Heart of the Night

“You’re scowling,” Gena said as he opened the door and entered the kitchen, rubbing his hands together as the heat hit him.

“I hate snow and cold,” he retorted to hide his concerns.

“We all get that, Eli,” she replied with a wry smile. “Can’t you fake it for Scotty’s sake at least?” She pointed to the cake she’d baked earlier. “It’s a celebration. But first we’re off to the Christmas Eve play at church.”

Eli took in the “Happy Birthday, Scotty” lettering on the big cake. “I thought I’d skip the play.”

“You have to go, Mr. Eli,” Scotty said from his spot at the arched doorway. “I’m playing a sheep.”

Eli looked from Gena to his son. “I didn’t see you there, petit peu.”

Gena shot Eli a daring glance. “We’d like you to go to church with us tonight.”

Eli knew a feminine command when he heard one. And how could he refuse either of them? “Okay, then. I guess that particular problem is settled. I’ll be on my best behavior, sitting in the very front pew.”

Scotty giggled. “You’ll see me up close in my sheep costume. Mama made it and it tickles our noses.”

Eli touched a finger to Scotty’s nose, giving it his own tickle. “Do you get to go ‘Baahhh’?”

Another giggle. “Nope. I just stand there, watching over Baby Jesus.”

“And you sing songs to praise Him,” Gena reminded him.

“That’s right.” Scotty rushed to the table. “Wow, chocolate cake. My favorite.” Turning to Eli, he held up his fingers. “I’m six today.”

“Hard to imagine,” Eli said, sinking down in a chair as his legs became weak. This kind of love could do that to a man: bring him to his knees. “You’re growing up right before my eyes.”

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