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Reflecting Light [ - ]
by Meesa
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Author's Notes:


Some simple holiday fluff, because I couldn't help myself!  And, as always, WTB? and it's darling characters do not belong to me.


Changing hues of blue and red and green reflected in the crimson liquid. The tree was dimly outlined as she tilted the glass, brought it to her lips and drank. Somewhere in the half lit background, Nat King Cole’s smooth voice trebled and flowed, speaking of chestnuts and Jack Frost and open fires. Soon, Christmas would be here soon.

The morning light would bring squeals and laughter, paper torn like confetti and strewn about the room, and the prospect of groaning stomachs. But that was still hours away. For the moment, the house stood silent, anticipating. Jonathan and Samantha had reluctantly shuffled up the stairs sometime after the carols, but long before Mona had slipped out the front door with a wink and a sashay of her winter finery. The bulky stockings near the fire belied the fact that there were no real children in the house anymore. Tonight. Tonight they were all children, in heart and mind, if no longer in body. There was a sprinkling of wonder and awe in the air, a hint of something… more.

She fingered the rim of her wineglass, staring at and beyond the glowing tree. Memories drifted and slowly swirled around the edges of her mind; the year an eleven-year-old Angela woke to find a cello tilted awkwardly near the tree with a giant ribbon attached. The deep timbre of her father’s voice as he caught her up in his arms and they twirled around the living room. Twirling, and swinging and dancing. Of doing the Lindy in Tony’s arms to the family’s delight on that first blended holiday. Of family and reuniting her mother with a brother long estranged. Of strangers and taking them in and finding that they already belonged. Of…

A crest of freshly scented air gusted through the front door, swiftly bringing her back to the present. "Angela!" Tony called out to her with beckoning excitement.

"Tony? What?" She glanced helplessly toward the kitchen, her confusion at his sudden relocation evident. He’d disappeared twenty minutes earlier with an empty platter of holiday treats, promising a speedy return.

Tony ignored her, pulling her furry parka off its hook and urging her forward. "Come. Come on Angela. I’ve got something to show you!"

She stumbled to her feet, haphazardly placing her wine on the table, moving to his summons. "Tony?"

"It’s a surprise Ang. One I special ordered just for you."

"Tony, I."

He shook his head impatiently and guided her into her coat. "Come on! You’re missing it. Come on." And with that he dragged her out the door, her giggles following in pursuit.

"Ow! Tony you got to let me…. Ooh!" She froze and raised her head to the sky in awe. "It’s snowing!" she whispered.

His breath tickled her ear as he whispered in her ear. "It’s snowing. Just like you asked for."

"Oh Tony, it’s, it’s beautiful."

"I told you not to give up hope. You were so sad all week. But here it is." His gaze lingered on her upturned features; the snow lit sparkle in her eyes. She was so close.

He breathed in deeply and sent up a silent prayer to the heavens, and as he opened his eyes, she turned to him excitedly and begged, "Let’s go for a walk Tony, it’s so. The world is so magical when it snows." He held tight to her warm hand as she pulled him along in her wake.

"Magical," he murmured in gentle agreement.

She never noticed that he wasn’t looking at the snow.