“No competitive personalities in your family, huh?” He stretched his leg over the other two cushions of the sofa.
“Not at all.” Her gaze shifted to his leg. “Bad day?”
“I’ll be fine. Precautionary measures.”
“Where’s your medicine?” She scowled at him, not buying his lie.
“On the nightstand in my room.” No point letting pride steal his enjoyment.
She went upstairs again and returned with a pill and glass of water. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He popped the pill in his mouth and chased it with a swig of water. “Don’t tell Mom, or she’ll worry. I knew better than to stand still for so long, but it was worth it.”
“I won’t.” She pointed in the direction of the kitchen where the smell of freshly brewed coffee beckoned. “Do you want a cup? I’ll bring you one.”
“Sure.” He glanced out the window, then winked at her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit here and admire the snow a bit longer.”
***
Piles of unwrapped presents formed multiple stacks around the living room. Evan hadn’t received this many presents since before he’d graduated high school, but his parents had spared no expense this year. They’d even spoiled Luke, now officially part of the family, and Janie, whom they’d taken under their wing and declared one of them.
Not all presents had been given out yet. He had a special one set aside for Janie that he’d give to her in private after Kate and Luke left, and Mom and Dad went to bed. A lot of hours had gone into making it, and he hoped she liked it.
He stole a glance at her. Her face displayed appreciation for all the gifts, but he knew the inclusion meant more to her than the presents themselves.
She wrapped a plum-colored scarf around her neck and stroked the fabric. “It’s so soft. I want to go outside for an excuse to wear it.”
“I saw it and immediately thought of you.” His mom beamed. “And you’ll need it the next few days. This cold snap isn’t going anywhere for now.”
Kate rose to her feet. “I have a final present each for Mom, Dad, and Evan. It’s from Luke and me.” She distributed a large, file-sized envelope to each of them. “Open them.”
Sliding a finger under the flap, he pried it loose. He looked inside and saw a paper. Pulled it out and realized it was some type of certificate. For what? Scanning it, he read,Congratulations on your promotion to uncle, effective this July.
The words sunk in. His big sister was having a baby.
Jealousy like he’d never known swooped down on him, and he hated himself for it. Nausea rolled in his stomach. She would live the dream he’d never get to experience. No one knew, except him and the doctors who broke the news. He clenched his jaw, willing the emotion to go away.
Help me, Lord. Take away this envy and replace it with only positive feelings.
Kate’s face glowed. She deserved nothing but happiness, and she’d be a fantastic mother.
He watched as their mom hugged and squeezed her, and shed joyous tears over the news she’d be a grandmother.
Their joy jumped to him. A corner of his heart ached, but he couldn’t be happier for his sister. He’d be the best uncle his future niece or nephew could ask for.
Joining in the embraces and celebration, he snuck a peak at Janie. Did the newsevokesimilar sentiments in her? Did she mourn for the child she and Mike would never have? Her face revealed nothing but a quiet smile.
A few hours later, after Kate and Luke had left, and his parents retired for the night, he sought out Janie to give her the special gift. He found her curled on the sofa with silent tears and sobs wracking her body.
He approached slowly, set the gift aside, and sat beside her, enveloping her in his arms until the cries subsided. He didn’t tell her it wasn’t that bad, or even that it would be okay.
In her sorrow, he let her cry out her grief without adding meaningless platitudes. If she wanted to talk, she would. Time had no measure. He’d be there for her until she no longer needed him.
At some point, Janie lifted her head and met his gaze. “I wanted a baby, but Mike thought it best to wait until we had financial security. We’d decided to try after that deployment.”
“I’m sorry.” He was so sick of those two words. Too much to be sorry for, too little that could be changed.
“I’m happy for your sister. I truly am.” She wiped her eyes on the sleeve at her shoulder. “Babies are a sweet blessing, but it reminded me of what I didn’t have. I held it in, praying no one would see. I’d feel terrible if I cast any shadow on their joy.”
