Em knew she was not allowed to go down the big stairs by herself, but Papa had told her last night that someone called Father Christmas was going to come and put a surprise under the big tree just for her. She did not quiet understand why he was going to do this, but that did not matter. What mattered was that she was getting a big surprise and she could not wait to get down there and see what it was. Excited blue eyes looked back at Rebecca. "No, now."
Charlie, who normally rose at this hour anyway, was thoroughly enjoying watching Em wrap Rebecca around her little finger. Usually, he was the object of the child’s demands; this time, Rebecca was definitely in the child’s sights.
Rebecca looked to Charlie who was watching the exchange with a huge smile on his face. "Oh, you hush up, Charles Redmond!" she scolded with a smile of her own.
"Does that mean I should get up and stoke the fire, dear? I could put your kettle on the hob as well, if you wish." Charlie was all sweetness and solicitation, but there was a wicked little gleam in his eye.
"Yes, I think that is exactly what that means, you evil man. Em and I will just stay nice and warm all tucked away in the down. You may fetch us when the room warms up." She paused and smiled at him, "considerably."
Charlie rose and shrugged into his robe. A little searching was necessary, as the carpet slippers that normally resided right beside the bed where he could step into them had somehow gone wandering. Finally, he knelt down and rummaged under the bed, dredging the slippers back from where two small, bare feet had kicked them as their small visitor had climbed up his arm. As he stoked the fire, coaxing flames from the banked coals and carefully feeding more wood to heat the room, he heard giggles and some very high pitched squeals coming from beneath the covers.
He filled the kettle from the pitcher, set it on the hob and walked back over to the bed. There were no heads showing, but under the down comforter there was quite a bit of suspicious movement. "Are you two having a command conference in there?"
"Yes, we are, Papa," came the muffled reply that Charlie knew had to be Rebecca. "We are discussing what Father Christmas may have brought you this morning."
"Oh, dear. I hope I have not been too bad this year, or he may have brought me sticks and coals."
The covers came whipping down and Em squealed and giggled. "Papa good."
"And what about you, Em. Have you been good, or did Father Christmas bring you sticks and coals?"
"Em very good," she giggled then suddenly got a very serious look on her face, glancing back and forth between them. "Yes?"
Charlie smiled at the child. "Em is very, very good." He reached down and caressed the top of her head. "Papa thinks you have been very good indeed."
"But Papa may just get coal for teasing you, Em. What do you think of that? Does Papa get coal?"
"No, Mamma ‘‘Becca. Papa good. Papa get kisses." The child held her face up to Charlie, all puckered to deliver one immediately.
Rebecca laughed as Charlie was graced with what could only be called a wet, sloppy baby kiss.
But that was not sufficient for the child. Papa deserved kisses from everybody, as far as she was concerned. "Mamma ‘‘Becca. Kiss Papa."
"Have you been a good boy, Charlie? Do you deserve a kiss from Mamma ‘‘Becca?" She gave him her best coy smile.
Charlie looked deep into Rebecca’s eyes. In an instant, the moment had shifted from lighthearted play to deep intimacy. "I think that is for you to say, my love."
Without a word, she leaned over and graced him with a kiss. Em was quite pleased to see Mamma ‘‘Becca and Papa sharing a kiss until she had been stuffed between them just a little too long for her comfort. She pushed on Charlie. "Papa kiss Em."
Charlie drew back from Rebecca’s lips and promptly kissed the little girl soundly on the forehead. His eyes never left Rebecca’s. As the kiss ended, he murmured "Merry Christmas, my beloved."
The kettle on the hob began to whistle. With a lingering smile and a soft caress that started with Rebecca’s cheek and passed over Em’s head, he turned and poured the water into the teapot.
Rebecca rose, carrying the child with her, and went to sit before the fire. She poured tea for the three of them, liberally dosing the child’s with honey and cream. Charlie splashed some of the water from the kettle into his washbowl and began lathering his shaving brush. Em watched, fascinated as Charlie spread the thick lather over his cheeks and chin.
Em squirmed out of Rebecca's lap and made her way across the room. Once next to Charlie she tugged on his robe. "Papa?"
"Yes, little one?" Charlie spoke a little absent-mindedly, as he stropped his razor.
This was not nearly good enough for the little girl and she only tugged harder on Charlie's robe. "Papa!"
Charlie stopped in mid-strop. "What do you want, Em?"
"Down, Papa."
Charlie crouched down until the two of them were face to face. "Yes?"
Em immediately put her hands in the thick foam covering his face. She then squealed with delight and clapped her hands together covering them both in the foamy white froth. Then she took what was left on her own hands and smeared it on her face. From her spot near the fire Rebecca roared with laughter.
Charlie, with soap in both eyes, groped for a towel, squinting at the howling Rebecca through the tears in his eyes. "Ahhhh," he sighed, "that stings." He turned to the child in front of him. "And you, little one. Shaving soap is for men, not little girls."
Not to be deterred, Em managed another handful of soap, which went promptly into her mouth. This only served to make her gag and then to cry as bubbles foamed out of her mouth.
Charlie’s head dropped onto his chest, smearing more shaving soap over his nightshirt. Since it was already covered in soapy foam, what did a little more matter? He took the towel that he had used to wipe his own eyes, wiped the foam from the child’s lips, and fumbled for the glass of water he kept on the bedside table. "Here, honey. Take some water in your mouth, swish it around, then spit it into the bowl." A few tries resulted in both of them being soaked, and a rather subdued little Em curled in Papa’s arms. "See, honey. I told you that shaving soap was not for little girls." Charlie looked at Rebecca, a plea for rescue in his eyes.
Rebecca put down her tea cup and crossed the room, relieving Charlie of a quietly whimpering Em, who now hiccupped a couple of times before wiping her runny nose all over Rebecca's night gown. After settling down next to the fire and cuddling the child, Rebecca looked up to Charlie. "How many children did we want again?"
Charlie grinned ruefully. "As many as you want, dear."
"Very tactful, General Redmond. Non-committal, but tactful."
"Well, dear. I think that we might start with whatever the good Lord gives us and go on from there. Speaking of which, do you think Lizbet is up and about yet? This little one needs to get dry and dressed, as I believe that Father Christmas may have paid us a little visit."
Rebecca stood up, careful not to jostle Em very much. "I'm sure she is. You finish getting dressed and I'll see to it."
Charlie rang for Lizbet, and then finished shaving and dressing, while Rebecca carried the child back to her room. When Rebecca returned, he was dressed, not in his uniform, but in his gray civilian suit.
"Why, Mr. Redmond. You are the most handsome thing I have ever seen." She walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Hmm and you smell good, too."
"All for you, my love. I thought I would attend church today as the newest member of the community, rather than as the local military government. I will let Sheridan take that role for a change. Now you, ma’am, need to get dressed or we will again have an impatient little one tugging at our knees –– and Heaven only knows what mess she will create this time."
"Yes, Mr. Redmond. Right way, sir." Rebecca teased as she drew open her wardrobe and removed a light blue dress that had been fashioned just for this occasion. "Will this do?"