The baby was special in her own unique way. Slightly larger than a human newborn, she had a dusting of dark hair and skin that held a faint greenish tint. She opened her eyes and gazed up at her mother.
“She has your eyes,” Beth told Ruugar, whose finger was already being gripped by his daughter’s tiny hand.
“And your determination,” he croaked.
The room filled with happy tears as the newest member of Lonesome Creek made her entrance on Christmas Eve. Through the open door, I heard the news spreading to the males in the living room, their voices calling out congratulations.
“What will you name her?” Allie asked, leaning closer to see the baby.
Beth and Ruugar exchanged a look of understanding.
“Noma,” Beth said. “It means ‘gift’ in the orc language.”
“A perfect gift for Christmas Eve,” Inla said softly.
While Grannie and Inla tended to Beth, the baby was cleaned and swaddled, then passed around the circle of women. Each took a turn holding her, whispering blessings and welcome.
When Noma reached me, I hesitated. “I’ve never held a baby before.”
“Like this,” Rosey said, showing me. “Support her head.”
The weight of the newborn in my arms shocked me. She was light yet wonderfully solid. Her tiny face scrunched, and she blinked up at me with dark eyes. One perfect hand waved in the air.
I was an overwhelming mass of emotions. This tiny being represented everything I’d been missing in my pursuit of career success. She was the embodiment of connection, continuity, and love, everything this town was trying to achieve.
“Hello, Noma,” I said. “Welcome to your family.”
The word had expanded to include everyone in this room, in the living room, and even the tourists who’d chosen to spend their special day with us. A network of relationships built on choice rather than obligation, on love freely given and received.
This was what truly mattered. Not prestigious positions or professional recognition. This circle of belonging, this shared joy in new life, this moment of connection.
I looked up to find Becken watching from the doorway, his gaze full of wonder and longing. Without words, I knew he felt the same as me.
Later, when Noma had been introduced to every member of her extended family and Beth was resting comfortably with Ruugar sitting by her side, I walked back to the hotel with Becken.
Neither of us spoke, the wonder of what we’d witnessed still settling around us like the soft snow that had begun to fall.
Christmas lights glowed ahead in the dark, and a choir sang “Silent Night”.
“What are you thinking?” Becken asked as we reached the saloon entrance.
I looked up at the stars scattered across the sky, then back at him. “That some gifts can’t be wrapped in paper. They’re intangible things that have to be recognized by the heart.”
His expression softened, and understanding dawned in his eyes. “Like Noma.”
“Yup. Like community. Like belonging.”
Like the golden mark on my wrist and what it offered if I was brave enough to accept it.
We stood outside the saloon, watching the snow fall, the world quiet except for the choir that had moved on to sing “Jingle Bells”.
Becken took my hand and squeezed it. “Merry Christmas Eve, Carla.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Becken.”
We parted at the top of the stairs, each going to our separate rooms.
As I prepared for bed, the emptiness that had always thrived inside me felt different. The hollow ache I’d carried since my parents died had left me, replaced with the blooming joy of hope.
