It's Not Easy (NaNoWriMo!)

Baby Wrapped in Blue

Baby Wrapped in Blue

Jane and I both froze, not sure what to say or do. My breathing became fast and I put my hands on the back of my head, leaning against the counter.

"Is it Seth's?" I whispered.

"Yes," she bowed her head as if ashamed. Knowing it was Seth's made me feel almost better; Seth would take care of that baby, and Blair. I had to put my trust on that.

"Sam, could you give us a moment?" Jane asked, she leaned her head on the wall, her eyes never leaving her daughter. I walked into my room, glancing out the window. It was dark, no traces out the sun were visible yet.

I wrapped the presents I had bought the night before. When they were done, they didn't look pretty, but they were done. I stared at Blair's wrapped gift, wondering if it were too late to exchange it for a diaper bag.

"Hurry!" Jack huffed. He had perched himself on the arm of the couch to see over everything.

"Almost done," I huffed as I pushed myself onto the tips of my toes to put the top of the fake Christmas tree onto the body. I smiled when it clicked into place. Aunt Jane, Blair and I took a step back, admiring our handy work.

"Can I put the thingies on now?" Jack launched himself off the couch toward the box of decorations.

"Go for it," Blair chuckled. Now that I was looking for it, I saw a small bump in her stomach, despite her efforts to hide it.

Jack blissfully decorated the bottom of the tree, I worked on the middle and Aunt Jane and Blair worked the top.

"What's this?" Jack held a figurine, of a baby wrapped in blue, up to his mother.

"We got that for your first Christmas," Jane explains. She stared at the figurine for a moment.

"Could you hang it on the top?" Jack asked Blair. She took it from his hand and hung it directly below were the angel would be place. She also stared at it, probably wondering what will become of this family a year from now.

"I'm not mad at you," Aunt Jane whispered, brushing golden hair from Blair’s strained eyes. Blair fell into her mother's arms, but didn't shed I tear. I knew her, and she would never cry in front of her brother.

Once they had separated, we continued decorating the tree. Each figure was place carefully on the tree. All of them had a story hidden in the dust that had collected around them. On figure was given to Blair by her figure skating coach. It was a glass figure of a skater in mid glide, inside the glass was hidden glitter that only surfaced when it hit the light at a specific angle. Another was from my first visit with the mall's Santa Clause. It was of a golden puppy hanging its nose out of a strangely wrapped Christmas present.

Once each figure was hung, Jane grabbed Jack by the waist and lifted him high above the little tree. Skilfully, Jack placed the angel dressed in gold, red, and silver, on the tip of the tree. There it sat proudly guarding the tree. Every one stepped back and gazed at our completed work, all proud that we were able to set it up without it falling over.

Afterward, Aunt Jane disappeared into the hallway while Blair and I told Jack stories of Christmas' before he was born. He giggled at our silly stories of Blair and me getting into all kinds of mischief. He particularly liked the one where Blair and I built a snow wall and threw snowballs at all the family members as they came for Christmas dinner. Of course, that was before everyone moved away, went off to college or just stopped coming for Christmas. Now, it is just the four of us and, if we were lucky, Grandma would fly in only until New Years.

"Blair, could you take Jack into the kitchen and get the cookie ingredients out for later?" Aunt Jane asked once she appeared in the living room doorway. She held one hand behind her back and the other plucked invisible strings off her sweater. Blair nodded and obeyed her mother. Taking Jack by the hand and dragging him into the kitchen.

My aunt came and sat beside me on the couch, "The other day I was looking through your mother and father's old things and I found this."

She handed me a small royal blue box. The name Victoria Buckler was written in gold across the lid. The name belonged to my mother. I gingerly opened the small box, begin careful not to contaminate its beauty with my touch. Inside was a locket with a little angel carved into the front.

"Open it," Jane commanded in a hushed, gentle tone. With two fingers, I pulled the locket from its spongy capture. Just as carefully as I opened the box, I opened the locket. A picture, no bigger than the size of my thumb nail, decorated the inside of the golden locket. I recognized the picture almost instantly; I even remembered the day it was taken. I was three years old, dressed in a dark red dress with my hair pulled into a loose bun. I sat on my mother's knee with a large smile on my face. My mother was perched on a large rock in front of a small creek. My father stood proudly beside the rock, with his arm wrapped around my mother.

I smiled at the picture, though I wanted to cry.

"Thank you," I whispered to my aunt, not knowing what else to say. The locket clicked shut and I lowered it back into the box. A few tears dared to slide down my cheek, and upon noticing, my aunt wrapped her arms around me.

"Keep it safe,” she said through my hair.