Chapter Forty-Four

As if by magic, a fine snow began falling during the wee hours of the morning. The sun rose on a bright and glittery world, but Sophie couldn’t help feeling ambivalent about the beautiful day, with her heart as conflicted as it was.

Mateo had been right about the book. Although there was a certain fascination to reading about her parents’ youth, there was a lot she had learned that she didn’t really want to know. And now there was no un-knowing those things. So instead of elating her, the white snow and sunshine felt like a sham, a fake backdrop that concealed the ugliness of winter in this dilapidated little town, the same way that lies had concealed the ugliness of her parents’ past.

Of course there was no avoiding Christmas morning, so she got dressed and padded downstairs to the kitchen. As she passed the living room, she glimpsed a few new presents under the tree and noticed that her stocking was full, but didn’t know how she felt about that. The book said that her parents hadn’t really been married. Her mother had been married instead to that hateful Will Channing, and she had never divorced him. So what did that make Sophie? And her mother? What did that make her father?

Robert was already in the kitchen making coffee and she tried to return his smile, but knew she looked insincere.

“How about some hot chocolate? Then we’ll go in the living room and see what Santa brought.”

For some reason, Sophie couldn’t abide the thought of playing along with the Santa myth this year, and she told him so. “It’s really just you. We don’t have to pretend.” As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. He looked hurt.

“I thought it was part of the fun,” he said. “But okay, we don’t have to pretend it’s Santa if you don’t want to.”

She sat at the kitchen table while her father made her a cup of hot chocolate. While she waited, she traced a few lines on one of the maps her father had left out the night before. “Do you ever miss the war?”

Robert looked at her, startled. “Wars are terrible things. Why would I miss it?”

“You were someone important then.”

“Just a bit player in a much larger production,” he assured her. He handed her a mug of frothy chocolate.

Sophie sipped it cautiously. He was lying. No way would he have merited several pages in that book, alongside generals and other famous people, if he hadn’t been important, too. Why was he denying it?

Robert poured a cup of coffee. “Would you like to open presents now?”

“I guess.”

He peered into her face. “Are you okay? You look a little pale. Is your stomach upset?”

“No, I’m fine.” Sophie got to her feet. “We can open presents now.”

They went in the other room and Robert encouraged her to take down her bulging stocking. Inside were a pair of new socks, some fuzzy ear warmers, an orange, and a chocolate bar. In spite of her mood, she smiled as she examined the chocolate. It had come all the way from New York City. Well, the book did say that her father was rich. One of the unconfirmed rumors about him was that he had used his own money to supply some of the refugee camps. She hoped it was true, since that was the sort of thing that she could be proud of, even though he had disgraced himself by stealing another man’s wife. Why had she thought it would be interesting to find out if her father had ever done something reckless?

“Santa hopes, I mean I hope, that you like the chocolate.”

“How could I not?”

Now he got on his knees and withdrew a few packages from under the tree. The first one he handed her was a flat box wrapped in white paper with green fir trees stamped onto it by hand. “Why don’t you open this one first? It’s from Norma.”

“Mama Norma gave me something?” Sophie took the box. It was very light.

“You gave her a present.”

“Yeah, but that was just cookies.”

“Let’s see what she gave you.”

Sophie untied the ribbon and ripped open the paper. Inside the box was a pair of blue knitted gloves of a shade that almost exactly matched her winter coat. On the cuff of each glove was a pattern of little white snowflakes.

Robert came and looked over her shoulder. “She made those herself. They came out well.”

“They’re beautiful.” She put one on and flexed her fingers. “I can’t wait to thank her. Do you think I should bake her some more cookies? It must’ve taken a long time to make these.”

“I think she enjoyed the project,” her father said. “There’s no need to feel like you owe her anything. Doing nice things for people can be very rewarding.”

“Like when you used your own money to buy food for the refugees during the war?”

Robert took a step back. “Where did you hear that crazy rumor?”

Sophie shrugged and looked away, but secretly she was wishing she had taken those gloves and stuffed them in her mouth rather than blurt out what was really on her mind.

“Unitas was often short on cash. And yes, I sometimes bought supplies for the camps with my own money. The people were penned up like rats, with no way to earn anything and no safe place to go. I could hardly let them starve. Satisfied?”

“Yes,” Sophie said meekly. She darted under the tree and withdrew the box she had covered with shiny foil and decorated with paper snowflakes the week before. “This is for you.”

Robert took the box in his hands and examined it, as if he hadn’t noticed it under the tree these past few days. “This is heavy. And it’s almost too pretty to open. You did a good job wrapping it.”

“Mama Norma helped.”

“That doesn’t make the work any less yours.” He opened the foil wrapping carefully along the seams so as not to tear it. When he saw the lettering on the box inside, he frowned. Then he opened it and took out a boot.

“I hope you like them,” Sophie said. Mama Norma helped me order them, and I measured a pair of your shoes to make sure they’re the right size and everything. But Mama Norma said we can send them back and get an exchange if there’s anything about them you don’t like.”

Robert looked at her solemnly. “These look like they’ll be perfect, but you must have spent your entire allowance on them. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Sophie ducked her head. “Some of it was actually your money,” she confessed. “I didn’t give back everything I stole after I tried to run away.” But then she snapped her head up. “I haven’t taken anything else since then, though. I swear! And you really needed new boots. People at the store were starting to talk about you.”

She needn’t have added any reassurances because her father was laughing. “You’re just like your mother. She had no qualms about ‘borrowing’ from me, either. The ends always justified the means.” If he noticed Sophie seemed flummoxed by this information, he gave no sign. He pulled another box from under the tree, a small one this time. “This is from your friend Mateo.”

Confused, she took the tiny box, wrapped in plain white paper like what they used sometimes to wrap meat or glass breakables at the store. “He already gave me a present,” she said. “Last night at the party.”

“Oh?” Robert seemed curious but not displeased. “What did he give you?”

“A book.”

“What about?”

“Just a book.” Sophie opened the little box. It contained a pair of tiny earrings made of polished quartz pebbles. For a long moment she simply stared. “This is too much,” she finally said. “He must have spent his tip money on these.” She looked up at her father. “Would it be rude to give them back?”

“Very.” He took the box and examined the earrings. “He might have made them himself, you know. Pink quartz isn’t hard to come by around here, and neither are old earrings that can be repurposed.” He handed them back to her. “I think all you have to do is thank him.”

“I will.”

There were a few more gifts under the tree for her – a red flannel bathrobe, a set of fluffy towels and washcloths, and a bright blue saddle blanket for Bandera. Sophie was especially excited about this last gift. “Can I go try it out right now?”

“You mean can you go riding?” Robert glanced toward the window. “I had been hoping you’d want to stay in for a while, have some breakfast and enjoy just being a family on Christmas morning. But I guess since it’s such a nice day…”

“I won’t be gone long, I promise. I’ll even cook our breakfast when I get back. So can I go? Please?”

Robert smiled. “All right. I guess I didn’t buy that saddle blanket for you to just sit indoors and look at it. But be careful out there. And be back in an hour.”