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Just before midnight on Christmas eve, Rose lifted Peter’s arm from her waist and climbed out of bed. He barely stirred, just mumbled and rolled onto his stomach, hugging her pillow instead. His breathing eased again into a soft snore after a while.
They had only gone to bed a couple of hours ago and she didn’t want to disturb the overdue rest he hadn’t allowed himself all week.
The air was mildly cold, though winter in the Bay Area never came close to the magic snowy scenes of postcards. Which had suited her fine for most of her life because she never liked this time of the year anyway.
Rose pulled Peter's hoodie over her head out of habit, then breathed in the traces of his aftershave and the familiar scent of him. Wrapped in borrowed comfort, she left the warmth of her husband behind and opened the closet to fetch a couple of presents she had hidden away from curious eyes.
Balancing them in her arms, she made her way down the hall past the wedding photos, and snapshots of toothy grins and flushed cheeks. Candid moments of life framed along the wall. The stairs creaked under her feet and she cursed sharply. She went still, eyes and ears alert. After a tense pause with only silence, she continued slowly downstairs.
There, Rose was once more mesmerized by the festive scene in the near darkness of the living room. Tiny lights twinkled around a tall fir tree at the corner, scattering colors off the ornaments as shifting fireflies against the walls. Embers glowed in the fireplace and shot occasional sparks into the air.
The entire room still smelled of melted butter and brown sugar mingled with pine and burnt wood.
She took in the tree with its lopsided garlands and clashing colors. A cluster of baubles and ornaments collected over the years hung from the branches. Some had belonged to her aunt, others she’d bought or handcrafted herself.
The star that gleamed at the top had once crowned her aunt's tree. Every year without fail, Peter lifted Rose up so she could place it atop their own tree.
Next to the tree stood a makeshift fort he built with blankets and sheets to make a cozy sanctuary for their daughters. Pink fairy lights were draped over the roof and illuminated the books, pillows and stuffed animals nestled inside.
Rose sighed and placed the presents around the tree. Everything looked perfect in that wonderful messy way she loved so much.
Hard to believe there had been a time when Christmas meant nothing to her. She'd gone as far as vowing to never celebrate anything resembling a holiday. Years of neglect had hardwired her brain to reject celebrations. They were just regular days on the calendar. None had meant anything to her mom, who could barely scrape together enough money for groceries most of the time, let alone for gifts or festive decorations.
On very rare occasions, Rose would spend the holidays with her aunt and uncle in D.C. when they weren't traveling. Yet, even those days were bittersweet. They showed her what a normal family was supposed to be – joyful, full of laughter, caring. A glimpse into a world she didn’t belong to. At least never permanently.
That time had an expiration date the moment December was over and she had to return to a miserable house with no sense of family. This sharp contrast had been painful to endure over the years. Those loving memories only highlighted all the cheer and traditions she had convinced herself she could live without.
In hindsight, Rose now appreciated her childhood with them more after having learned the truth about their real job. Emma and Henry never forgot to send a gift with a card. They had always been the only ones who genuinely cared about her. Knowing she was on their thoughts when they couldn’t be together, made the loneliness feel more bearable, though it never quite warmed her up to the holidays.
As an adult, she made deliberate efforts to avoid these festive days by keeping herself busy at work or taking a vacation by herself to a remote place. Anything was an excuse to run away from the wistful nature of Christmas.
Years went by like that until Peter had brought the joy of the season to her life in the form of a little pine tree and the sheer determination to thaw her distaste for celebrations.
Now, with a family of her own, the season had an entire new meaning.
Her gaze landed on the plate with cookies and the glass of milk on the fireplace mantle. Next to it, sat a card signed “For Santa” in a child’s wobbly handwriting.
Peter had baked the cookies earlier with their girls, making a great mess in the kitchen among giggles and clouds of flour. Rose had been sternly warned that they were for Santa only, but the forbidden treats were too tempting to resist now. A smile tugged at her lips and she glanced around the room before approaching.
Picking up a cookie, she savored its sugary scent before biting. The taste of cinnamon hit strongly, maybe a little too much. They were hard and chunky, but the mixture of both chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles was surprisingly delicious.
She chewed on, determined to uphold the illusion of Christmas for her daughters. The milk helped wash down each bite as she indulged in another cookie.
“What are you doing?”
Caught by surprise, Rose choked momentarily and coughed out a few crumbs.
Peter stood in the wide doorway to the living room, eyes heavy with sleep and hair tousled from running his hand through it.
“Ea’ing ‘coo’ies,” Rose muttered while chewing and pointing at the card. She took a large gulp of milk, then wiped a smudge from her upper lip. “So Mandy and Sadie know Santa was here.”
A lazy smile curved his mouth. “Are you sure you’re doing that for them and not because of your sweet tooth?”
Ignoring his teasing, Rose took a generous bite from another cookie, then held the remaining half out to Peter, who leaned down and ate it in one go.
“Not bad,” he said almost impressed as he chewed slowly, “considering all the egg shells they left in the batter.”
They burst into laughter, then instantly hushed each other over whispered giggles. The house was quiet and there was plenty to do before morning.
“You should put on the costume, just in case they wake up,” Rose told him..
His eyes widened in terror and he shook his head vigorously. “I’m not gonna dress as Santa ever again after what happened last year.”
Rose covered her mouth to muffle the loud snort prompted by that particular memory. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “They were traumatized enough after catching their mom making out with Santa on the couch.”
They carried the rest of the presents downstairs. Within a few minutes, the floor under the tree was covered by colorful boxes with bows, each painstakingly wrapped by them only to be torn apart in mere seconds by small eager hands in the morning.
They sat side by side on the floor, admiring the tree in silence. Peter leaned back on his arms and stretched both legs, looking almost like a kid himself. The red, green and blue lights flickered across his face and the wistful smile on his lips.
In contrast to her, Peter had always loved Christmas, even when it grew sadder after the losses in his family. He had spent many of them alone too, yet his fondness for the season never faded.
They had spent their first Christmas together at their cabin almost six years ago. The woods had stirred a sense of nostalgia in him.
There, sitting by the fireplace, Peter had tentatively loosened a yarn of tangled feelings and told her this was his mother’s favorite celebration. With flames reflected in his eyes, rimmed red with emotion, he’d shared how his family decorated the entire house. His mother would bake cookies that filled the air with the sweet scent of cinnamon while singing carols. They would play games all night and drink hot chocolate until he fell asleep on the couch and his father carried him to bed.
While opening up to her, Peter celebrated the joy of those memories without being burdened by their pain.
Having two loving parents, even briefly, seemed like a luxury to Rose. Still, her heart ached in sympathy for the losses that marked his life. As a mother herself, she tried to avoid dwelling on that possibility because the idea of losing her family felt unbearably painful.
They had never spent any holiday apart ever since. Their small family had started with only the two of them, then grew over the years, multiplying the love and the good kind of chaos that took over their lives.
“I think we overdid it again. We really need to control ourselves next time,” Rose whispered pensively, but her joyous smile didn’t falter.
Peter huffed a laugh. “You say that every year, but you’re the one buying more presents than me!”
Maybe she was trying to make up for what she lacked as a child by giving her daughters everything she never had, or only known briefly. It was more than just the gifts. Rose poured care and attention into her daughters to make sure they knew how loved they were. In doing so, the neglected little girl inside her healed as well.
“How about we open one present each?” Peter asked, unable to contain his excitement any longer.
Rose leaned forward, pulling a small box with his name and handing it to him. Peter, on the other hand, lingered by the pile of presents, examining those with her name on to select just one. After all these years, he was still meticulous and thoughtful about the smallest gestures.
She stifled a yawn but said nothing, letting him take his time because whatever he picked would be worth the wait.
The gift he finally settled on was a small envelope. She tore it open and gasped after pulling out concert tickets for her favorite artist.
“These were sold out!” Her eyes shifted quickly in disbelief between the tickets and him.
“I bought them months ago.” A smug grin spread his lips apart as he watched her reaction. He looked far too pleased with himself for getting her present exactly right. After nearly a decade since they’d met, he still paid attention to what she liked.
“Thank you,” Rose said before kissing his cheek several times, much to his delight.
Peter had been so absorbed in savoring her joy that his present was still unopened. True to himself, he unwrapped the box with great care to avoid ripping the paper.
His eyes widened when he saw the familiar object inside.
For a while his mouth opened and closed in a stunned attempt to produce words that were too stubborn to come out. None seemed to occur to him and he was not quite capable of taking his eyes off the wristwatch he pulled out, even though it wasn’t new.
Peter turned it over and admired the way the silver bracelet shone in the dim light. His godfather had given him the watch for his eighteenth birthday and he had carried it through life.
He had thrown it against the wall during an argument with Jim before leaving for college, effectively breaking the watch and their relationship as well. Time stood still on the watch’s face since then.
Rose had it restored and was returning this symbol of fatherly love to him as a reminder that he had always been surrounded by people who cared about him.
His thumb brushed over the intact glass face. The hands marked the steady cadence of time again.
There were painful memories attached to the watch, but maybe he would use it again at lunch tomorrow to make happier ones with their chosen family and friends. Including Jim.
His voice cracked with emotion as he thanked her. Then, he pressed a kiss to her lips and she met him with the same affection.
Feeling too tired to fight sleep any longer, Rose stood up and reached for Peter’s hand, tugging him to his feet as well.
On their way out, he pulled her close and she let out a startled yelp when his lips met hers again, this time in a firm, unexpected kiss.
Rose blinked in surprise with a silent question in her raised brow. Grinning, Peter pointed towards the mistletoe dangling from the doorway as an excuse to steal kisses more often without their daughters making exaggerated groans or fake-disgusted noises.
The soft patter of little feet echoed down the stairs, waking up Rose from a half-dreaming state. She turned her head to the alarm clock on the nightstand. 6:15 a.m.. Far too early for her taste.
With a groan, Rose rolled over and burrowed into Peter’s chest. “Do you hear that?”
He glanced at the alarm clock too, then made a muffled sound into her hair. “Hmm… maybe it’s Santa. We should let him work in peace,” he mumbled, clearly as unwilling as she was to leave the bed.
A burst of giggles reached the bedroom. After some persistent coaxing from her, they shuffled out of bed and followed the sounds of uncontrolled joy.
The source of the mischief became clear once they reached the living room.
Two smaller versions of herself with dark hair, skin of brown gold much lighter than hers and inquisitive eyes were shoving the rest of Santa’s cookies into their mouths. Freckles and crumbs dotted their round cheeks.
While they might look like her at first glance, Peter shone through in the small details. In the slim contour of their lips almost always pulled into cheeky grins, their small noses, the cutest dimples and the unmistakably genetic tooth gap.
And much to Peter's exasperation, the three Sutherland women shared a wicked sense of humor.
Rose silently watched the adorably messy, funny masterpieces she and Peter had created.
At five, Amanda was tall for her age. One day she might even tower over her mother just like her father did. Chewing on one cookie, she reached up on her toes, plucked another from the plate and offered it to her little sister. Two years younger, and full of feisty energy, Sadie bounced on her fluffy socks and accepted the offer with a delighted squeak.
Their ginger cat sat nearby, swaying his tail as he observed the girls’ antics with his amber eyes.
They were growing up faster than Rose could keep up. Some days, she willed time to stop, just to preserve their innocence and wonder before life had a chance to steal it away from them. Like it had from their parents early on.
A few steps behind, Peter snorted the moment he saw them lick every crumb off the plate. Rose nudged his side with her elbow to keep him quiet, but it was already too late. Two pairs of startled brown eyes turned towards them, then quickly lit up with happy grins.
“Look Daddy, Santa ate the cookies we made!” Amanda squealed, showing the empty plate while Sadie giggled in agreement.
“Did he really?” Peter asked in mock surprise while narrowing his eyes at Rose, who grinned back unashamed.
She approached the girls and brushed the crumbs off their faces and pajamas. “I'm sure he liked them a lot, sweetheart.”
Amanda clung to Rose’s waist in a tight hug, who in turn kissed the top of her daughter’s head.
Across the room, Peter only had time to stretch his arms and catch Sadie’s flight toward him.
“Let’s open some presents, little bear,” Peter said as he hoisted Sadie up. He pressed a stream of kisses to her belly, making her giggle even louder and squirm in his arms.
Rose chuckled and held her far more placid eldest daughter a little longer before they settled on the floor and chaos unfolded around the Christmas tree.
Peter handed her a steamy mug and sat down sipping on his own. The strong coffee was a welcomed comfort while they watched paper being ripped without mercy and the girls squealing at the new toys and books.
The cat bounced around equally excited, tumbling through the torn paper and chasing stray ribbons across the floor with his paws.
Soon enough, the floor resembled a war zone made of paper and boxes, though the girls’ happy faces were worth the mess they would have to clean after.
“It’s kinda funny how much I hated all of this before I met you,” Rose stated quietly, almost to herself. Her gaze settled on the four stockings with their names hanging from the fireplace. “The lights and decorations made me feel so left out, like Christmas was only for happy families. I thought I’d never have one like that.”
Peter shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. “That’s why I try to make ours perfect.” His smile turned melancholic. “My happiest memories were of Christmas with both my parents and I always hoped to share the same feeling with my own family.”
Looking up at him, Rose admired the way the lights reflected in his eyes. She felt the familiar swell in her chest that came whenever he said something simple, but devastatingly sincere.
“And now look at us, happy chaos everywhere,” she said softly, gesturing around. Their home never lacked madness and noise. And it overflowed with love even on the most exhausting days.
“You love it!” Peter replied and squeezed her closer.
She laughed into his neck and nodded. “I can’t imagine a better life than this.”
Peter smiled and kissed her lips before sliding closer to Amanda, who had moved from a tea set to a box of Lego. Rose couldn’t tell which of them was more excited.
She scooped up Sadie into her lap, fitting her small body into the curve of her own, then nuzzled her neck with affection. While Sadie's gaze traveled over the watercolor illustrations of animals in a book, her tiny fingers curled gently around a strand of Rose’s hair. A tender habit she had carried since she was a baby.
A bittersweet ache bloomed in Rose's chest, faint but still there after many years. What would her aunt and uncle think if they could see her own family now, in a home glowing with decorations? The place where she also taught her daughters to fold origami, and played hide and seek with them.
Without any doubt, she knew they’d be happy and proud of her.