Gingerly, I take the gift from Dad and weigh it in my hands. It looks so small, but it feels like a jewel. No one has ever given me a wrapped present like this before. This feels so odd and emotional.
“I only do what I know how to do. I do what needs to be done. That is all that I know how to do. I do not know about giving and buying gifts.”
Dad scoffs. “Son, you’ve done more to help our little farm recover in this economy than any of us could have done. More than recover. We’ll be in the black, by a long shot.”
“You called me son.”
“Yeah. We do that around here.”
I look around the semi-circle with everyone watching me. This is the ritual I’ve seen in movies. Everyone watches each other open gifts. It is strange, but I do as I’m expected to do.
The sparkly ribbon pulls away, and the green paper tears like nothing under my fingers. Inside is a box, and inside the box is…
“Socks?”
Mom smiles proudly. “It’s a stocking for you. To hang by the fireplace. I hope you’ll stay at the farm and know that as long as you and Ginger are together, you’ll have a place in our family.”
I examine the snowman pattern, the snowflakes, the dark starry night sky.
“You…made this?” I ask Mom.
She nods. “I knitted everyone’s Christmas stocking. I had one started a long time ago in case Ginger ever got engaged, but life’s too short. It’s yours.”
“Mom, you should not have done so much work,” I say.
Mom waves me off. “What else am I going to do in that chair while I’m getting treatments? Please.”
Wetness has leaked from my eyes, and my cheeks are both wet with tears. “I have no words. Thank you.”
“May, let’s go check on that roast turkey,” Dad says. Before I know it, everyone has exited the living room to let me cry it out in peace.
Ginger’s small hand is on my arm. “Let’s go downstairs so you can compose yourself.”
In the basement, Ginger closes the door and stands up on the bed so she can look directly into my face.
“I know what you did. I saw the vial on the counter, and it’s empty.”
“Oops.”
“Grak, did you use the last of your North Pole magic to heal my mom?”
Her chin wobbles.
“Yes, Ginger. I did.”
“So you…you can’t ever go home?”
“I hope it is not too bold of me to say, but I am already home.”
“It’s not too bold, because I’m keeping you.”
I let out a breath that feels as if I’ve been holding it for my whole life. My forehead rests against Ginger’s.
Hers. She’s keeping me, and I’m hers.
“You may keep me for as long as you wish.”
She chuckles and presses her hand to my cheek.
