Chapter Text
Rose was sure Uncle Lestan was friends with Santa Claus. To her, there was no other explanation why he brought so many gifts at one time. They came in all shapes and sizes; some tiny jeweled earrings that she had to promise not to lose, others were large, like a stuffed puppy that was bigger than she was. She had asked him if he knew Santa, and all her uncle did was wink and smile, the type of smile that made her feel all warm inside.
Still, all of these gifts meant little to her if Uncle Lestan wasn’t the one to bring them. He was the best gift of all. He wasn’t her dad, she knew that, but he was the closest thing she had to one. And each time he visited she took full advantage, willing her little body to stay up hours after her bedtime. They played games for hours, though she had the feeling that he tended to let her win most of the time.
They were building sand castles on the private beach behind her house when she crawled into his lap. If he asked, she would have told him it was because he was sitting in the spot that she needed to fix, but he said nothing, holding her loosely. Even through his clothes she already felt a chill, despite the humid air all around them.
“Why are you always so cold, Uncle Lestan?” Her voice was purely inquisitive, though she had the feeling she wouldn’t get an honest answer out of him. She often asked him questions to which she never received answers that satisfied her curiosity.
It was silent for a few moments before he answered, the waves the only sound around them. Normally Rose would have found them calming, but now they felt like a timer, counting the beats to disappointment. When he did speak he sounded withdrawn, far too serious compared to his normal self, “Because you have stolen my heart, my dear Rose. It lives in you now, keeping you warm all the time.”
She turned around in his arms, facing him properly, “That’s not true. You can’t trick me. I’m too smart for that. Ms. Marquez says that people who are cold don’t have good veins. She’s cold all the time too, but she told me her doctor said it was okay for you. Are you sick, Uncle Lestan? Is something wrong with your veins?”
His laugh seemed to boom around them both, and soon she was in a fit of giggles, being mercilessly tickled by him. When she caught her breath he answered, kissing the crown of her head, “No, I’m not sick. I doubt you will ever see me sick. I will live a long time, I promise you that. One day I will walk you down the aisle as you get married. I will see you have children. I will ensure they have everything they could ever want, just as I do for you. Do not fear for me, Rose.
The answer was more than she expected, and even after their playful tussle, Rose had grown serious as well, "I’ll try. But I care about you just like you care about me. Can you visit early next time? So we can go get ice cream and sit on the boardwalk and watch the sunset?"
A burst of panic surged through her as Uncle Lestan picked her up, walking with her back to the house, "I will see. I cannot promise that. But I will see if I can. All right?”
Rose simply nodded, aware already that it was moot to argue with him. What he said was the law, or so it felt like in her mind. Set down on the kitchen floor, she dusted some of the sand off of her skin, looking up to him once more, her blue eyes wide, imploring him, “Can you stay? Do you have to go?”
Instead of words she received a head shake. Rose knew how his job needed him during the day, often for weeks at a time, but it still hurt to hear that he wouldn’t be staying the night. Again. Dejected, she ran to go shower, sure she would never have the answers she was looking for, some for questions she hadn’t even thought of yet.