December 22rd
New York City
The snow continued to fall. Trixie Belden pushed a blonde curl out of her eyes as she peered out the window of the Wheeler’s apartment. “Is it ever going to stop?” she asked everyone in general and no one in particular. “It’s been snowing for the last four days.”
“Climate change is real,” her almost twin Mart chanted from the leopard print plush bean bag chair incongruously planted on the oriental rug.
“Seriously,” Jim Frayne interjected as he stepped out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Before last night, the record for snowfall in a single day here in Manhattan was something like twenty-seven inches. We got more than that today, and even more is predicted for tomorrow.”
“Manhattan was the recipient of twenty-eight point four inches yesterday,” Mart recited, “With another twenty-plus frozen fractal having fallen since morning broke, and an estimated metric measure of sixty centimeters on the morrow. It is an egregious…Hey!”
His speech was cut off by the application of a rose-embroidered throw pillow to the back of the head. Mart spun his head from side to side, trying to identify the culprit behind the attack. His eyes flicked between his older brother, Brian, reading a thick, blue bound book bearing the title Oxford Textbook of Medicine and his girlfriend, Diana Lynch, who fluttered thick lashes over violet eyes and leaned back on the now pillow-less sofa with a less than innocent smile teasing her lips.
“My inamorata,” Mart whispered with mock horror, “What atrocity or malfeasance hath I wrought that my pulchritudinous and affable beloved should deliver such a pernicious clout with a dendritic bedecked bolster?”
“Who, me?” Diana asked, opening her violet eyes wide. “What on Earth made you think I’m the one who hit you with a… what did you call it? A dandruff holster?”
“Dendritic bolster,” Mart corrected. “It refers to the branchlike pattern of roses on the bolster.” He grinned and clarified his statement, “The pillow that you threw at my head.” He tilted his head. “I think you hurled the missive at me due to your mischievous expression and your decided lack of said bolster.”
“You deserved it,” his sister said, moving from the window. “You were pontificating a tedious lecture on the weather in answer to my rhetorical question.” She smirked. “See, I can use big words, too.”
“Is the professor spouting off again?” Dan Mangan asked as he stepped out of kitchen. “Honey says the cookies will be ready to decorate in five minutes. So, flex your decorating muscles and get ready for all hands on deck—if Doctor Brian can tear himself away from his tantalizing reading material.”
“Resident Dr. Belden will willingly tear himself away to decorate Christmas cookies,” the aforementioned doctor said, closing the tome. “And, it is a good book, by the way. I paid nearly five hundred dollars for the set and I have no intention of wasting a penny.” He set the book on the side table. “However, I’ve been surreptitiously drooling over the delicious scents emanating from the kitchen.” He grinned, his normally serious face softening, “See, all the Beldens can use big words when pushed.”
Dan laughed. Jim just shook his head. Diana stood up and stretched, extending her hand to help Mart up from the floor. Brian and Dan followed them out of the living room toward the kitchen.
“Are you coming, Shamus?” Jim asked. “You love decorating cookies.”
“I do, and the cookies do smell good,” Trixie admitted, stepping away from the window, “But I still want to know when the snow is going to end. I hate being cooped up in here.”
“I know, Trix,” Jim sympathized, “but we’re lucky we have a place for all of us to ride out this storm. When Dad bought these two other apartments on the floor and expanded them into this place, most people thought he was crazy. Grandfather told him he was doing things backwards. Most people would take two large apartments and make them into three or four smaller apartments for more profit, not combine two into a behemoth and then rent the rooms to all of us for a pittance.” He laughed. “I guess I can use big words, too.”
That drew a smile. “I am grateful to have such a nice place, Jim, and as such a reasonable rent. But it’s almost Christmas. I want to be home at Crabapple Farm, not shut up in the city.”
Jim wrapped his arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. “I know. I get it, really, I do. If we were home in Sleepyside, we’d be stoking up the fireplaces, drinking cocoa and making plans despite the storm.”
“It’s weird,” Trixie told him. “I’ve spent Christmas away from home before. Arizona, at the dude ranch, and Scotland two years ago with Uncle Andrew. But this is different. It’s harder, and that just doesn’t make sense.”
“I think it’s because we are so close.” It was Jim’s turn to draw back the curtain on the white-out outside. “We are less than two hours from Sleepyside, but we might as well be on the moon. It’s snowing harder there than here. The roads are closed and unsafe. Transit isn’t able to run. It’s as if we can see the goal line, but we can’t get to it. It’s frustrating.”
She smiled. “That’s it. That’s it exactly. It’s frustrating.” She frowned. “I’m being selfish and silly. I have food and shelter. I’m warm and safe. I’m surrounded by family— blood or not. I should be happy, not sulking like a spoiled brat who wants her mommy.” She shook her head. “But I do. Want my Moms, I mean. I want Moms and Daddy and even Bobby.” Trixie took a deep breath. “I see it now. I do. I can do better, Jim. Thanks for putting things into perspective for me.”
Jim shook his head. “I’m glad if I helped, Trix, but I don’t think you were acting badly. Not at all. Believe me, I want to go home to Manor House every bit as much as you want to go to Crabapple Farm. I want the ridiculous themed trees and professional decorations, but mostly I want my parents on Christmas Eve. I want Mother’s lopsided cookies and Dad’s spiked coffee. But, like you said, I have a place to stay, plenty of food, and my chosen loved ones. We’ll be fine, and we’ll get home. If not in time for Christmas, then well before the New Year. Until then…”
“We’ll enjoy what we have and make the best of the situation,” Trixie finished.
“Hey!” Dan shouted from the kitchen, “If you plan on eating any of these, you’d better come in and start helping decorate!”
“I made half of those!” Trixie shouted back. She giggled and took Jim’s offered arm. “Let’s go make the best of things.”
December 23rd
4:30 a.m.
“Are you sure about this, Brian?” Honey asked, tugging her fleece robe tighter around her chest. “I don’t know how old those snowshoes are.”
“Three years old. The snowshoes, I mean,” Jim answered. “Dad purchased them for our trip to Juneau, and that was three years ago. I’m just glad they were still in one of the storage rooms. Otherwise, I’m sure the good doctor here would be trying to slog his way through four feet of snow in just his old ski boots.”
“It’s less than half a mile,” Brian explained for the third time. “They’re in trouble, Honey. I’m a first-year resident, and I’m technically on vacation. There’s no way they’d be calling me in if the situation wasn’t dire.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just… I’m worried about you. It’s nasty out there. What if you get lost? What if you get frostbite?” She bit down on her lower lip.
Brian chuckled and lifter her chin with his index finger. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I make this walk nearly every day. I have thermal layers, hand and feet warmers, snowshoes and a cell phone with a full charge, battery pack and compass. I know this route by heart, and even if I get disoriented, it’s all buildings. I’m going to go out the door and turn right. I go five blocks north, turn right and go two blocks east. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m in the middle of the preserve.”
“So, you don’t need a rope, then? Or a school bell?” Jim teased, reminding Brian of their shared adventures. His face became serious. “I could go with you.”
“And do what?” Brian asked. “They’re short staffed, Jim, and you aren’t exactly a doctor.”
“I could fetch and carry?” Jim suggested, “Maybe read to patients?”
“Thanks,” Brian said earnestly, clamping Jim’s shoulder. “I appreciate the offer. I’d take all of you if I could, but I can’t. There are policies and procedures even to volunteer at the hospital.”
“I know,” Jim acquiesced. “I also know that it makes sense, but I do want to help.”
“We all do,” Honey agreed. “It’s hard to be stuck in here when so much needs to be done out there.”
“True.” Brian dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Which is why I’m going to the hospital. This is my skill set. They need me…”
“…and so, you need to go.” Honey gave him a hug. “Of course, you do. Just be safe, okay? Keep in touch as you can.”
“I promise.” Brian pulled on his parka and tucked his gloves and liners into his pocket. He picked up the snowshoes. “I’d really love some of your pumpkin bread when I get home.”
“It’s yours.” She hugged him again. “Now go; and be careful.”
“I will.” As he clomped to the door in his heavy boots, he turned and gave them a jaunty wave. Then, he was gone.
“He’ll be fine,” Jim reassured his sister.
“I know he will,” Honey replied, “I’m worried about the rest of us. We’re going to be here for Christmas…” He started to protest, but she hushed him. “…you know we are. Even if the snow stopped now, we’d still need a sudden tropical miracle to clear the roads in time to get home for Christmas.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I talked to Dad last night. They’re all fine. They have enough gasoline to run on the generator power for two full weeks if they need to. He’s made an offer to the Beldens, but they are staying put at Crabapple Farm for now. We can celebrate when we get home. Whenever that may be.”
“Yes,” Honey said, her hazel eyes firm. “We will celebrate with Mother and Daddy whenever we get home, but we need to celebrate day after tomorrow, here. With our Bob White family.”
“Agreed, but how, exactly?”
“I have a few ideas,” Honey mused, “But for now, I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you in three hours or so, okay brother dear?”
“Of course,” Jim offered her his arm and walked her down the hall to her bedroom. “How about pancakes for breakfast?”
“With sausage or bacon?”
“Both!” Jim grinned. “We have a lot of freezer food to get through.”
“Sounds good, Chef James.” Honey paused outside her door. “Let’s have a meeting at breakfast. Maybe we can make some special plans.
8:45 a.m.
“Has anyone heard from Brian?” Trixie asked as she set the platter of crispy bacon on the table.
“I did. He called me when he finally got to work,” Honey said. “He said it took him an hour to get to the hospital this morning. It usually takes him less than ten minutes to walk there.”
“I talked to him about twenty minutes ago,” Jim added. “He knew I would be awake, but he wasn’t sure about anyone else.” He grinned as Trixie stuck her tongue out at him but sobered as he continued. “They are seriously understaffed at Lenox Hill. The ambulances can’t get in, the roads aren’t plowed, and while we were talking, the food delivery truck got stuck halfway up the road. He sent me a text that they were sending the staff out to make a bucket brigade to bring in supplies.”
“Only my big brother would strap on snowshoes and make his way through the snowstorm of the century just to go to work,” Mart said, reaching for the bowl of scrambled eggs.
“Brian is very dedicated and conscientious!” Honey chided him. “He said the hospital wouldn’t have called him in if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“I know,” Mart said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m incredibly proud of him. It’s just…” He shook his head. “He makes me feel like a slacker.”
Dan laughed sympathetically. “Tell me about it,” he said. “I called in to the office and was told that if I really wanted to help, I could finish up some reports. No action; just clerking. Meanwhile, Brian’s in the thick of things.”
“Well.” Jim rationalized, ticking items off on his fingers, “we still have power; when we checked on our neighbors, they were all doing well. Nothing and no one is moving outside, and there’s no benefit in shoveling a walkway because the snow is still coming down like gangbusters. None of us are emergency workers, nor are we authorized volunteers for the hospital. We would just be in the way out there, so the best thing we can do is stay put and wait this out.”
“I hate to admit it, but Jim is completely right.” Trixie picked up a piece of toast and began to butter it. “I hate being inactive as much as anyone, and heaven knows I hate waiting.” She took a bite. “But it looks like we will be having Christmas here this year, so let’s figure some things we can do to get us all in the holiday spirit.”
“We can decorate,” Diana offered. “Honey, are there any Christmas decorations in your storage unit?”
“I’m sure there are,” Honey told her, tapping her lower lip with her finger. “Mother always decorated the apartment, even after we moved out to Sleepyside. They often entertained there during the holidays. It’s only been since we started renting the rooms here to go to college that they stopped. Now they still stay across the hall, of course, but almost all of Mother’s holiday decorating and entertaining is focused on Manor House now.”
“Should you call your mother and ask if we can use them?”
“I will,” Honey said, “But I don’t think she will care. All of the ornaments that have meaning to us are in Sleepyside. Anything left behind is just clutter.”
“What will we use as a tree?” Trixie wondered aloud.
“How about the philodendron in the foyer?” Mart asked, ducking the withering glare sent his way by his sister.
“Leave that to me,” Dan said, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. “I have an idea.” He put his finger to his lips, stilling the questions bubbling up around the table. “Shhh. It’s a secret.”
“O-kay,” Trixie drew out the word, “So, what else do we need?”
“Presents?” Mart offered at the same time Diana said, “Treats”
“Both!” Honey agreed enthusiastically. “I’ve had my gifts wrapped and ready to go since the fifteenth! I was going to take them home last weekend, but I decided to stay and do study group. Now I’m glad I did.”
“I’ve been shopping since November,” Diana claimed. “I got the cutest sweater set for Linda just last week, and I got Susan the perfect pair of vintage boots. The twinnies were the last people on my list, though, so I’m set.”
“I had the store wrap mine,” Mart boasted. “They are all in my closet, just waiting for Christmas.”
“I did mine right before the storm picked up,” Dan admitted, “but I still need to wrap them.”
“Me, too,” Jim concurred. “At least the ones I have here. I had my online packages sent to Manor House.”
“I still have to wrap mine,” Trixie said. “The three of us should have a wrapping party.”
“Tonight?” Jim asked.
She nodded. “Definitely. After we decorate. Then we can put presents under the tree—or the houseplant, if Dan’s scheme doesn’t pan out.” She ate the last of her bacon and sipped her orange juice. “What kind of treats should we make? We made cookies last night.”
“Brian asked for pumpkin bread,” Honey said.
“Fudge,” Diana offered. “Definitely fudge, and maybe some sort of Christmas morning breakfast casserole?
“I can make Irish soda bread,” Dan said. “And maybe some cinnamon rolls? I just happen to know the famous Maypenny recipe.”
“Yum.” Trixie smacked her lips appreciatively. “I just happen to know the recipe for tablet. Remember? We had it in Scotland year before last. It’s really easy. Just condensed milk, butter and sugar. Maybe some vanilla, or whiskey, or nuts. Maybe all three varieties.”
“I’d like to make potato soup for Christmas Eve dinner,” Diana volunteered. “With ham if we have it.” She smiled. “Mummy makes it every year, and we eat it before we go to midnight Mass. It would make me feel like I’m sharing my family traditions with you—even if we can’t make it out into the snow for evening services.”
“That sounds perfectly perfect!” Honey enthused. “I know there is some diced ham in the freezer. Jim cut up too much when he was making his split pea soup last time it was his turn to do dinner.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t think we have a prime rib roast in the freezer, but Mart and Dan did convince me to buy two turkeys right after Thanksgiving. If I get one out now, it should be defrosted enough to cook on Christmas day.”
“Yum! Turkey,” Mart said. “They are always dirt cheap after Thanksgiving, and I love turkey any time of the year.”
“Me, too,” Dan agreed. “I know we have potatoes and veggies. Add the treats and maybe a pie?” He looked at Trixie. “I know you aren’t fond of cooking, Trix, but we both know you have the best touch with a pie crust.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind baking so much, Dan, and I learned to make the pie crust as a matter of self-defense—it was either pie crust with Moms or darning with Aunt Alicia. Believe me, pie crust was less stressful.”
“Maternal or paternal Alicia?” Dan asked.
“Maternal,” Trixie replied. “Both Aunt Alicias were determined to turn me into a ruffles and bows girl, and I was equally determined they wouldn’t. Fortunately, Moms was willing to let me learn pie making in jeans and a sweater.”
“I shall make the stuffing,” Mart volunteered. “I think a cornbread and sausage stuffing. What says the populace?”
Jim mused, “Turkey. Stuffing. Potatoes. Veggies and plenty of desserts. This member of the populace says, ‘Aye!’ All others?”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Then we are agreed,” Honey said with a wide smile, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Let’s make our makeshift Christmas the best one possible.”
“Has anyone heard from Brian?” Trixie asked as she set the platter of crispy bacon on the table.
“I did. He called me when he finally got to work,” Honey said. “He said it took him an hour to get to the hospital this morning. It usually takes him less than ten minutes to walk there.”
“I talked to him about twenty minutes ago,” Jim added. “He knew I would be awake, but he wasn’t sure about anyone else.” He grinned as Trixie stuck her tongue out at him but sobered as he continued. “They are seriously understaffed at Lenox Hill. The ambulances can’t get in, the roads aren’t plowed, and while we were talking, the food delivery truck got stuck halfway up the road. He sent me a text that they were sending the staff out to make a bucket brigade to bring in supplies.”
“Only my big brother would strap on snowshoes and make his way through the snowstorm of the century just to go to work,” Mart said, reaching for the bowl of scrambled eggs.
“Brian is very dedicated and conscientious!” Honey chided him. “He said the hospital wouldn’t have called him in if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“I know,” Mart said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m incredibly proud of him. It’s just…” He shook his head. “He makes me feel like a slacker.”
Dan laughed sympathetically. “Tell me about it,” he said. “I called in to the office and was told that if I really wanted to help, I could finish up some reports. No action; just clerking. Meanwhile, Brian’s in the thick of things.”
“Well.” Jim rationalized, ticking items off on his fingers, “we still have power; when we checked on our neighbors, they were all doing well. Nothing and no one is moving outside, and there’s no benefit in shoveling a walkway because the snow is still coming down like gangbusters. None of us are emergency workers, nor are we authorized volunteers for the hospital. We would just be in the way out there, so the best thing we can do is stay put and wait this out.”
“I hate to admit it, but Jim is completely right.” Trixie picked up a piece of toast and began to butter it. “I hate being inactive as much as anyone, and heaven knows I hate waiting.” She took a bite. “But it looks like we will be having Christmas here this year, so let’s figure some things we can do to get us all in the holiday spirit.”
“We can decorate,” Diana offered. “Honey, are there any Christmas decorations in your storage unit?”
“I’m sure there are,” Honey told her, tapping her lower lip with her finger. “Mother always decorated the apartment, even after we moved out to Sleepyside. They often entertained there during the holidays. It’s only been since we started renting the rooms here to go to college that they stopped. Now they still stay across the hall, of course, but almost all of Mother’s holiday decorating and entertaining is focused on Manor House now.”
“Should you call your mother and ask if we can use them?”
“I will,” Honey said, “But I don’t think she will care. All of the ornaments that have meaning to us are in Sleepyside. Anything left behind is just clutter.”
“What will we use as a tree?” Trixie wondered aloud.
“How about the philodendron in the foyer?” Mart asked, ducking the withering glare sent his way by his sister.
“Leave that to me,” Dan said, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. “I have an idea.” He put his finger to his lips, stilling the questions bubbling up around the table. “Shhh. It’s a secret.”
“O-kay,” Trixie drew out the word, “So, what else do we need?”
“Presents?” Mart offered at the same time Diana said, “Treats”
“Both!” Honey agreed enthusiastically. “I’ve had my gifts wrapped and ready to go since the fifteenth! I was going to take them home last weekend, but I decided to stay and do study group. Now I’m glad I did.”
“I’ve been shopping since November,” Diana claimed. “I got the cutest sweater set for Linda just last week, and I got Susan the perfect pair of vintage boots. The twinnies were the last people on my list, though, so I’m set.”
“I had the store wrap mine,” Mart boasted. “They are all in my closet, just waiting for Christmas.”
“I did mine right before the storm picked up,” Dan admitted, “but I still need to wrap them.”
“Me, too,” Jim concurred. “At least the ones I have here. I had my online packages sent to Manor House.”
“I still have to wrap mine,” Trixie said. “The three of us should have a wrapping party.”
“Tonight?” Jim asked.
She nodded. “Definitely. After we decorate. Then we can put presents under the tree—or the houseplant, if Dan’s scheme doesn’t pan out.” She ate the last of her bacon and sipped her orange juice. “What kind of treats should we make? We made cookies last night.”
“Brian asked for pumpkin bread,” Honey said.
“Fudge,” Diana offered. “Definitely fudge, and maybe some sort of Christmas morning breakfast casserole?
“I can make Irish soda bread,” Dan said. “And maybe some cinnamon rolls? I just happen to know the famous Maypenny recipe.”
“Yum.” Trixie smacked her lips appreciatively. “I just happen to know the recipe for tablet. Remember? We had it in Scotland year before last. It’s really easy. Just condensed milk, butter and sugar. Maybe some vanilla, or whiskey, or nuts. Maybe all three varieties.”
“I’d like to make potato soup for Christmas Eve dinner,” Diana volunteered. “With ham if we have it.” She smiled. “Mummy makes it every year, and we eat it before we go to midnight Mass. It would make me feel like I’m sharing my family traditions with you—even if we can’t make it out into the snow for evening services.”
“That sounds perfectly perfect!” Honey enthused. “I know there is some diced ham in the freezer. Jim cut up too much when he was making his split pea soup last time it was his turn to do dinner.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t think we have a prime rib roast in the freezer, but Mart and Dan did convince me to buy two turkeys right after Thanksgiving. If I get one out now, it should be defrosted enough to cook on Christmas day.”
“Yum! Turkey,” Mart said. “They are always dirt cheap after Thanksgiving, and I love turkey any time of the year.”
“Me, too,” Dan agreed. “I know we have potatoes and veggies. Add the treats and maybe a pie?” He looked at Trixie. “I know you aren’t fond of cooking, Trix, but we both know you have the best touch with a pie crust.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind baking so much, Dan, and I learned to make the pie crust as a matter of self-defense—it was either pie crust with Moms or darning with Aunt Alicia. Believe me, pie crust was less stressful.”
“Maternal or paternal Alicia?” Dan asked.
“Maternal,” Trixie replied. “Both Aunt Alicias were determined to turn me into a ruffles and bows girl, and I was equally determined they wouldn’t. Fortunately, Moms was willing to let me learn pie making in jeans and a sweater.”
“I shall make the stuffing,” Mart volunteered. “I think a cornbread and sausage stuffing. What says the populace?”
Jim mused, “Turkey. Stuffing. Potatoes. Veggies and plenty of desserts. This member of the populace says, ‘Aye!’ All others?”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Then we are agreed,” Honey said with a wide smile, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Let’s make our makeshift Christmas the best one possible.”
With the breakfast table cleared, the Bob Whites got to work. Trixie, Honey, Diana, Jim and Mart headed down to the basement to raid the Wheeler storage rooms. Dan, after a hasty conversation with Jim, merely disappeared into the room he shared with Mart.
“I don’t think we need a bicycle, do you?” Honey asked, peering into the first storeroom. “Probably not any lamps or end tables, either.”
“I suppose we could mount the bicycle on an end table and call it a tree,” Trixie said.
“Well, if Dan’s idea doesn’t pan out, we might need to.” Honey opened the second door. “Ah! Here we go.” She stepped inside. This storage room, about the size of a large walk-in closet, was lined with shelves holding airtight box after airtight box, each one clearly marked with the contents.
“Move way for the muscle,” Mart said, flexing a bicep as he gently nudged Honey aside and reached for a box labeled Christmas.
Trixie gave her brother a withering glare, but before she could voice her ire, Diana raised one perfectly manicured finger and said, “Although I could comment on the fact that we have—and are fully capable of using—our own muscles, I have no issue letting the xy chromosome contingency do the brainless work while the double x gang does the mental maneuvers.” She smiled at Trixie and winked. “See, I know a few big words, too.”
Honey was ignoring them all, having already opened the first box. “I know Daddy likes uniformity,” she said, “But I think these boxes were made to withstand a nuclear blast.”
Jim defended their father. “Maybe, sister mine, but they also keep creepy crawlies out and prevent things like mold and water damage.”
“Which is a sentiment I understand for important family photos, papers and mementos,” she argued back, “but this is leftover Christmas swag.” She pulled out a length of fake cedar. I think this was on the mantel when I was ten.”
Jim laughed good-naturedly. “Point taken. And swag taken, too. That’s exactly what I was hoping to find.”
“Does that box have anything to do with Dan’s Christmas tree plan?” Trixie asked.
“My lips are sealed.”
Trixie’s eyes narrowed, but her retort was cut off by a gasp from Honey. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my goodness. It’s Sally. And Jamie.”
“You found bodies in your storage unit?” Diana asked, a laugh in her voice.
“No.” Honey was tugging at the lone non-uniform box in the entire unit. It was over four feet long and made of cardboard. “No. This is Sister Sally. She’s a walking, talking doll.” She freed the box and dusted the plastic window, revealing the face of a doll with bright green eyes. “And look who’s with her. It’s Jamie, my anatomically correct baby brother doll.”
“Anatomically correct?” Diana asked.
“Yes,” Honey grinned. “He has all the right parts.” Her eyes went misty with memory. “These two were part of one of the best Christmases I ever had. I thought they were long gone.”
“That’s a story I’d like to hear, Honey,” Jim said, “But we really should get through these boxes.”
“You’re right,” Honey agreed, “Jamie and Sally are coming upstairs, though. They’ve been in the dark for far too long.” She set the big box aside and turned back to sorting through the decorations.
The girls and Mart worked hard to decorate the apartment with leftover holiday cheer. Jim and Dan secreted themselves in the room Jim and Brian shared. They all took a break for a shared lunch of sandwiches, fruit and veggies, before heading back to their respective posts. By two o’clock, the apartment was nearly ready.
The mantel was swathed in puffs of cloud-white felt, sprinkled with glitter. Atop the felt sat a snow tipped Main Street scene, complete with a tiny horse and carriage prancing past the post office. Twinkling lights ran on the underside of the mantel, and well as around all of the windows. Each table or otherwise flat surface was draped in garland and held either a Christmas scene, or one of the many decorations Mart and Diana had created from leftover ornament balls, candles and ribbon.
“I can’t believe your family has six different nativity sets,” Diana said, as she connected Legos to complete the last of the wisemen.
Honey giggled. “I know. We only have two at home. One in the formal living room and one in the family room. Those are the super special ones.” She waved her hand around the room. “These were chosen by whomever the designer was. That Lego one is cool, but Mother hated the rest of the decorations. She’s all for calm and beautiful, and his color palate was anything but. I’m talking neon colors and hard edges.” She shuddered at the memory. “I prefer this.” She looked around the room.
“Me, too,” Trixie and Di said at once. “Jinx!” They all laughed.
“I like this, too, “Mart agreed. “It’s classy and eclectic.”
“Eclectic is right,” Honey said. “All we need now is a tree.”
“Did someone say tree?” Jim asked, peering around the door frame. His red hair was standing on end, and he had a bandage on his right index finger. “Because we have a tree. Prepare to be amazed!”
Dan stepped into the room carrying the “tree”.
“Holy cow!” Mart exclaimed, “You made that?”
“Jim and I did,” Dan said. “I don’t think I would have finished without the extra pair of hands. Plus, he knew where Darvish hides the broken umbrellas.”
“You could have just asked him,” Jim pointed out. “Darvish is the head doorman and you live here. He’s only scary if you don’t belong.”
“Nope,” Dan said, shaking his head. I have the utmost respect for Darvish, but he always looks at me as if he knows my past and is just waiting for me to steal something.”
“Dan,” Jim tried to reason, “You’re an FBI agent. You carry a badge. I’m pretty sure Darvish doesn’t think you’re a thief.”
Dan shook his head and winked. “Anyway,” he said, “Jim procured five less than perfect umbrellas. We stripped them of their covers, and with a screwdriver, some duct tape, a little paint, some green twine, a whole lot of those leftover fake tree greens, and voila! Our Christmas tree!”
“It’s perfect!” Honey exclaimed. “And look! The base is an umbrella stand. That makes it perfectly perfect! Put it over there, please, Dan. On that low table.”
He did as she asked, and they stood back, admiring the work. The two young men had stacked the umbrella frames in a way that created the shape of a Christmas tree. They had secured them with tape, painted the taped surface, and then attached greenery to each umbrella rib. Trixie grabbed a string of multicolored lights and began carefully dressing the tree. Jim helped her reach the higher branches. When they finished, Honey lit up the tree.
“You did it, pal,” Mart said, slapping Dan on the back. “This is much better than the philodendron.”
Honey’s phone chimed. She pulled it out and read the text. “That was Brian,” she said. “He says things have calmed down, but he’s staying at the hospital. It’ll be easier than walking home and then back in the morning. He said he’ll do his best to get home tomorrow.”
“That sounds like Brian,” Dan said. He stretched. “Well, I cooked last night. I’m going to go wrap packages to put under this gorgeous tree.”
“I’ll cook,” Mart volunteered. “What do you say to baked mac and cheese with sausages and a salad?”
“I think that sounds great,” Honey said. “I was thinking…”
“What?” Trixie asked. “I know that look.”
Honey smiled. “I was thinking that after dinner we could box up some of the cookies we made and go Christmas caroling around the building. We could give out treats to the neighbors.”
“I think that sounds like fun,” Diana said. “Plus, if we give away the cookies, it gives us something to do tomorrow. Bake more.”
“I move we go on a caroling spree and give away cookies,” Jim said. “All in favor?”
The Ayes were unanimous.
Christmas Eve
5:45 p.m.
“Honey is talking to Brian,” Diana said, setting the soup tureen on the trivet. She looked around at the table and the people gathering around it. Honey and Mart had decorated the table with a white cloth, red table runner and green napkins. Trixie and Jim had taken the mismatched candles, tinsel and oddball ribbons and made a surprisingly lovely centerpiece.
“How goes the battle at the hospital?” Mart asked as Honey appeared in the dining room, tucking her cell phone into the pocket of her skirt with one hand, as she balanced a basket of steaming rolls with the other.
“Better. Brian said he’s going to try and make it home tonight. Evidently, they managed to plow enough to ease the way for a few more doctors. He thinks they’ll turn him loose in an hour or two. You know, once they have enough staff. He said to save him some soup.”
“It smells delicious, Di.” Trixie smiled up at Jim as he held her chair for her. Mart and Dan did the same for Diana and Honey, respectively.
They all joined hands around the table. As they bowed their heads, Diana began to pray, “Heavenly Father, we thank you for this food, this shelter and the company we are sharing here. Please keep all of the people safe from the storm and help us to eventually make it home to our families. In the meantime, help Brian find his way home so we can be together as we celebrate the birth of your son, Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
“Amen,” the others intoned. Diana and Dan made the sign of the cross. Within a few minutes, they had all tucked into the savory, creamy soup, sprinkling it with shredded cheese and chives, dipping into it with the crusty bread.
When dinner was done and the dishes washed, the friends gathered in the living room. Jim had turned on the gas fireplace, and the flames flickered, giving off warmth and ambiance. The glow contrasted nicely with the colored lights twinkling from the “tree” Dan and Jim had created.
“Irish coffee anyone?” Dan asked.
“Sure,” Mart suggested. “I know we have dessert still, but I’m happy with a little spiked coffee while dinner digests. Why don’t we move the furniture a bit so we can watch the flames and tell stories?
“I like that idea,” Jim said, grabbing first one and then the other of the leather recliners and scooting them closer to the fireplace. “What kind of stories?”
“I don’t know,” Mart said, “What about Christmas memories?”
He helped Diana move the loveseat and plopped himself down next to her. Dan picked up a bean bag chair in each hand and moved them directly in front of the hearth.
“Memories of Christmas past?” Trixie mused. “I have so many, I wouldn’t know which one to pick.”
“How about the year Bobby decided to trap Santa by closing the flue?” Mart asked.
“That was certainly memorable, but it was also mostly your fault,” Trixie told him with a giggle as she plopped herself down on a beanbag chair at Jim’s feet.
“How was it Mart’s fault?” Jim asked, his fingers twining themselves in her golden curls.
“Well,” Trixie said, leaning back against his knee, “Bobby wasn’t even five at the time, and you know how he was. Such an imagination. The previous St. Patrick’s Day we helped him build a leprechaun trap. He didn’t actually catch one, so, of course, Bobby decided to trap Santa instead.” She rolled her eyes, and started painting the picture…
Crabapple Farm
The Past
“Bobby! We’re ready to decorate the cookies,” Trixie called out, peering around the corner into the family room. What she saw made her choke back a laugh. Her four-year-old brother was laying on the hearth, his head and shoulders inside the fireplace. “What on Earth are you doing in the fireplace?
Cherub cheeks dimpled as he scooted out, smiling at his sister with innocent blue eyes. Too innocent. Trixie narrowed her own eyes and asked again, “What were you doing in the fireplace?”
“Looking for clues,” was the reply. This he followed immediately with another question, “Mart says Christmas magic lets Santa come down the chimby, but how does he get back up?”
“Christmas magic,” Trixie told him, “just like Mart said. Now come out and wash your hands. Moms wants us to get the cookies decorated so we can leave them out for Santa and the Elves tonight.” She held out her hand and Bobby took it. “It will be fun tonight. We’ll have a fire in the fireplace, hang up our stockings and sing carols. Then Daddy will read us the story and we’ll go to bed. When we wake up, Santa will have been here.” She led him out of the room, her mind focused on the waiting cookies, and not on the mischievous look on the little boy’s face.
“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,” Peter Belden read from the story book on his lap, “In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.”
“St. Nikless is the same as Santa, right Daddy?” Bobby asked, leaning his head on his father’s knee.
“Yes, indeed,” Peter replied, running a hand through the boy’s blond curls. “They are one and the same. Now let me finish the story so we can leave Santa his milk and cookies and head off to bed.” He continued, “Mama in her kerchief…” No one noticed the look of concentration on Bobby’s face.
The story was read and the fire banked. Peter and Helen stepped out to do what all parents do to prepare for Santa’s visit. Bobby, so bouncy and energetic ten minutes earlier, was curled up on the hearth rug, eyes buttoned up tight. “He looks like such an angel,” Brian commented.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Mart teased. “Although, the promise of Santa has kept him on his best behavior lately. I’ll go get the cookies and milk.”
“I’ll help,” Trixie offered. “Bobby picked a few special ones specifically for Santa. I know which ones.”
“I’ll come, too,” Brian said. “The little guy will be fine there for a minute, and I’d like a little midnight snack, too.”
“It’s nine fifteen,” Trixie pointed out.
Brian shrugged. “So? Nine fifteen snack doesn’t sound as cool as midnight snack.”
“Snacks are snacks,” Mart agreed. “No matter what time it is. Those cookies are good. I wouldn’t mind a couple myself.”
Trixie giggled. “They are good, if I do say so myself. Snack it is. Then bed.”
Present Day
“But the little stinker wasn’t asleep,” Trixie told her friends. “He was faking it so he could set his trap for Santa.”
“Why did he want to trap Santa?” Dan asked.
“That part is kind of my fault,” Mart admitted. “You see, The March before, I helped Bobby set a leprechaun trap. The leprechaun escaped, but Bobby got it into his head that Santa, leprechauns, fairies and elves were all the same. So, he thought if he could catch Santa, who is bigger than a leprechaun, he could get three wishes.”
“Genies give wishes,” Dan pointed out.
“Well, Bobby was still a couple months shy of five. It was a whole year before his “old lamps for new” phase, and he wasn’t exactly known for his logic and reason.”
“But he was smart, even then,” Mart had to admit. “Despite his tendency to act younger than his age, his brain was always sharp.”
“So, what was the trap?” Diana asked. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard this story.”
“Well,” Trixie continued, “we always bank the fire and hang our stockings before we go up to bed. Moms and Daddy had a rule that we all go downstairs together, and that we couldn’t go down until seven. We all go into the family room to empty our stockings before breakfast. Santa always fills the stockings and restarts the fire so it welcomes us on Christmas morning.” She smiled wistfully. “It’s actually Daddy who gets up at six to do that. He sneaks down the back stairs, relights the fire, and sneaks back up and into bed so we all can ‘wake’ him and Moms up at seven. That’s what he did on that Christmas morning…
The Past
Christmas Morning
6:48 a.m.
Trixie lay in her bed, counting the minutes. Mentally, she scolded herself, You’re twelve years old. Almost a teenager, and you are every bit as excited about Christmas morning as your baby brother. Laughing silently at herself, she rolled over and took a deep breath. Something strange tickled her nose. She took another sniff. Smoke! It was faint, but definitely smoke. Rolling out of her bed, Trixie ignored the clock and sniffed herself to her door. Standing up, the smell wasn’t as strong. Instinctively, Trixie dropped to her knees, sniffing at the door jam of her room. Definitely stronger there. Hmmm.
She placed her hand on the door. It was cool. Good sign. She cautiously opened her door and looked toward the staircase. There was a foot-high haze of grey hovering over the floor. Smoke! Fire! With a surge of adrenaline, she sprinted to her parents’ door and burst in without knocking. “Moms! Daddy!” she shouted, “Fire! I think the house is on fire!”
“What?!” Peter sprang out of the bed, grabbing for his robe. “Trixie, what are you talking about?”
“Smoke, Daddy!” Trixie yelled. “There’s smoke coming from downstairs.”
“I do smell something, Peter,” Helen said, reaching for her own robe. She slid it on and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said, “I’m sure it’s fine, but let’s gather your brothers just in case.”
It took no time at all to gather the boys. Brian and Mart were already on the landing; Bobby began to wail as the kitchen smoke alarm began to blare. While Moms rushed to reassure the little boy, Peter’s voice sounded from downstairs. “Don’t call the fire department,” he shouted up the stairs. “There’s no fire. Just smoke. It’s safe to come down. I’ve opened the windows and doors to clear it out. I’m going to shut off the fire alarm.”
Bobby was still sobbing, his whole small frame shaking. Trixie rushed over. “It’s okay, Bobby. Daddy says it’s all over.”
“Did I kill him?” Bobby sobbed, rubbing his wet eyes with his balled fists. “I only wanted to catch him so I could meet him for reals. Honest.”
“What?”
“Catch who?”
“Huh?” The three older Belden kids spoke at once.
“Santa!” Bobby’s voice rose in a near shriek. “I only wanted to catch him. That’s why I closed the fire hamper. I didn’t think he’d get on fire.”
“I don’t understand,” Trixie started.
“I do,” her father stated as he walked toward them. Kneeling down, he asked, “Did you close the flue, Bobby?”
“Uh huh,” the little boy said. “I didn’t know it would catch Santa on fire, Daddy. Mart said the froo closed the hamper so that the air didn’t go out. I didn’t want Santa to go out, so I closed it.”
“He must have done it while we were getting cookies and milk for Santa,” Brian mused.
Bobby nodded. “You fought I was sleepin’ and you left me ‘lone. I wanted Santa to be a surprise.”
“Well, it wasn’t Santa, but it certainly was a surprise,” Peter said sternly. “I never expected to have to say this, but, Master Robert, you are not to touch the fireplace for any reason—whether there is a fire in it or not. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Bobby said with a hitch in his voice. “Is Santa hurt?”
“No,” Peter shook his head. “I doubt old St. Nick even noticed the flue was shut. Christmas magic, you know. But the family room was full of smoke and now everything smells a little smoky.”
“In that case,” Helen said firmly, “Go get dressed. We will have breakfast while the house airs out, and then we will have our regularly scheduled Christmas.”
Present
“And so, we did,” Mart finished. “Moms made us all pancakes and sausage and eggs.”
“Did the Christmas gifts survive the smoke?” Honey asked.
“All but one,” Trixie told her with a grin. “The beautiful Pepto Bismol pink sweater Aunt Alicia—paternal…” she added with a nod to Dan, “…knit for me never smelled of anything but smoke. It was imbedded in the yarn, bows and trim. So sad.” She shook her head with mock sorrow. “I never was able to wear it.”
“Heartbreaking,” Jim said. “I’m sure it was perfect for you.”
Trixie stuck her tongue out at him and tossed her head, blonde curls bouncing. “Well, that’s our story. Who’s next?”
“I have a rather funny one,” Jim said. “It’s Honey’s too, though, so if she wants, I’ll let her tell it.” He looked at his sister. “Ben. Our first joint family Christmas.”
Honey started to laugh. “Oh, no. You tell it. I wouldn’t be able to do it justice.”
“Well then, let me take you all back to my first Christmas as a member of the Hart/Wheeler family.” Jim sat back in his chair. “This was before you moved to Sleepyside, Dan. We had postponed our family Christmas because the Bob-Whites had all gone to Arizona to visit Di’s Uncle Monty’s dude ranch. Since it was my first Christmas, our grandparents decided to have a joint family celebration at a mutually agreed upon, neutral location. They chose here in Manhattan. Our Wheeler grandparents have a large apartment on the West Side. The families rented a ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton for the actual party, but we met here at our apartment the day before…”
“And so, we did,” Mart finished. “Moms made us all pancakes and sausage and eggs.”
“Did the Christmas gifts survive the smoke?” Honey asked.
“All but one,” Trixie told her with a grin. “The beautiful Pepto Bismol pink sweater Aunt Alicia—paternal…” she added with a nod to Dan, “…knit for me never smelled of anything but smoke. It was imbedded in the yarn, bows and trim. So sad.” She shook her head with mock sorrow. “I never was able to wear it.”
“Heartbreaking,” Jim said. “I’m sure it was perfect for you.”
Trixie stuck her tongue out at him and tossed her head, blonde curls bouncing. “Well, that’s our story. Who’s next?”
“I have a rather funny one,” Jim said. “It’s Honey’s too, though, so if she wants, I’ll let her tell it.” He looked at his sister. “Ben. Our first joint family Christmas.”
Honey started to laugh. “Oh, no. You tell it. I wouldn’t be able to do it justice.”
“Well then, let me take you all back to my first Christmas as a member of the Hart/Wheeler family.” Jim sat back in his chair. “This was before you moved to Sleepyside, Dan. We had postponed our family Christmas because the Bob-Whites had all gone to Arizona to visit Di’s Uncle Monty’s dude ranch. Since it was my first Christmas, our grandparents decided to have a joint family celebration at a mutually agreed upon, neutral location. They chose here in Manhattan. Our Wheeler grandparents have a large apartment on the West Side. The families rented a ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton for the actual party, but we met here at our apartment the day before…”
The Past
Jim was a little nervous. He had met his new relatives before, just not all at once. At least his new… he stopped himself. It had been four months and many adventures, and he still couldn’t keep himself from referring to them as his new parents. He didn’t think of Honey as his new sister, just his sister. He brushed a hand through his hair and checked his teeth in the mirror of his bathroom. Thankfully, his parents had opted to host the fake Christmas Eve festivities at their own apartment.
Mad…Mother, he corrected himself, had taken him aside after lunch. “Jim, dear,” she said, her voice gentle and low. “Your father and I realize that so much family can be a little overwhelming. Just know that if you feel the need to disappear for a while, we understand.” She kissed his cheek and glided away.
He heard the doorbell sound and took one last look in the mirror. He could do this. He’d managed to survive everything else the world had thrown at him; he could certainly survive family. Taking a deep breath, he summoned up his most genial facial expression and headed into the fray.
Present
“Oh, come on,” Trixie interrupted with a laugh. “I know that certain members of your family are… interesting, but certainly they weren’t that bad!”
“Hey!” Jim protested, tugging at a curl. “This is my story, let me tell it my way.” His grin belied his tone. “Anyway, everyone was there, and I do mean everyone. Both sets of grandparents. On the Hart side, Uncle Wesley and Aunt Catherine. Their kids, Charlie, Jared and Chloe. Aunt Genevieve and Uncle Christian with Ben. On the Wheeler side, Aunt Audrey and Uncle Steve with their kids, Will and Aidan, and Uncle David and Aunt Jessie with Parker, Cassie and Isabella.” He took a sip of his coffee and nearly choked. “Holy cow, Dan! How much ‘Irish’ is in this?”
“Just enough,” his friend teased. “Keep talking.”
Jim cleared his throat and took another, more cautious sip. “Well, our grandfathers decided to give us kids a bonding experience. Most of us were older; Chloe was six and Isabella was only two. Now our grandfathers decided to give each of us kids fifty dollars, have us draw names, and then send us out with some chaperones to buy presents…
The Past
“Obviously, Bella is too young to participate,” Charles Hart told the assembled cousins. He clapped Frank Wheeler on the shoulder. “We’ve teamed up and we want you to as well. Each of you will draw a name out of this … hat…” He lifted his eyebrow along with a crystal bowl. “Benjamin was kind enough to write all of your names on slips of paper. The name you draw is the person for whom you will buy a gift. Miss Trask, Mrs. Pauly, and Mr. Cadd will accompany you on a shopping expedition tomorrow.”
Frank Wheeler took the bowl and passed it around, pausing to make sure no one drew their own name. When all the slips had been drawn, he rubbed a hand through his silvered red hair and said, “Go and have fun. We’ll be having dinner in an hour.”
The adults gathered in the living room, leaving the younger generation to head to the game room. “Let’s play pool,” Jared Hart suggested.
Honey shook her head, “No thanks. I think I’d rather play Clue.”
“There are enough of us to do both,” twelve-year-old William reasoned. “If I remember, there’re only four pool cues.” They stepped into the room, still debating.
Jim was stopped by a small hand grabbing his. Chloe. He turned and knelt down beside the little girl. She was a cutie, he had to admit. She had her mother’s angelic face and the Hart hazel eyes. “What do you need, Chloe?”
“Jim,” she said quietly, “Will you help me shop for Ben?”
“What?” Jim asked, confused. “Why do you need to shop for Ben?”
“Because I drawed his name.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her slip of paper. “B. E. N. That spells Ben.”
“You’re very smart, Chloe,” Jim told her. “I didn’t know you could read so well already.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I will definitely help you shop tomorrow. You and me. But let’s not tell anyone else who you drew, okay?” He held up a pinky finger. “Pinky swear.”
Chloe giggled and hooked her small finger through his.
Once inside the room, Jim approached Charlie, the eldest of the cousins. “I think we’re supposed to be the victims of a prank,” he said in a low voice. “Who did you draw?”
“Huh?” Charlie asked. Understanding dawned. “Ben. You?”
“The same,” Jim answered. “So did Chloe, and I’ll bet everyone else in this room, too.”
Charlie shook his head. “That is not a bet I will be taking. The real question is, what are we going to do about it?”
Jim smiled. Maybe this cousin thing would work out. “I have an idea,” he said.
Present
Jim paused, reaching again for his coffee mug.
“Well don’t stop there,” Mart protested. “I want to know how you turned the tables on that annoying trickster—although, if you hadn’t shared names, I’d have to give him points for brilliance. It was a great idea.”
“True,” Honey interjected, “but Jim’s plan was even better.”
“Thanks, sis,” Jim said. “I admit I was pretty proud of it.” He addressed the room. “We secretly redrew names, and then after each of us bought the gift for our person, we each bought a little something for Ben, as well. A giant lollipop.” Jim let his words sink in. Diana got it first and began giggling. “Yup,” Jim confirmed. “At the party, every one of us cousins had a lovely, carefully picked present. Ben, on the other hand, opened a box full of nine giant…suckers.” The room erupted in peals of laughter. Everyone enjoyed the idea of prankster Ben getting his comeuppance.
When the laughter abated, Jim said, “That’s my story. Now, since Diana figured it out first, I nominate her to tell a story.
Diana blinked her violet eyes. “Well, I don’t have a funny story, but I can tell you about the time my daddy did the most wonderful thing.
Mart picked up a plate of cookies and passed them around. “Your dad is a pretty cool and generous guy,” he said, “I’d love to hear it.
Diana dipped her cookie into her coffee. “Well,” she said, “It happened back before Daddy got rich. Mummy was pregnant with the boys, and she had to stop working. It was going to be a really tight Christmas…”
Past
“Mummy, would you like a cookie?” seven-year-old Diana asked her very pregnant mother.
“No thank you, sweetheart,” Patricia Lynch told her daughter. “I’m just going to look at my magazine and daydream for a while. Why don’t you go draw me a picture?”
“Okay, Mummy.” Diana peered over her mother’s shoulder. “What are you dreaming about?”
“Beautiful things I cannot afford.” Patricia pointed at a hand painted nativity set. “Do you see the details?”
“It’s beautiful,” Diana breathed. “I love the colors, and those flowers on the wise man’s dress are really pretty.”
“I knew you would appreciate it, my little artiste,” Patricia told her daughter. “Maybe, when you are a little older, you can hand paint one for me. I'm sure you will be every bit as good an artist as Mr. Jim Shore."
“I will!” Diana promised. “I will.” She skipped off to her room to find her art supplies.
Dinner was eaten. Diana had bathed and brushed her teeth. Mummy had gone to bed, giving Diana a hug and kiss before waddling into the big bedroom. Carrying twins made Mummy very tired. Diana snuggled on Daddy’s lap as he read to her a chapter of Charlotte’s Web.
“Daddy?” she asked, “How can I make money?”
“Why do you need money, my darling?”
“I want to buy Mummy the beautiful things she can’t afford.”
Daddy was silent for a long moment. “What kind of things? He asked.
“That fancy ‘tivety set,” Diana told him. The one with all the painted pieces. Mommy said I could paint one for her when I’m older, but I thought if I could make some money, I could buy it for her now, instead.”
“I will pay you a nickel every day you remember to make your bed and help Mummy around the house,” Daddy offered. “How does that sound?”
“Daddy, I do those things anyway.” Diana frowned. “I don’t think it counts if you pay me.
“Probably not, my angel.” Daddy picked her up in his arms and carried her to bed. “Sleep well, Diana. I love you.”
Present
“Daddy started working late,” Diana told her friends. “Mummy worried, because she was really pregnant, and not having him around made it harder on her. It paid off in the end, no matter how upset she was with his absence, but by the time Christmas rolled around, Mummy was not happy…
The Past
Christmas Morning
“Mummy! Daddy! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” Diana bounced on her toes, her hands shaking the bed on which her parents lay.
“Merry Christmas, darling Diana,” Ed said, rolling out of bed and pulling on his well-worn robe. He hugged Diana and walked around to the other side of the bed to help Patricia to her feet. “Why don’t you run out and see if Santa brought you anything? Your mother and I will be right out.”
“Okay. Daddy!” Diana spun around and danced out to their small living room. Their tree was a bit sparse, but it glimmered and glowed with tinsel and bubble lights. Diana’s red and purple striped stocking was much fatter than it had been the night before. Excitedly, she unhooked it and looked inside. A chocolate Santa, some homemade fudge, socks, a new pair of hand knit purple mittens with a matching hat, an orange, an apple and two red and white striped candy canes. There was one brightly wrapped package under her stocking. Diana held it close to her chest, trying to be patient until her parents appeared.
“What did Santa bring, princess?” Ed asked. “Go on, open it.”
Permission granted, Diana tore into the package, revealing her most desired request: A Spirograph. “Daddy! Look. It’s just what I wanted. And look, Mummy! There are extra pens. Pink. Green. Purple. Yes!”
“That’s wonderful darling,” Patricia told her. “I’m excited to see what you make with those.”
Diana looked up, and her eyes caught sight of something different on the small dining bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Her violet eyes widened. “Mummy, look,” she whispered. “Santa brought you something, too.”
Patricia turned, her eyes widening. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Oh my!”
“Santa didn’t bring that, Patsy,” Ed said. “I did.”
“Oh, Eddie,” she breathed, “A Jim Shore nativity set. It’s so beautiful, but it’s too much. It’s too much.” She picked up one of the pieces, tears welling in her eyes.
“I picked up some extra hours,” Ed told her. “And, if I’m completely honest, I got it at a great discount. I’m afraid it isn’t complete, Pats. It’s missing a wiseman, and the angel has a broken halo. When our ship comes in, I’ll get you a new, full set.”
“It’s perfect,” Patricia said. “You’re perfect. Thank you so much.”
“I love you. I love both my girls, and whoever these two scamps are.” Ed placed a hand lovingly on his wife’s swollen belly. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Me either, Patricia said, her eyes on her husband even as she said, “Diana, why don’t we have some breakfast, and then you can open the rest of your presents?”
“Daddy said he’d make waffles and bacon, Diana said, setting her new toy aside. “Is that okay with you?”
“Absolutely perfect,” her mother replied. “My life is perfect.”
Present
“That was a lovely story, Di,” Honey told her. “Did your dad ever replace or fix the missing pieces?”
“Yes,” she said. “It was later that year that he started bringing in the money. Two Christmases later, we were in the big house and I had two brothers and two sisters. Daddy bought a new wiseman and a new angel. But now he buys her a new ornament each year. Mummy has a whole Jim Shore tree in the gallery. They’re all really beautiful, but I think Mummy loves her original one the best.”
“Your dad is pretty great,” Trixie admitted. “Who’s next?”
“I’ll go,” Honey volunteered. “I can tell you the story of my sister doll, Sally, and that anatomically correct baby doll. They were part of the best Christmas present I got as a child.”
“Dolls?” Trixie wrinkled her nose.
“Yes,” Honey replied. “But they were more than just dolls to me. I was seven that year. I’d just started boarding school, and I was so very lonely…”
Manhattan
The Past
“Darling, I’m so glad you’re home.” Madeleine Wheeler rose from her chair and glided across the room to greet her daughter. “I’ll ring for some tea and you can tell me all about your friends at school.” She bent down gracefully for a brief hug.
“Mrs. Wheeler,” Miss Lefferts said, “I think it best if Miss Honey rests for a while. It was a rather long trip, with the traffic and all. Perhaps she can join you for dinner.”
“Of course.” Madeleine’s voice chilled. “You know best, Miss Lefferts.”
Honey opened her mouth to protest, but then looked down, biting her lip. She didn’t like Miss Lefferts with her projects and her insistent manner always ruining Honey’s wants. She wanted to spend time with her mother; she wanted to go to the stables with her daddy and visit the horses, but she had already learned that to complain to her governess would lead to further isolation from her parent. She would have to wait until dinner.
Her mother brushed a kiss across her forehead. “You do as Miss Lefferts says, Honey. I will see you at dinner. You can tell both Daddy and me all about school, and we can make plans to see Santa at Macy’s.”
“I would like that, Mother,” Honey said, her face brightening. “I know exactly what I want Santa to bring me this year. I can’t wait to tell him.”
“Then I will see you at dinner, my love.”
“Yes, Mother. Honey smiled, showing the gap from her missing front tooth and followed her governess down the hall to her room.
“Daddy!!” Honey dropped her needlepoint sampler and bolted from her seat on the sofa, launching herself at her father. Matthew dropped his briefcase and caught his daughter in his arms.
“Honeybee!” he exclaimed, twirling her around and kissing her cheeks soundly.
“Daddy! Mother says we can spend all day tomorrow together. Can we see the horses? And the store windows? And…Santa? Please?”
“Of course, Honeybee. I’ve cleared my calendar for tomorrow. We’ll have our Christmas Eve with your Wheeler grandparents, Christmas morning here, Christmas dinner with your Hart grandparents, and then your mother and I plan on taking us all to St Lucia from Boxing Day until the New Year. We’ll have a snowy Christmas and a beach holiday New Year. Did you bring your bathing suit?”
Honey’s face fell. “It doesn’t fit anymore.”
“Of course, it doesn’t,” Matthew told her, “Look at how much you’ve grown. You’re practically big enough to give me a piggy-back ride.” He set her down, kneeling beside her. “We’ll just buy you a new one. Maybe when we go see Santa.” Holding her hand, they walked to Madeleine. “What do you say, Maman?”
“Shopping sounds lovely,” Madeleine agreed, lifting her face for Matthew’s kiss. “We can get you a Christmas dress, and maybe a dress for the ballet, as well as some play clothes for St. Lucia. She brushed a stand of golden hair back from Honey’s face, “And a swimming suit or two as well.”
“Excuse me, Madame,” Mrs. Parker, the housekeeper said, stepping into the room. “Your family dinner is ready to be served in the small dining room.” She looked pointedly at Miss Lefferts. “Miss Lefferts, the staff will be dining in the nook.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I’m sure that Cook has outdone herself. When I stepped into the kitchen earlier, it smelled delicious.” She rose. Miss Lefferts did as well, extending her hand to Honey. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Lefferts,” Madeleine said pointedly. “Matthew and I will see that Honey washes up. After all, we need to do so, as well.” She looked at Matthew, who nodded. “I think we can see to bedtime as well. You enjoy your free time.”
“As you wish,” Miss Lefferts said. She walked out of the room, a sour expression on her face.
Present Day
Honey smiled wistfully at her friends. “It’s funny, now, but that night and the next day were the best I could remember at the time. We ate dinner together. Mother and Daddy talked to me all through dinner. Mother sat with me when I was in the bath, and she even added bubbles. Then, she and Daddy tucked me in bed and Daddy read me three stories. It was very close to my Christmas wish. The next day, we spent the whole day together—without Miss Lefferts.”
“What did you do?” Diana asked.
“Everything!” Honey said. “We walked down Fifth Avenue and saw all the window decorations. We had lunch at Herald Square and saw Santa. I whispered to him what I wanted for Christmas, and he told me he would do his best. After Santa, Mother and I shopped for clothes and I got the prettiest green velvet dress with golden lace and sparkly gold shoes. Then, Daddy took me ice skating at Rockefeller Center and we saw all the lights and decorations. We had an early dinner at Geronne’s and then Daddy and I dropped Mother off at the apartment and went see the horses. The next day, I wore my new dress and shoes and we went to see matinee of the Nutcracker. It was beautiful.”
She closed her eyes, relishing the memory.
“That’s a lovely memory, Honey,” Diana said, “but what does it have to do with the dolls?”
“I bet they were what you asked Santa for, right?” Mart asked.
“No,” Honey said. “No. I didn’t ask Santa for dolls. I really didn’t need any more dolls. No, I asked Santa for a big brother and a baby sister.”
“Oh, Honey,” Jim said with sympathy. “You didn’t know, did you?”
“I was seven,” Honey said. “My parents didn’t share their medical history with me. So, no, I didn’t know that having more children wasn’t in the cards for Mother, and I was too young to realize that you can’t just get an older brother.” She grinned at her brother. “Although I did eventually get one—and a pretty good one at that.”
“So, how does the story end?” Dan asked.
“Well,” Honey said, “after the Nutcracker, things went back to normal until Christmas Eve. Daddy went back to work; Mother had her charity activities, and it was me and Miss Lefferts.”
The Past
Christmas Morning
Honey blinked her eyes, focusing them in the dim light of the morning. Christmas morning! She squinted at her daisy clock. 7:33. She rolled out of bed and looked around for her dressing gown and slippers. They were new: a Christmas Eve gift from her Wheeler grandparents along with a strand of freshwater pearls and a gift certificate for horseback riding at the Riding Academy near their apartment. She had had fun with her cousins. She was the oldest, but only a few months older than Aunt Audrey’s son, Will, who was the boldest. Uncle David’s little girl, Cassie, was only two, an adorable bundle of giggles and strawberry blonde curls. It had been fun, but she had fallen asleep on the way home. She vaguely remembered Daddy carrying her to her room, but little more.
Honey found her slippers and robe in the closet. Miss Lefferts, no doubt. She readied herself and quietly opened her door. The hallway was empty, although she could hear Cook in the kitchen. With a smile, she turned the knob of her parents’ door and slipped inside. “Mother! Daddy! Merry Christmas!!
Madeleine sat up, pushing her sleep mask up onto her head. Matthew groaned and rolled over. “What time is it?” he mumbled.
Madeleine laughed. “Past seven, my love. Time to start Christmas. Merry Christmas, my darling girl. She opened her arms. Honey glanced behind her at the closed door, then skipped to the bed and scrambled up, hugging her mother.
“Please, Daddy,” she cajoled. “Please wake up. I want to see if Santa came.” She bit her lip. “Do you think he liked the milk and cookies? Did you remember to put out the milk and cookies?” she worried. “I fell asleep in the car.”
Matthew at up and rubbed his eyes. “Of course I did, sweetheart. I left Santa three cookies, a glass of milk and some of those carrot sticks for the reindeer. I wouldn’t forget something so important.”
Madeleine was tying her dressing gown around her waist. Matthew threw his legs over the side and reached for his as well. Each parent took Honey by the hand, and they walked together to the living room.
It looked like a fairyland. The tree stood tall and full, hundreds of twinkling white lights sparkling and reflecting off the silver and gold decorations. Cedar swag on the mantle scented the whole room, and, in the fireplace, flames flickered, warmed and glowed. Honey’s green and gold knit stocking lay on the hearth, stuffed to overflowing with treats.
So many presents. Games. Books. Stuffed animals. An electric piano. New ice skates. A new riding outfit, complete with a gift certificate for summer riding camp. Finally, a charm bracelet in a Tiffany box. “Daddy and I picked out the charms,” Madeleine told her. “I chose the ballet slipper and the star. I love going to the ballet with you, and you will always be my shining star.”
“And I,” Matthew said, “Chose the bee and the horse, because I love sharing my love of horses with you, and you will always be my honeybee.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Mother. I love it.” Honey held very still to allow her mother to clasp the bracelet around her wrist.
“Well,” Matthew said, “I do believe that Santa left you something else, Honeybee. Go look behind the tree.”
This was it. Honey’s heart started to beat faster as she raced to check behind the tree. She stopped short, for standing there hidden from view by the mahogany buffet, a pair of green eyes stared back at her.
It was a doll. A very tall, realistic looking doll with green eyes, red curls and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. The doll was an inch or so taller than Honey herself, dressed in a blue velvet dress and black Mary Janes. At her feet was a wooden cradle. Inside the cradle was a baby doll, wearing a blue knit cap and swaddled in a white blanket.
Honey stared at the dolls in confusion. Her father joined her, plucking a red envelope out of the large doll’s outstretched hand. Opening it, he removed a note and read it.
“Dear Honey,” he read,
I searched for a big brother, but I could only find a sister in this style. I hope you will be happy with a big sister and a baby brother. At my workshop we call her Sister Sally; she can walk and talk. The baby is so new we hadn’t named him yet. You will need to. I am sure you will take very good care of him, and that you and Sally will be good friends.
Merry Christmas,
Santa
Honey burst into disappointed tears.
Matthew scooped her up and carried her to her worried mother. “What’s wrong, darling?” Madeleine asked.
“Oh, Mother,” she sobbed. “I must not have said it right.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Matthew asked.
“I asked Santa for a big brother and a baby sister.”
“Are you upset because it’s a big sister and baby brother?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“No,” Honey hiccupped, trying to control her crying. “They aren’t real. I wanted them to be real. Like Jared,” she said, speaking of her older Hart cousin. “Jared has Charlie for a big brother, and now he has Chloe for a baby sister. Will has Aidan, and Parker has Cassie. I wanted real ones, too.”
“Oh, darling.”
Honey looked up, wiping tears from her eyes even as her mother burst into tears. “Mother? Don’t cry, Mother. I’ll ask better next year.”
Her Daddy shifted her to his hip and wrapped his free arm around Mother. He guided her to the sofa and sat them all three down. “Honey,” he said softly, “Santa can’t bring you a real brother and sister. I’m so sorry.”
Tears welled again. “Why not?”
Her mother wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Do you remember hearing that I was ill for a long time after you were born?”
Honey nodded.
“Darling, right after you were born, while I was sick…” She looked up at Matthew.
“…Honeybee, the illness that your mother had made it so she can’t have any more children. It isn’t her fault. We would love to give you a baby brother or sister, but it just can’t happen.”
“You are our one and only,” Mother said with a tremulous smile. “Our biggest blessing. My shining star.”
Honey thought about what she had heard. Finally, she nodded. “I understand.” Wiggling in her father’s arms, she slid to the floor and hurried back to her Santa gifts. Sally was too big for her to pick up, so she scooped up the baby doll and carried him back to her parents. “Mother,” she said earnestly, “since you can’t have any more babies, I can share mine.” Tenderly, she laid the wrapped baby doll into her mother’s arms. “Will you help me take care of him? You can be his mother, too.”
Her mother smiled, her lips quivering. “I would love that, darling. What shall we name him?”
Honey thought about it. She looked at the baby with his perfect features and blue eyes that opened and closed. “How about Jamie?” she asked. “He looks like a Jamie.”
“Then Jamie he shall be,” Madeleine stated. She cuddled the baby. “Why don’t you bring Sally over here, too. I think she walks and talks.”
Honey nodded. She went to Sally and took her hand. It was soft, but cool to the touch. As her grip tightened, the doll started to move her legs. She was walking, a loose, choppy gait. As they approached her parents, Matthew said, “Squeeze her other hand.”
Honey did, and Sally said, “Do you want to play a game?”
Honey jumped back, releasing the doll’s hand. Sally swayed and pitched forward. Matthew caught her before she hit the ground.
Honey stared at the doll and started to laugh. “What else can she say?” she asked, clapping her hands.
“Let’s see, shall we?” He picked up Sally and set her on his knee. Honey scrambled up onto his other. Together, the three Wheelers got to know their new family members.
Present Day
“How many things can that doll say?” Trixie asked
“She has fifteen pre-programmed statements,” Honey said, “but she also has a record feature that lets you add new ones.”
“I think I’m a little confused,” Mart admitted. “You said that was a favorite Christmas memory, but why? I mean, you said you hadn’t seen the dolls in years.”
Honey smiled sadly. “Mart, that Christmas was the first time my parents told me anything about our family. I thought they didn’t have any more children because they didn’t want them. That they didn’t really want me. But they did. I kind of forgot that a few years later, but that was the first time I felt… I don’t know… like more than a nuisance.” She frowned. “As an adult I can see it—that they always loved me—but there were so many times when I was away at school or camp, and they were away on business. It wasn’t until Sleepyside…” She paused.
“As to the dolls, they stayed here, at the apartment. They were my Manhattan family. Then, when I came home from school the summer I turned twelve, they were gone. My room had been redecorated, and Miss Lefferts said I was too old for dolls. Mother was so excited about my room I was afraid to ask about Sally and Jamie. I was too afraid to ask about a lot back then. The next year we moved to Sleepyside.” She laughed. “That’s when I got my big brother—whose name is James, and who has red hair and green eyes like Sally. I guess Santa came through after all. It just took him a few years.”
Dan rose and left the room, returning this time with a carafe of hot chocolate and a bottle of what he called ‘a touch of the Irish’ to put in it. “Who wants to go next?” he asked.
“How about you?” Mart answered.
“Hmmm.” Dan’s face sobered for a moment as he considered. “Memorable, right?”
“Dan, I’m sorry,” Mart apologized. “I forgot…”
“It’s okay,“ Dan told him with a shrug. “The Christmas before my mum died was certainly memorable, but I did have a few good Christmases both before and after.” He grinned. “After all, how many of you have celebrated holidays in four different countries and six different states?”
“Not me,” Trixie said. “Two countries and two states. America and Scotland. Arizona and New York.”
“I think that’s true for all of us,” Honey agreed, “Although I think I had Easter in Paris once; I was just too young to remember.”
“What countries and states, Dan?” Diana asked, “and why so many?”
“My Da was in the Army,” he responded. “I was born in Georgia and spent my first Christmas in Germany. While he was alive and serving, we were stationed in Germany, Belgium and Japan. Here in the US, we lived on Oahu, in Monterey, CA, at Fort Gordon in Georgia, at Ft. Knox in Kentucky, Fort Hood in Texas, and Ft. Hamilton here in New York.”
“That’s a lot of moving around,” Jim commented.
“It was,” Dan agreed, “But wherever my mum and da were, was home. Houses were just buildings. Home is people who love you.”
“So true.” Trixie looked around the room wistfully. “I’ve been feeling like I wasn’t home because I am here instead of Sleepyside, but this is home too. Because of all of you.”
“Home 2.0,” Mart joked.
“Exactly.” She tossed her head and addressed Dan. “So, which exotic location was the most memorable?”
“That’s debatable,” he said, “But the story I’m telling took place in Monterey, when I was six or seven. My da had been accepted into officer candidate school. Twelve weeks at Fort Benning in Georgia. Mum had a job working at the medical center, and it wasn’t like we would get to see him during training—it’s a pretty intensive schedule. So, off he went, leaving us behind…”
Monterey, CA
The Past
Mum was waiting on the porch for him as the bus driver brought the old bus to a squeaky stop at the curb. The doors creaked and groaned as the folded open. With a grin and a wave, Dan hopped off the step and bounced toward the house. “Mum!” he shouted, Did Da call yet?”
“Not yet, my Danny-boy. Not yet.” Saraid Mangan bent slightly to accept her son’s exuberant hug. “It’s just past six in Georgia. He’ll not be able to call us until around six ourtime. Tell me about your day.”
“Michael D. choked on an orange slice,” he said solemnly, “and Mrs. Cadd gave him the hy… hil…hydraulic manure and he spit it out on his desk.” He giggled. “Them Michael D. picked it up and ate it again. It was sooooo gross and cool.”
“It certainly sounds one of those things,” Saraid said. “I’ve got cookies in the oven. I’ll drop them off in the office on my way to work. That way you will have them for your party tomorrow, but you won’t have to worry about taking them on the bus.”
“Goody!” he exclaimed, sending her a sideways look. “Are there extras?”
“A few. You may have two for your snack. Then, I need you to play quietly for a while so I can get some letters written.”
“Thanks, Mum. You’re the best.”
“As are you, my son. As are you.”
“We get to take another ring off the chain tonight,” he reminded her.
“Indeed, we do.” Saraid ruffled his hair as she opened the screen door and stepped into the house. “We’ll do that when we talk to Da, okay?”
“Okey-dokey!” Dan kicked off his shoes and placed them on the shoe rack just inside the door. He hung his backpack on one hook, and his lightweight jacket on the next. Then, he raced into the powder room to wash his hands without being told, making Saraid smile with pride.
6:23 p.m.
Dan was finishing the last of his macaroni and cheese when the telephone rang. His mother picked up the receiver, and he heard her say, “Hello, my love.” Her voice dropped, and he knew that she was talking mushy with Da. It was okay, though. He knew he would get his turn.
Dan took his dirty dishes to the sink and placed them in the soapy water his mother had prepared. Then, he scampered off to find his Christmas countdown chain. Trying to hide his impatience, he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for his turn. Finally, Mum handed him the phone. “Da!” he exclaimed.
“Daniel!” Tim Mangan returned the greeting, a smile in his voice. “How’s my little man?”
“I’m good, Da. Tomorrow is the last day of school until next year!”
“I know,” Tim said. “Of course, next year comes a week after Christmas, so it isn’t as exciting as it might appear.”
Dan laughed. “Are you an officer yet, Da?”
“Not quite yet, son, but I’m working on it. I’m more than halfway there, and it’s going pretty well.”
“ When you’re an officer, you get to boss people around, right?”
“Something like that. Why do you ask?”
“Because I need you to boss Mum around.” Dan sent a quick look in his mother’s direction. “Do you know what she did, Da? Do you?”
“I can’t say as I do, Danny, but I’m guessing you’ll be telling me.”
“She put broccoli in the macaroni and cheese, Da. Broccoli!”
“I though you liked broccoli.”
“I do, but not in macaroni and cheese.” He shuddered and pulled a face. “It too me forever to pick it all out and eat it so I could enjoy my mac and cheese.”
“I hear you, son, but I must admit, I could rise to the rank of General, and your mother would still outrank me. You’re on your own there.”
“Great.” Dan let out an exaggerated sigh. “Can you come home for Christmas, Da?”
Across the country, he could hear his father hesitate. “I wish I could,” Tim said. "I have a little down time, but it’s a long trip, Danny, and flying commercial gets expensive. As much as I miss you and your mum, I think I’d rather spend the money, and my leave, to have the two of you fly out here for my graduation next month. We can celebrate with a two-week vacation. How does that sound?”
Dan shrugged, even though he knew his father couldn’t see him. “Good, I guess. I just miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Danny,” Tim told him. “I miss you and your mother more than I can say. When I’m struggling to get through something here, I think of you two, and you’re what keeps me moving forward. I have Christmas Day off. I’ll call, and listen while you open your gifts, okay.”
“Yes, Da,” Dan said, trying to sound enthusiastic. Even at his young age, he understood, on some level, that what his father was doing was for the betterment of the family. “Can I pull a ring off my Christmas chain now?”
“Perfect time,” Tim said. “Is Mum there?”
“Yeah.”
“Ask her to put the telephone on speaker. That way we can do it together.”
“Okay.” Dan relayed his father’s message. In a moment, Tim’s voice filled the room.
“What color is tonight’s ring?” he asked.
“White,” Dan told him. “Tomorrow’s is green, then red, then white, then red again because I messed up the pattern. Then, the last one is gold, and that means it’s Christmas Eve.”
“So how many days is that?”
Dan rolled his eyes. He knew his father could count. Saraid mouthed, “Behave”, and he dutifully counted, “One, two, three, four and then the gold one. Five left.”
“When I call on Christmas Eve,” Tim told them, “You can pull the last ring. Then you can open one gift and let me know what it is.”
“It’s pajamas,” Dan said knowingly. “It’s always pajamas.”
“Well, you never know. Maybe Santa will surprise you.”
“Da,” Dan explained, “Santa comes after I go to bed on Christmas Eve. Besides, I haven’t even seen him yet. Mum and I are going after church on Sunday.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Tim joked. “I always forget what comes first; Santa or the pajamas.” His joke made Dan chortle. “Goodnight, my son. I love you very much, but I want to talk to mum, too.”
“Okay, Da,” Dan said, pulling a face again. “I love you and miss you. Here’s Mum. I’m going up to my room ‘cause I don’t want to hear no mushy stuff.”
He heard his parents laughing as he raced up the stairs.
Christmas Eve
Midnight Mass was over. As Saraid drove them home from St. Carlos, Dan asked, “Mum? Why do they call it midnight Mass when it was at nine?”
She laughed, a clear, happy sound that warmed his insides. “Tradition, Danny-me-lad. Tradition. When I was growing up, we did have mass at midnight. The idea is to celebrate Christmastide, and the vigil of Jesus’ birth. The old gives way to the new. From Advent into Christmastide.” She pulled into the garage of their house. “The Mass is still the same joyful celebration, but now we do it earlier so people can be safely home well before Christmas begins. But we still call it the midnight Mass. Because of tradition.”
“Oh.” Dan covered a yawn with his hand. “I’m glad we’re home before midnight. Now we can call Da and I can open my paja…present.”
“Also, tradition,” Saraid said. She closed the garage door and they entered into the kitchen through the mud room.
Dan took off his shoes and hung up his jacket in the mud room. The scents of warm soda bread and sugar cookies tickled his senses and made his mouth water. “Mum?” he called out, “Can I have a snack?”
“You may,” she called back, “but why don’t we call your father first? Then, after you’ve opened your present, we’ll have a snack and get ready for bed.”
“One cookie?” he wheedled.
“Fine,” she said with a chuckle, “One cookie. Why don’t I prepare Santa’s plate while you eat?” She moved toward the kitchen sink.
“Don’t forget the carrots for the reindeer,” Dan said, reaching for the covered plate of cookies.
“Hands!” Saraid reminded him.
“Oops. Sorry, Mum.” Dan ran to the sink and quickly washed his hands, drying them on the tea towel hanging from the oven door.
He secured a cookie, star shaped and sprinkled with silver candy glitter. He bit into it as his mother carried their Santa offering into the living room; the sensations rushed his tongue: Crispy, sweet crunch, followed by soft, buttery vanilla sweetness. A shriek and a crash brought him to his feet. “Mum?” he called out, worried. “Mum? Are you okay?”
He thought he heard his mother crying. Fear coursed through his small body. He set his cookie on the table and looked around for a weapon. All he could reach was a metal spatula. He picked it up in his hand, wielding it like a club, and prepared to defend his mother.
Slowly, he crept through the doorway, eyes searching warily for danger. At first, all he saw was the multi-colored twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. His eyes spied the plate of cookies and carrots upside down on the floor, and then the horrible sight of his mother in the arms of an intruder. Mustering his courage, Dan clenched his makeshift weapon, stood tall and shouted, “Let go of my mum!!”
A familiar, slightly amused voice said, “Stand down, soldier. I’m friendly.”
“Da?” The spatula fell from his hand as he stared in disbelief. Sure enough, his mother stepped back to reveal his father standing in the ever-changing light of the tree. “Da!” he yelled, throwing himself at the man. As strong arms surrounded him, he said, “I thought you couldn’t come home.”
“So did I, son,” Tim said, holding him tight. “But I was so miserable without you and your mother that I found a way. It took two days, three different cargo flights, a tank convoy and a taxicab, but I’m here and I don’t have to go back for three whole days.”
Dan was filled with happiness. He wrapped his arms around Da’s neck and held on tight. “We were going to call you and then open a present and eat soda bread and tea,” he gushed. “This is so much better!”
“I agree son. I agree.” Mum moved in again, and they stood in a hugging huddle, bathed in the warmth of love and the lights of Christmas.
Present
The usually hard angles of Dan’s face were softened by the memory, his dark eyes a little damp with emotion. Five other pairs of eyes moistened as he finished his story.
“We stood like that for a long time. Finally, we got around to opening my Christmas Eve present. It was pajamas, of course.” He chuckled. “Blue, with baseballs and bats. We had soda bread and tea and cookies and talked and talked. It was way past midnight when we finally went to bed.” He sighed. “We only had four more Christmases together, and that one was definitely the best.”
The room was silent, each Bob White lost in his or her own thoughts until the sound of the doorknob turning brought them all back to the present.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Brian called out as he entered the apartment, bag in hand. “Merry Christmas Eve!”
“Brian! You made it,” Honey exclaimed as they all rushed to hug their previously missing member.
“Just in time for dessert,” Mart told him, “although we did save you some of Di’s potato soup.”
“You look cold,” Dan said. “Do you want Irish coffee or Irish hot chocolate? We have both.”
“The hot chocolate, please,” Brian said. “Followed by potato soup, pumpkin bread, some of the tablet I know my sister made, and then some sleep in a real bed.” He shrugged out of his backpack and then his coat. “I left the snowshoes with Darvish, Jim. They needed to dry out a bit.” Trixie took his coat and hung it in the closet. Mart moved to pick up the plastic bag, but Brian stopped him. “I’ll get that, Mart. They’re temporary presents I need to wrap.”
“Temporary?” Dan raised an eyebrow as he shoved a cup of heavily laced hot chocolate into Brian’s hand.
The good doctor blushed. “Well, you see, I bought everything online this year. I had everything except Moms and Dad’s gift shipped to Crabapple Farm and Moms wrapped them for me.”
“So, they’re there, and we’re here.” Trixie gave her oldest brother a gentle nudge toward the living room. “Di and Honey went to make you a tray. We were going to have dessert as soon as Dan finished his story. We can all eat together, and you can fill us in on the storm.”
“I think the storm has finally stopped,” he told them as he allowed himself to be led away. “It wasn’t snowing at all on my trudge home, and I could see a few stars. Whoa!” Brian stopped in the doorway. “Wow!” he exclaimed softly, “you’ve been busy.” He allowed himself to be walked to a chair as his eyes took in the decorated room. “Wow!”
“It looks good, doesn’t it?” Honey asked, placing a tray of desserts on the table as Diana put a tray of food in Brian’s hands. “Dan and Jim made the tree, and the rest of us did the other decorations.”
“It’s beautiful,” Brian said honestly. “Absolutely beautiful.” He took a bite of soup and sighed happily. “So, did Dan finish his story?”
“He did,” Dan answered with a grin, “as did all the rest of the Bob Whites, save you, Dr. Brian. So, tell us, what Christmas memory is your favorite? “
Brian looked around the gaily decorated room, at the faces of his closest friends and family, and out the window at the clearing sky. “This one,” he said. “Definitely, this one.”
Author’s Notes:
I haven’t written very much for a while. Some things happened that shook my confidence and really made it a struggle. But then, I had the opportunity to write a story for Marnie. Marnie is one of my favorite people, so I reached deep and made myself write, one word at a time.
14,400+ words.
Thank you, Marnie, for giving me the motivation I needed. I hope you like the rather long story you inspired.
Additional thanks go to MaryN (Dianafan) for both the last-minute edit, and the beautiful graphics she made for me. I also owe her for the title. The working title was War Stories, and that just didn’t fit. Thank you, MaryN!
Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this trip down Memory Lane with the Bob Whites of the Glen. I wish you all a blessed holiday season.