Un Regalo Sin Precio/A Priceless Gift (Trixie)

The winter sunshine filtered through the cracks of the ancient balcony door. Trixie threw her arm over her face and tried to ignore the fact that it was already morning. She groaned in remembrance of the noise and excitement of the night before. The experience had caused flashbacks to her first visit to Spain several years before. Last night’s "celebration" had rivaled that of the fallas of Valencia.

But it wasn’t mid-March, it was early January; and it wasn’t Valencia, it was Cartagena – several hundred kilometers to the south; and it wasn’t fallas; it was the fiesta de los Reyes Magos. And she wasn’t there on vacation with her brothers and friends, she was alone.

Shaking her head roughly to rid herself of memories, Trixie sat up. With a resigned sigh, she swung her feet over the side of the bed, wincing as her left foot missed its slipper and made contact with the icy tile. ‘I could make my fortune by introducing wall-to-wall carpeting to the Spaniards,’ she thought as she fished around under the edge of the bed to encounter the errant slipper.

After her morning bathroom ritual, she shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen. Eyes still heavy with sleep, she lit the flame on the one working burner of her stove. In a few automatic motions she had a saucepan placed on the burner and milk poured from a new box, just enough to fill a Nocilla glass, was heating. A jar of mermelada de fresa, a packet of Marias integrales, and a container of pineapple yogurt were placed on the table to finish off the meal.

As she waited for her milk to heat, Trixie turned on the radio. Good, it was an old Amistades Peligrosas song. If she heard Peces en el río or Campanas de Belén one more time, she’d throw the silly box out the window. Her joy was short-lived however as Me quedaré solo fade out into Peces en el río. "La Virgen se está peinando, entre cortina y cortina…" A month ago she’d been intrigued by the song. Now she didn’t see how fish swimming in a river and Mary combing her hair had much to do with Christmas.

Out loud, she muttered, "I don’t care if today is the ‘Twelfth Day of Christmas’. It’s January and the holiday is over!" The feelings of aloneness and sadness that had been haunting her for the last month quickly swept over her again. She hadn’t thought that it would be so difficult to be away from her family for the holidays – she’d been away from home for Christmas before. In times past, however, she’d always had her older brothers around along with the rest of the Bob-Whites. This was the first time that she had been totally alone.

Carefully she spooned Cola Cao into her glass and added a small amount of milk.  The chocolate powder and warm milk combined into a thick mixture and she quickly added the rest of the milk, stirring rapidly. Her thoughts continued to focus on being alone and how much harder it was than she had originally thought that it would be. Sitting down heavily at the rickety table, she began to talk to herself, a habit that had become a lifeline lately.

"It’s not like Christmas in Spain is much like those at home," she mused. "There’s no snow, no firs trees, not even any rain. On Christmas I wore a T-shirt and walked under palm trees!" The twenty-fifth of December had been a beautifully clear day. The weather had turned cooler in the past week and a half, but it was still incomparable to New York State winter weather. The palm trees weren’t much like a nice evergreen covered in lights. That was something else that Trixie missed – the decorations she had grown up with. Everywhere she went she saw a Belén, a nativity scene, instead of the familiar sights of decorated Christmas trees, Santas and reindeer. Some were quite simple and plain and others, like what filled the plaza, were so intricate that they included dishes and food on all the tables in all the homes in all of Bethlehem. These were the families’ main focus. Santa Claus, or Papa Noel, as he was called, was an afterthought. The actual Christmas day was really just a day when everyone went to Mass and then had a big family dinner. Very few gifts were exchanged. The kids all waited anxiously for the Reyes Magos, the Three Kings, to arrive on January sixth and bring them gifts. That was today. And that’s what Tony wanted her to do with him today – to go take gifts to some house somewhere. He had caught her in a weak moment the night before at the parade and she had volunteered to help him and some of his friends with delivering gifts.

Wearily Trixie looked at her glass and realized that throughout her whole reverie she had continued to stir her hot chocolate after every drink and was now stirring an empty glass. With another deep sigh, she shoved her breakfast things to the center of the table and rested he head on the cool Formica surface. She was so tired! Why had she agreed to go with Tony today? Last night when he’d dragged her to la cabalgata and explained Reyes to her, he had convinced her to help him. Caught up in the excitement of Melchor, Gaspar, and Baltasar and their arrival by boat to the Port of Cartagena and the succeeding procession up the calle Mayor to the Plaza de España, Trixie had agreed to go with him to some casa and distribute gifts. She had also thought that it might add something extra to the article she was assigned to write recounting an American’s thoughts on Spanish holiday celebrations. However, when she had arrived home last night and emptied the caramelos from her pockets and combed all the confetti from her sandy curls, she regretted her decision. Being with Tony didn’t help her with the decisions she was trying to make about her life.

By the time she had dressed in navy jeans and a cream sweater flecked with navy that her mother had knit and sent her for Christmas, Trixie had made up her mind that she’d tell Tony she was not going to accompany him for the morning.

Seconds later the timbre sounded. As she lifted the receiver, Tony’s deep voice filled with excitement for the day asked, "¿Estás lista, guapa?"

In spite of herself, Trixie smiled. Why he called her guapa, she still couldn’t figure out… but then her boss called her corazón all the time and it didn’t mean anything. Just like ‘love’ in England.

"Casi – um, Tony, I don’t think…"

Tony broke in, sensing Trixie’s change of mind, "Just buzz me up, Trix."

Reluctantly, Trixie pushed the button to open the door four floors below.

As Tony slowly climbed the stairs, his thoughts focused, as they did far too often lately, on the blonde American woman above. Several years before, when he had met Trixie for the first time in Valencia, he’d been drawn to her. He’d admit it now, her sparkling blue eyes and golden curls had been what first caught his eye, but it was her sense of adventure that had hooked him. It was no secret that he loved her. It was obvious to the whole world. He knew that deep down Trixie knew how much she meant to him, but she chose to ignore it. He was patient. That was one thing that he had learned in his years with Interpol – sometimes you just had to wait before you made your big move. He would wait for Trixie as long as it would take.  In the six months that Trixie had been in Spain, he had watched her carefully. He knew what she had left behind, knew what had caused her to leave her family and friends. He’d been waiting for years for her to return to Spain, and to his life, in a more solid form than e-mails and postcards. Living on your own in a foreign country, no matter how much you loved it, was difficult. Attending school in a foreign language was even more of a challenge. And to top it all off – working in such conditions was enough to make anyone stress. Luckily, Trixie had a pretty good handle on Spanish. She wasn’t speaking like a native yet, but that would soon come. That was one less worry for her. She enjoyed her work and classes, which was an even greater benefit.

During the past several weeks – since puente – Tony had watched Trixie become more and more withdrawn. Whether she would willingly admit it to herself or not, she was homesick. Homesickness was always worse during the holidays. Tony had been racking his brains trying to decide what to give her for Reyes for a couple of months. For Christmas, he’d taken her to his parents’ home in Valencia. He’d hoped that dinner in a family setting would cheer her up. Unfortunately, it was the first time he’d been home to see his parents since he’d "abandoned the family" as his mother put it when he changed religions, so it had been a stiff, formal visit, even with Trixie there. He wanted to make Reyes more fun and memorable for Trixie and yet in some way help her. Last night had been the fun part and Trixie had finally allowed herself to enjoy herself. Today was the memorable part and the gift.

The door was open when he reached it. He entered and followed the hall down to Trixie’s room. The balcony doors were open and a crisp breeze blew through the room, ruffling papers and curtains. Trixie was leaning against the balcony wall, looking at the street below. There was a tiny park across the street and she seemed to be watching some kids play an impromptu soccer game.

"Tony, I’m not going."

Sitting down on the edge of her bed he replied, "Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"What, no excuses, no explanations? Just ‘no’?"

Still staring at the street below, Trixie nodded.

"Unfortunately, you don’t have the option of saying no. You’re going whether you want to or not."

Finally, Trixie turned around. Glaring at him she retorted, "No option? I don’t think so. And for your information, I do have an explanation – I need to work on my article."

With an annoying grin, Tony continued, "Not an option. You’re committed to helping us today. I know very well that your article is not due until Saturday – which gives you three days. You already have most of it completed. Also, you have to come with me because your gift is at the casa de la cuna."

Suddenly Trixie didn’t feel like arguing anymore. This was probably the fastest battle Tony had ever won with her. She just didn’t have the energy to go on. "Fine. I'll go. I suppose if I don’t go you’ll arrest me and bring me anyway."

Trying not to appear too surprised at her easy surrender or gloat too openly at winning, Tony just stood up and said, "You’re right and I don’t want to scare the kids by bringing in someone in handcuffs."

On the short drive through town, Tony explained to Trixie that they were going to an orphanage, one that specialized in infants and toddlers, hence the name casa de la cuna, or cradle house. Some of the kids were there temporarily, some were awaiting adoption papers to become complete and some were handicapped and may never be placed with a family. The casa, as was the case with most other orphanages and rest homes and such places in the country, were sponsored by the Catholic Church and run by nuns. However for the last several years, they had permitted a group of local Latter-day Saints to gather and bring in gifts for Reyes. This was how Tony was involved – through his membership in the Mormon Church.

"Here we are," he said at last as they pulled in front of a low building with a small garden and playground in front, "It looks like everyone else is here. We’ll just unload the gifts from the back of my car and then follow everyone else inside." He turned to look at Trixie. He hoped this worked. "You should find your gift inside."

With a half smile, she replied, "Should? Is Gaspar going to hand it to me?"

"Not exactly. I think you’ll know when you find it."

Half an hour later, Tony watched Trixie from across the large playroom. He hoped this worked. As he had tried to think of a gift for Trixie that would help her not be homesick, he had remembered something that one of the missionaries had told him. She had told Tony that what got her through times of homesickness was getting out and helping others, especially those who had less than she did. She would usually get so caught up in helping others that pretty soon she would forget her own feelings and once again enjoy life. Keeping his eyes on Trixie’s face, Tony was pretty sure that he had been successful. She was stretched out full length on the floor with a little boy that had no legs. Together they were watching a little train set zoom around on plastic tracks. As it went by them, a bell would ring. Every time the bell rang, the delighted laughter of the small boy would bubble over. Eventually, Tony heard Trixie’s laughter join in. The sadness had left her eyes and her natural smile was back.

Feeling like someone was watching her; Trixie looked up from the train and little Salvador. Tony was staring at her. Trixie suddenly understood what he had given her. He had given her a way out of her gloom and homesickness. How could she have forgotten what a priceless gift it was to help others. Wasn’t that what the Bob-Whites’ purpose had been - to help those less fortunate?

Salvador’s laughter burst forth once more as the little train rang its bell. Trixie grinned happily at Tony, and mouthed, "Gracias, muchas gracias."

Tony smiled back. She’d found her gift.

El fin

**Written for my first Holiday GWP at Zap's - I wrote on it submitted 1-1-00. I was a little late for Christmas since I got married 12/18/99. But the story was an after Christmas story anyway.  Takes place about 6 years after my epic Spanish Mystery story. I used some of my memories (that I've forgotten and this refreshed my memory reading it again) from the Reyes I spent in Cartagena in January 1996 shortly before I came home from my mission.

*Latter-day Saints refer to members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints –more commonly known as the Mormon Church

*Salvador means Savior

O Christmas Tree (Jim)

"Are you ready to go get our tree, Son?" Win Frayne smiled down at his 8 year old boy.
With a matching grin, Jim agreed, "You bet, Dad. Do I get to help cut it down this year?"
Before his Dad could answer, Jim’s mom called in from the kitchen, "You men had better get going before the snow gets any heavier. I’ll have hot chocolate and poffertjes waiting for you when you get back."
Jim struggled into his boots and heavy winter coat as fast as he could. Every year for as long as he could remember, he and his dad had gone out and cut their Christmas tree. Some years were sunny with little or no snow on the ground and others were like this year, snowy and cold. And always, his mom was waiting with hot chocolate and the powdered sugar covered pancakes that she called poffertjes. Jim was glad that they didn’t have too far to go in the snow. On the other side of the barn and stable, past the pasture, were several wooded acres that they owned. During the past month or two, whenever he had free time from homework and chores, he’d been looking back there for the perfect tree. Two weeks ago he’d found it. It was the perfect size for their family room. He just hoped that this big snowstorm hadn’t caused it any damage.
"Jimmy, come on!" Win called from the back porch.
Pulling his gloves on as he hurried down the hall he called back, "I’m coming, Dad!" Reaching the porch and closing the back door behind him, he continued, "Dad, please, not Jimmy! That’s a little boy name. I’m not a little boy anymore."
Win looked down at the serious expression on his son’s face, "You’re right, Jim, you’re not a little boy anymore. That’ll be my New Year’s resolution – to stop calling you Jimmy."
Grinning, Jim raced awkwardly across the snow covered yard to the stable and barn. The ax and hand saw that were their tree cutting tools were inside. 
Win waited patiently for Jim to return. He knew that as excited as his boy was, he’d be several minutes as he’d stop to say good-morning to their three horses before he went into the connected barn to collect their tools.

"Jim, did you get lost?" Win hollered almost ten minutes later.
"Sorry, Dad," Jim answered, emerging from the barn, "I was just checking on Mom’s Christmas present."
"Oh, how’s it coming?"
"It looks good. The bud is huge. It should just be opening on Christmas Eve." Jim was excited to give his mom her Christmas present. He’d done extra chores to earn enough money to buy an amaryllis bulb, which he’d carefully planted and cared for. His mother loved flowers and had lots of plants both inside and outside of their home. Last Christmas he’d overheard his mom telling a friend how she’d love to have an amaryllis at Christmastime, just like her mother had always had. He’d decided then that her Christmas present for the next year would be that special flower.
"You know, son," Win said as they trudged through the foot and a half of snow in the pasture, "I look forward to this every year."
"What, Dad? Getting the tree?"
"Yes. This is the ninth time that we’ve done this."
"Ninth? But I’m only 8!" Jim was slightly confused.
"True, but the first time you helped you were only five months old. Your Grandpa Frayne carried you out here all bundled up and we picked out the tree and I cut it down. The next year, Uncle James and Aunt Nell came up for the holidays and he went with us to find the tree. The next year and the years following it’s just been us."
Jim thought about it for a moment and asked, "So, it’s a tradition? We talked about those at school. I didn’t think we had any."
Win’s booming laughter echoed among the trees. "Oh, Son, we’ve got so many traditions! This is just one."
"How come Mom doesn’t come with us?"
"Well, that’s part of the tradition. The men of the family go and get the tree while the women get the decorations ready and, of course, get the hot chocolate and cookies – or thanks to a tradition of your mom’s family – the poffertjes."
"And then Mom takes a picture."
"Yep, that’s how it works. That’s how it was when I was your age, too."
"Then that’s how it will be with my family," Jim stated firmly.
Suppressing a grin, Win asked, "So, Son, which tree is it this year?" I’m sure you’ve been out here looking for the best one."
"It’s this way," and Jim led his father directly to the "perfect" tree. The snow had caused a few branches to break, but for the most part it still looked beautiful.
"Good choice, Son, let’s take ‘er home!"
Half an hour later they stood outside the back door and sang O Christmas Tree as loudly as they could. That was the cue for Mom to come out and take a picture.
Katje hurried to the door and looked out, "Boys, it’s beautiful!" Then, forgetting her coat in her excitement, she came out with the camera.
"One, two, three, smile!" she cried and snapped the picture. Grabbing it from the front of the camera, she called, "It’ll be ready to look at as soon as you two get out of your wet clothes and come have some hot chocolate."

Later that evening, stretched out in front of the tree, Jim turned the pages of a worn photo album. The twinkling lights of the tree played over his freckled face and those in the faded pictures. He saw his dad as a boy, even younger than himself holding up the tree with the grandfather he knew only through pictures. The color pictures began with the first year that he went with his dad to get the tree – clearly showing not only the facial features that had been passed down from father to son to grandson, but also the vibrant red hair. ‘Yep,’ Jim decided, ‘I’ll take my son to get the tree every year, too, just like we did today.’

*  *  *

"Are you sure he’s bundled up enough," Trixie fretted, fussing over her small son in his father’s arms.
"He’s fine, dear," Helen Belden said with a knowing smile as she handed her husband his warm gloves, "and they’re not going to be gone for very long."
"Don’t worry, Trix, he’s fine," Jim kissed his wife’s frowning lips. "It’s a nice day, not even snowing." A sad smile crossed his face as Jim remembered the last time he’d gone with his own father to get the Christmas tree - it had been snowing pretty hard that day. He’d been eight and that had been when he decided that he’d carry on this family tradition with his own son some day, not realizing the many challenges and changes that would come to his own life before that time came.
"Ready to go, Son," Matt Wheeler asked, clapping his adopted son on the shoulder.
"You bet, Dad," Jim replied, handing him the small bundle he’d been holding. "Could you carry Win, please?"
Slight hesitation appeared in Matt’s eyes as he held his grandson. Only Madeleine knew that Win was the first baby he’d ever held. The baby was now four months old and he was still a little afraid to hold him.
"No problem, Son," Matt said as Win opened his eyes and smiled at his grandfather. There was no doubt this boy was a Frayne - the green eyes and red hair assured that. Thinking of the boy’s real grandfather and his old school friend, Matt sent a thought heavenward,’Win, I’m doing my best to do what you would’ve done. We’ve got a great man and the beginning of another one now.’
"Come on, Grandpa, let’s go find the perfect tree," Peter Belden said, caressing his grandson’s cheek with one finger as he patted his friend on the shoulder with his other hand.
As the men left the kitchen, Maddie called, "We’ll have hot chocolate and cookies waiting when you get back." She turned back to her daughter-in-law and Helen who were seated with her at the kitchen table, "Let’s look at that album some more, Trixie. What a treasure it is."
The three women studied the pictures in the worn and tattered photo album as they awaited the return of the tree hunters.
"This was the last time Jim went with his dad," Trixie said softly, pointing to the Polaroid on the last filled page. "The next year he went alone because his dad was too sick to go." She wiped away a single tear and continued, "He went alone again for a couple more years until his mom remarried."

"O Christmas tree,
O Christmas tree,
How lovely are thy branches"

"That’s my cue," Trixie cried, jumping up. "Darn, I don’t have the cookies out or the chocolate made!"
"Go take the picture, dear, Maddie and I will take care of the rest," Helen said. She hurried to the stove and turned the heat up on the milk as Maddie grabbed a plate from the cupboard and piled on the molasses cookies that Trixie had made earlier.
Trixie grabbed her digital camera from where it sat next to the beautiful amaryllis her mother-in-law had given her.
Forgetting her coat, she hurried out the back door, "Boys, its beautiful!" Looking at four of the men she loved most in the world she sang out, "One, two, three, smile!"

 The End

**Originally posted on zap's trixie page January 2004. 

**I’ve never had poffertjes, but I found them on a Dutch food website and they sounded good and like a special treat that Jim’s mom might have made.
**And yes, it may seem out of character for Madeleine (Maddie) Wheeler to put cookies on a plate or sit in a kitchen, but I see her having mellowed through the years and with Trixie and Jim not have the formal home that she’s accustomed to (i.e. no servants) being used to doing small things like this in the kitchen. And she probably enjoys it!

**when I wrote this I knew how Jim had ended up with that album, but now I can’t remember so I guess I’ll have to figure it out again. 

Homeless - revised (Dan)

So this is a story I wrote almost 18 years ago.  It was written for the GWP #3 on Zap's page. I don't remember all the requirements - besides a holiday between November and January and a holiday song. I wrote about Dan. I've had an epilogue to this story in my mind for a long time and hope to get it written soon. I repost this now because the current story I'm working on takes place well in Dan's future, yet also takes place prior to this one.

Homeless

            Dan pulled the collar of his black leather jacket more closely around his neck to block the bitter December wind. Unfortunately, it didn’t help much. What he wouldn’t give a warm room to stay in - just for the night. Unbidden his thoughts turned to the tiny, yet homey, apartment he had shared with his mother until five months ago.

            "Mangan, what ya’ up to?"

            Dan jerked around to face Luke. "Nothin’," he muttered, hoping that his tears could be attributed to the wind and cold.

            Fortunately, the older boy’s thoughts were not on his protégé’s appearance, but on his willingness to do a job. "Got something for you to do, Danny Boy. Something real Christmassy."

***

            Dan knew from the tone of Luke’s voice that this would not be something good. Sometimes he wondered why on earth he had gotten mixed up with Luke and the Cowhands. His mother would shoot him if she knew the way he had been living for the last few months. She had raised him so much better. That’s what made gang life even worse, knowing that his mother would be so disappointed in him.

            They had never lived in a nice part of New York City, but she had always managed to keep him from straying too far. He had known Luke for years, but not until his mother’s death had he learned that Luke was involved in a gang. Of course, he had suspected it for a while, but had always hoped that his suspicions were unfounded.

            He could still remember the day when Luke had first approached him. It had been a stifling hot August day. He had just finished packing all his earthly possessions and moved them into a neighbor’s spare room. Little old Mrs. Michaels had promised to keep an eye on his things until he was settled with his uncle. At not quite fifteen, he couldn’t afford to pay the rent on his old apartment. Heck, at not quite fifteen he couldn’t afford much. So armed with a change of clothing, two old pictures and a stranger’s name, he set off to find a home. One of the pictures was of his parents and himself when he was just a few of years old. He couldn’t remember his father very well. A drunk driver had run him down one afternoon as he walked home from work. His mother had been both mother and father to him, until she too had passed on. The other picture was a faded old picture of his mother, while in her teens, and a young boy - her brother.

            She had often told him about her little brother Billy. Unfortunately, they had lost touch over the years. He had been about ten years younger than she, and when she left the orphanage to get married, they hadn’t allowed her to take Billy. Then, with so many kids in the system, young Billy had slipped through the cracks. Dan’s parents had tried to get custody of Billy a year later, once they had a home and employment. They'd been told that he had been sent to another orphanage. For a time they had tried to track him down, only to find that he had run away from his last placement. As far as Dan knew, Bill Regan was his only living relative. His mother had urged him to try to find the man so that he wouldn’t be alone in the world. She hadn’t wanted her son to end up in foster care or an orphanage as they had been - nor had she wanted him mixed up in a gang.

***

            That last thought brought Dan back to where he was. Luke was just finishing giving him directions of some kind. "Did you get all that, Mangan?"

            "Um, it’s kinda’ hard to hear you with this wind and all the traffic, could you run it by me again?" Dan hoped his excuse wouldn’t rile up his friend.

            Rolling his eyes, Luke pulled Dan by the arm until a decrepit building sheltered them a bit. "Listen close this time, okay. We’re going to go Christmas shopping. Only we won’t need money this year."

            Luke grinned as he watched Dan sort this out in his mind. He knew the kid would figure it out - he was a smart one. He’d wanted Mangan in the gang for years. When he’d heard that the kid was on his own, he could hardly wait to get to him. True, it’d been sad about his mother. She’d been a nice lady. If his own mom had been a little more like her, he might not be running the Cowhands now.

            Brushing the thought aside, Luke continued, "That little pawnshop a couple blocks over has some mighty nice things in the windows - and throughout the store. But it’s looking kinda’ cluttered, so I think we should help them out."

            Dan knew exactly what Luke meant. He’d helped "unclutter" places before. Oh well, it wasn’t as if he had anywhere special to go tonight. He caught Luke’s last sentence.

            "The plan is to "visit" right around six tonight."

            "What! The pawnshop doesn’t even close until nine - why so early?" Dan spluttered.

            "It’s time for you to try something a little riskier, my friend," Luke replied grinning. He’d babied Dan a lot longer than he’d allowed for any other new member. He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him. Oh, he knew that Dan would never rat on them, but he didn’t want to tempt fate.

            Dan swallowed hard. He’d known that the day would come when they’d make him take part in a hold up, but right before Christmas! This was stupid and risky, he knew, but he also didn’t want to take to the lonely streets again.

            ‘I’m sorry, Mom, please forgive me,’ his heart pleaded as his mouth said, "Okay, what do I have to do."

            ***

            Dan dodged down an alley, breathing hard. He thought he had lost the cop who had been following him, but he wasn’t sure. He hated the cowboy boots that were part of the gang dress code. They were such a pain in the behind when you had to run. He’d slipped on a patch of ice, and almost been overtaken, but managed to blend into the crowd quickly after rising.

            He hoped that Luke and the others had gotten away, too. When the cops had burst out of the back room of the pawnshop, Dan had seen the blood drain from Luke’s face and all the bravado was gone. He looked like the scared kid he really was. Dan had been next to him, and closest to the door. Luke had thrust a bag into his arms, hissed, "Run!", and shoved him through the door. Obediently, Dan had begun to run. He had no idea where he was heading. Then a cop had spotted him. Dan didn’t know if the officer knew what he had done, or if he just looked guilty, but he didn’t want to hang around and find out.

            After leaning against the cold concrete building wall for several minutes, Dan decided to venture out into the street again, and hope the police officer was gone. Cautiously, he peered around the corner and saw only chilled, busy New Yorkers hustling by on their way home from work. With a sigh of relief, he came out, joined them, and headed in the direction of the main flow of pedestrian traffic.

            Looking at the nearest street sign, Dan realized that he was back near his old neighborhood. The thought made him sad and strangely embarrassed. He didn’t want his old neighbors to see him wearing the black jacket of the Cowhands. He didn’t want to reflect badly on their memory of his mother. ‘If you didn’t want to make your mom’s memory look bad, stupid, you’d never have put on the jacket,’ a voice whispered in his head. He mumbled back to himself, "If I’d never put on this jacket, I’d be starving or worse by now."

            He wandered through the streets a bit more, remembering back to the late summer days when his life had changed so drastically. On the day that he had left his home, Luke had come up to him. He’d muttered something about being sorry to hear that his mom had died, and all the usual things kids say to each other at awkward moments. Dan had mumbled some sort of response. Then Luke had invited him to hang out with some of his friends for the afternoon. Dan agreed, knowing that the neighbors all thought he was going to live with his uncle - he’d stretched the truth a bit when asked. He figured that eventually he’d find the guy. By that night, he knew that Luke’s "friends" were actually his gang. Dan had promised his mom that he’d never get involved in a gang. The pain of losing her was still so fresh, that he had declined the offer to stay with them and had walked through the streets.

            That’s what he had done for the rest of August and most of September - walked the streets of New York City. He’d never been so alone before. At first, it was kind of neat - sleeping in parks and getting his own food whenever he felt like eating. However, after a week or so, he was out of money. Occasionally, he would earn some change by helping someone carry their groceries, or something like that, but it wasn’t much. He managed to avoid both the police and Luke’s gang as he moved from neighborhood to neighborhood.

            Then the cold spell had hit in late September. He had no coat, no blankets, nothing to keep him warm. The little food that he was able to get each day wasn’t enough to keep him going through the cold fall and winter. He’d had no luck searching for his uncle. There were Regans listed in the phone books, but none of them knew of a Bill Regan who that had grown up in orphanages and would now be around twenty-two years old. None of them had known Alison Regan who had married Tim Mangan either. Dan didn’t know where else to turn, so he began to try to find Luke.

            When he wanted to find Luke, of course he couldn’t. In the end, it had been Luke who had stumbled upon him. Luke almost tripped over his shivering body on the doorstep of an out-of-business deli during a late night rainstorm. He had offered to Dan something to eat, and he had eagerly accepted the offer. Then, when Luke had offered him a place to stay, Dan had shoved the memory of his mother to the back of his mind and followed him. He had tried being homeless, and now it was time for a home. Sadly, he came to realize that a gang hideout wasn’t exactly a home. He came to learn that the Cowhands didn’t have a real place to stay. They moved from one condemned building to the next, always trying to stay one-step ahead of the police and rival gangs. The shaky walls and cracked roofs kept some of the elements out, but they were never warm. Luke had acquired a black leather jacket and cowboy boots for Dan somehow, so he was at least better equipped for the winter, but he still couldn’t remember the last time he had truly felt warm.

***

            The sound of rushing footsteps brought Dan back to the present quickly. He couldn’t see anyone behind him in the dark, but decided that he needed to get off the streets. He noticed a lit building up ahead. He thought he could hear music coming from there as well. He picked up his pace so that he could escape the footsteps. As he entered the building he caught sight of the words "Visitor’s Welcome" on the outside wall.

            Oh, the warmth! He hadn’t felt this much warm air in ages. He noticed that he was in some kind of lobby. A poster on an easel announced that the musical The Forgotten Carols would be performed on December 23. With a shock, Dan realized that today was the 23^rd of December. Not only was it two days before Christmas, but it was also his fifteenth birthday.

            Shaking that thought from his mind, he followed the sounds of music and laughter down a hallway. Along the hall were many beautiful paintings. He noted that they were all of a religious nature. ‘I must be in some kind of a church,’ he thought ‘but I didn’t see any cross out front. Are there churches without crosses?’ The inane thought remained in his mind as he reached an open double door. Inside were rows of chairs set up facing the stage. On the stage were an old man and a woman dressed in a nurses uniform. Seeing people’s attention focused on the stage, Dan leaned against the doorjamb and let himself relax for a minute. To his left he saw a table covered with punch bowls and plates upon plates of Christmas cookie. He stomach rumbled. He’d forgotten how hungry he was. The last thing he’d had to eat had been some roasted chestnuts he’d bought from a vendor around noontime. He and his mom had always eaten roasted chestnuts at Christmas time - it was a tradition. That’s probably what had triggered all these nostalgic memories for him today.

            So intent on eyeing the food on the table, Dan wasn’t aware of the scene change on stage until he suddenly heard humming. Turning his head, he saw that the stage was now set as a dark street. A cardboard cutout of an ambulance was leaning against the back wall. There was a glowing barrel with a group of shabbily dressed people huddled around it to the right. The nurse person was speaking to another actor, but Dan didn’t hear her. He was intently watching the actors portraying homeless people. As nurse began to walk around the stage, seemingly to watch the people at the barrel, they began to sing.

Homeless, homeless
Like the Christ Child was...we are
Homeless, homeless
but there is hope because
He came down to earth to lead us,
He vowed he’d never leave us,
Homeless, homeless
For in His love there is a home

            Dan’s mouth hung open, he’d never thought about that before. The baby Jesus had been homeless too, at one time. Probably at several times in his life he’d not had the warmest and most comfortable of homes. Dan and his mother hadn’t attended church regularly, but she had tried to instill in her only child some faith and belief. He had pushed those things to the back of his mind with other memories of his mother; trying to avoid even more guilt than he already felt.

Homeless, homeless
He showed it’s how we lived not where

            Now, he hung his head in sorrow. He knew that his mother, though she would never have wanted him to live on the streets, would’ve been happier to see him do that, and be honest, rather than join a gang and be in trouble with the police. ‘Mom, what do I do now?’ he cried silently.

He gave His whole life to lead us
And I know he’ll never leave us homeless
For in His love there’s a home
We are not homeless, homeless
There is a home.

            As the song concluded and the lights dimmed for another scene change, Dan felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Dan turned and saw whom he had expected to see.

            The police officer spoke quietly, not wanting to disrupt the program, "Young man, you need to come with me. You’ve led me on quite a chase."

            Nodding, Dan meekly followed him down the hall.

            Outside a squad car was waiting. As they drove to the police station, the officer asked him some questions. He quickly learned that Dan was an orphan who had been with the Cowhands for just a few short months.

            Easily, Dan told him about himself. When the questions turned to the others involved in the hold up, he had clammed up. He couldn’t bring himself to get the others in trouble, not just yet. From what he had learned from the cop, Luke and the others had gotten away anyway.

            At the police station, Dan had repeated what he had said in the car. He would say nothing about the rest of the gang. The sergeant in charge was getting frustrated. However, as there had been no injuries in the botched hold up and the only thing stolen was the silver vase that Dan had been carrying, he finally decided to send Dan to juvenile hall until a court date could be set.

            Officer Samuels, the one who had caught him in the church, took Dan to juvenile hall. Along the way, he had tried to get more information out of Dan about himself and the gang. Indifferently, Dan had told him about his weeks on the street. Samuels shook his head, "You don’t have any family to take care of you?"

            Dan shrugged, "An uncle somewhere. I couldn’t find him."

            "Where did you look?"

            "The phone book. I called a bunch of them. I only called local ones; I couldn’t afford any long distance calls."

            Samuels nodded, that made sense, in a way. He didn’t know why, but there was something about this kid that made him different from the other gang trash that he picked up daily. "What’s his name?"

            "Bill Regan. My mom said he was named William but preferred Bill. From what mom said, he should be around twenty-two. He has red hair." Dan laughed a little, "My mom seemed to think that he’d end up with a job that involved horses ‘cause he was always crazy about them."

            As he finished this explanation, the car pulled up in front of the hall. After being signed in, Dan sat in a locked room while Samuels spoke with the officer on duty. Dan looked up as the officer opened the door, Samuels was with her. "Hey kid, I’ll see what I can do to find your uncle. Would you like that?"

            The excitement in his eyes betrayed his nonchalant, "Sure, guess it’d be okay."

            "If I find anything I’ll let you know. If we find you a relative, things will be better for you when you go to court. Otherwise they’ll put you back in here or reform school."

            The excitement died in Dan’s eyes as he heard those words. "Okay," he replied, "Thanks."  He then followed the juvenile officer down the hall. Maybe they’d really find his uncle. Family - that would be the best gift he would ever get - birthday or Christmas. However, for now he’d settle for a warm place to sleep.

            An hour later, as he lay in a bunk bed surrounded by other troubled boys, he thought of his mother. ‘I’m so sorry, Mom, really I am. I didn’t want to do any of this, but I didn’t think I had a choice.’

            The tears streamed silently down his face as he thought about all that had gone wrong in the last few months. Drowsily he hoped that his fifteenth year would be better than his fourteenth had been. Maybe he’d find a home again.

For in His love there’s a home
We are not homeless, homeless
There is a home.

The End

Word Count: 3272
6-18-19

1. The song is not a well-known common Christmas song. It is from The Forgotten Carols by Michael McLean. The song is called Homeless. 
2.  I don’t know what would happen to Dan if he got caught like this…but I hope you can suspend reality for a bit. I also don’t know the workings of a juvenile hall, but this worked for me.
3. We don’t have an actual birth date for Dan - this worked for my story…and it’s actually only a few days after what I’d originally decided his birthday was, so this is now his birthday in my universe. Also, to my knowledge, Dan’s mother’s name is never mentioned (interesting isn’t that…she’s Regan’s sister and her name is never mentioned, but his dad’s name is briefly) I figure she’d have red hair like Regan and so named her after one of my best red haired friends J
4. Obviously this takes place before The Black Jacket Mystery. I’m guessing that it would take a little while to track the elusive Mr. Bill Regan down, and then go through all the paper work and court proceedings and work things out with Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Maypenny, etc.

Sorrow, Sweet Sorrow CWE #19

Sorrow, Sweet Sorrow

          Annie Moore's hands trembled as she pulled the large package across the mail counter from Sam Owens. The storekeeper was the White Hole Springs postmaster among other duties in the small town in the Missouri Ozarks. A very bad feeling crept over Annie as she gingerly touched the wrapping. Closing her eyes briefly, she sent up a quick prayer to God that she could handle whatever it contained. She felt certain it had to do with Matthew. He had left five weeks ago to dig ginseng as well as get some fishing and hunting in during Indian summer. There were places nearer to home than where he had headed by Springfield, but those places he saved for winter months. Ginseng harvest was best from September through December so he tried to make the most of it while he could. He'd only planned to be gone for three weeks so he'd be home for Annie's birthday on September 23. Now, the first week of October was behind them and no word from Matthew. Annie had a couple of friends whose husbands would leave for months at a time, then return home for a few weeks and then leave again, usually leaving their wives pregnant. However, her Matthew wasn't like that. He loved her and he adored their daughter.

          Glancing down at her daughter's upturned face and tiny braids, Annie felt the icy finger of fear clutch at her. Unconsciously she tightened her grip on Linnie's hand as her other hovered over her slightly rounded stomach. Only Matthew and Annie, and Minnie Hawkins, knew of Linnie's long awaited sibling. Annie had told Matthew a few days before he'd left, once she was sure. With the loss of two babies before Linnie, and the difficulty of the pregnancy with Linnie, he'd been hesitant to leave. She'd laughed and said now was better than later and besides, the extra money from the ginseng would be a blessing. Besides, she was older now, maybe things would be easier.

          Not being able to handle the thoughts and fears running through her mind while standing there in a public place, Annie grabbed the packaged and hurried Linnie towards the door. "Thanks much, Sam," she whispered as she turned away. She wasn't sure exactly what she was planning. She wanted to dump that package in the river and head home and find Matthew there waiting. However, the rational part of her mind told her that was silly and she'd never know if it concerned Matthew or not if she threw it away.

          Forgetting all about the groceries that she'd set on Sam's counter and the ice cream she'd promised Linnie at the hotel, Annie hurried over to where she'd tied her old donkey, Jehoshaphat. Hoisting Linnie in to the back of the cart Minnie's husband, Bill, had loaned her, Annie then picked up the package and put it next to her precious daughter. Annie climbed up and snapped the reins and Jehoshaphat started off at his typical plodding pace. It wasn't a short trip to the cabin her grandparents had built when they migrated from Kentucky was on the banks of Lake Wamatosa.  As the last of her line, it was Annie's home. The only she'd ever known.

***

          It took a couple of hours for the return trip and Jehoshaphat knew the way. As they rode over the bumpy and windy trail, Annie's mind went back to Matthew and their small family and short life together. Married when she was just three months shy of 15; Annie had loved Matthew for longer than she could remember. They'd been courting since she was 14 and had planned to get married when she was 16. The tragic deaths of her parents had left her all alone. Matthew had been 20 and had been on his own since his mother had died three years previous. He'd been supporting his mother since he was seven after his father had passed away from a heart attack. A surprise baby to older parents, much like John to Elisabeth and Zacharias in the New Testament, Matthew had known from a young age that his parents wouldn't see him raise his own family. Ozark life was not easy.  After his mother had passed, Matthew had joined Bill Hawkins working for the US Forest Service. When Annie's parents died and Matthew had gotten word, he came straight home. Straight to her. Sam Owens, doing his duty as preacher, had married them in the back room of his store with his wife, Martha, as witness.

          Thankfully, Jehoshaphat could be counted on and before Annie realized it, she was safely home. She remembered nothing of the journey. She hadn't even noticed Minnie Hawkins holler, "Hello!" as she passed by their cabin.

          Now it was late afternoon. Annie slid down from the cart and looked at her daughter. Linnie was sound asleep, using that blasted package as a pillow. Hating to disturb her, but know that the time was now right to open the package, Annie carefully eased it out from Linnie's small head. Leaving the child to sleep, she took the few short steps to her rocker on the porch. Easing herself down, she placed the package in her lap and looked at it carefully.

          The packaged was addressed to Mrs. Matthew Moore

                                                          Vicinity White Hole Springs, MO

The return label was smudged and she could only make out the words Wagon Trail. She knew that was near where Matthew had his digging grounds. He wouldn't have sent a package home. And he would've addressed it differently.

          Setting her shoulders against the dread that had intensified inside, she told herself, "Annie Linn Moore you can handle this.  You have made it through hard times; you will make it through this." Always careful to save things that might be useful, she picked at the knots on the strings tied 'round the package until they fell away. Then she carefully pulled the paper covering open with plans to fold it for reuse. That is until she pulled enough back to see the drab dusty green cloth of Matthew's backpack.

          Not conscious of what she was doing any longer, she slid to the porch floor.  "God, what have you done to me?  Not Matthew, too. You've taken Mama and Daddy, then my two babes.  Now Matthew? He promised me. God, he promised me he'd always come back and you took him!"

          An envelope slid out of the partially unwrapped package. With trembling hands, Annie tore it open. She pulled out the paper inside and began reading. It was short.

          "Mrs. Moore,

                   I regret to inform you that your husband's body..."

Then the sobs came. The letter slipped from her nerveless fingers and she lay on the porch sobbing, pleading with God that it was a mistake.

          That is where the Owens' and Hawkins' found her some time later.  Sam, being concerned at the young mother's appearance when he'd handed her the package and her abrupt departure from the store without the goods she'd purchased, had closed his store as quickly as could rid himself of the other customers and round up his wife. They'd boxed up Annie's groceries and headed toward her cabin.

          Along the way, they'd encountered Bill and Minnie walking along the trail in the same direction. Minnie, being worried about her friend's lack of response as she'd driven by, had waited until her husband had come in from his fields to head over. They'd left their two small children with his mother.

          As they foursome reached the clearing around the cabin, the thin wail of a small girl was clearly heard, "Mama, I wanna' get out!  Mama, where you go?  Mama!!" Minnie hurried to Linnie, still in the cart, and lifted her out gently, hugging her close to console her. The Owens and Bill had bent over something on the porch.

          Fear knotted Minnie's stomach as she drew closer. She saw Martha Owens sit down and put an arm around Annie's shoulders. Sam picked up a green pack off the floor. Minnie gulped; she recognized that pack. Bill had one just like it at home from his time with the Forest Service. Then her eyes lit upon the white paper in her husband's large hand. She saw his hand tremble and tears fell from her eyes before he said a word. Her husband, so strong and steady, was trembling with emotion, something that she rarely saw him do in public.

          "Mrs. Moore," he began, "I regret to inform you that your husband's body was found near the base of a cliff outside Wagon Trail. He appears to have fallen and died of injuries from that fall.  We had great difficulty locating you, and have buried his remains near where he fell. His name was inside this pack, which was found near his body.  A month has passed since his body was discovered. We found his last known location through the Forest Service records. Again, we are sorry to inform you of this tragic accident.

                             Sincerely,

                             George Bryant, Mayor

                             Wagon Trail, MO

***

          Four months later, Annie felt the unmistakable signs of labor. "Too soon. Too soon," she wept as she bent over the table where Linnie was eating her supper. She still had two months to go.

          "How can I go this alone?" The other times Matthew had been with her. And with Linnie, there'd been time to get Martha Owens, the midwife. As another contraction seized her, Annie heard steps on the porch.

          "Matthew," she gasped, knowing God had answered her prayers and it had all been a mistake.

          "Knock, knock, Annie," Minnie's voice rang out from the doorway. "Bill brought me over to see how you were faring after the last storm." This last was spoken as she entered the cabin. Looking at her friend, Minnie tried to smile, even as she saw the grief and fear on Annie's face.

          "Oh, dear."

          "Minnie, I can't do this alone. I can't do this again..."

          Quickly sizing up the situation, she said, "Get Linnie's coat and shoes." Then she opened the door and told Bill as he walked up the step, "Harness back up. Take Linnie to your mother. Get Martha Owens and get back here as quickly as possible."

          Bill opened his mouth to ask what in tarnation she was talking about when he heard a low moan from inside the cabin. Peeking around his wife's shoulder, he saw the pain on Annie's face as she hunched over, and the fear on Linnie's as she watched her mother.  He gently shoved Minnie aside and scooped up Linnie. The little girl had gotten her shoes. With practiced ease, he slipped them on to her feet. He grabbed a quilt from the nearby rocker and wrapped her up.

          Looking at Annie he said, "She'll be fine." Turning to Linnie he said, "Now Linnie, give your Mama a kiss and then come with me.  Jess and Leander have been asking when you were going to come and see them."

          In moments, he was hurrying up the trail. Minnie eased Annie in to bed. Not a midwife with the formal training of Martha Owens, Minnie was still quite competent and had helped bring several babies into the world.

***

          By the time Bill returned with Martha a few hours later, little Matthew Isaac Moore had entered this world and then left it with hardly a sound. He'd spent his brief hour of life in his mother's arms, with big blue eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages looking up at her. His breathing had been shallow and finally he sighed and closed those eyes.  Annie felt his soul leave his tiny body and she sat silently. She had no more tears left to cry.  So much had been taken from her in her short 21 years.

***

          Minnie stayed with Annie for a week, helping her as she regained her physical strength. Bill had prepared a small grave up on the hillside, near her parents and the two other small babies she'd lost. He brought Linnie with him that day and left her cuddling with her mother in the big bed Annie just couldn't seem to leave. Not quite ready to care for her daughter, Annie had asked Bill and Minnie if they could keep her a few more days. Minnie had given Bill a quick look and nodded before taking Linnie to the wagon.

          "Bill, I'm going to stay a couple more days. I'm afraid this is too much for Annie. She's so young and she's had so much sorrow."

          Caressing his wife's cheek, Bill smiled at her, "You do that. She needs you. We do too, but Annie needs you more right now. Stay a couple more days."

***

          By the end of the week, Annie realized that nothing would bring her baby back, or Matthew. If this latest tragedy hadn't brought him back, she was sure nothing would. Nothing short of a miracle from God. And she'd kind of given up hope in Him. It was time for her to focus on what she still had. She had a home and a precious daughter to care for. She did not know how she would provide everything for her little girl - there was still her father's shotgun. She could hunt game and they wouldn't starve. Not with that and the garden. Next fall she would be able to dig ginseng. There were so many things in the woods that could feed and provide for them - she had learned from her mother, as her mother had learned from her mother, all the traits of the herbs and berries in the woods. Still, she would need money for some things.  

          As Minnie gathered her things and finished tidying the cabin one more time for Annie before Bill brought Linnie home and Minnie returned to hers, Annie closed herself in to the bedroom. She had decided to give God one more chance to actually help her. If nothing came of this last prayer, then she knew she was all on her own.

          She knelt by her bed, asking God to guide her and help her be able to provide for her daughter.  It wasn't the tearful prayer that she'd offered after Matthew died, pleading for his return. It wasn't the heartbroken prayer that she'd uttered as little Matthew lay dying in her arms. It was actually more of an ultimatum. As she began to rise from the floor, she heard a voice say, "Look down, daughter." Startled, she looked down and saw a small card sticking out of a crevice in the wood flooring, under the bed. She'd swept that floor more times than she could count and never had seen this.

          On the card were a man's name and an address in New York State. She suddenly remembered the visitor just a few weeks before her parents were killed. A man who didn't seem much older than her Matthew had come to the cabin with Sam Owens. He wanted some land to build a hunting lodge. He'd been wounded in Vietnam and wanted to invest in somewhere he could have some peace away from the world. He was a little tired of the world, he'd said. Linnie's grandparents had purchased quite a bit of land on both sides of the lake when they'd first come from Kentucky. Her father had told this young man that he wasn't sure how much he would be willing to part with, but he thought they could come to some agreement. The man had told him to get in touch with him when he was ready to sell and left this card. Her parents had talked it over and had decided to write to him and make a deal when they'd returned from a trip to Kentucky to visit some family. They'd never returned, a train crash had taken their lives.           Annie had totally forgotten about this Andrew Belden. It had been over six years since her parents had died. She'd lived in this house every day and never once seen this card. She had no idea where it had been, but she realized that God hadn't totally abandoned her. She would write a letter to this man and see if he was still interested in a peaceful hunting lodge in the Ozarks. Maybe he wasn't interested any longer. Maybe he'd bought a sheep farm in Iowa for all she knew. But maybe, just maybe he was still wanting her land. And maybe someday she would feel like miracles could happen again.

Word count 2774

4-15-19

Author's notes: Okay I haven't written fanfic in like a decade. And I've just felt the urge to get back in to it. I've self-edited this. I teach reading all day so hopefully I can catch my own mistakes. If not, I'm sorry. I've always liked Bob-White Cave - even though Trixie is a brat and Honey reverts back to some of her pre-Trixie behaviors. Linnie interested me. And so does her mother. Life could not have been easy at all. In my long neglected universe, the girls are all born in 1977. That would put the time of this story to be 1981-82. I grew up in a rural area that looks like a metropolis compared to Linnie's world, but I could relate to a few things. This is what I came up with. Hope you like it and maybe, just maybe I'll get back to more fanfic writing. Oh, and I've taken the name for this story from the song Matthew Moore had made up and Annie had taught to Linnie (see page 124 in Bob White Cave - random house edition).