Summary: After seven years apart, Ben and the boys are about to spend their first Christmas together.  Too bad that buying gifts is harder than it seems.
Written for day 8 of the 2021 Advent Calendar.
Rating: G
Word Count: 2479

In Absentia Series:

In Absentia
Restitution
All Through the Night
Significance
Homesick

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 8 *

Significance

Part 4 in Belle’s “In Absentia” universe

Everyone would agree that Ben Cartwright was a survivor. He’d survived years of sailing the great oceans, mastered the perilous journey west, mourned the loss of three wives, and most recently, spent years shivering aboard the HMS Investigator stranded in a sea of ice.

Oh, yes. Ben could survive all of that only to discover that shopping defeated him. It would be depressing if it wasn’t so ludicrous.  How could buying a few gifts be so difficult?

It wasn’t as if he was completely unable to  make purchases.  He had a number of parcels in his arms. There were books for Adam, new shirts for Hoss (who was starting to fill out a bit now that he had plenty to eat), and socks and mittens for the 12-year-old who could lose mittens almost as quickly as he  wore holes in his socks. A warm coat for Hop Sing was hidden alongside the crates of provisions his friend had instructed him to bring home. Spending money wasn’t the problem, not at all.

The problem was entirely with Ben. Every gift he’d purchased was thoughtful. Every gift took into account the recipient’s needs and would be sincerely appreciated. It was just that every gift was so darn ordinary.  Anyone with a passing acquaintance with his family would have come up with the same ideas.

Turning his back to the biting wind, Ben fitted the parcels into the nooks and crannies of the buckboard. He took his time making sure everything was well concealed; it wasn’t as if the cold bothered him.  If he couldn’t be imaginative, at least he could be sneaky.  Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he stepped back onto the boardwalk.

He still had time to find the perfect gifts, meaningful gifts that would communicate his love and gratitude in a way that he would never be able to say out loud.  He had time to buy the perfect gifts. What he lacked was a clue of how to go about it.

Marching back and forth past the various shops failed to provide inspiration.  Finally, giving in to frustration, he sat down on the wood bench stationed outside Weber’s Emporium and gave into a bit of a sulk.

“I need help,” Ben muttered in a quiet voice.  One of the habits he’d brought home from his time away was talking to himself.

“Then you’ve come to the right person. I’m very good at providing assistance.”

The lovely voice belonged to a young woman sitting next to him on the bench. Had he intruded on her without even realizing she was there?  When had he become so rude?  He hastened to offer apologies which she waved away with a laugh.

“So, what troubles you?

He couldn’t really unburden himself to this young lady, could he?  Even if she were willing to lend an ear, what advice could she offer that he hadn’t already considered. And yet, there was something about this woman, young as she was and a stranger besides, that invited his confidences.

“I want to find gifts for the people I love that will let them know how I feel about them, how I treasure them, . . . and how much I missed them.”

“Seven years is a long time.”

“You know who I am?”

“I know.”

“Then you understand my problem. I don’t have any ideas at all.  All that time away, when we have all gone without each other’s company.  I’ve missed so much of their lives.  That’s time I won’t ever get back. And my boys! They missed having a father, someone to care for them, protect them . . .”

“Ben,” she interrupted him before he completely lost his composure.  What an odd woman to use an unfamiliar gentlemen’s Christian name. Strangely, he didn’t feel scandalized.

“Ben,” she continued more gently now that she had his attention. “Those days are gone. Nothing you buy will ever get them back.”

He dropped his head into his hands. He’d known that, of course, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Hearing it spoken aloud was a shock and somehow a comfort.

“What should I do?”

She didn’t reply right away. While he waited, he allowed himself to rest in her presence. The turmoil of anxiety and remnants of the grief and  anger he’d carried for years receded leaving only a sense of peace and a willingness to listen.

“What would you like to receive as a gift?  What would be meaningful for you?”

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.  They weren’t talking about him and his needs. He needed help finding something for his family. Nonetheless, he replied swiftly, before he had a chance to censor himself.

“I want to know what I missed watching them grow up. I want them to know me as their father.”

She smiled up at him. “There’s your answer.”

He huffed at her glibness. “That’s not an answer. Are you saying I should tell them about my time away? What happened to me?  What I felt?  No! Absolutely not.  I‘ve promised myself not to burden them with what I went through.”

“Will it be a burden for you to hear about their lives without you?”

“No, not a burden. I want to know all about them. But, . . . I’m afraid to hear about those years without me there  . . . when they had to do everything by themselves. Even their good, happy times . . .  I’m ashamed to admit, it breaks my heart knowing I missed it all. Why should I dredge it all up, say it out loud? How can I put them . . . and me through that? I can’t do it.”

“Can’t you?” The little lady could be challenging as well as comforting. “What you and your boys experienced was something of significance. Don’t cheapen the lesson by ignoring it.”

“But what should I do . . .”

“It’s up to you, of course. How and when to give a gift. I have faith in you, Ben Cartwright.”

A voice could be heard from the distance, quite clearly despite the shutter-rattling strength of the cold wind, “Mary, I need your help.”

She rose gracefully from her seat. “There’s never enough time to just talk, is there? I have to go now. Take care of that gift, will you?”  She declined his offer to escort her to her destination and walked away swiftly, vanishing in the swirl of falling snow.

He stood there silently for a moment, letting the cold tickle the exposed skin above his scarf and around his wrists.  Finally, he shook himself a bit to clear the cobwebs and marched resolutely back into Weber’s Emporium.

He had a gift to buy.

Out of habit rather than necessity, Adam checked all the windows making sure they were closed tight and shuttered against the bitter night air.  Naturally, someone else (probably Hop Sing) had beat him to the chore. It would take a little getting used to, having someone else share the load.

Dinner was over, savory stew and biscuits followed by apple pie.  Everyone had eaten their fill, and that took some getting used to as well. His brothers were bent over the checkerboard, arguing more than they were playing. Hop Sing had taken a cup of tea to the dining table, writing implements spread across the surface as he wrote letters to the loved ones he had left behind. Pa had disappeared up the stairs to his bedroom more than an hour ago. There’d been a wrapped parcel under his arm and a furtive look in his eye – if that wasn’t a sign of Christmas, Adam didn’t know what was.

Adam was in the mood for music. He’d love to pull out his guitar and play, but his injured arm wouldn’t take the strain.  Ah, it could’ve been so much worse. He was healing well. By spring time, he’d have nothing but a small scar to bear witness to the tumult of his father’s return.

Might as well take advantage of the piece and quiet to steal a few minutes to read. The blue velvet chair was an old friend and a few minutes spent with “Paradise Lost” would be just the ticket.  He’d barely gotten immersed in the rhythm and beauty of the epic when tiny paper wads sailed over the top of his book to land in his lap and his hair. He ignored it for a time (that was part of the game, after all), until with a mighty roar, he leapt from his chair and swung a cushion at the head of his giggling attacker.

That turned out to be a mistake. It seemed neither he nor Joe had a lick of sense—they’d both forgotten about his arm. Before he knew it, he was back in his chair with that pillow under his bad arm and his good arm around a very repentant little brother.

“Mistah Adam got no more brains than little brother! How is arm to heal with such  foolishness! And you, Li’l Joe!  Why you act so crazy with brother?”

It looked like Hop Sing was building up a good head of steam. He may have only been a member of the family for a few weeks, but they all knew better than to argue with him at times like these.

“The boys were just having a fun, Hop Sing. No harm done.”

Woo, boy.  For a moment, Adam had even forgotten their father was in the house. Yet another thing to get used to.

“As it happens, I’m glad we’re all together.  I have something I want to say.”

Pa’s face was serious and a little apprehensive. It couldn’t be bad news; surely not?  Little Joe dropped to the floor next to Adam’s chair. Hoss sank back down on the settee while Hop Sing hurriedly gathered his personal items from the dining table.

“No, please don’t go,” Pa said. “This is about . . . for . . . all of us.  I have an early Christmas present.  I hope it will be something we can all share.”

A subtle sigh of relief from every one of them could be heard.  At the words, “Christmas present,” Adam felt Joe wiggling in excitement; the boy did love a surprise.

“For the last seven years, it’s . . . been hard . . . I’ve missed you desperately, and I know you missed me as well.  Through all those years, I could only imagine how you looked and sounded, what made you laugh, and what made you cry.  All those things, big and small,  that make you who you are right now.  I missed seeing it, and knowing that it’s done and gone has weighed heavily on me.”

Pa took a moment to collect his emotions, swiping a thumb at the corner of his eye. With his characteristic sympathy, Little Joe’s face was pressed into Adam’s trouser leg, and if there weren’t tears and snot smeared into the cloth by now, Adam would wash the dishes for a week.

“So, the gift.” Pa held out a large book with a tan moleskin cover. “I’m not very good these days talking about what went on while I was gone. Maybe someday I’ll get better. But . . . I figured you boys might want to know a little about what happened to me during the time I had to be away from you. I wrote a bit of the story down here in this book.”

Pa opened up the book, flipping through it to show them that most of the pages were still blank.

“It’s my hope that all of us will find time to write in this book.  We can tell each other stories or relive memories.  Maybe, tuck keepsakes inside or draw pictures.  It doesn’t matter to me what goes into the book.  This is a book about us and for us. It should stay down here where we can all look at it or add to it whenever the mood strikes us.

Since it’s my idea, I got us started with a story about meeting the man who would become my best friend. I’m going to leave it here for you all to read whenever you like.”

Pa’s smile looked a little wobbly, and he had to clear his throat a couple of times.  Adam’s throat was suffering with a similar issue, and it sounded like Hoss had to sniff and cough out a couple dozen frogs. Count on Little Joe to throw all manly pretensions to the wind. The kid jumped up, bawling, to hug Pa tighter than he ever had before—and Adam had seen the boy give Pa some mighty good hugs in the last few weeks. Pa patted the boy on the back and steered him back to Adam.

“Anyway, here’s the book.  Read it if you want to it; write in it, please. Don’t worry or be offended. I think I need a little time to myself.  I love you all.  Merry Christmas.”

Pa turned and headed back upstairs, leaving them with the Christmas gift, open on his desk.

Hoss ambled over to the desk before they heard Pa close his bedroom door.  He picked up that book, cradling it like it was made of gold rather than leather and paper. Adam accepted the book from his middle brother and thumbed through the first pages.

“Read it to us, Adam,” Joe pleaded.

Adam found the first page and began,

I’d already traveled many miles when I’d reached Portland. I knew no one and spoke to no one if I could avoid it.  I was footsore, hungry, dirty and perhaps not thinking very clearly. I hadn’t been “Ben Cartwright” for a very long time, and I wasn’t sure who I’d become as a result.

I was walking along a crowded part of town near the river when I heard a commotion from an alley.  I had lived with the sound of commotion for many years; so at first, I was barely distracted. What made me stop was the sound of a child shouting in distress.  I stepped into the alleyway to see if I could be of assistance.  I saw a number of dirty ruffians, merely boys in years, but large and brutish.  They were tormenting a small man who stood between them and a blonde child no older than ten. The man’s face was covered in blood from a deep cut , but he never faltered. He swung a good size club at any miscreant who ventured close. I had never seen anyone as brave or gallant as that small Chinese man.

“Oh, Hop Sing!” Joe chortled, “Keep reading, Adam! This is gonna be good.”

The End

Character: Ben

Prompt: Buying a gift

Link to Day 9 of the Bonanza Brand 2021 Advent Calendar:  Be a Candle by mcfair_58