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I throw my arms around him and kiss him hard, overcome with emotion. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me.“
Jakob chuckles against my mouth as I grab his face and cover it with kisses. “It’s just a bed. You asked for a bed, and I got you a bed.”
“I don’t always get what I ask for. And here you are, giving me more than what I asked for,” I say, feeling my throat clogging with tears.
He brushes the hair out of my eyes. “Come on now. No crying. I want to see the gift you’ve been hiding from me.”
Getting swept up in the moment, I’ve almost forgotten. I give him a mischievous look and take him by the hand.
“Follow me,” I say, headed to the back door.
“It’s freezing out there,” he laughs. “Are you going to do a cold plunge with me?”
I snort. “Absolutely not.”
For several weeks now, my husband has been trying to get me to jump in the lake with him. It’s becoming a regular ritual for him. Jakob sometimes disappears in the mornings to do this. He has his quirks, and I let it go because it makes him happy.
I march him toward an old, abandoned tool shed beyond the garden, near the woods, on the opposite end of the property from the chicken house.
“I thought I’d let you repaint it however you want it,” I say, unlatching the door.
"A painting project, eh? I love it,” he declares.
“Hush,” I reply, not knowing if he’s joking or being polite.
Opening the door, I switch on the light to reveal the refurbished space inside.
He takes a moment to process what he’s seeing.
I wait, so giddy I could crawl out of my skin.
Over time, I’ve collected a potter’s wheel, some secondhand welding equipment, and tools. I spent hours scouring the Internet for what an artist like Jacob might need. “I’ve been so excited putting this all together for you, it’s almost the shame you weren’t with me on this little secret journey.”
Jakob simply stands there with his mouth open, not saying a word at first. He seems in shock. Does he hate it?
“If it’s not right, we can always have your things shipped your studio,” I say.
His shoulders relax. “So you didn’t have anything shipped from my studio in Arenhammer?”
I shake my head no. I’m starting to wonder if he really does hate it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”
“Good,” he says.
“Why?” I ask.
“It’s better that I don’t draw a lot of questions about my whereabouts,” he says.
I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to his avoidance of the princess and unwanted attention surrounding him saving her life. But I brush that aside for now. It’s Christmas, after all.
I wait and watch Jakob move about the space, examining tools and picking up supplies. And then I noticed his hand shaking.
“Are you okay?”
I finally understand in the next moment when he sweeps me up in his arms, his mouth kissing me hard. His intensity always catches me off guard. But why should it? He’s my husband, and I know by now how he responds to the slightest amount of kindness. It breaks my heart to know what harshness he has endured. “You are the greatest gift, Josephine. The greatest gift. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
We are two of the loneliest people I know, no longer lonely, and that alone makes this the best Christmas ever.
