The phone conversation with Uncle Bill had gone very well, with Uncle Bill making pithy remarks and comments about the misadventures of the bone-handled Bowie knife and beaded sheath. This was followed by another jigsaw puzzle of a conversation with Brent and Richard, followed by another conversation with Sarah. Which, all in all, made the drive go swiftly, with Kyle's warm presence at his side.
When they arrived at Sarah and Luke's split level surrounded by pine trees, all three of them, Sarah and Luke and Shawn, were waiting on the front porch. They were dancing intheir stocking feet and wearing no coats, and Clayton couldn't scold them for laughing.
It was his sister Sarah who reached Clayton first, her arms wide for the first hug. Clayton responded with his arms wrapped around her, holding tightly, his throat thick, his heart lurching with a beautiful kind of pain as they hugged for a long, quiet minute. Then, after they drew apart, laughing, Clayton introduced Kyle, who was welcomed just as warmly as Clayton himself.
They all went inside, a group of people trying to hug everyone at once while at the same time taking off their coats and outdoor things, with Shawn dancing around them in the foyer, throwing himself at Clayton in his excitement.
"Where is it, where's my present, Uncle Clayton?" he asked, tilting his head back, smiling up at Clayton with bright eyes and a loving smile that made Clayton feel warm all over.
"Here," said Clayton, without preamble, and watched as Shawn tore into the gift he'd come so far to give.
But when Shawn pulled the present out of the layers of carefully arranged Christmas wrapping, he saw what it was and then stopped. And then, much to Clayton's puzzlement, he placed the knife in its beaded sheath against his forehead and held it there with both hands.
"What's the matter, kiddo?" he asked, looking up at the collection of people standing around in a half circle who were, like him, trying to figure out what was going on in the ten-year-old's mind. "Don't you like it?"
Shawn pulled the knife away, his eyes bright as if on the verge of crying. But then he sniffed and hugged the sheath to his chest.
"I didn't even know I wanted it, and yet you got it for me," said Shawn. He threw himself at Clayton and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Clayton, you're the best."
Clayton felt like the best, the very best that he could be. Thebest brother, the best uncle, the best brother-in-law. And, looking at Kyle, who was smiling at him with very blue eyes and that quirky pull to his mouth, he felt like he was going to be the best boyfriend, the best fiancé. The besthusband—and then he stopped and laughed and tugged on Kyle's shirt to pull him closer.
"We've brought wine," said Clayton. "Really good French wine I know you're all going to like. Kyle's friends from Chicago were supposed to drink it, but we're going to drink it, all of us, today."
Kyle handed over the wine to Luke, who took it and strode off into the kitchen to open it and let it breathe, or whatever it was that people did with wine. Sarah followed him and tried pulling on Shawn's hand to get him to go with her.
Which Shawn did, but not before pointing to the archway that led from the foyer to the living room.
"There's mistletoe, if you guys want to try it out," said Shawn. "Mom and Luke have been trying it out for days?—"
"Shawn," said Sarah from the kitchen. "Come in here, now, and give those two a minute."
Obediently, Shawn did as he was told, clutching the beaded knife sheath to him the entire time. Which quickly left Clayton alone with Kyle in the foyer, the sights and sounds of Christmas underway spilling at them from the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other.
"Shall we have another Christmas kiss?" asked Clayton, feeling brave.
"Yes," said Kyle, sounding quite assured and very willing.
He rose on his toes, and again, Clayton thought about those new woolen socks he'd get for Kyle, and those hand-beaded leather slippers for him to wear instead of walking around the house with holes in his socks—and he stopped himself.
Now wasn't the time for practical thoughts, no matter how engaging the thought of the expression on Kyle's face when hereceived the new socks and slippers.Nowwas the time for a Christmas kiss. Clayton dipped his head and pulled Kyle into his arms, and gave over to holding Kyle tight and kissing him soundly and for a good long while, until the world faded away. The only sensation, the only reality, was the present, here and now, with Kyle in his arms, their bodies warm and close together. The scent of Kyle's skin, the feel of his mouth, the sound of his breath as they pulled apart.
"Merry Christmas, Clayton," said Kyle, his mouth curved in a smile, his eyes sparkling.
"Merry Christmas, Kyle," said Clayton.
He was smiling too and thought he would never stop. No need to, when there were, very likely, more Christmases like this in his future, more memories to make to reminisce over. More hours, more days, more time to spend feeling like this, to spend with Kyle feeling like this.
He'd had no idea when he'd set out on the errand Uncle Bill had set for him that it would end like this, that it would be like this, but he was glad it had. And surprised for himself, as well, that the gift that was supposed to be for his nephew would end up being a gift for him, too. That a stolen Christmas knife would bring such happiness to him and Kyle both.
"Merry Christmas," he said again, and hugged Kyle close, and closed his eyes, and imagined they could stay that way together forever, even as the happy sounds came from the kitchen. He went towards that sound with a full heart, pulling Kyle with him.
EPILOGUE
The kitchen was too crowded with too many people, but it was warm. There was chatter and laughter, the sneaking of slivers of turkey from the platter, noises and giggles from stolen bits of the crumble crust from the top of the apple pie, morsels of cheese eaten, a slug or two of eggnog and rum.
Clayton stood by the fridge with his arms around Kyle, loosely, so that Kyle could move away if he wanted. But Kyle stayed close while Shawn danced around with the empty beaded sheath tied about his waist, the Bowie knife carefully wrapped in paper and stored in a box in the closet. He was still growing, so the fringe ends of the sheath dangled all the way to his left knee as he waved his hands about as though at a fireside dance during a trapper's rendezvous.
"You guys want a beer?" asked Luke, as he skillfully carved the turkey that had been saved just for today and that had been sitting on the wooden carving board for the requisite rest before being sliced into.
