The Perfect Present Read online

  “That’s not what I’m saying, but there are times when women do need men for more than procreation. Case in point: your crazy-ass ex who disrupted your life so that you had to change your phone numbers and get a restraining order. But even the threat of being arrested and going to jail didn’t stop him, until your brother got involved. Are you aware of how many women lose their lives because of spurned husbands or boyfriends? Too many,” he added, answering his own question. “Mark did what I would’ve done if some man was harassing my sisters, and thankfully my brothers-in-law haven’t demonstrated any signs of stupidity that would make me get in their faces.”

  Sierra digested what Noah said. He was right about a woman needing a man’s physical and emotional protection when she found herself unable to handle certain situations. “Okay,” she conceded. “I promise to ignore my mother when she goes off about me not being married.”

  Noah tightened his hold on her body. “That’s my girl.”

  She eased out of his embrace, fearful that if he continued to hold her she would beg him to kiss her, reminding her what she had been missing since she ended her relationship with Derrick. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t attracted several men who’d expressed an interest in taking her out, but once bitten twice shy.

  Why, she thought, as she walked into the kitchen, couldn’t she have met Noah before Derrick? Even if they were to remain friends, at least she wouldn’t have to concern herself with trying to fend off a stalker.

  Naomi joined her, rinsing and stacking dishes in the dishwasher. “I’m going to recruit Mark, Noah, and Pilar to help me and Danny decorate the tree. I’m also going to get the kids to help me trim the lower half, to give them something to do before they start binge-watching holiday-themed movies.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Sierra knew it would take hours to put all the ornaments on the eight-foot spruce. Store-bought and handmade figurines, trinkets, and baubles dated back more than a century. Her grandmother had saved the tree ornaments from her childhood, wrapping them in tissue paper and storing them in air-tight containers. What had begun with several dozen now numbered more than five hundred one-of-a-kind and contemporary collectibles. Every Christmas, a family member would purchase a new ornament and add it to the ever-increasing collection. The highlight of the evening came when the younger Nelsons recognized an ornament they’d made from prior years.

  Despite her nieces and nephews viewing the same movies every year, they never tired of seeing them again. Once the tree was decorated, gaily wrapped presents were piled on the velvet skirt, embroidered with the names of the children. Sierra had mailed her gifts to Chicago over several months, eliminating the need to put them in her checked luggage. However, she did bring a number of gift cards with her for her parents and the older children.

  She opened the refrigerator and removed large plastic bags filled with collard greens. She had admitted to Noah that she didn’t like cooking for herself, yet she enjoyed preparing for a crowd, and planned to use the downstairs kitchen for her dishes.

  Chapter 6

  Noah balanced several plastic containers of Christmas ornaments against his body as he climbed the staircase leading from the basement to the great room, where heat from burning logs in the fireplace added to the festive scene.

  When Sierra mentioned that her parents had renovated the lower level, he could not have imagined the spaciousness and the furnishings conducive to entertaining and total relaxation.

  Two bedrooms were set up dormitory style for the Nelson boys and girls. A kitchen with a fully stocked bar, several wall-mounted televisions, leather seat groupings, and a gaming area with pool, Ping-Pong, and air-hockey tables beckoned him to linger there for hours. After seeing the basement, he knew why the Nelson children loved hanging out at their grandparents’ home.

  Every area of the basement was functional, including the storeroom. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed with board games, bedding in clear protective bags, children’s toys, and boxes containing small household appliances. The Nelsons had an area for luggage and two locked metal file cabinets with labels indicating financial and tax records.

  Mark also carried several containers with ornaments, while Daniel and Pilar hoisted large black garbage-type bags filled with Christmas presents over their shoulders.

  Naomi confided that every year the kids tried to break into the storeroom because they knew Christmas and birthday presents were placed there, but couldn’t come up with the combination on the door’s lock. She had discovered their subtle subterfuge when she found several sheets of paper with various number combinations in the wastebasket. Noah told her she had to at least give them credit for attempting to work out the mathematical sequence in order to gain entry.

  Trimming the tree became a group project as the children sat on the floor and gently removed the tissue paper protecting the fragile ornaments. Noah was amazed by the ritual where each child stood in line, selected a branch, and carefully placed the trinket on the tree. It was done quickly and precisely because they wanted to finish the task and retreat to the basement to watch movies.

  “That was the fastest I’ve ever seen them accomplish that,” Naomi remarked when the children raced out of the room to the staircase.

  Noah picked up a fragile glass ball that resembled a snow globe. “I thought they would be more excited to see some of their personal artwork hung on the tree.”

  Pilar laughed softly. “Usually they are, but this year we told them they couldn’t watch their movies until they helped decorate the tree. Every year we have to fight with them to turn off movies they’ve seen so many times they can recite the dialogue verbatim, and come put their ornaments on the tree. This time we decided to reverse the tradition.”

  Noah smiled and shook his head. He found it amazing that parents had to concoct their own schemes to best their children without resorting to hostile threats. His sisters had complained to their husbands about the number of hours their sons spent on their electronic devices, but to no avail, until their grades began slipping. It was only after a parent-teacher conference that his firefighter and DEA agent brothers-in-law lowered the hammer: No devices were allowed whenever they sat down to eat as a family. And that included when they dined out. They placed time limits on their computers in addition to the already installed parental controls, and they had to leave their cell phones on their parents’ dresser before retiring for bed.

  It appeared to him that every generation of parents was beset with dangers facing their children. Whether binge drinking, cyberspace bullying, illegal or prescription drugs, drag racing, or women being raped on college campuses, Noah knew being a parent was the most challenging job in the world.

  He hadn’t felt the pressure to become a father for two reasons: his role in the military, and he hadn’t met a woman with whom he wanted to share his life and future. Noah also knew time was winding down on his career as a SEAL, and if he was to remain in the navy he would have to apply for another position within the branch. He’d earned a degree in civil engineering, which would make him eligible to apply to the Civil Engineer Corps. He would become part of a team constructing city-size bases, airfields, and harbor facilities around the globe.

  Noah shook his head as if to erase his musings. He knew the time he had spent with Sierra and her family had something to do with his looking at the world differently. Interacting with her family, watching antics of her nieces and nephews, and bonding with her male relatives when they spent hours talking about all things military made him aware of what he had been missing: becoming a part of a tight, extended family unit. There were similarities because both his sisters, like Sierra, were elementary school teachers and their sons were in the same age range as Daniel and Naomi’s Caleb and Isaiah. The most obvious difference was he hadn’t grown up with his father, and both sets of his grandparents were deceased.

  Noah loved his mother and sisters, doted on his nephews, but the traditions established by his Southern grandpare
nts died when they did. His mother refused to keep the old traditions because she felt them trivial. Every year, his grandmothers had celebrated the New Year with Hoppin’ John—a rice dish made with black-eyed peas simmered with spicy sausages, ham hocks, or fatback. There was always a large bowl of collard greens, which signified money, and cornbread, which signified gold. He remembered the saying: Eat poor that day, eat rich the rest of the year. The rice represented riches and the peas symbolized peace.

  When Sierra mentioned she did not like to cook for one person, Noah wanted to ask her if she would be willing to cook for him, but he hadn’t wanted to put her on the spot. Although he was beginning to like her a lot and wanted Sierra to be more than a mere acquaintance, he didn’t know if she would want more. It was obvious her ex had turned her off when it came to men, so much so that she had been reluctant to even date again. Noah knew he had one or maybe even two more days to let her know that he was willing to take the risk to turn their charade into a reality.

  He picked up a dazzling laminated angel with a gold cord and hung it on one of the upper branches. Each of the handmade ornaments was signed and dated by its designer. He found a number of them Sierra had made as a child. Naomi and Pilar called it quits once they were unable to reach the branches without standing on a ladder.

  Sierra walked into the room, carrying a tray with mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate. She had covered her short hair with a blue bandana. “The tree looks wonderful. I thought it was time you take a break and enjoy some refreshments.”

  “You are an angel,” Pilar crooned, taking a mug off the tray.

  Naomi took her mug, then Mark, and finally Noah. “Thank you, darling.”

  Sierra flashed a demure smile as she lowered her eyes. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

  Mark, waiting for Sierra to leave, turned to Noah. “You’ve really got it bad for my sister, don’t you?”

  He exchanged a long, penetrating stare with Sierra’s younger brother. “I do.”

  Mark smiled as attractive lines fanned out around eyes that had spent too much time squinting in the desert sun. “I’m glad.”

  “What my gorgeous husband isn’t saying is that he would gladly welcome you into the family if you married his sister,” Pilar stated proudly, as if she had just solved the mystery concerning the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa.

  “Who’s marrying who?” Luke asked as he walked in holding Delia’s hand.

  Naomi rolled her eyes upward. “My dear sister Pilar is talking about wedding plans for Noah and Sierra.”

  Luke pulled over a folding chair and helped Delia as she slowly sat down. “When are you two tying the knot?”

  Noah believed he could feel the heat of five pairs of eyes burning into him like a laser. “We’re not. We haven’t talked about marriage.” It was the first time since the charade he hadn’t had to lie about his relationship with Sierra.

  Delia, rubbing her extended belly, glared at him. “Can you see yourself married to her?”

  Noah smiled. “Yes, I could.”

  Again, he hadn’t lied. He knew if he fell in love with his pretend girlfriend there was no doubt he would want to marry her. Of all of the women he had known, Sierra topped the list when it came to compatibility, and what shocked him more than anything was that he’d met her just twenty-four hours ago. He had several members on his team who admitted they’d fallen in love with their wives within minutes of meeting them, and after facing imminent death each time they embarked on a mission, they did not want to waste time contemplating if she was the one.

  His mother had related stories of girls in her neighborhood who’d married their boyfriends just before they were shipped out to Vietnam. The same had been true when men were drafted during the Second World War and Korean War.

  Delia gasped softly and then went completely still. “I really felt that.”

  Luke hunkered down in front of his wife. “Was it a contraction?”

  “No. It wasn’t strong enough to be a contraction.”

  Pilar came over and rubbed her cousin’s back. “Why don’t you go and put your feet up, mi’ja.”

  Delia grimaced. “I’m all right. I promised Evie that I would make the arroz con gandules.”

  “You’re not the only Puerto Rican in this family who can make rice and pigeon peas. And thanks to you I now know how to make your sofrito.”

  Noah was relieved the two women were talking about food rather than about him and Sierra. He sipped his cocoa. The slight bitterness of the chocolate was offset by the sweet, frothy cream topping. Luke, taking Pilar’s advice, helped his wife stand and then led her up the staircase to their bedroom.

  Naomi slowly shook her head. “I don’t think she’s going to make it past the New Year.”

  “When is the baby due?” Noah asked.

  “She says January tenth.”

  Pilar smiled. “My girls want the baby to be born December twenty-eighth, so they can share the same birthday as their cousin.”

  “What if she’s also having twins?” Naomi threw out. “She is a lot bigger with this baby than she was with David.”

  Noah met Mark’s eyes, both shaking their heads at the same time. It wasn’t often he was privy to conversations between women, yet it was apparent Sierra’s relatives felt comfortable discussing any- and everything with one another.

  Their cocoa break ended and they went back to completing decorating the tree with yards of tiny white lights that appeared like stars in a nighttime sky once the overhead lights were extinguished. The falling snow had changed over to sleet, and the frozen particles pelting the windows competed with the crackling and hissing of dying embers on the grate behind the decorative fireplace screen. Pilar and Naomi emptied the large garbage bags, placing the gifts around the tree skirt, and then stepped back to survey their handiwork.

  Pilar came over to stand next to Noah and looped her arm through his. “How does it look?”

  He smiled. “It’s perfect. It reminds me of the cover of a children’s book I bought for one of my nephews.”

  “How many nephews do you have?”

  “Four. Both my sisters have two boys. They both professed that they wanted a girl, but it didn’t happen.”

  “Are they older or younger than you?”

  “Older, and because they’re over forty they don’t plan to have any more children.”

  “I guess that leaves you, bro,” Daniel drawled, “to give your mother a granddaughter.”

  “I suppose it does,” he said in agreement. If he truly believed in the power of suggestion, then Noah knew he would be married to Sierra and the father of several children if he went along with the Nelsons’ wishes.

  Mark rested an arm on Pilar’s shoulder. “You did good, baby. This is when we all try to get some sleep before the real festivities begin later tonight. Noah, I don’t know if Sierra told you, but we eat around eight and open presents at the stroke of midnight. Then get ready to throw down in the kitchen with the dudes for a Christmas Day brunch.”

  “Are you game, Brother Crawford?” Daniel asked.

  “Hell yeah!” The two women gave him admiring glances. He still had to decide whether to make an omelet, frittata, or chicken and red velvet waffles. He’d taken an inventory of the freezer in the basement and found it stocked with chicken, steaks, pork chops, and bagged shrimp. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Turning on his heel, he went in search of Sierra and found her in the formal dining room setting the table, with seating for twelve, with china, silver, and crystal glassware. The ornate fabric runner down the center of the exquisite mahogany and cherrywood table, silver candelabras, wreaths cradling votive candles, and crystal bowls filled with bouquets of pine, cranberries, and strands of colored beads turned the table into a visual still-life masterpiece. She had already set a smaller table for the children with place settings for five. The fireplace mantel was decorated with wreaths of lilies, pine, and silver bells.

  He appla
uded and her head popped up. “It looks exquisite.”

  Sierra crossed her arms under her breasts. “Thank you.”

  “We finished the tree.”

  She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. “And I’m finished in the kitchen. Are you ready to take a nap?” Bending slightly, Noah swept her up into his arms, and Sierra held on to his neck to keep her balance. “Put me down, Noah. I can walk.”

  He kissed her nose. “You couldn’t walk last night when you fell asleep in my bed.”

  “I don’t even remember falling asleep until I woke up this morning.”

  Taking long strides, Noah quickly covered the distance from the dining room to the staircase. “That’s because you were probably jet-lagged and exhausted.”

  Tilting her head, she looked up at him. “Weren’t you also jet-lagged?”

  Noah nodded. “That and a little hungover from drinking more beer than I’m accustomed to.”

  “How many did you have?”

  He smiled. “I stopped counting after three.”

  “I should’ve warned you that my brothers prefer beer to hard liquor. However, tonight will be different because we’re serving wine plus Grandpa’s special Christmas punch, which has anyone who drinks it believing they can see into the future.”

  “Damn!”

  “No, Noah. Double damn. Just be prepared when everyone watches as you take your first sip. It may taste like Kool-Aid or Hi-C, but once it goes down it explodes like napalm.”

  “Are you certain it isn’t moonshine?”

  “I don’t know because I’ve never tasted moonshine. It could be, because Grandpa grew up in Tennessee before he came to Chicago, so it could be he learned to make it from his father and uncles.”

  Noah shouldered open the door to their bedroom, and placed Sierra on the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress and removed his socks. “I’ve sampled moonshine and it truly lived up to its name as white lightning, because after a few sips I was lit up like an exploding M-80.”

  Sierra swept the bandana off her head and fluffed up her short hair. “Wine happens to be my cocktail of choice. I’ll occasionally have a margarita or a cosmo, but nothing stronger.” She adjusted the pillow under her head. “I didn’t expect you to make the beds.”