The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

panels seemed to frame the world outside.
    She looked carefully and really saw, for the first time maybe in a long time, that world outside the walls of her house. Thousands of twinkling lights gleamed back at her. Every house on the street was all decked out for Christmas but hers. It was the first day of Christmas, and she and Sam had ignored it.
    "Baxter has a Christmas festival," she explained. "The Twelve Days of Christmas."
    "Who's Baxter?" Sam asked.
    "The town, Zach." Rachel laughed a bit. "It's famous for its old-fashioned Christmas festival, our own version of the Twelve Days of Christmas, except ours lead up to Christmas instead of starting on Christmas Day. We take the holiday very seriously around here. Especially in this neighborhood."
    Sam and Rachel lived in a five-square-block area known as "the district," a place full of old Victorian houses, most of which had been lovingly restored. Many of them had been used as models in her grandfather's work, as well.
    People came from all over to see the Christmas of Richard Landon's creation, and now Rachel had unwittingly violated a tradition that was practically sacred. She and her neighbors took pride in putting up an elaborate display of lights and seasonal colors for their own enjoyment and the town's visitors. Many of them would be strolling and riding through "the district" to look at all the lights over the next twelve days. Everyone was ready, except her and Sam.
    "We just forgot, Zach. That's all," Rachel said. "Santa's not mad at us. Not that we know of, anyway."
    "So, he comes here?"
    "Of course. He'll find you here. We'll tell him all about it when we go see him. And we'll get the Christmas decorations up tomorrow. You can help."
    "You got some'a those?" he asked, obviously unconvinced.
    "Yes." Rachel looked to Sam, who'd remained silent through the whole exchange. "I think Zach needs to see the decorations. I can check the lights after the children are in bed, and we can decorate tomorrow."
    "And a tree?" Zach added. "We'll have a tree?"
    "Of course. We'll cut it down ourselves." Rachel realized she was actually excited. "My aunt Jo lives on a Christmas tree farm, and she has a sleigh. If we ask nicely, and we catch her when she's not too busy, she'll let us take the sleigh into the back fields and find a tree to cut down. It'll be fun."
    She and Sam used to do that every Christmas. Just the two of them cuddled up beneath the blankets, riding through the snow. It was magical in a sleigh in the snow at Christmas.
    It had been so long ago. She couldn't remember why they ever stopped. And that made her think, Sam. Christmas. What would it be like without him? She couldn't imagine that or a thousand other little everyday things without Sam. She wondered briefly if he'd found someone else. Wasn't that why men left their wives? Because they'd found someone else? Rachel couldn't imagine Sam with another woman, couldn't imagine him hurting her that way. Of course, she never imagined he'd leave her, either.
    "Are you okay?" Emma said. "You looked all sad."
    "Just for a minute," she said. "I was thinking about the sleigh. It's been a long time since I did that. But we'll do it this year. Promise."
    She didn't dare look over at her husband, couldn't find the courage to ask if he'd come with them. She'd implied that she didn't need anything from him anymore, but it wasn't true. She needed so much from him.
    She wondered if he'd simply be here on the fringes, going through the motions of Christmas until time ran out and he walked away from her for good.
    * * *
    Zach and Sam found the decorations, twelve boxes full. The number alone impressed and reassured Zach.
    They opened three boxes, so Zach could rest easily knowing Christmas was indeed coming to this house.
    He giggled and tugged at things that Rachel had packed in precise order, messing things up, but she didn't care. She sat on the floor with the boxes all around her, Grace patting the sides of the boxes and pulling herself up to stand while hanging on to them. She giggled and slapped her palms against the top of the boxes, obviously quite pleased with herself, either because of the noise or the fact that she was standing.
    Rachel gazed at her in awe, as if she were a magical creature come to life, right here in Rachel's living room. "She's beautiful," Rachel told Emma, the little mother who was hovering next to Grace's side.
    "And clumsy. She's always falling down and hurting herself."
    "I'll be