Christmas Bear

Christmas Bear

 The snow had finally stopped falling by the time Winfield climbed out of his car at his brother’s house, where his family stood waiting to greet him. Winfield quickly held a finger to his lips as he moved to the back of the car and opened one of the other doors.

Simon sat curled up in his car seat, drool dripping down his chin as he breathed softly, his chest rising and falling. After unbuckling him, Winfield wrapped his coat around his son and scooped him up into his arms. Almost instantly, Simon sighed and snuggled up against Winfield’s chest.

Using his foot to close the car door, Winfield turned to his family as they made their way quietly toward him. “He tried to stay awake,” Winfield whispered, smiling down at Simon as they headed into the house. “But he conked out about an hour ago. In the middle of a chorus of Petit Papa Noël.”

He was just stepping into the house when he caught sight of his sister-in-law standing in the hall, waiting for the rest of them. “Wow, Helen,” he said. “You’re huge!”

“Watch it!” she warned, pointing her finger at him. “We’re staying in our house, remember? I know where you’ll be sleeping.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t try her, Gregory,” Frank said, wrapping his arm around his wife. “You may be in the military, but she’s hormonal.” Helen shot him a glare, but Frank just chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.

Winfield smiled and shook his head at them. “You look great, Helen,” he said. “You’d better just hope your kid isn’t half the handful Simon is. Speaking of… I’d better get him to bed before he wakes up. Mind telling where we’re sleeping?”

“Sure,” Frank said, stepping forward. “Upstairs, first door on the right.”

“Thanks,” Winfield said. “We’ll grab our bags out in the morning.” With that, he carried Simon up the stairs and to the first room on the right. The room wasn’t super roomy, with only a twin shoved in one corner. 

Pulling Simon’s shoes off with one hand, Winfield headed toward the bed, where he laid Simon out, still wrapped up in his coat. He was just about to leave the room when his son stirred. 

“Daddy…” Simon mumbled, grabbing the bottom of Winfield’s jacket as his eyes flickered open. “Don’t go, please.” Winfield looked down at him and sighed. There was no way he could say no to him, especially when he looked at him like that. He had a feeling Simon was going to be a handful when he was older; why… he was already a handful and he wasn’t even four yet! 

Sighing, Winfield scooted Simon over and laid down beside him. “I’m here, Kiddo,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around his son. “And I’m not going anywhere, so why don’t you go back to sleep? You’ll get to see Grandma and Grandpa and everyone else in the morning.”

“Okay,” Simon mumbled as he scooted deeper into Winfield’s coat and quickly fell back to sleep, with Winfield just a couple of minutes behind him. By the time he woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window and Simon was gone, leaving behind the empty coat.

Glancing around, Winfield frowned. Simon had climbed over Winfield, and Winfield hadn’t even noticed? Sneaky little bugger, Winfield thought, but he couldn’t help grinning. Not many people could get past Winfield, whether he was sleeping or not.

Quickly straightening out his clothes so they looked slightly better after sleeping in them, Winfield hurried downstairs to find Simon. It didn’t take him long to find him in the kitchen with Winfield’s mom, who was already cooking away.

“Morning, Gregory,” Mother said, smiling as she caught sight of him. “Or should I say, ‘Merry Christmas’? We honestly didn’t think you were going to make it this year, and you sure cut it close coming in on Christmas Eve.”

“But we made it, didn’t we?” Winfield said, walking over to where Simon was sitting on a stool ‘helping’ Grandma Esther bake. Which consisted of eating most of the frosting meant for the cookies. Stepping up behind Simon, Winfield placed his hand on his son’s forehead. 

“What are you doing?” Simon whined, kicking his legs back and forth as he tried to stare up at his father’s hand.

“Checking to see if you have a fever,” Winfield said, scooping Simon up as he took the stool and placed him on his lap. “I don’t see any other reason for you to get up this early otherwise. Is that yours?” Winfield asked, pointing to a plate with a piece of pie with the filling all gone.

Simon sneered. “I don’t like the crust, it’s weird.”

“Alright, you don’t have to eat the crust,” Winfield said, taking the plate and quickly finishing it off for Simon. “Go and play with Jordan; make sure to give him a rude awakening if he’s not up yet.”

A wicked grin broke across Simon’s face as he jumped down from Winfield’s lap, and he glanced around. “Where’s the ice?” he asked, rubbing his hands together and giggling before taking off out of the kitchen.

Winfield’s mother chuckled and shook her head. “That boy’s going to be trouble when he’s a teenager.”

“He’s trouble now,” Winfield said, picking up the pie plate and moving to put it in the sink. It took him only a second to notice his mother was still watching him. “What?”

She sighed and started to roll the cookies out again. “You really shouldn’t let Simon be so picky about his food.”

“Mother…” Winfield said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the sink. “I have more to worry about than whether or not Simon eats his pie crust. Like raising a three-year-old, by myself, who masters Chinese puzzle boxes in less time than it takes a normal three-year-old to fit a square peg into a square hole.”

“Well, I highly doubt you were any better at his age,” she said, giving him a small smile as she pulled her apron off and moved around toward Winfield. “I know the last few months have been hard on you.”

“Mother, I’m pretty sure that would be the understatement of the year,” Winfield said, ducking his head. He took in a long breath and tightened his grip on the counter as his mind wandered to Stasia again. But no! He wasn’t going to think about her and ruin the holiday. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” his mother asked, resting her hand on his back. “I’m here for you, Gregory. That’s what mothers are for.”

“Yeah, and Simon’s never going to know that, is he?!” Winfield asked, his words coming out sharper than he’d meant. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Simon still has a hard time whenever I leave,” he said, sighing as he turned toward his mother. “Mrs. Richard - she’s the woman who watches him when I can’t - says he cries himself to sleep when I’m gone. And whenever I come back, he’s always distant and he’s… starting to feel like a stranger, and the way he looks at me… He feels it too!”

His mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and led him to the table where he took a seat. “I know this is hard,” she whispered. “But you’re both very stubborn, and you’re not going to let this get you for too long.”

“I just… don’t know what to do,” Winfield whispered, burying his face in his hands as he rested his elbows on the table. “I’m losing him, Mom! Every time I leave, I know I’m going to lose another part of him. One of these times I’m going to come back, and he’s not even going to know who I am.”

“Gregory,” she said, taking his hands and pulling them away from his face. “How much does Simon mean to you?”

Winfield blinked. “Is that even a question? He’s my whole world!” He’d known from the second he laid eyes on Simon that there wouldn’t be anything he wouldn’t do for him, and he knew he’d also gladly die for Simon, without a second thought. “You know he means everything to me, Mom.”

His mother nodded. “I know,” she said. “Now, this… job of yours that takes you away all the time, how much does it mean to you?”

Snorting, Winfield shrugged. “Not all that much,” he said. “I mean, it used to be important to me, but that was before Simon was born…”

“Then I think you might already know what you should do,” she whispered, standing and kissing him on the top of the head before leaving the room.

Sighing, Winfield leaned back in his seat and realized his mother was right. Simon was way more important to him than some stupid job. He knew his job was important and that he saved hundreds of lives a year. But it wasn’t as if he was the only person out there who could do the job; he wasn’t vain enough to think that. Then again… they probably wouldn’t let him just walk away completely.

Climbing to his feet, Winfield pulled his phone out and headed to somewhere private. After an hour of what seemed like doing nothing but talking in circles, Winfield hung up and stepped out of the room he’d been in.

Almost instantly, Simon came running down the hallway and slammed into Winfield’s legs. “Daddy, can we open gifts now?” he asked, looking up at Winfield with his big green eyes that always got to Winfield.

“I don’t know,” Winfield said, sweeping him up into his arms. “Have you been behaving yourself?”

Simon grinned. “Nope!”

“Oh!” Winfield said, then proceeded to tickle Simon, until the little boy began to giggle. “Well then, I’m not sure you could get any gifts. What do you think?” he asked, stopping his tinkling for a second.

Smiling, Simon rested his head against Winfield’s shoulder and blinked up at him. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Okay,” Winfield said, tapping Simon on the nose. “Now that was a low blow, Kiddo.” He ruffled his son’s hair up. “Okay, go ask your aunt and uncle and see if it’s okay with them. If it’s fine with them, then it’s fine with me.”

“Okay,” Simon said, wriggling free from Winfield’s arms before dashing down the hallway, calling for Helen and Frank. Winfield didn’t go quite as quickly as Simon, but he did follow him into the living room, where he found the rest of the family already waiting for him.

“Simon, why do I have the feeling I was the last person you asked?” he asked, turning toward his son who was sitting between his aunt and uncle. 

“You’re lucky we’re already expecting a child of our own, Gregory,” Helen said, smiling at Simon as she brushed his hair down. “Or we might be tempted to steal this little one away from you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Winfield said, smiling at her as he reached over and picked his son up off of the couch and carried him over to one of the other couches, where he sat down with him on his lab. “Now, I see you and Jordan have already started opening your gifts,” he said, nodding toward the wrapping paper scattered all over the living room floor. “What have you got so far?”

Simon quickly jumped up and began to show Winfield the gifts he’d been given. He was grateful to see his family hadn’t gone too overboard on the gifts. Finally, when he was finished, Winfield stood up and picked the last package out from under the tree. 

“This one’s from me,” Winfield said, handing the somewhat pitifully wrapped gift out to Simon.

Grinning, Simon plopped himself down onto the ground and tore the package open. A second later, he had the teddy bear out. “It’s that bear from that book!” Simon said, holding it up. “You know, the one you got us, Grandma and Grandpa?”

“You mean, Winnie the Pooh Bear?” Grandma Esther asked, smiling.

“Yeah, but I’ll just call him ‘Winnie’,” Simon said, wrapping his arms around the bear and shaking it. “‘Winnie the Pooh Bear’ is way too long.”

Winfield chuckled. “Sounds good, Kiddo.” He cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around him. “I’ve got another gift for you. I’m going to be spending less time away from home, okay?” he said. “I’m not going to be able to be around all the time, but I’ve talked to my boss, and I should be able to be home most of the time. But when I am gone, Winnie will be there with you, to remind you that I’m always going to be there for you. And that I’ll always come home to you.”

“I love him, Daddy,” Simon said, beaming as he hugged the bear even tighter. “I’ll take care of him, and make sure that nothing ever happens to him. I promise!”

“I know you will,” Winfield said, grinning. “Now, how about we let everyone else open their gifts. Huh?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Simon said, yawning as he leaned against him. Winfield gave a nod to the rest of his family and picked Simon up before moving back over to the couch. “Thanks for Winnie, Daddy,” he whispered as he yawned again. “I love him more than anything else in the world…”

Winfield wasn’t too surprised when Simon fell asleep. He doubted the kid had more than a couple of hours of sleep the night before, and all morning he had run around acting like he was running on coffee and energy drinks.

“You’re my Winnie, Kiddo,” Winfield whispered, wrapping a blanket from the back of the couch around Simon before moving him onto his lap. “I love you more than anything in this world,” he whispered, brushing his dark hair back out of his small face. “And I promise, I’m never going to let anything happen to you, for as long as there is breath inside my lungs.” 

Winfield kissed Simon on the forehead and turned his gaze to the rest of his family as they started opening their gifts.