Summary:  It’s the littlest things in life and the littlest one who can inspire.

Rating:  K  (1,045 words)

 

This story is dedicated to my son, Ryan.
1-16-89 to 8-16-95
I miss you Tiger.

A New Year’s Renewal

He reached to touch the ornament as it glistened, silver against the dark green needles of the tree. The slight tremor of his fingers could only be seen if one was watching closely. He had learned to hide it well, turning a bright face to the world, keeping the pain locked away inside.  After all, he had the boys to think of and a ranch to run.  It was only during the Christmas season that the pain and despair, the rage, threatened to break loose from the depths of his soul. Grasping the fragile ornament in his big work-roughened hand he allowed the memories to sweep through him, making him gasp in pain, tears glittering unshed in his eyes.

Marie. Had it really been five years since the day she rode so wildly toward the house? It seemed like yesterday. He could see her sparkling eyes, so like those of their son, Joseph. He could almost touch the tumbling hair, could remember the scent she always wore.

He placed the ornament carefully away in its wrappings. This was a task he allowed no one else to perform. With every ornament removed from the tree another memory passed through his mind: her arrival at the ranch; the troubles with Adam, the birth of Joe. Had it only been five years since her death? It seemed like she had been gone forever.

The tree was almost bare now, ready to be removed from the house. He stood back and surveyed it with unseeing eyes. His mind was hopelessly ensnared in thoughts of her. God, how he hated this time of year!

The two boys crouched on the landing peering through the banister, watching with wide eyes as their father packed away the remains of the Christmas decorations. They exchanged knowing glances, and the smaller boy leaned against the larger one, to be quickly swept into a fierce embrace.  “Is he going to be okay, Hoss?” asked the curly-haired boy, his green eyes welling with tears.

“He’ll be just fine, punkin,” his brother replied, his own blue eyes reflecting his father’s pain.  “We just need to give him some time, that’s all.”  He tightened his arm around the younger boy’s slim shoulders.

“Why does he get so upset every year?” Little Joe persisted, never taking his eyes off the sight of his father packing away the treasured decorations.  “Doesn’t he love us enough to be happy?”

“Aw, Joe, you know Pa loves us,” Hoss said reprovingly.  “He just misses Ma something fierce, and it’s hardest at Christmas, because she made it so special.  Pa cain’t help but remember her, and it makes him sad.”

“I don’t want him to be sad,” Little Joe cried, wrenching himself from the older boy’s grip and clattering down the stairs before Hoss could stop him.

Ben Cartwright, still lost in his thoughts, never heard his son’s approach until he was startled by the small hand that slipped into his own.  He instinctively clasped it firmly, and schooled his eyes to hide his pain before he looked at his youngest.  “Hello, son,” he said, his deep voice sounded quiet in the big room.  “Almost finished here.”

“Pa, Adam will be home soon.”  The boy spoke eagerly, a pleading smile on his lips.

“Yes.  He’ll be home for good in the spring,” Ben agreed, a little abstractedly, patting the boy’s head.

“Will that make you happy, Pa?” Joe’s voice was a little tense, his smile losing some of its luster.

“Of course it’ll make me happy, Little Joe. We’ve all missed Adam while he’s been away at college,” Ben responded, still not really paying attention to the boy at his side, already his thoughts turning inward again.

Sensing his father’s distraction, and feeling no lessening of the pall of sadness surrounding the man, the smile disappeared from Little Joe’s face.  His lip quivered.  “I’m glad it’ll make you happy, Pa,” he whispered, and turned, dejection evident in every line of his body.   He slipped from his father’s side and slowly headed for the door.  He couldn’t help the grieving man, no matter what he did.

As Ben turned to put the last precious ornament away, he caught a glimpse of Joe’s drooping figure as he headed toward the door. Understanding illuminated his mind, and he crossed the room in three strides, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s bowed shoulder.  “Joe,” he said quietly.

The boy raised his eyes and Ben saw the tears that sparkled there.  “Yes, Pa,” he whispered.

“Thank you, son.” The words were spoken with such depth of feeling that the boy’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t do nothing, Pa,” he replied wonderingly.

“Anything, Joe,” Ben said with a chuckle.  “And yes, you have done something.”  He drew Joe over to the blue chair and sat down, pulling the boy into the circle of his arms.

“What did I do, Pa?” asked Joe.  He gazed into his father’s eyes in bewilderment.

“You’ve reminded me that life has many happy moments as well as sad events,” Ben said.  “And you’ve reminded me that I do have a lot to look forward to this year.  Thank you, Joe.”

He embraced Joe, holding him tightly as the boy threw his arms around his father’s neck.

“Are you okay now, Pa?”  Joe questioned hesitantly.

“I’ll be fine, as long as I have you and your brothers to take care of me,” Ben replied.  He patted the boy gently on the bottom.  “Now, scoot up those stairs and tell Hoss I need him to help with this tree.”

“Sure, Pa,” Joe replied eagerly, the bounce returning to his step and his eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“And, Joe…”

The boy swung back to look at his father.

“I love you, son.”

Joe’s smile was breathtaking as he turned to scamper up the stairs.  “I love you, too, Pa,” he cried happily.

Ben watched him go, this son who was the image of his dead mother.  He felt the familiar tug of sadness again, but this time tempered with joy.  He would always have a living reminder of his wife.  She had left him with a son.

 

The End

 

Tags:  Ben Cartwright, Grief, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright