The Next Chapter

Jolly Old St. Nicholas

Okay, we're starting the sequel for A Fresh Start. This will probably be slow going as I want to make sure I tell Marie's story well and appropriately. I'd like to thank all of my readers from A Fresh Start and their stories about their children with Autism. Your recollections will help me tremendously in Marie's story. I'm an educator and I'm familiar with the educational ramifications of Autism, but not living with a child with Autism on a day to day basis.

Anyhow, Twilight is not mine. Never will be mine. Ever. *WAAAH!* David, Lizzie and Marie are mine in a literary sense. Ren, too.

Chapter Twelve: Jolly Old St. Nicholas

EPOV

"Bella?! Why in the hell do I have to wear the stupid pillow?" I yelled.

"Because you have a six pack, Edward Anthony. Santa Claus is a bowl full of jello. You, my sexy husband, are not. Your muscles have muscles. It's sickening," Bella said as she came out of the bathroom, adjusting her wig. "I hate this thing. I don't even want to imagine all of the lice and cooties in here."

"Want to wear the pillow?" I asked as I held it up.

"Ah, no," she snickered. "I'm going to check on our elves, St. Studmuffin."

"St. Studmuffin," I deadpanned.

"Santa Claus was known as St. Nick. So, St. Studmuffin. There you go," Bella said as she breezed out of the bedroom.

I love my wife, really, I do, but sometimes she is just so random. St. Studmuffin. This coming from a woman who calls me Dr. McFuckme. I fucking love my random and sexy wife.

I finished dressing and stuffing the pillow into the Santa Claus costume that my sister leant me for our annual trip to the pediatrics ward for children that were stuck there on Christmas. I adjusted my own wig and white beard before slipping on the silver frames.

"Daddy?" Lizzie called out. "Momma needs you. She has to put on your blush, or something."

"Fuck," I mumbled.

"Swear jar, Daddy," Lizzie giggled.

I came out of the bedroom and smirked at my daughter. She was wearing an elf costume. Her bronze curls were clipped back and her face was covered with her own blush. She giggled at me and poked my pillowed stomach. "Hey, fingers away from the pudge, child of mine," I said as I arched a brow.

"It's weird to see you like that, Daddy," she snickered. "Besides, the REAL Santa Claus doesn't need a pillow."

"That's because he eats all those blasted cookies when he deposits the presents to all of the good boys and girls for Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho!" I bellowed, scooping her up and carrying her down their stairs.

"Daddy, I love you but just be a doctor. Don't quit your day job," Lizzie said as she pulled down my beard.

"Acting ain't my thing?"

"No," she said as she kissed my cheek. I put her back on the ground and she ran into the kitchen. Bella was brushing Marie's hair into a low ponytail while David was munching on a donut. "I got him, Momma!"

"Good. I have to put his rosy red cheeks on his face. I should have gotten the blue contact lenses, too," she laughed.

"I spent too many years of my life wearing contacts, Bella. No more," I said.

"Oh fine," she sighed.

"Don't forget, Daddy. Put your dollar in the swear jar," Lizzie said sweetly. With a tight smile, or grimace, I stuffed my dollar into the swear jar. I needed to make sure that I deposited it into the kids' savings accounts and pull out spending money for our trip to Disney World, which we were leaving for tomorrow.