Summary: A cold ride home in the pelting snow, followed by a sweet conversation with his father, gives Adam a memorable Christmas Eve.

Rating: G

Word Count: 6734

The Christmas Afghan

(Christmas Eve 1828)

Ben glanced lovingly at the petite, beautiful young woman clutching his arm as they stepped out into the light snowfall following the Christmas Eve service at the sailor’s chapel near the harbor. He’d been invited to accompany Abel and Elizabeth Stoddard to church, and then home for coffee and Christmas cookies while opening the gifts waiting for them under the tree.

He’d met Elizabeth when he’d returned from his first voyage with Captain Stoddard, and he’d been instantly smitten. It had taken him a couple more years of serving under the strict captain, before feeling confident enough to petition him for the right to call on his daughter. At times he’d worried that Elizabeth might fall in love with another before he was worthy of her company, but that concern was mitigated by the fact that Abel Stoddard kept a tight blockade of protection around his only child.

Ben nearly hadn’t made it as a sailor. His early voyages had been fraught with weather waging battle on any clipper ship captained by Abel Stoddard, with Ben Cartwright as mate. High seas and raging storms had made adjustment to life on deck … or on any part of the ship … pure misery. He’d suffered seasickness so severe that he’d lost several pounds, after choosing to forego meals rather than spew them over the railings into the sea. Thankfully, while there was still the odd swirl in his innards when the ship bottomed out in the trough of a 20-foot wave, he’d acclimated to the constant movement, and had thrived since then.

The best thing to come out of his agony, was that the way in which he’d handled those initial woes had been observed by his crusty captain, who eventually told of his admiration for the young man’s tenacity. He’d always shown up for his post, doing his job the best he could, no matter how awful he’d felt, and his service had been rewarded with promotion after promotion, until now he was wearing the uniform of an officer. On the next sailing, he would command the ship anytime Captain Stoddard was away from the wheel.

His request to court Elizabeth a few months ago, had been met with a stern look by the gruff seadog with the distinctive goatee. But then he’d smiled and asked why Ben had waited so long.

“It was a lovely service,” Elizabeth said as she looked up at him and smiled gently.

“Yes, it was.”

“You seem very lost in thought, Ben. Is anything wrong?”

His grip on her hand tightened for an instant. “I was just remembering the journey to your side, my Love. One day soon I hope to be in a position to make a request of your father that will allow us to walk like this forever.”

“Father thinks a great deal of you already.” Her smile waned a bit as she saw the thoughtful look lock back in place on her escort’s face.

“I appreciate that he does. My fear comes in whether that will be true after we return from our next trip where he’ll observe my mettle as his top officer. I wouldn’t want him rethinking his decision regarding you, should I prove unworthy of the role.” He winked. “I’m sure all will go fine. Captain Stoddard is a fine teacher. The more important reason to wait, is that I’ll have enough money saved up after that to offer us a good start. It’s important to me that you not want for anything.”

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, and frowned at the handsome man in his dress uniform. “I am fine with waiting a bit to make this official, but don’t you ever believe you, and one day our children, won’t be everything I need, Benjamin Cartwright.” Ben’s startled expression made her laugh. “You’ll get a strong woman in me, Sir. I’ll not be afraid to speak my mind, and I won’t be askin’ for your permission to do so, even if you are an officer.”

“A strong mate is exactly what I need.” He longed to kiss her there and then, but Abel was walking behind them, conversing with another old salt, so he respected the decorum demanded by the situation. That didn’t stop him from pulling her a little closer to his side as they began walking again.

“Look,” she pointed towards the gas lamps illuminating the dark harbor street. “Isn’t it the most beautiful effect with the snowflakes shimmering like diamonds in the light?” She held out her gloved hand and a perfectly formed white flake came to rest on her palm. “It looks like star!” she said excitedly. “Think about this star when you’re out on the sea, Ben, and always follow it home to me.”

***

“Do you like your pipe, Father?” Elizabeth asked after Abel had unwrapped the gift from Ben.

The Captain turned the well-shaped, beautifully grained, briar wood pipe to admire it. “Very much so, my dear. It will need a breaking in of bite and tobacco, but I shall look forward to it. Thank you, Benjamin.” He noted the young man’s blush. Abel knew the pipe had cost a small ransom, and even more commendable about the gift, was that this young man who would undoubtedly be his son-in-law one day, had paid attention in choosing it. Someone trying to impress the father of the woman they were courting, or a young sailor wanting to impress his captain, might have chosen an ornately carved pipe made of meerschaum. While artistic and lovely to look at, their fate was set as an adornment in a pipe rack rather than becoming a useful item. Ben Cartwright had chosen one of simple wood, a fine finish, and a solid feel to the bowl that would rest comfortably in his hand. He had chosen wisely.

With his gifts opened, Abel stretched before draining the last of the tea from his cup. “It’s been a long day, and since we’re expecting guests tomorrow, I should get to bed.” He issued a stern look at Elizabeth and Ben who were sitting on the floor near the tree. “I expect you’ll want a few minutes to exchange your gifts and say goodnight. But be mindful of the time.”

After hearing the bedroom door shut upstairs, Elizabeth reached for one of the gifts Ben had slipped under the tree for her. “I know you’re my guest, but I love presents, and want to see what this is.”

“I was hoping you’d open it next.” Ben watched her face as she slipped the ribbon from the plain brown paper, and pulled back the edges to reveal the brush and comb set he’d gotten for her at a stop in Ireland during his last voyage. “Do you like it?”

“You know me so well, my darling. I will think of you each night and morning when I brush my hair. The inlay is so beautiful. It’s almost too lovely to use, but I promise that I will.”

“I chose it because the wood it’s made of is strong, yet the decoration is delicate, intriguing and exquisite: just like you.”

“Thank you for both the gift, and the sentiment.”

“There’s one more for you.” Ben reached under the tree again.

“The wrapping slid off quickly and Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she removed the stopper from the bottle of cologne and inhaled deeply. “What a wonderful light scent! And the bottle is so pretty too!” After a glance towards the steps to be positive they were alone, she leaned forward to kiss him. She didn’t linger though, pulling a large soft package from under the tree. “This is for you!”

Laying the package on his lap, he loosened the bow and peeled back the wrapping made of brown paper, similar to what he’d used for her gift, but Elizabeth had painted ornaments and snowflakes on it to make it festive. The gift, once bared, left him at a loss. He knew little of women’s crafting, but from the intricacy of the pattern, he figured this was crocheted. Whatever it was, it consisted of identical, small cream and golden squares, connected and bordered with rows of brown. He remembered his grandmother having a shawl with a similar pattern that she’d made with bits of yarn remaining from other projects. This prompted him to wonder if Elizabeth saw him as a man who would spend his evenings wrapped in a shawl? Fighting for words, he considered how large it would be when laid out, based on the size of the folded piece, and finally said, “This … must have taken so many hours of work. It’s lovely.”

Elizabeth nearly bounded from the floor, grabbing the bundle from his hands as she did, and unfolded it for him to see. “It’s an afghan, my love! Father said that you’ll have private quarters on your next sailing. I made this so you can wrap up warm and snug at night. And,” she winked at him, “I’ll infuse a little of your lovely perfume into the yarn, so you will think of me doubly, every time you use it.”

Ben took it from her hands and flipped it over his back, still holding the front edges, and then pulled Elizabeth close as he wrapped them both inside. “It will indeed remind me of you. I shall hold it every night as I fall asleep and thank God that you were so thoughtful as to worry about my comfort.”

The two young lovers lost track of time as they moved closer to the fire and sat, wrapped in the afghan while the logs turned to embers. A loud, “Ahem!” startled them.

“Our guests will be arriving for Christmas dinner and you two will still be sitting there,” Abel teased. “You may pick up where you left off tomorrow, but now, Ben must head to his room at the inn, and my daughter to her bed.”

Christmas Eve (1863)

Adam groaned as he opened the door of the general store and looked out into the hazy darkness. When he lingered on the threshold, the store owner came up behind him, and peered over his shoulder.

“Looks like snow for Christmas,” he told Adam, and then grimaced. “I suppose that’s not great news for you, having to ride home in it tonight.”

Adam chuckled. “Wont’ be the first time I’ve ridden home in snow.” He stepped fully onto the boardwalk, with the shopkeeper following him to retrieve the products he displayed outside.

“It’s not coming down hard yet—more like a thick rain shower than heavy flakes,” he told Adam, as he passed by with a stack of galvanized pails. “The temperature isn’t cold enough for it to stick yet either, and I’ll pray it lets up until you get to the Ponderosa.”

“I’ll let you know if that prayer is granted next time I see you.” Both men laughed, while Adam stepped into the street, and stroked Sports nose before stuffing the smaller items into his saddle bags, and tied the large cotton bag holding the rest to his saddle horn. He called out, “Merry Christmas,” as he attempted to clear some of the wetness from his saddle with his coat sleeve, before mounting up. Smeared was a better description of his efforts, and when he dropped his leg across Sports back and let his weight sink onto the cold, wet leather, he felt the distinctive misery of every rider: moisture finding its way through the weave of his pants and long-johns to provide a freezing jolt to his legs that made him shiver from head to toe. It would ease as the heat from his body, now trapped against the well-oiled leather, would eventually begin to warm him again.

The shopkeeper waved to his departing customer. “Safe travels, and a merry Christmas to you and your family as well.”

***

The fine snow that resembled fog when Adam first saw it from the store vestibule, eased as he left the main street of Virginia City. Perhaps the prophesy of it being of short shower would prove true. Approaching the road towards the ranch, he tamped down his frustration over the necessity for the night ride, and concentrated on the road in front of him. For all the times he’d taken this same stretch, he felt he should know every hole and menacing section by heart. He didn’t. There was a full moon above the clouds tonight, creating muted light, yet he allowed another frustrated groan after recalculating the length of his trip, adjusting for a slower speed.

His plans for this day before Christmas, had been made during breakfast and included a few simple fence repairs in the morning, followed by a quick trip to Virginia City to pick up a few Christmas gifts that had been promised for today. He couldn’t be grouchy about this since there’d been a time after a heavy snow in November, where it seemed unlikely that any further shipments would make it to town until spring. But warmer weather had returned, clearing the roads, and wagons had rolled into town again, bringing along the gifts for his family, he’d ordered back in summer. A further kindness had come from the wife of the shop owner, who’d anticipated he’d have no time to fuss with them tonight, and had wrapped everything in bright paper, leaving a description attached to each package, noting its contents.

He had mentioned making the last-minute trip that morning, adding an offer to pick up any items still needed by his family or Hop Sing. That eased his mind now, knowing that while there’d be disappointment at his not getting home for the feast Hop Sing had prepared, his late arrival wouldn’t cause worry.

It wasn’t even late yet, although it was dark. Under normal circumstances and good moonlight, he’d be able to make it home in time for dinner. But with the heavy clouds racing above him and the wind picking up, he suspected the weather wasn’t about to allow an easy journey. If the conditions worsened, the trip home could take hours, bringing him to the ranch closer to bedtime than suppertime.

***

There was no joy in being proven correct about his weather hunch. The downfall began in earnest a few miles outside of town. Icy shards of sleet were propelled by a strong northerly wind, strafing at his exposed skin, and causing a layer of slush to form on the road.

His mind returned to that morning when he’d set out to make repairs on fences damaged by that earlier snow. What should have been simple, had become complicated when a curious group of beef had made their way over to him while he worked. A rogue wind had sent them running—right over the downed fence he’d been repairing—ruining the work he’d already done—and adding to the total amount of work needed. It had taken longer to reset the additional posts and boards, but what took the most time was rounding up the wayward steers that seemed intent on a frolic. With winter officially marked on the calendar, he had to get them on the right side of the barrier. Fences would go down eventually with drifting snow, allowing some cattle to wander away, but they had to be contained as long as possible so they’d have the feed and hay provided by the ranch once the last of the grass was covered with snow.  Despite the setback in his schedule those roaming steers had created, and their probable escape in the future, his conscience hadn’t allowed him to let them go free just yet.

That choice had set the need for another choice to make right now, while he was still closer to town than home. With stinging pellets of ice melting on his pants legs, and snaking down the neck of his coat, he considered whether he should turn around and stay in town tonight. The deciding factor came as he pictured his family gathered around the tree tomorrow morning while he’d awaken alone in a hotel room. The image made him adjust his hat more securely onto his forehead, turn up the collar of his coat and nudge Sport ahead.

***

He saw light in his brother’s bedroom window when he finally slipped from Sport’s wet back and opened the barn door. It was impossible to tell how long the trip had taken, but there were times when the sleet had turned to rain, and other times when it had became a solid wall of fluffy white flakes, making him slow to a snail’s pace so as not to wander off the road.

His feet made squishing sounds in his boots as he slipped the saddle from Sport, and tossed it over the stall to dry. Every piece of his clothing was saturated, yet he hadn’t realized just how uncomfortable he’d become until was upright and walking. His legs and hands were stiff and cold, and his wet clothing stuck to his skin, making every step and bend irritating as he gathered the brush and towels needed to dry Sport, and then provide him a well-earned meal of oats and hay.

With his faithful horse settled comfortably, he grabbed his bags of gifts, blew out the lamp and walked wide-legged to the house to keep the seams in the wet slacks from rubbing his skin any rawer. A quick glance through the glass of the back door, revealed that Hop Sing must have finished up and gone to his room already. Hoping not to alert the cook to his presence and getting him from whatever pastime he was enjoying, he opened the door quietly and slipped inside, depositing his bags on the table, hoping the damp paper would dry smoothly. The house felt warm, prompting a happy sigh. The quiet in the adjoining rooms, indicated his family had probably gone to their rooms as well. He tamped down his disappointment at not having some company while he unwound from the tense trip, but he also knew he was too exhausted to have provided much in the line of good company anyway.

The aroma of the earlier meal still hung in the air, and he followed the scent to a plate of food left warming for him at the back of the stove. His joy at the thought of a hot meal vanished as he reached the stove and realized there was no warmth left in the cast iron beast. That disappointment vanished when he began to shiver violently, and he concentrated on getting changed before worrying about food.

The empty living area greeted him as he left the kitchen, but there were still flames licking the logs in the fireplace. His next decision came quickly: adding new logs to the hearth to build a nice fire while he got shed of his wet clothing.

Hoss’ snoring was audible when Adam passed his bedroom, but he could still see a strip of light at the bottom of his father’s and Joe’s doors. Not wanting to get stopped now; he bypassed those rooms as quietly as possible and shut his door silently once inside.

Hop Sing had laid a fire for him, but it hadn’t been lit. He accomplished that with hands shaking so hard, he’d had trouble lighting the match. It would take a while for it to warm the room comfortably so he continued with his initial plan of warming up downstairs.

His wet boots were nearly impossible to remove, requiring him to practically stand on his head to get the leverage needed to accomplish the long and sturdy tug to break the suction and begin moving his foot through the wet leather uppers. The rest of his disrobing took equally as long, with each item seeming glued to his skin. He only wore a nightshirt when he was ill or there were guests staying upstairs, but tonight he dug under a stack of pants in his bottom dresser drawer, and selected the biggest one he owned. It hung past his wrists and down to his ankles when it settled into place on his shoulders, and the soft fabric brought instant soothing to his icy skin. Adding socks, slippers and his blue robe—the warmer of the two he owned—to his “dinner attire,” he exited as quietly as he’d arrived and hurried back to the roaring fire, standing directly in front of it. He chuckled to himself, thinking that as cold as he felt, he might start melting like a block of ice.

He would have pulled his favorite chair closer, but with their traditional, huge Christmas tree occupying that corner of the room, it had been set off against the wall behind the staircase for the duration of the holidays. Feeling suddenly too tired to stand, he sat on the edge of the large wooden table behind him: one of favorite perches when he needed to think things through or have a heavier conversation with his father.

As warm as the fire was, it was still losing ground to the bone-deep cold he felt on the inside. Food would help with that—some hot coffee at least—but his fatigue overwhelmed his ambition, and he slouched forward, dozing off without realizing he was doing it. Noise from the stairway startled him awake, and he turned to see his father, similarly attired in nightshirt, robe and slippers, heading down the steps.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Adam. After that a good meal, I dozed off faster than expected. I’m thankful you made it home tonight.”

“There was a moment at the edge of town, when I weighed a few chilly hours on the road against a hot meal and a good whiskey in a hotel room. It was an easy decision. I am sorry I missed Hop Sing’s dinner.”

Ben’s enthusiastic, “There’s a plate warming for you,” dropped off to a frown. “But I’m sure it’s cold by now.”

A nod. “I was hoping to encourage a few embers in the stove to warm the coffee, and see what you’d had for dessert though.”

Skirting the seating area by the hearth, Ben stopped near the dining room table, and leaned on the back of a chair. “I heard ice pellets smacking the windows while I pretended that I wasn’t worried about you, and tried to read.” He grinned at his son. “You must have been soaked and freezing when you got here. Stay put and thaw out; I’ll see to finding something warm and sweet.”

***

“Come sit on the settee, Son, and I’ll set out our little feast on the table you’re using as a chair.”

Adam’s head jerked upwards making him momentarily dizzy. “I dozed off again,” he admitted as he joined father on the couch and took a look at the plate of sweets his father had brought out. “Hop Sing outdid himself on the cookies this year. I’ve never seen so many different kinds.”

“I thought I’d have to raid his cookie crocks* for these, but Hop Sing set a loaded plate on the cupboard for you. He knows you well.”

“Hoss and Little Joe must have been tired out.” Adam twisted around to view the grandfather clock. It’s not that late, and they’re both in bed?”

“I think Joe’s up there trying to wrap gifts. I heard him grumbling about not being able to tie a bow, when I passed his door. But you’re right about being tired. They got caught in the beginnings of the snow that moved through late this afternoon. It wasn’t enough to slow them down, but the wind got cold on the ride home.” Ben poured two good-sized mugs of hot coffee, before retrieving the brandy decanter from the sideboard and adding a dose to each cup.

The added distance from the fire in changing seats undid some of the warming effects, and Adam began to shiver so hard he needed both hands to guide the mug to his lips.

“You really are chilled to the bone!” Ben headed for the credenza, pulled out a brown-edged afghan with milky beige squares, and draped it over his son’s shoulders. “This should help.”

It still took a few minutes of being wrapped in the amply sized afghan, and a refill of his mug’s contents before Adam finally let out a long sigh. “I would have been fine if I hadn’t dozed off. There’s something about those brief snaps of sleep that unsettle your whole body.” Feeling more comfortable, he got to work on the plate of cookies, and was reaching for his fifth, when he glanced at his father. “Why are you staring at me, Pa?”

Ben laughed softly. “Not at you, Adam. I just realized something about that afghan you’re using to warm up.”

Adam raised his arm to get a better look at it. “Didn’t this belong to my mother?”

“She made it for me the first Christmas we began keeping company. I’d seen Elizabeth early in my service on the Wanderer with Abel, but I waited until I’d made a little more of myself before asking his permission to court her.” His expression became wistful. “We had that Christmas, and one more after our marriage. Yet, I remember both like they happened yesterday.”

“An afghan seems like a less-than-romantic gift for a first Christmas together,” Adam said with a teasing tone and grin.

“It was so like your mother to know what I needed before I knew I needed it. She’d heard from Abel that I was to have a private cabin because of my new rank, and she also knew that it would be cooler there than in the below-deck crew quarters. I used that afghan every night as the chilly air slipped through the hull boards.”

“Did you tell me once that you proposed to her that night?”

“We weren’t ready just then, but by the time I returned from the next voyage, I knew two things for sure: I wanted a life on land, and your mother next to me every day of my life.”

“Grandfather often said he didn’t understand how you could walk away from the salt air so easily, but he respected your choice.” Elizabeth’s son smiled at his father. “So, what did the young ship’s officer give my future mother that night?”

“A comb and brush set from Galway, made of fine wood with mother-of-pearl inlays, and a bottle of cologne from Limerick. It smelled like a fresh hillside of flowers.” He chuckled quietly. “I left the afghan at the Stoddard house until we sailed, knowing that if I’d have brought it to the inn where the sailors lived between voyages; it would have disappeared. Between Christmas and sailing, your mother infused the yarn with that cologne, so that when I’d pull it over me at night, there’d be a waft of that fresh scent to remind me of her. She was a very smart woman.”

“I’m not fond of sailing, mostly for the physical misery it causes me, but I envy your travels.” Adam looked over at his father. “When did you give her the music box I have?”

“We left that winter for Amsterdam as soon as the harbor cleared of ice. That’s where I found the music box. I guess I proposed when I gave that to her on my return.”

“You guess you proposed?”

“I don’t recall actually saying the words. We both just knew it was time.”

“You just said that it was that particular voyage that impacted your decision to leave the service. May I ask what happened?” Adam was truly curious. He and his father had talked many times about his time on the water, but never about his final decision to leave the sea behind.”

Noticing that Adam’s cup was empty, Ben offered, “How about a refill before I explain it to you?”

“No coffee this time,” Adam replied as he reached for the carafe. I intend to sleep well tonight, so maybe just another drop of this fine elixir. “And I know you’re stalling, so tell me what you’re thinking.”

“There were many wonderful things about that life: mostly related to seeing new places and meeting different people. Yet, if I’d have continued in shipping out from Boston, I would have sailed to the same ports. Boston ships, especially the company that owned the Wanderer, serviced the ports of northern Europe and Great Britain. I’d have had to change shipping lines or go to New Orleans to enlarge my sphere of new experiences.”

“I guess I didn’t think about that. Grandfather didn’t seem to mind the routine.”

“Abel was a sailor in his soul. He’d come through the ranks from swab to captain extremely fast, and he held a high position with the company that let him choose his routes. He loved every part of sailing, and each voyage was as exciting as the one before. But … as I matured and began to think about marriage and having a family, I took a closer look at the life of a sailor.”

“What did you conclude?”

“I told you that your mother was a very smart woman. I’d hunker into that afghan every night, and smell her scent, and all I could think of was being with her: not just during brief visits to restock, but every day. Abel beat the odds at having a decent family life. Elizabeth and her mother doted on him and they had each other during his absence. Yet when your mother spoke about her childhood, it was obvious that Abel missed every amazing moment of it. He was gone to sea when she’d taken her first steps; spoken her first words; lost her first tooth, and he missed every joy and heartache she experienced.

Ben sighed deeply. “When her mother became ill, she withheld the truth from Abel. He heard of her death without ever knowing she was sick. One night as I stood on deck and gazed eastward, it struck me that I’d left home for the sea because I wanted to see what was beyond that eastern horizon. I’d enjoyed the job and my success, but my roots on an Ohio farm began to call me to look at what I couldn’t see on the western horizon. The decision was easy to leave one for the other because I wanted a life where I’d be with my wife and children every day.”

“No second thoughts?” Adam asked sincerely.

“No. My plan was confirmed when I considered the lives of the men I served with. Most of them were married. But the constant absence and problem fraught shore leave when they did get home, made for miserable marriages. The lack of a solid homelife, left them seeking comfort in every port we visited. The outcome of this was that their loyalty to family was overturned by loyalty only to their own needs. I knew I could never have lived that way.”

Adam’s eye grew wide. “You’re not saying that …?”

Not understanding his son’s reaction, Ben went over what he’d just said, and then laughed loudly. “I’m not talking about Abel Morgan Stoddard. He loved the sea ferociously, but he loved his wife and daughter equally, and he’d never have strayed from either.” He reached over to grasp Adam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I gave you pause. I do think that in Abel’s life, the sea was both an angel and a demon.”

“He hinted at much the same thing to me when I was in Boston, and he described the turmoil he experienced when he lost his ship. I admire that he managed to find his way again, and he has probably become an even better man for it.”

“He faced some mighty demons during that time, and won. I also don’t mean to imply that my decision to leave the safety of Boston behind and head west made life any simpler. But despite the length of our sojourn to get here, and taking on a few stowaways along the trail; we faced everything together, and our challenges made us stronger.”

Adam nodded, but remained silent as he considered the information his father had shared. “I’m thankful you made that decision, Pa. I can’t even imagine my life if you’d have been gone most of the time.”

After a long yawn and stretch, Adam stood and began folding his mother’s creation. “I have memories of being wrapped in this on chilly nights in our wagon, way back to Uncle John’s place.”

Ben gave his son a half-smile and a nod. “You can’t possibly remember this, but you were wrapped in it far earlier than that. There was pure chaos the day I left Boston with you and Mrs. Callahan, the woman I’d hired to travel with us until you were a little older. We’d been mindful in packing, yet I still had four cases to wrangle, as well as keeping an eye out for you and her. Just before leaving, I went upstairs to see if she was ready to go, and I saw that afghan, still draped over the end of our bed. There was simply no room to pack it, and I had to resign myself to receiving it from Abel one day when we were settled enough to have an address.

“How did we end up having it? Did Grandfather post it to Uncle John’s?”

“Mrs. Callahan sent me downstairs, saying she needed to apply a fresh diaper before we left. She must have seen that I was getting a little frazzled. Abel was following me around, trying to impart every word of wisdom he could think of, and you’d awakened fussy and refused to be comforted.” He smiled at his son. “I always figured you knew something was off that morning, and you made sure we knew you weren’t happy at not being consulted about it or put in charge of something.”

He laughed when Adam shot him a dirty look. “I think that was the last time you were ever helpless or at least not in control,” Ben continued, despite his son’s reaction. “You knew exactly what you wanted and how to present your case to get it, by the time you were two.” He couldn’t help laughing again when Adam blushed. “I’ll stop teasing you and get back to the story. Mrs. Callahan was a fine woman, and she must have understood how much that afghan meant. When she came out the door a few minutes later, she had you wrapped up like a Scotch egg in it, and remarked that you’d stopped crying as soon as she began folding you into it.”

“That was a lovely thing for her to do. I appreciate it now, even as I seem to have back then.” Adam tried to stifle his yawn, but it wouldn’t be denied and came out loud and long, causing a sheepish grin. “If I want to be in top gift-opening shape in the morning, I should head for bed.” He took a step towards the credenza to stow the blanket, but stopped. “I’m still on the chilly side, so I’ll take this along.”

Both men’s attention was drawn towards the steps as Joe started down carrying a shifting pile of his wrapped gifts.

“Oh, hi Adam! Glad you made it home safe. Hoss and I made a bet as to whether you’d stay in town when the weather changed.”

“Did you bet on me making it home or staying put?” His brother’s flaming cheeks gave him the answer. “I hope you didn’t lose too much.”

“It was a friendly bet, carrying bragging rights as to which one of us knows you better. I should have known he’d win.” He set his gifts around the tree. “If you two haven’t looked outside lately, you don’t know that it’s snowing pretty good now. Hopefully it won’t last long or Roy and Paul won’t make it out for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

“There’s still a few cookies and some coffee in the pot, if you’d like some,” Ben told his youngest as he started clearing the table.

Joe took a good look at the two others with him. “I’d stay up if you two were in any shape for a rousing conversation. But I think Older Brother is going to fall asleep standing up if we keep him down here any longer. And after wrangling that paper and ribbon and working in the cold all day, I’m ready to call it a night too.”

“See you in the morning then,” Adam told them before another yawn that prompted a similar response from his brother and father. He was about to leave, but returned to his father’s side, slipping his arm around the older man’s back. “Thanks for the snack and the memories tonight. I enjoyed the feast of conversation and confections.”

The clock struck midnight as Adam reached the bottom step. Turning back, he smiled broadly. “Merry Christmas!”

***

The fire in Adam’s room had warmed the air and his bedding in his absence, but a lingering chill remained deep inside. During his long trip home, when the sleet was pelting him and the swirling snow blinding him; there had been a moment when he’d realized that had the snow come down any harder, camouflaging the road and topographical markers he used to navigate in the dark, he would have had to hunker into whatever rock overhang or shelter he could have found until daylight. Each forward step Sport had taken, had been accompanied by his rider’s steady mental hum of petition that conditions wouldn’t worsen. He’d breathed in relief and thanks when the barn’s outline had become visible ahead, and he offered further thanks that he’d gotten home safely, and for his father’s company on this Christmas Eve.

After arranging the afghan on top of his other covers, he took his mother’s Bible from his desk and sat on the edge of his bed to read the first twenty verses of the second chapter of Luke. He wanted to spend a few minutes in thought about the nativity story, but found his eyes closing on their own. Rather than giving a half-hearted effort, he decided to try again in the morning when his father would read the same passage at breakfast: a Cartwright tradition going back as far as his memory. Placing the book on his bedside table, he slipped under the covers. The draft created by moving the sheet and blankets into place around him, produced a pleasant fragrance that he instantly recognized. Memories swirled in his head, taking him back to the days when he’d stayed with Abel in Boston.

He’d recognized both objects his father had spoken about giving Elizabeth that Christmas eve long ago. They’d both still remained on her dresser, seventeen years after her passing. At times when he’d felt homesick or carrying a weight of uncertainty, he’d gone to her room in hopes of finding her presence still there along with her possessions. He’d looked at her books, held the brush, and opened the cologne, wondering if she’d worn the scent. Now he knew that she had.

It was that fragrance he noticed now. Was it possible that a remnant of the cologne his father told him Elizabeth had placed there more than thirty years ago, still remained embedded in the fibers of yarn? Logic would say it had been laundered too many times for that to be true, but Adam didn’t worry about logic tonight.

Tonight, he simply let his mind drift up to the woman he knew only through recollections and memories, and breathed deeply. Tonight, he simply accepted her presence as a wondrous gift, and drifted to sleep with her afghan pulled close to his heart.

The End

*As I wrote this, I thought back to when I was a child. There were no Tupperware containers yet, and my mother always baked huge batches of cookies to get us through all the family dinners over the holidays. Those cookies were stored in earthenware crocks. Layers of cookies were separated with waxed paper, and we’d simply eat layer after layer.