She tapped his nose, "Do you know you were named after your great grandfather? We were so lucky to have him in our lives. I wish you could have the chance to know him" 

Her sadness grew at the thought, her eyes drifted to the framed photos lined on the mantle. She slowly got on her feet and feebly took a few steps, Miranda following close behind. Pointing at the first framed photo, she said, "That’s your great grandfather and standing next to him is your great grandmother. Her name is Erica, and the young woman beside her is your great aunt, Kendall. You come from a family of strong women, my little one. They were amazing people, with a strength that could conquer whatever life threw at them and they did it with perfectly coiffed hair."

Miranda giggled, "That is true, it’s quiet amazing how they never had a strand out of place even when they’re doing physical work."

"Hair spray, cans and cans of it. That hole in the sky, they contributed to it," she chuckled. 

She turned her attention back to the photos. Her vision lingered on the second frame, six youthful faces smiled back at her, the sun shining brightly on an early spring morning, before the world went crazy. "And this one here is a picture of my closest friends." With a finger, she tapped on each of the faces, running a roll call, "This is Jo, Blair, Dana, Alice, and this is me. Ah, I remember the days when I was pretty." 

"You still are, mom," Miranda piped up. 

She rolled her eyes, "You’re my daughter, of course you would say that." 

Miranda sighed, "You know that’s not true."

She decided to let the debate die, knowing she would never win. Her gaze shifted to the woman standing next to her, arms around her waist. Her finger paused mid-way, as she felt a painful squeeze of her heart. What could she tell a child about her? How would she put into words the happiness she gave her, how she brought sunshine into her darkest days? None seemed adequate. 

Composing herself, she continued, "And this is Maggie." She paused, blinking back tears. "She would have loved you so much and you would love her just the same."

"Mom?" Miranda rubbed her mother’s back comfortingly. 

"I’m all right, don’t worry. I just…miss her so much."

"I know."

"Can you promise me something?"

"Anything."

She inhaled to steady her rising emotions, still staring at the picture "When I’m gone, and when this little one is old enough, promise me you will tell him about them and all that they had done, the lives they saved and the courage they had. Keep their memory alive, for me."

"You don’t have to ask, and I’ll also tell him about the courage of the indomitable Kane women. I’ll make sure he’ll grow up proud of this legacy," Miranda said with reddened eyes.

"Thank you." Feeling suddenly drained, she handed Jackson to Miranda, "I think you’re right, I should go to sleep."

"Are you sure you’re all right?" Miranda asked, concerned.

"Yes, I am." 

"Okay, call me if you need anything. I don’t think we’ll be sleeping for a while, they’re planning a game of charade downstairs." At the door, Miranda halted, "Mom, Merry Christmas, I love you."

"Merry Christmas, darling. I love you too," she replied watching the door close behind them.

Left alone, she sat by the window and picked up a framed photo by the side table, holding it close to her chest. Outside, the stars twinkled and the moon cast a heavenly light on the snow covered ground. 

She allowed the tears to fill her eyes. In a whispered breath, she said, "Merry Christmas, my love."

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