Free A Fashionably Dead Christmas: Hot Damned Series, Book 5 by Robyn Peterman Page B

me.
     
    In her arms I felt so calm and peaceful it was bizarre. I didn’t want her to ever let me go.
     
    Like… never. The feeling was very strange.
     
    “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, my cousin,” she whispered as I held on tight.
     
    Wait. What?
     
    “You’re Jesus?” I stammered the question as I pulled back, stunned.
     
    She nodded and smiled. She seemed to greatly enjoy my confusion.
     
    “But, I thought… you know… that you were a man with a beard, white robes and a halo,” I explained haltingly. “The guy with the long hair and sandals and holes in your hands and feet. You know… I thought you would be the fish and loaves dude.”
     
    I stopped talking. I felt like an idiot and had no clue what would come out of my mouth next. The entire room had paused their revelry to watch our exchange.
     
    “Look at me, Astrid. Truly see me,” she urged.
     
    And I did.
     
    It was like a movie, but it was so very real.
     
    I stared at the woman who said she was my cousin. Each time I blinked she was someone else—an old wrinkled black man, a young peace-loving stoner, a harried white mother, a Middle Eastern child, an African merchant, a soldier, a helpless baby, a homeless beggar. It went on and on. The faces were endless. I was struck mute.
     
    Jesus was simply amazing and I didn’t even deserve to be in his or her presence.
     
    “I am every man and every woman,” my cousin said, acknowledging my uncertainty and confusion. “I am no better or no less than anyone. I just pick who I am in the mood to be and wear that person around until something else calls me.”
     
    “Do you ever have an identity crisis?” I asked and heard the titters in the crowd.
     
    I didn’t care. I knew Jesus wouldn’t laugh at me.
     
    “No, my cousin, I don’t. Everything you see is part of who I am and who I choose to be. Who I was always meant to be.”
     
    “Are you normal?” I asked and then slapped my hand over my filter-less mouth.
     
    “Are you?” Jesus countered with a grin.
     
    “Define normal and then I’ll answer,” I mumbled as I shared her smile.
     
    “Would you prefer the bearded version with the halo?” Jesus asked with a tilt of her head.
     
    I considered it for a moment. I wondered if the familiar would be more comfortable. I laughed. Nothing in my world was familiar anymore and I realized I didn’t give a rat’s ass what my cousin chose to look like. Just being around such an extraordinary person brought me more comfort than I’d ever known.
     
    “You’re beautiful just as you are,” I said. “Happy Birthday.”
     
    “Thank you,” Jesus replied.
     
    “I had it all planned out,” I explained with a wince as I glanced around the room. “It was so pretty and I had presents, a tree and a bunch of little Baby Jesuses on the mantle. Oh… wow, I guess those Baby Jesuses might be totally wrong… shit. Oh my Hell… sorry for swearing. I have a mouth like a sailor and um… ”
     
    “My mommy have potty mouth,” Samuel said with a giggle as he toddled over and yanked on Jesus’s dress.
     
    “Yes. I know she does,” Jesus said as she squatted down and took Samuel into her arms. “But is she a good mommy? Does she love you and protect you and teach you right from wrong?”
     
    “Yes! My mommy is the bestest mommy in the world,” Samuel told Jesus solemnly. “I love her and my daddy most of all.”
     
    “Then bad words are simply just letters put together. Not a problem. Sometimes I even say a bad word,” Jesus admitted with a smile.
     
    “Ohhhhhhh… ” Samuel whispered as he clapped his little hands together. “Which one?”
     
    “That’s my secret,” Jesus said with a laugh. “Do you like to sing Samuel?”
     
    “Me love to sing,” he replied as he snuggled closer to Jesus.
     
    I knew he was feeling the same peaceful calm that I did. I was a teeny tiny bit jealous, but I’d trade my life for my son’s. I loved watching him be