"And he said last night that he'll wait Christmas for me, however long it takes," said Clayton, putting as much earnestness into his voice as he could. "My nephew Shawn will get to open a couple of presents every day, so he won't have to wait for that part." Clayton gave a little laugh and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, which he realized was practically standing straight up. "They're going to hold everything till I get there, so I'm not going to miss a thing. In the meantime?—"
Kyle was standing there with the white china mug halfwayto his mouth, his eyes so very blue and wide that Clayton wanted to stare at them and do nothing else for a good long while.
"In the meantime, you saved my bacon last night, and this house—" Clayton stopped and waved his hand at the bright and cheery yellow and white kitchen, and then to the living room where the tree and decorations gleamed in the low morning light. Even unplugged, they promised good cheer and peace among mankind, just like they ought.
"This house is amazing. I think your friends, Brent and Richard, are missing out, and I think theyknowthey're missing out. So why don't you and I do what you'd planned to do with those guys. What was that? What was the first thing?"
"We were going to—" Kyle stopped and held his own face in the palm of his hand, as though overcome with the idea of it all, even though he must have been planning every moment of his friends' stay with him down to the minute. "We were going to pop popcorn, and string it to put around the tree while watching every single version ofA Christmas Carol."
"Even the Mr. Magoo version?" asked Clayton, his eyebrows rising.
"Of course," said Kyle with some emphasis. "That's the best one, really."
Kyle shrugged as he put the coffee mug in the kitchen sink, as if he expected Clayton to mock him for this.
"It is," said Clayton. "It's an oldie but a goodie." He'd never seen it, but he knew that it existed, but maybe Kyle didn't need to know that truth just yet. "And the Muppets one," he added. That one he did know, because he'd watched it with Shawn at least a dozen times.
"That one's good too," said Kyle, and the smile was coming back into his eyes. "Are you just humoring me?" he asked.
"Not really," said Clayton. "I'm here, you're here, the house ishere. You did all this work. If you're willing to have me as a guest until the roads clear?—"
"Yes, of course," said Kyle, somewhat sternly. "You're welcome for as long as it takes."
"Thank you," said Clayton. "But I should pay you for the food and stuff?—"
"Too bad for you," said Kyle, with the same spirit he'd shown the day before, chin raised, a flash of passion in those blue eyes. "Everything's free and you can't pay for any of it."
Clayton thought to argue with him about it, but then realized that it would be rude. Kyle wanted to play Christmas host, and Clayton had already promised himself he'd be the best sort of guest, which really meant that he needed to be the best sort ofChristmasguest, whatever that was. Well, he'd play it by ear and do his best, which was all anybody could really ask of him.
"I can help with stuff, then," said Clayton. "Let me do that at least. I can cut and bring in firewood, take out the trash, uh—" He waved his hands in front of him helplessly, as what was really involved with being a Christmas guest was beyond him, however in earnest he was. "I can shovel the walk, fix any plumbing problems?—"
"All the manful stuff, I see," said Kyle with an arched brow.
"I can wrap presents, too," said Clayton, laughing. "And sew buttons back on! I have mad skills, you'll see."
Kyle laughed out loud at this and, perhaps without thinking, walked towards Clayton and patted him on the shoulder as he went to the pantry. The touch of his hand left a warm trace that lingered.
"I do have a sink in the other bathroom that drips," said Kyle as he hunted through the pantry. "But first, let's make popcorn and string it for the tree."
"Do we get to eat any?" asked Clayton, for though he wasn't hungry, he loved popcorn.
"Of course," said Kyle. "With garlic butter."
"Oh, man," said Clayton. "That sounds perfect."
And it was perfect. While the blizzard raged outside, swooping around the windows and moaning as though it wanted to be let in, the inside of the house was perfectly cozy. They popped popcorn in a big kettle with a crank handle on it, and Kyle melted butter with garlic salt and poured it over a large bowl of the stuff. Which still left enough plain white popcorn to put on string for three trees.
One after the other, every version ofA Christmas Carolplayed on the flat screen TV on the wall next to the tree, and though some of the branches got in the way, that was okay. It was the sound they listened to while they worked, with Kyle cross-legged on the couch and Clayton on the floor, having shaved and found his socks. The room was warm and was scented with the pomander that Kyle had made by sticking clove buds in one of the oranges.
They stopped working to have lunch, which was roast beef sandwiches and potato chips. After which, Clayton, feeling a sense of needing fresh air, suggested they go check the mail.
Kyle's expression, with his quirked eyebrows and dubious frown, was hysterical, but he bundled up along with Clayton, loaned him a hat, scarf, and a pair of gloves, and the two of them stomped into the snow, even though it was obvious that the mail truck had not been by all day and probably would not for several days.
They breathed through their scarves as they trudged through the knee-deep snow, their heads bent to the wind, and laughed as they touched the metal mailbox and ran back to the house as though playing a game of tag with it in the howling snow. Clayton totally ignored the white mound that was his car as they banged their boots on the steps to knock off the worst of the snow.
Then, after they'd gone inside and, all warmed up from their exertions, hung up their coats and took off their boots, Kylemade hot chocolate. This was from scratch of course, with good cocoa powder and a dollop of real cream to make it thick and sweet. They drank that and watched some more ofA Christmas Carol, and Clayton felt his head tipping back on the couch, in spite of his best efforts to participate in what was surely the most magical Christmas Eve Day he'd spent in a long, long time.
He half opened his eyes as he heard Kyle get up and go down the hall toward the bedrooms. When he came back, he was carrying a red wool blanket that he laid over Clayton. Then he took the mug from Clayton's hand.
