To Love And Protect. Muriel Jensen

a little like a refugee from a zombie walk. She picked up the back end of the ladder and helped him carry it to her truck.

      They’d had a quiet breakfast at the Grill and then driven to Teresa’s to discover that her ladder wasn’t tall enough to reach the top of the Christmas tree and that she didn’t have enough ornaments. Corie had made a quick call to Hector, who’d agreed to lend them his ladder, but the matter of more ornaments had necessitated a craft project. Teresa and the children had been left in charge of resolving that problem.

      “Where’d you find your keys?” Ben asked as he placed the ladder on the tarp that remained in her truck.

      She walked around to open the driver’s-side door, smiling ruefully at him when they were both in the cab. “Bianca had them. She loves to put things in her purse.”

      “Ah. The youngest Stripe. I noticed the purse. She doesn’t look big enough to carry it.”

      “She’s tougher than she appears.”

      Corie loved the way he identified the children. The Flores girls were the Stripe Sisters. The Santiago brothers, the Army.

      “I should have thought about that but I was stressed and late for work. Karina, the middle sister, found them and gave them to me.” She pulled away from the front of the restaurant, executed a wide U-turn then headed for Teresa’s.

      “Is a U-turn legal in Querida?” he asked, his elbow resting on his open window. She noticed he was holding on to the roof of the truck.

      “Not sure,” she replied. “Why? You going to arrest me? You’re not even on duty. Especially not here.”

      “A cop’s always on duty,” he corrected. “Depends on the danger of the situation to the public as to whether or not he steps in.”

      “Am I scaring you?” she teased. “I thought you were fearless.”

      “That’s our brother, Jack. And you did almost take out that trash box in front of Hector’s, then the mailbox across the street while executing the turn.” He grinned at her. “That would have gotten you a pricey traffic ticket in Beggar’s Bay. Don’t know what the law is in Querida.”

      “I do it all the time and I’ve never gotten a ticket.”

      “Let’s hope your luck continues. Nice of Hector to send pastries back for the kids.”

      “They’ll love them with their hot chocolate. So will I.”

      “I noticed your sweet tooth. You had three pieces of cake at Jack and Sarah’s wedding, as I recall.”

      She was a little embarrassed that he’d noticed that. She’d been nervous. For the woman whose mother had gone to jail, whose father had been a drug dealer and whose stepmother disliked her, the Palmer-Reed family harmony had been alien territory. Their happiness in each other’s company had been so thick she’d been afraid someone would notice she felt out of place. She tended to overeat when she was nervous. “It’s not very polite to point it out.”

      He laughed lightly. “It’s not like it’s an evil quality or anything. It’s just nice to know you have a weakness. I’m guessing you’ve spent most of your life pretending you don’t have any.”

      She ignored that and kept driving. He was spot-on, actually. She hated that about him.

      * * *

      FOR THE FIRST fifteen minutes of tree decorating, Ben thought he would go insane. Kids were everywhere. It was just the same ten kids, with Roberto safely tucked away in a playpen to protect him from being trampled, but the noise level and general activity made it seem as though they’d doubled, or even tripled, in number.

      He thought it remarkable that the women didn’t seem to notice. They directed the wrapping of lights around the bottom branches and let the older children climb Teresa’s short ladder to help with the upper branches. Teresa hovered around them as Corie occupied the younger ones, who were stretching out the colorful paper chains they’d made.

      Ben watched the happy, laughing faces. Only Rosie was looking on with a strange detachment that finally caught Corie’s attention. The lights were now halfway up the tree and the smaller children were placing ornaments on the branches they could reach. As Ben opened the large boxes of decorations, he heard Corie try to encourage Rosie’s participation.

      “I think you should put up that pretty purple chain you made,” she said, catching Rosie’s hand and leading her toward the tree.

      Rosie resisted. “I want to save it,” she said, “for our tree when my dad comes to get me.”

      “He might not come in time for Christmas.” Corie knelt beside her.

      Rosie met her gaze with firm, dark eyes. “He’s coming.”

      Putting an arm around her, Corie squeezed her close. “Okay. Why don’t we put it on our tree and, when he comes, you can still take it home with you for your tree?”

      Appearing reluctant to accept the compromise, Rosie sighed. The child reminded him of Corie. Her own imperfect family made it hard for her to give or to accept love when it was offered from someone else. She finally went with Corie to the big box that had held the chains the children had made, pulled out the remaining bright purple one and looked for the right spot on the tree.

      Rosie pointed over her head. With the two ladders occupied, Corie stood on tiptoe to see if she could reach. She was at least a foot short.

      Ben went to help. Moving Corie aside with a teasing, “Out of my way, short stuff,” he lifted Rosie onto his shoulders. She squealed in surprise then giggled when she found herself high enough to place the chain a third of the way from the top.

      “How does that look?” Rosie asked of the room in general.

      “It’s beautiful.” Corie stood back to admire it and Teresa nodded.

      “Good job,” Ben agreed, lowering Rosie to her feet.

      By the time they broke for pastries and cocoa, Ben concluded that all he could do in such a situation was abandon the need to control and simply embrace the chaos. Teresa had a little directorial control, but, for the most part, let the children experience the thrill of decorating by themselves.

      They all sat around the large kitchen table, Corie and Teresa making sure there was an equitable distribution of treats. Ben leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee, listening in on the conversations.

      Rosie and the Stripe Sisters talked about what they would do when their parents came for them. There were small, homey plans that involved doing their chores and cleaning their rooms. Lupe, the oldest sister, intended to plant flowers.

      “What if we live in an apartment?” Karina asked.

      “You can have flowers in an apartment,” Rosie said. “In a pot instead of in the ground.”

      “But that’s not a garden,” Lupe protested.

      “Sometimes you can’t have a garden,” Rosie said. “Sometimes you can only have a pot.”

      The girls nodded seriously. Ben thought about how sage an observation that was.

      “I’m gonna learn to play football. Catch, Peterson.” Carlos pretended to throw a pass. Soren, across the table, reached a skinny arm up to catch the imaginary ball. The two boys laughed.

      “We don’t have a football,” Rigo, the next oldest Santiago brother, pointed out.

      “That’s okay, I do.” Soren picked up his cocoa. “When your family comes, you can have my football.” He shrugged.

      Ben suspected the boy didn’t believe that would happen.

      “Maybe Santa will bring us one,” the youngest Santiago brother said hopefully.

      Miguel, brother number three, chimed in with, “You’d have to be good for that to happen, Tonio.”