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If Caine had looked out of place in the coffee shop, he stuck out twice as much in the children’s section of the library. But Jupiter ignored the sidelong looks of the parents and collected a handful of books from the seasonal display. I’m not going to start in the reference section, it’ll just be confusing.
“I’ve never handled one of these before,” Caine said doubtfully, thumbing gingerly through the pages of A Visit from St. Nicholas. “All the books I’ve seen were antiques.”
“These definitely aren’t,” Jupiter assured him; in fact, she was pretty sure the volume he was holding had toddler gnaw marks on the cover.
He handed it back to her. “The pictures are pretty, but the print module on my translation implant is expired.”
Jupiter stared at him for a moment, parsing all that. “Why didn’t you say something?” she said at last. “I’m pretty sure we can get that renewed. Or whatever it takes.”
Caine shrugged, not looking at her, and Jupiter knew it hadn’t occurred to him to ask. She breathed out, then opened the book herself. “Well, I’ll just read it to you then. It’s, like, the most popular version of the Santa Claus story, but not the only one.”
“How many are there?” Caine looked genuinely curious, and Jupiter had to laugh.
“I have no idea. Lots. Different cultures have different versions, but this is the one that most Americans know, I guess.” That was too simple, but they had to start somewhere.
They settled back on the low couch, and Jupiter read the poem out loud, tilting the book so Caine could see the pictures, and he followed with close attention. About halfway through, a little boy came over to listen, and Caine gave him a sharp glance--Jupiter saw his nostrils flare as he inhaled--but before she could say anything Caine relaxed, and reached out an arm to scoop the child onto the couch next to Jupiter.
She had no excuse for why that put a lump in her throat. Jupiter swallowed firmly, and kept reading.
By the time she had finished that and read through a book about the original Saint Nicholas, there were five kids on or next to the couch; one was perched in Caine’s lap. He seemed not at all disturbed by this, and even the parents hovering nearby looked pleased.
If only you knew, Jupiter thought at them, amused, and picked up the next picture book, one about Ded Moroz. She wished she could take a picture without breaking the spell, because the cuteness level was devastating.
Her life was incredibly strange, but right then...it was just fine.