses for good measure, and Stephanie was riding high. She thanked her parents profusely, clearly very happy.
“Wait a minute, there, baby, that’s from your mama, I got you somethin’ else.”
“You did?!” Stephanie gaped. She looked from her her father to the knowing smile of her mother and just couldn’t imagine what this could be. “How, you didn’t leave the house!”
“I’m a very resourceful dude, Little Sweetness.”
“Oooh, you ordered it on the Internet!”
“Nope, we can’t be doin’ any of that yet.” He only wished. “Ok, I did have help gettin’ the ingredients,” he admitted, “but … here ya go.” Steve handed her a small, very simple fabric blend bag with pull strings. She shook it, and the contents clacked against one another. When she opened it, she chuckled.
“Jelly beans?” She poured some of them out; they were a but more misshapen than what she got in her Easter basket every year, and definitely not as shiny. She kind of squeezed one and grinned with just a bit of confusion. “It feels like a jelly bean, but – is that what this is?”
Steve could not stop from smiling, because she was just on the cusp of figuring it out. “Anything else in that bag, baby?”
She fished out the little business-sized card and read it. When her eyes bugged out of her head Steve knew he’d achieved the desired effect. Bertie Bot’s Every Flavor Beans?! “Look at the back,” Steve prompted. There Stephanie read out the list Steve had hand written.
“Elderberry, Watermelon, Lemon – wait – grass? And Booger?!” Stephanie scrunched up her nose. “How do they know what boogers taste like?”
“Not they,” Kayla said softly. Stephanie looked up confused, and Kayla angled her head toward her husband.
Stephanie’s jaw dropped. “You?” she said to Steve. “You … made these jelly beans? I mean these Bertie Bots?”
Steve caressed his daughter’s face and rubbed her hair in his fingers. “Sure did, Little Sweetness. From scratch.”
“How?! I can’t believe it! You – you made me Bertie Bots!”
Steve had had the idea halfway through the book and realized he was very likely going to be here for Christmas. In 2009 there would be more merchandise for this series than any one person could buy, including Jellie Bellies calling themselves Bertie Bots. But for now they didn’t exist yet, and he just knew as soon as the thought came to him that this was what he had to do.
This culinary experience, however, was completely new territory for Steve. “I’m good in the kitchen,” he’d told Kayla, “but not that good. Never made candy before.” Kayla suggested she bring home regular jelly beans as a backup, because she’d never even seen a recipe for jelly beans before, anywhere. But Steve was very insistent here. “No, baby, I wanna make ‘em. How hard can it be?”
As a matter of fact, really quite hard. Unlike butterbeer, homemade jelly bean recipes were very easy to find on the Internet, but the actual execution was extremely complicated. First he had to made a mold, which he achieved by rolling some old play doh he found in the loft into jelly bean shapes, then making indents into corn starch. That wasn’t so hard, and the bean itself was easy; but the shell and its texture was brand new and complicated territory and could not be done without the rock tumbler and edible cocoabutter. Steve thanked a very confused Shane genuinely for these, especially since he hadn’t passed the cost on to his friends. “The ISA says you’re welcome,” Shane said when he dropped them off in the guise of another dinner with his girlfriend one night. Somewhere in Steve’s head he told himself it was the least the ISA could do for him, but he kept it to himself.
Steve was actually grateful for this project. He made them before his little field trip to Venice Beach, so making these jelly beans was one of the few things he could kill time with before they went into the rock tumbler for two hours per flavor.
Now Stephanie sat there gaping in glee over this amazing gift her father had made for her and barely knew what to do with herself. “I’m glad you like it, Little Sweetness,” Steve smiled.
“I love it! I’m going to save them forever!”
“Naw, Steph, you have to eat these!” he laughted, “I can always make you more.”
“I don’t want more, I want these! I also don’t want to eat grass or boogers.”
“But they’re every flavor, right? If the Dumbledude can handle – what was it, earwax? I think you can eat some grass.”
Stephanie scrunched up her nose. “Can I save the yukcy ones and eat the fruity ones?”
Steve laughed. “Whatever you want, baby, wanna know a secret? I made up the yucky ones,” he whispered. “Can’t tell ya how, now …” The grass was cucumber essence, the booger eucalyptus and black currant essences combined. “… but they’re made with real food, not real boogers. I promise.”
Stephanie cackled in laughter and couldn’t believe her father made her Bertie Bots. Her father was alive. He was reading her Harry Potter, and he made her Bertie Bots. Once it was safe enough to tell everyone he was back, she couldn’t imagine life getting any better than this.
Every single moment of this Christmas Eve was perfection. The traditional foods, the non-traditional foods, the fictional foods, the reindeer’s foods, foods calling themselves boogers – all of them were the backdrop to Stephanie’s very first Christmas with her complete family. She felt the love in the room as surely as she felt the floor beneath her feet. It was the 2nd best day of her life, the first being the night she found her papa hiding in that loft. Her parents felt it, too. Even though it wasn’t their first Christmas together, it touched them in a way that their previous holidays together hadn’t. Being here like this was like hearing a song in tune when every note before it had been just the slightest bit out of tune. Hear it long enough and you no longer notice it’s not exactly right – until the notes align. This is how it was supposed to be, Kayla thought not for the first time on this journey. All those years stolen from us, this is what we missed. But neither of them dwelt on it, because it was a truly magical Christmas, and it could not have been more poignant and special for any of them.
Just before Kayla left for the hospital for her shift where she’d also have to see a Kimberly she knew was less than thrilled with her, she took a private moment with her husband while Stephanie was still by the tree. She sat him down on their bed and tenderly kissed his cheek. “There’s more than just your wedding ring,” she whispered. “Read it.”
He stared at the palm-side of his ring, then turned his hand over. “Read it?”
“The inside.”
Understanding dawned on him. “You inscribed it?” he asked as he unscrewed it from his finger. Kayla nodded as he held it up to his eye. There in tiny script, Steve read three names, and his heart positively stopped.
Stephanie Joe Emily
Steve was overcome. All at once heavy tears blurred his vision, and his heart felt so full that he thought it might explode. “Sweetness,” he rasped. “God, baby, thank you. Thank you so much.” Steve’s emotion was silent but for the affected sound to his breathing he couldn’t control. But his face was wet with tears for his children that he could now feel close to him every single minute he lived in this timeline. “When did you do this?”
“I almost didn’t get to it in time. I got the idea at the pier. I know how much you miss your necklace, and I thought this would be perfect. That’s where I went that night. One of the jewelers in the mall.” They kissed with great affection. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too. I love this, I love them, and I love you.”
Christmas at Cedars Sinai was something they tried to do very festively in pediatrics, where Stephanie and her cousins were now volunteering their carefully supervised time, and in the cancer wing, where a great many families were celebrating with their sick loved ones.
When she walked into her office, she was happy but surprised to see Raj. “I thought I was stuck with Stacy today.”
“You are,” Stacy said from right behind her. Kayla closed her eyes in frustrated annoyance that she’d stuck her foot in her mouth with, of all people, Stacy Tompkins. Her number one fan.
“I’m … so sorry, Dr. Johnson, I’m actually on the way to my folks’ house. I just … came to get my phone.” He looked at her with regret for what she was about to have the rest of her day. “I left it here last night.”
“That’s right, the phone I was nice enough to call you at home to tell you about, isn’t that right, Raj?”
“I believe I just said so, yes,” he said. Clearly he just wanted to get out of there, though he felt bad for his friend. “Thank you, again, for that, Stacy. Dr. Johnson, I hope you had a good Christmas with your little girl.”
“I did,” Kayla replied perkily, because faux pas or not, she refused to let the day go this badly this quickly, on Christmas, no less. “I think it was probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” She engaged in a bit of small talk with Raj that was genuinely lovely, then he left to have Christmas Day with his family. “I’m sorry, Stacy. I shouldn’t have said that.” She wasn’t going to address this, but when it came down to just the two of them in the room, it wasn’t in her not to try to smooth it over.
“Don’t. Ok? It’s fine. You stole my day off and took it for yourself, so that little insult is not going to hurt me.”
“I didn’t steal your day off.”
“You did.” Stacy mocked the twirling motion with her pinky that Kayla had made the week before. “And now I got no part of my favorite holiday that actually means something to me off. I hope you’re happy. That’s fine, I get New Year’s Eve off, and you don’t. Good luck getting ready for your date with, literally, no time to spare.
“You know what, Stacy, I think maybe we should just stick to the patients. That work for you?”
“Absolutely.”
Surprisingly, it really did work out for them. They made it through rounds together civilly, without a single disagreement on treatment, and with a much warmer bedside manner from her colleague than Kayla was expecting. In no way were they chummy, but the tense bite that usually filled the bubble that they shared was lacking this day. Maybe because this really was Stacy’s favorite day of the year, her ability to be kinder was higher. Or it might have been because very few patients presented any real issues. Whatever it was, all skirmishes with Stacy were all but non-existent.
At noon a big crowd of hospital staff gathered in the pediatric ward where one of Kayla’s favorite nurses showed up to play Santa. It occurred to her as she watched him truly light up the faces of every child on that ward that the reason she’d always liked him so much was because he reminded her of David Gold. She didn’t put that together the first time through, but now in retrospect and having spent so much more time with David with her second visit, it was so clear. She couldn’t say if the man was gay or not, but his Jewishness exuded from him (which was a very amusing affect as Santa), and his sense of humor and personality seemed to be derived straight from David. An overwhelming sense of homesickness stabbed at her very briefly, but she suddenly wanted very much to look him up and see how he was. In the meantime, the Ho-Ho-Ho’ing abounded, and the young volunteers got to help pass out various trinkets and small toys to all the sick kids. She spotted Kimberly, who’d come in for the annual ritual, and was very relieved to see that she wasn’t angry about backing out on Christmas, because it actually gave her the opportunity to spend a romantic Christmas Eve with Phillip. Jeannie was also making things exceedingly difficult these days, as evidenced by her scowl in not being able to play with the toys she was giving to the patients, so she was actually relieved to have some alone time. Kayla was just glad not to have to navigate her sister on this.
It only got better at lunch when the two sisters and their three kids spent lunch together in the cafeteria. Since people get sick 364 days a year, it was not a sparse crowd in there, and the atmosphere was festive with a surprisingly tasty array of food. They exchanged gifts, which Kayla had hastily put together, Kayla truly enjoyed herself with her sister and young niece and nephew. She’d forgotten how nice it was to watch her daughter engage with family at this young age.
It was at right about this time that Kayla’s landline rang while Steve sat on the couch watching for signs of his watchers. He turned his head to the kitchen where the machine sat on a counter.
“Is that my beautiful grandbaby and daughter-in-law out there in Los Angeles?” Steve’s heart squeezed in his chest as his mother’s voice filled the room. “This is Grandma Jo calling to say Merry Christmas! Well, I am so disappointed that you’re not there to pick up. Where are you two? I hope you’re not working. It’s Christmas!”
Steve walked over to the sound of his mother’s voice. She was in her 60’s, but she didn’t sound as old as she would in 2009. She sounded like he’d never left her in 1989. He wanted so badly to pick up the phone. To tell her he was alive and that he missed her. That he loved her. He touched his fingertips to the machine, as if it might connect him to her.
“Well, I never did like talking to these machines, I always feel so foolish,” she laughed. The smile in her tone made Steve smile, too. But it was a very sad smile, because sometimes you just want you rmother. “Well … you two … enjoy your Christmas. Verne says Merry Christmas, too. I love you, and I’m thinking of all of you. Call me tonight if you can. Bye-bye”
“Bye, Mama,” Steve whispered. He stood there for a little while as his fingertips continued to brush against the small box.
Kayla was very pleased with her Christmas Day and wanted to leave on a high note, but the last thing she did before she left for the day was update Scott Riley’s chart. Stacy had left early, almost daring Kayla to say something about it. But that was fine with her, because the melancholy was not something she wanted company for. Every day that went by was a day she was more and more desperate to save him, and every day that went by she knew with more and more certainty that, once again, she would not be able to. His cancer was quite advanced by the time it had been diagnosed, and much as she thought maybe she could make a difference this time, no treatment in 2009 would have done it without earlier detection. When she came in for his blood draw, his eyes welled up with involuntary tears in Pavlovian response.
“Please can we skip it, Dr. Johnson?” Kayla started to tell him no, but he took her hand and tried again. “Please. Just this once?” If it were any more than a CBC she couldn’t possibly give in to this. But it was Christmas. And he was begging her for relief. For just one night of peace in all these nights of war upon his body. Kayla put aside the phlebotomy kit and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. She tousled his hair and set a compassionate look upon him.
“You’re such a brave boy, Scott. Did you know that?” He didn’t reply, just wiped at the unshed tear. “You sure have been through a lot.” Scott’s eyes were full of life in this moment, because they were pleading with her. He was well enough right now to get up and walk around and eat whatever he wanted when the chemo wasn’t making him sick. Very soon he wouldn’t be as able-bodied. Soon after that the pain would get bad. Food would begin to feel like the enemy, and eventually it wouldn’t hold any joy. And his treatments would shift from fighting the cancer so he could live, to easing the symptoms so he could die in the least amount of pain. Kayla looked into his big, brown eyes and felt helpless with this advanced knowledge that was not going to do a thing for this sweet boy. She couldn’t save him. But she could do more for him tonight than simply spare him a needle. “You’re a big Lacrosse guy, right?”
“How did you know?”
“Oh, I know lots of stuff. I thik your team hangs out here more than they do at practice,” she smiled.
“Well, we’re all antsy for the season to start.” The look in his eyes definitely became more eager.
“You love it, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s the best.”
“Tell me about it.”
Scott finally had the frist genuine smile she’d seen on his face since she’d jumped in. He talked about his high school team and how he was so good that he made the varsity team in his freshman year. He proudly told her that they almost went to State last year, and this year he knew in his gut that not only would they go but they would win. He was right, The Cate School would go on to win the State Championships for their divison that year. In fact, they would dedicate their season to him. Because he would not be alive to play it. But he was alive right now, and the buzz he felt talking about Lacrosse and the team he felt so much pride in lit him up brighter than any Christmas tree in the hospital. Kayla spent a good long time sitting on Scott’s bed, talking with him. And he was very engaging, too. Smart as a whip, he surprised her with an interest in subjects that really kept her on her toes.
“So what’s that ya got there?” Kayla asked, nodding to the odd rubber blob he was occupying his hands with.
“Oh,” he looked down at it absently. “It’s a toy for my dog. My golden retriever, Copper. My parents put it in my stocking.” The light drained from his eyes very quickly. “So I can play with her … when I …” Scott exhaled deeply. “… go home.” Kayla was going to say something encouraging, but it didn’t make it out before Scott continued. “I don’t think … I’ll ever be going home. Will I?”
The stab at Kayla’s heart was vicious, and she failed to quite control the tightness in her voice. “Of course, you will.” But she saw that Scott was quite perceptive, indeed. “No, honey, listen, you can’t think that way, you have to keep fighting. I know it’s hard, but every day is a day cancer hasn’t won.”
Scott looked at her with those beseeching eyes that knew he was losing time. “I miss my room. I miss my dog. I wish I could … just … be in my room.” Kayla understood what he was saying. He wanted to die at home. She took his hand but couldn’t open her mouth or she’d begin to cry. They held hands like that for several moments, alone with their thoughts silently understanding each other. In the original timeline Scott Riley died sometime soon. She didn’t remember exacty when, but she did remember how very quickly he deteriorated, how very painful his death was, and how much his mother screamed in agony when his short life ended here in this very room. She remembered crying her own tears, not just because she’d lost this patient, but because as a mother, she couldn’t help but feel the woman’s pain. She’d started accepting that she might not be able to save Scott’s life any more today than she could last time. But he wanted to go home. He was begging her to let him go home. If she couldn’t save him, then she was going to give him the best comfort she could. The kind he could only get in his own bed in his own room with his own parents and Copper surrounding him. Finally Kayla found a way to speak.
“Ok,” she whispered. “No needles tonight. But tomorrow morning you and I have a date with this little kit, here or they’re not gonna let me be your doctor anymore,” she said, raising the blue tray in her other hand. “I promise you. One stick.”
The corner of Scott’s mouth tugged up a little. “Just one? You promise?”
“You’re looking at the best stick in the hospital.”
“Ok. Thank you,” he smiled.
“You’re welcome,” she winked back. Then she took a deep breath. “And I’m going to see what I can do to let you … go home.”
“Really?” Kayla nodded. She could see in his suddenly very wise face that he knew that she knew what he was saying. And that her willingness to let him go was confirmation that he was right – that the cancer was going to win. “You promise?”
She patted his hand and said the one stick was a guaranteed promise, but this one she’d have to talk to his parents and Dr. Granger on, but she’d do her best for him. “But if you can keep a secret, I can tell you that you’re also looking at the boss’s favorite doctor on staff, so that’s going to help.” After another moment, she got up and headed for the door.
“Merry Christmas, Dr. Johnson,” he called to her in a voice that she knew belonged to a teenager but to her ears sounded like the vulnerable and scared boy that he was.
Kayla walked back over to Scott, placed a very unprofessional kiss on his forehead, and whispered, “Merry Christmas, doll baby. We’re gonna get you home.”
Stephanie noticed how somber her mother was in the car on the way home that afternoon. “What’s wrong, Mama?”
Kayla took a deep breath and looked at her beautiful daughter. They were at a stoplight, and the streets were pretty empty since most people were not working this day and were, instead, in their homes with their families. She smiled mildly before she replied. “It’s just been a very emotional day. The beautiful presents this morning, then seeing all the sick kids … I have a very sick boy just a little older than you on my floor.”
“Is he going to die?”
The light turned green, and Kayla moved along with traffic. Finally she nodded. “Everyone is going to die one day. I’m trying very hard to make his day come much later than the cancer is pushing for. So I’m just kind of emotionally worn out.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Then she bounced in her seat a little. “Best Christmas ever, though, right?”
Kayla couldn’t help it, the happiness radiating like an aura of joy was too much to keep Kayla too sad. “Yes, Baby Girl, the very best Christmas ever. You made me and your papa so happy. Such an amazing girl you are.”
She had the same effect on her father when she walked in the door, bringing him out of the slight Christmas funk the inability to connect with his family had casued.
Kayla fell asleep that night with Steve’s arm draped protectively around her, leeching the heaviness from her soul. How was she going to continue dealing with Stacy, who was a brand of awful that didn’t seem so bad the first time. How would she convince Sam to let Scott Riley die at home? And speaking of home, would they ever see theirs again? Or would Stefano’s veritable bounty hunters kill them before they ever had the chance to see their home – any home – ever again? Steve pondered in silence, too. This was a beautiful Christmas, but they were not out of the woods. His status as an AWOL soldier in Stefano Dimera’s army had to end, or they had to jump. There was no in between. But he didn’t want to jump away yet. Not like this, a prisoner unable to love his family he now had back in public. Shane told them a team was going to be ready right after the first of the year. Steve hoped it was true. These things converged upon both of them in a storm of stress for the days to come. But not tonight. Tonight it was Christmas, they were together, and that really was a gift this time. Maybe a curse other times. But this time – a gift.