One

December 21st

Gray clouds hung over Tulsa like a bad mood. Snow was threatening, to the glee of children everywhere, promising a rare white Christmas in the Sooner State. I glanced around my hometown as my brother drove me home from the airport, amazed at how much it had grown in the years since I’d been gone. What used to be farm land, or home to grazing cattle and horses, was now abuzz with activity as new homes sprung from the earth, forever changing the landscape of the city.

Turning toward my brother, I scowled at him, sure I hadn’t heard him correctly as he announced he was leaving town soon. “This will be my first Christmas home since Dad died, and you’re going to be out of town?”

Gregg shrugged, unfazed by my anger as usual. Nothing ruffled his feathers. If he were any more laid back, he’d be dead. “We’ve been booked for six months. I didn’t know when we agreed to play during the holidays that you’d decide to move home. I figured after all the time you spent in the Sunshine State, you’d settle there after you finished your master’s degree.”

I glared at his profile, wishing I had a super power so I could inflict pain. Or, at the very least, bend him to my will so I wouldn’t be alone at Christmas. Though, I suppose the fact he was in town at all was a miracle. He played bass guitar for a successful up and coming country band, and was on the road at least forty weeks out of the year.

“When do you leave?” I asked, then rubbed my hands together to circulate my blood. After years in Florida, it seemed thinner than when I’d left. Now the sub-zero temperature crept into my bones like an unwanted virus.

Gregg’s eyes darted to mine, then his face pulled into chagrin. “Tomorrow,” he mumbled without the least bit of the guilt his expression implied.

“Sorry? Did you just say tomorrow?”

His mouth pulled into a flirty smile that I’m sure worked on most women—except me. “Anna Banana,” he crooned. I hated my nickname. “Next year I’ll be here, I promise.”

“So you’re telling me that I’m going to be alone the entire holiday? New Year’s Day as well?”

He rolled his lips between his teeth and kept quiet, waiting for me to erupt.

“This sucks,” I whined.

“You could come with us,” he offered, and I knew he meant it. But traveling with a bunch of rowdy men while they kicked up their heels wasn’t my idea of fun.

My nose started to tingle, and I knew tears weren’t far behind. “I know it’s been a few years since Mom and Dad died, but it’s still gonna be hard, Gregg. And you want me to be alone in that big house by myself?”

“I didn’t plan it this way,” he sighed, sounding a bit defensive. “I want to be here to support you, but I can’t back out, even if I wanted to.”

My nose tingled harder, and I closed my eyes.

“Jesus. Please tell me you aren’t crying.”

I took a deep breath to control my emotions. It didn’t work. “I’m not crying,” I bit out, then hiccupped.

“Anna Banana.”

“I swear to God, if you call me that one more time,” I growled.

Gregg reached over and tried to tickle me. I slapped at his hand, then punched him in the arm for good measure.

“Keep your hands on the wheel, asshole. And slow down; the roads are getting slick.”

“I’ll slow down if you say you forgive me,” Gregg bargained with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. He knew I couldn’t stay mad at him for long. No matter what. We’d been each other’s safety net our whole lives. Adopted as infants by an older couple, Gregg and I had always been close. He was fiercely protective of me, like any good brother should be, even though we weren’t related by blood. The Stubbs had been wonderful parents, even though they were in their late fifties when they took us on. But adopting us at middle age meant they passed away too soon for either Gregg’s or my liking. Now it was just the two of us against the world.

I reached out and tugged on his chocolate-colored ear. He turned his amber-colored eyes toward me and smiled. He’d never cared that I was white and he was black. We were siblings. The Stubbs twins, we’d used to say. And nothing would change that.

Not even being abandoned at Christmas.

Christmas lights flickered brightly as Luke made his way out of the hardware store. There was an animated Santa Claus positioned by the door, waving as customers came inside. His large belly, bright red suit, and jolly deposition put shoppers in the mood to spend money, but Luke ignored it. His mood most days ranged from indifferent to downright sullen. And it was worse at Christmastime.

Pausing as he pushed open the glass door, he glanced past the animated decoration and froze. There was a nativity scene adjacent to the jolly old elf, complete with life-size baby Jesus. This particular Jesus had been Americanized with blond hair and blue eyes, instantly reminding Luke of his deceased nephew. In fact, he looked so much like Matthew that the dull ache that came whenever he thought about him burned hotter—until a sharp pain enveloped his gut, threatening to pull him under. In an instant, Luke could see his nephew’s bright eyes smiling back at him as his chubby cheeks pulled into a grin. And he knew if he closed his eyes and focused, he could still hear his voice babbling as he lay in his crib.

For a moment, he let the memories swirl through his mind’s eye until the ache was too much to bear. Then he passed through the door and headed for his truck, ignoring the Salvation Army volunteer as he petitioned shoppers for their spare change. It had been over four years since his nephew died, but at that moment, it felt like it happened yesterday, and Luke could barely breathe.

Casting his gaze to the ground, Luke moved to his truck and yanked open the door, tossing the supplies he’d purchased on the seat before climbing in. Then he took a deep breath to ease the guilt that always came when he thought about little Matthew.

His younger sister, Jess, had gotten pregnant at eighteen by an asshole who’d taken off, and she’d refused to abort the child, going against their parents’ wishes. She was bright and full of promise, a hard worker destined for something better than flipping burgers while being a single mother, they’d said. Jess was stubborn, though, and moved out just to spite them, saying she’d find a way to make it work. That she wasn’t giving up her child for anyone. His parents had turned to him, begging him to talk some sense into her. So Luke, being twenty and out on his own, had moved her in with him so she could keep her child and still attend college like their parents wanted.

Their arrangement had been simple. She would drop Matthew off at daycare, and Luke would pick him up. And at night, they shared the load of changing diapers so she could study.

Matthew was just as smart as his mother, with a ton of energy to boot. It was a full-time job keeping up with him, one that Luke hadn’t minded one bit. Then one day, he’d picked him up from daycare, and his whole world changed. The temperature had been in the hundreds that day, and his AC was on the blink, so he’d had to keep the windows rolled down on his piece-of-shit car. He was exhausted from the heat, having worked outside the whole day, so he hadn’t paid much attention to what Matthew was doing on the drive home. A mile from his house, he looked into the rearview mirror as movement caught his eye, just in time to see Matthew had wiggled out of his car seat like Houdini. One second he was there, and the next he’d tumbled out the open window before Luke had a chance to react. They’d lost him three days later to severe head trauma from the fall.

Luke glanced at the radio as he started his truck. It was December 21st, four days till Christmas. The familiar tug on his heart crept in, and he clenched his jaw. In four more days, Matthew would have been six years old.