Relatively Festive
or
The
Cartwrights at Christmas
by Claire
“Joseph’s first Christmas!” Marie sighed happily,
snuggling into Ben’s warm embrace and stretching out her toes towards the fire.
“There is something very special about having a baby in the house for
Christmas, isn’t there?”
Looking at the clothes horse, draped in wet diapers
and steaming gently before the heat of the fire, Ben agreed whole-heartedly
that things were very different from last year. He was only too aware that a
certain amount of prevarication was necessary if harmonious relations were to
be maintained.
“We should make everything extra-special, this year,
don’t you think? Have a real family Christmas?” Marie wheedled, her lips close
to his ear, so that each breath sent a shiver of delicious expectation down
Ben’s spine.
“Of course.” His hand moved towards the nape of her
neck and stealthily began to remove the pins that confined the thick golden
coils of her hair. “That’s a wonderful idea. What would you like to do?” Ben
asked distractedly, mesmerised by the way the light from the fire spun amber
rays onto her face, so that her eyes seemed to dance with love. He would give
her anything, anything in the world, just to prolong this moment, to have his
wife gaze at him with such adoration.
Marie leaned towards him, giving her head a little
shake, so that her hair tumbled down in a fragrant profusion around her
shoulders and smiled bewitchingly into his eyes. “I have one or two ideas…” she
confided, allowing her fingers to toy with the top button of his shirt, before
undoing it and sliding her hand inwards.
“So do I,” Ben agreed hoarsely, drawing her closer,
burying his head amongst the tremulous softness of her breasts and then
allowing his lips to rove downwards. “So do I!”
It looks as if this
is going to be a very special Christmas indeed, he thought
happily, eying the rug in front of the fireplace speculatively. And there was
nothing quite like spending time with the ones you loved. Nothing quite like it
at all…
**********
“What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas,
Pa?” Hoss asking, consuming a steaming bowl of oatmeal with considerable gusto.
“I was rather thinking of asking him for a bearskin
rug,” Ben answered blandly, giving Marie a wicked look out of the corner of his
eye and stifling a laugh when she refused to meet his gaze. “Something soft and
warm to put in front of the hearth. The old rug is getting rather thin and
threadbare.”
“That would be lovely! I think we’d all enjoy that,”
Marie agreed fervently.
“Have you been a good boy, then?” Adam teased, certain
that some private joke was underway and desperate to join in.
“Oh yes!” Marie said, in fervent tones. “He’s been a
very good boy indeed - I can vouch for that!” She smirked happily as Ben choked
on a mouthful of coffee. “All my boys have been good this year,” she continued
innocently.
Hoss gave Joe a baleful look. “All but one!” he
muttered, watching Joe contentedly stick his fingers into his bowl and then
noisily suck the oatmeal off them, with all too audible relish. “I can’t see
Santa leaving him anything but a switch in his stocking!”
Adam looked at his youngest brother and laughed. “He’s
still small enough to fit in a stocking, far less hang one up!” Stretching out
a hand, Adam tousled Joe’s curls, receiving a beatific smile in response.
Hoss scraped the last remaining scraps of oatmeal out
of his bowl and smiled at Hop Sing ingratiatingly. “Any more?” he asked
hopefully.
“All gone!” Hop Sing said, wondering where the child
put all that food.
Leaning out of his highchair, Joe helpfully started to
edge his own bowl towards his older brother. He was already bored with
breakfast, having quickly determined that oatmeal looked a good deal more
exciting than it actually tasted.
“Joseph!” Marie said in warning tones and Joe shot
back into his seat, his hands inadvertently giving the bowl one final push, so
that it toppled off the tray and spilt its contents all over the tablecloth.
“See? He can’t even eat his breakfast without causing
trouble!” Hoss said angrily, wiping blobs of cereal off his shirt with a
napkin. “You’re just a menace, that’s what you are!”
Joe’s bottom lip began to give a familiar quiver and
his eyes filled with tears.
“There is nothing quite like a lovely, family Christmas,
is there?” Ben asked Marie wryly.
“Absolutely nothing!” she agreed, raising her voice to
be heard above the disconsolate wails of the baby. Marie scooped Joe out of his
highchair and began to soothe him.
Life is so very
simple when you are young, she thought, cuddling the baby to her and murmuring
softly to him, feeling the small body begin to relax and sag against her as the
tension eased. There are few things that
a little loving can’t sort out. Now, if only I could smooth Hoss’ ruffled feathers
as easily as I can calm Joseph.
There were times when Marie detected a vague thawing
in Hoss’ attitude towards his baby brother, but in general these were still few
and far between.
“I have to go into town to pick up some packages,” Ben
announced. “Who wants to come with me?”
“Me! Me!” Hoss bounced up and down in his seat with
glee, his earlier sulks quickly forgotten. “You coming, Adam?”
“Guess so.” Adam anxiously fingered the coins in his
pocket, hoping that he had saved enough money to buy presents for his family.
“I have a list, upstairs on my bureau.” Marie’s voice
was soft, for Joe was on the verge of sleep, his breathing slow and regular,
long eyelashes sweeping down onto rosy cheeks. “Just a few things I need…” She
dimpled roguishly at Ben, who shook his head in mock-sternness, knowing
full-well that the list undoubtedly covered at least two sides of paper, but he
willingly rose to collect it.
Ben stopped halfway upstairs and looked at the scene
below: Adam and Hoss in eager conversation, their heads close together as they
whispered secrets about Christmas presents to one another; Marie seated before
the fire, their sleeping baby securely cradled in her arms; the first fall of
snow outside the windows casting a pure and vibrant radiance over everything.
“A real, family Christmas,” he thought, rubbing his
chin reflectively. “That sounds perfect to me.”
**********
“Hear that?” Marie said, walking to the door. “That’s
your Papa, and Adam and Hoss, come back from town.”
Joe clapped his hands together in excitement and made
a headlong lunge forward as his father came inside, bringing the chill of a
winter’s day with him. Luckily, Ben was used to his youngest son’s impetuous
nature and fielded the child neatly before he tumbled onto the floor.
“Did you get all the shopping?” Marie asked anxiously.
Ben gave her a sheepish look. “All the packages – and
some extras as well…” She noticed that he was unable to meet her eyes and that
his voice tailed off miserably, but before Marie could enquire any further, Ben
was pushed firmly to one side.
“For heavens sake, Benjamin, do you have to stand
around, cluttering up the place?” A small, determined woman bustled forward and
smiled ferociously at Marie. She looked rather like a Yorkshire terrier in a
bonnet — all spiky determination, beady eyes, piercing yap and painful bite.
“Cousin Clarissa - what a surprise!” Marie said,
honesty getting the better of her. “We had no idea you were coming, did we?”
She gave her husband a penetrating stare.
Ben shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “None at all,”
he confirmed. If he had even the faintest inkling that his cousin was intending
to bestow her presence upon them, Ben would have whisked his family as far away
as possible. To the
“I always think Christmas is a time for families,
don’t you?” Clarissa said smugly, bustling forward to warm her hands at the
fire. “And isn’t anyone even going to offer me a dish of tea?” She tilted her
head to one side and saw Ben meekly trot off to the kitchen. The sight gave her
considerable satisfaction and it was only with great difficulty that she
managed to subdue a giggle. “You can put my luggage in my usual room,” she
announced as Adam struggled in with a large and heavy suitcase.
The boy nodded briefly, being too out of breath to
actually speak and turned dutifully towards the downstairs bedroom, thankful
that he didn’t have to lug the confounded thing upstairs. Judging by the
weight, Cousin Clarissa was planning on a long stay. Adam sighed softly at this
unpleasant prospect and then trudged dutifully back outside to deal with the
rest of her belongings.
“You should see all the boxes Cousin Clarissa
brought!” Hoss confided, leaning contentedly against Marie’s knee. Joe reached
forward and patted him on the head, cooing happily as his small fingers tangled
amongst the soft hair. Too excited to scold, Hoss turned around and smiled at
his little brother. “There might even be something in there for you, Little
Joe!”
Joe babbled happily in response and nearly bounced off
his mother’s knee. Luckily, Marie was well-accustomed to her child’s
rambunctious nature and had a tight hold of him.
“I always say it is better to give than to receive,”
Clarissa said primly. “Of course, in my position, it is difficult for me to
give appropriate gifts, but I do feel it is my bounden duty to visit my
relations. That is the least I can do. Of course, it is highly inconvenient for
me, but still, where one’s family is concerned, I am willing to sacrifice my
own needs and desires.”
“How very kind and selfless of you,” Ben said, forcing
a smile onto his face. It sat oddly, wreathed in insincerity, but Clarissa did
not seem to notice.
“I try, Benjamin. I do try,” she assured him.
But it is not easy,
Clarissa thought, watching as the family gathered together and began to
exchange news of their respective days. It
is not easy to always be the outsider, never to have anyone who really belongs
to you. Hereon the Ponderosa, although I am apart and distinct from you, I am
also a part of you all. In some small way, I belong with you. How could I spend
Christmas anywhere else? You are my family and everyone needs to feel part of a
family at Christmastime.
She smiled at Joe and when he reached out, Clarissa
took the plump baby-hand in her own, marvelling in its softness. For just one
fleeting moment a look of pure happiness spun across her face, but just as
quickly she dismissed it and schooled her features into impassivity, seasoned
lightly with a vinegar-dressing. To expose oneself was the first step on the
road to disaster and Clarissa had only herself. She was only too aware there
was no-one to defend her, to shield her from hurt or to curl up against on a
cold winter’s night. Still, she had the Cartwrights, in some small measure. And
she was determined to make the most of her time with them.
*********
“So, you two met in
Adam watched her intently, still amazed at the
different faces his cousin was able to assume. He still had difficulty in
reconciling this genteel lady with the demon poker-player he knew dwelt beneath
the prim and proper exterior. He had a sneaking suspicion there was more to
Cousin Clarissa than met the eye, but he still wary of her and tended to keep
his distance.
Ben reached across the table and took Marie’s hand in
his own, raised it to his lips and kissed it fervently. “We did indeed meet in
Marie felt her cheeks burn and was aware of Hoss
wriggling in embarrassment beside her.
Clarissa slapped his thigh firmly. “Don’t squirm dear
— people will think you have worms. And that only results in the most
embarrassing course of medical treatment. Believe me on that.”
Lost for words, Hoss nodded speechlessly.
Clarissa turned her gaze back to the adults and
remarked “Handsome is as handsome does!” in a tart tone of voice
Ben momentarily diverted his eyes from gazing at his
wife. “Marie does me handsomely!” he said passionately and was gratified to see
Adam chuckle. He winked solemnly at his son.
“How do you know when you’re in love?” Adam asked. He
had been pondering this question for some time, ever since Lucinda Patterson
had put her hair up and her skirts down. All of a sudden she appeared quite
different and Adam felt a lump in his throat that made it difficult to speak if
she even smiled at him. Was this love? Then again, there was a strange new girl
at school who kept fluttering her eyelashes at him and pursing her lips in a
most disconcerting manner. What if she were in love with him? Were you allowed
not to be in love with someone, even if they loved you? Did you have to love
them back, or could you just say “no, thank you very much”? Adam found the
whole business of growing up to be very confusing indeed.
“It’s different for everyone,” Ben said. “I grew up
with your mother, Adam — and out of our friendship grew love.
The memories no longer hurt, Ben realised. For the
first time he found himself wanting to talk about his first two wives and to
share his memories of them.
“There was just something about Inger, such a deep
beauty within her, that one day I realised I was in love with her. Sometimes
love is always there, sometimes love just creeps up on you, when you least
expect it. And at other times love comes galloping around the corner and
straight into your heart!” He smiled to see how hard Adam was concentrating and
suspected the boy had an ulterior motive. How fast his sons were growing up!
“It’s different for everyone,” Marie added. “But when you
are really in love, you know you cannot live without the person. You have to be
with them in order to be whole. And you know you would do anything to keep them
from harm.” She looked at the four men in her life: Ben, Adam, Hoss and Joe and
knew that there was no price too high to keep them safe.
“I loved each one of you boys from the moment you were
born,” Ben said. “And no matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”
Hoss looked perplexed and highly dubious. “Even Joe?
When his diaper needs changed?” He could think of nothing worse.
“Even Joe!” Ben laughed, looking contentedly at his
youngest son, who had managed to smear a good amount of mashed potato into his
hair and was now sitting contentedly squishing another handful between his
palms and watching it ooze out between his chubby fingers. “And don’t worry
Hoss, Joe will grow up soon enough. But not too soon, I hope. I’m not quite
ready to say goodbye to my baby boy just yet.”
Sometimes Hoss wondered about his father. Imagine
wanting to keep a messy, smelly baby! And then it suddenly struck him –Little
Joe was annoying enough right now, and he was still only just a baby! How much
worse would he be when he got older? Hoss looked up in consternation and
Clarissa gave him a sympathetic smile.
At least someone
understands, Hoss thought. If
only she didn’t have to go away! How wonderful it would be if Cousin Clarissa
could stay here for ever and ever…
He sat quietly mulling the thoughts in his head.
Cousin Clarissa made him feel special, not just the boy in the middle but
someone unique and valued.
It’s no fun being
stuck in the middle! There ain’t even a special word for it, like oldest or
youngest – I’m just lumped there, in the middle of nothing. And half the time
I’m told I’m too young to do the things that Adam does and the other half I’m
told not to behave like a baby! I sure wish they’d make up their minds! It
ain’t fair! Hoss slumped down in his chair in disgust.
“You want to sing some carols?” Adam suggested, seeing
the black expression on his younger brother’s normally sunny countenance. After
months of being so embarrassed by the weird croaking noises that came out of
his throat whenever he tried to sing, Adam was fairly sure that his voice had
settled into a new, deeper register and he was keen to see how it sounded.
Marie picked up Joe, who had slumped forwards, lying
across the tray of his high chair in a contended sleep. “Just let me put this
little Cartwright to bed and then come down and join you.”
The strains of “Good King Wenceslas” accompanied her
upstairs, with Clarissa providing a surprisingly powerful contralto that sent
the centre light swaying back and forth. Hoss joined in the carol with
considerable enthusiasm and a tremulous, sharp treble; Adam was absurdly
gratified to find he was now the proud possessor of a baritone voice, while Ben
did sterling service on the bass. Luckily, Joe was a sound sleeper and did not
stir as the loud singing reverberated throughout the house. He continued to
slumber peacefully as his mother ran a damp cloth through his curls, removing
most of the mashed potato in the process.
Shutting the bedroom door behind her, Marie ran
downstairs, joining in the next carol gleefully.
“Adeste fideles,
Laeti triumphantes
Venite, venite…”
Her voice rang out, clear, pure and high and the
carollers down below smiled up in admiration. All except one.
“That ain’t right!” Hoss protested. “Don’t you know
the right words, Ma? I thought everyone knew them words!”
Adam started to protest, but Marie laid a finger
against her lips, murmured her apologies to the little boy and almost managed
to keep a straight face as she started singing again, in English this time.
**********
“What are we havin’ for Christmas dinner?” Hoss asked.
“Hop Sing have plenty big goose.” He held his hands
far apart. “So big, maybe not fit in oven!”
Hoss’ eyes grew round with surprise. “That big?” he
said in awe.
Hop Sing nodded contentedly.
“Big enough for all of us and a guest?” Hoss asked
ingenuously.
“And exactly who were you planning on inviting?” Ben
asked, appearing suddenly from the dining room with Joe in his arms.
“No one,” Hoss muttered, eyeing up the stove
dubiously. It certainly looked big enough, but then, Hop Sing knew what he was
talking about, didn’t he? He was the best cook in
“Hoss — look at me,” Ben commanded gently. There was
enough going on in the house without his boy starting to keep secrets from him.
Hoss raised cornflower-blue eyes up towards his father
and gulped slightly as he met the firm gaze. “I just though it would be nice to
ask Sheriff Coffee for Christmas dinner,” he explained. “He ain’t got no-one
else and I thought he might be lonely.”
Ben reached out an arm and hugged his son to him.
“That’s a lovely thought son. I’m very proud of you. How about we ride into
town and invite
Hoss skipped happily, basking in the praise. “Thanks
Pa! Just you an’ me though – we don’t have to take Joe with us, do we?”
“Just you and me,” Ben agreed readily. “I think we
deserve a little time together, just us men, don’t you?”
Puffing out his chest, Hoss nodded in agreement. As
his father turned to ask Hop Sing if any additional supplies were needed from
town, Hoss stuck his tongue out at the baby, who looked intrigued at the
accomplishment and poked his own tongue out speculatively, before grabbing it
with his fingers.
“Don’t do that!” Ben chided, pulling Joe’s hand down
automatically and totally missing the triumphant smile on Hoss’ face. Supremely
unconcerned, Joe merely stuffed his fingers into his mouth and pulled out his
tongue again.
“And don’t forget to pick up that gold braining I
ordered from the Mercantile!” Marie called out.
Clarissa arched one eyebrow elegantly as Adam watched
enviously. He had spent many long hours before a mirror trying to emulate her
sophisticated gesture, but had made little progress. Still, he was determined
to persevere.
“The church is putting on a Nativity Play on Christmas
Eve and Adam is going to be one of the Three Wise Men,” Marie explained. She
pulled a dark crimson robe from her sewing basket. “I’ve almost finished his
costume and just need to add some gold braid to make it extra special.”
“Very nice,” Clarissa sniffed contemptuously. “Don’t
let it go to your head!” she warned Adam, who felt a little of the joy seep out
of him.
Marie hastened to pout oil on troubled waters. “And
Hoss is going to play one of the cows in the stable,” she informed her guest.
“I’d rather be a chicken!” Hoss yelled from the
kitchen and Clarissa dug her fingernails sharply into the palm of her hand.
“I do a real good chicken,” he continued, coming back
into the living room. “You should see it, Cousin Clarissa!” He gave her a
conspiratorial smile. On an earlier visit, Clarissa had shared a well-guarded
secret with the little boy: her inimitable impersonation of a hen about to lay
an egg. Clarissa had perfected the skill in her youth and had passed the secret
down to Hoss, vowing him to secrecy in the process.
“What an extraordinary accomplishment,” Clarissa
agreed, somehow managing to compose her features into something approaching
serenity. She pulled a half-dollar out of her reticule and whispered in the
little boy’s ear, being careful not to be observed by anyone else.
“And guess who Joseph is going to be?” Ben announced
proudly.
Clarissa sat back in her chair, a look of extreme
horror on her face. “Surely not?” she managed in an unsteady voice, shaking her
head in disbelief.
Ben and Marie nodded proudly and Joe seemed to sense
he was the topic of conversation, for he squeaked loudly with exuberant
delight.
“The Baby Jesus!” Adam confirmed.
“That child already has far too great a sense of his own
importance,” Clarissa warned in stentorian tones. “I can only see this leading
to trouble. It would be much more suitable to wait until he is older and can
portray his namesake – and just stand there, not doing a thing and keeping
perfectly quiet!”
Hoss smiled up at her. “He sure is a noisy little
thing, ain’t he?”
Clarissa nodded in agreement. “And most inconsiderate
to make such a cacophony of noise before a visitor. Shocking bad manners, even
in one so young.” She took hold of Hoss’ hand and the pair marched outside.
Adam took Joe into his arms and joggled him
consolingly. “Don’t you listen to a word she says! “he advised. “You’re going
to be a perfect Baby Jesus, aren’t you?”
Joe had not long finished eating, which no doubt
accounted for the hearty burp he punctuated his brother’s query with. Luckily,
Clarissa was not within earshot at the time.
**********
“Can you come? Please,
The Sheriff tugged reflectively at his moustache,
highly flattered to have been asked, yet not wanting to appear too eager.
“Well, I don’t rightly know, young lad…” he started.
Hoss looked desolate. “But why not? You ain’t doing
nothing, are you?” He looked around the empty jail house, where the only sign
of activity was a half-finished game of checkers sitting on a table. It did not
look as if the Sheriff was exactly rushed off his feet. “You can play checkers
with us,” Hoss offered generously. “I’m real good, but Adam’s even better.”
“It’s a mighty tempting offer,”
Hoss had absolutely no idea what
“We really would love to have you join us,” Ben said.
“Hop Sing will be roasting a goose and he’s planning on making bread sauce to go
with it. And roast potatoes too,” he added. “Plus gravy. And maybe even figgy
pudding…” He smiled temptingly at the Sheriff.
Wreathed in smiles, Hoss skipped out to begin his
Christmas shopping. It seemed that this was going to be the very best Christmas
ever! Looking carefully in both directions, he scampered across the street to
the Mercantile, where he carefully surveyed all the delights on offer before
carefully making his purchases.
“Should I bring anything?”
“Nothing at all!” Ben replied smoothly, well
accustomed to hosting far larger events. “Hop Sing will have everything under
control. All we ask for is the pleasure of your company.”
His heartfelt words seemed to hit Ben right in the
solar plexus. It was so very easy to take all his gifts for granted and just to
assume that everyone enjoyed such a happy and fulfilling life. The spark
kindled in the Sheriff’s eyes awoke a resonance deep inside his own soul and
Ben strode out into
“Good morning, Mrs Jones, Miss Jones!”
Ben doffed his hat politely at the mother and
daughter, not long arrived in town and still struggling to settle in. It was at
this point that a wonderful idea struck him…
**********
Hoss stood before the fireplace and surveyed the tree
with a critical eye. “It ain’t bad, Adam, but…”
His elder brother gave him an old fashioned look. “But
what?” he responded caustically, trying with all his might and main to remain
calm and collected. Despite his best efforts, Adam could not quite manage to
crook his eyebrow in the approved fashion. In fact, he was getting a searing
pain across his forehead.
“There’s something missing,” Hoss said slowly, just as
the door to the downstairs bedroom opened and Clarissa glided forward. Without
saying a word, she handed Adam a small package, wrapped in white paper.
Slowly, with fumbling fingers, the young boy unwrapped
the parcel to reveal two dozen slim wax tapers, made of purest wax, gleaming
with a clear white purity. His face reflected his inner joy as he carefully
clipped each slender candle to a branch of the tree and then, leaning towards
the fire, dipped a taper into the flames and lit each tiny wick in turn, until
the tree was ablaze with flame, sparkling with an elemental glory and sending
beams of light shooting across the room. The boys turned to Clarissa, the fire
reflected in their eyes, and hugged her. For just a moment, they were all
incapable of speech.
“Merry Christmas!” Clarissa broke the uncanny silence
and kissed the young faces upturned towards her own. For the first time in so
many years, she felt a sense of peace, love and understanding. The tiny lights
seemed to chase away all the dark shadows that haunted her. She knew they were
only a transient effect, but vowed to enjoy the day fully. It was a family
Christmas after all, and she was a part of this family. Nothing could change
that.
“Come in!” Ben’s hearty voice was clearly audible, as
was the pitter patter of footsteps. As the door opened,
“Welcome.”
It was a cool, crisp voice, he realised. Emanating
from a petite figure.
This Cousin Clarissa
ain’t half as scary as folks make out,
*********
One Year Later
“We certainly can’t invite
Hoss shuddered quietly. “I thought he and Cousin
Clarissa would get on real well,” he offered. “I thought they might get married
and then she would stay here for ever!”
Ben shook his head in disbelief. “What on earth made
you think that?” He did not like to think about the rather dreadful events at
the dinner table. Suffice to say that Clarissa had stalked off in utter
mortification after
“They’re both lonely?” Hoss offered feebly. “I thought
they might keep one another company. An’ it was you that said that love
sometimes creeps up on, all unawares like.”
Ben occupied himself filling his pipe. It had taken
Adam glared at his father. “It was the worst Christmas
ever! Why on earth did you invite the Widow Jones and her peculiar daughter,
Abigail?”
“Christmas is a time when we should extend a hand of
friendship,” Ben said, trying to sound firm and certain. They certainly were a
strange pair of females, he reflected.
“I think there’s something wrong with that Abigail
creature!” Adam fumed. The memory was seared into his soul. “She never stopped
simpering at me all day, and then she nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to
pull me underneath the mistletoe! What on earth possessed you, Pa? Of all the
people – why did you have to invite them?”
Ben exchanged sympathetic glances with Hoss. “I
thought they were lonely and wanted to stretch out a hand of kindness.”
Adam grunted in acknowledgement. “At least we’ll be
spared that particular pleasure this year.” He was still haunted by memories of
the exceptionally plain Abigail Jones, who managed to combine freckles, a gawky
figure and protruding teeth, along with an incredibly tenacious personality.
“Don’t worry son,” Ben soothed. “I’m sure Abigail will
forget all about you soon.”
Adam just cocked one eyebrow sceptically. At least he
had learned one thing over the last twelve months. Now, if only he could blot
the vision of Abigail pursuing him around the living room — gosh, she could run
fast! And hurdle too! If only he hadn’t tripped over that new fur rug Pa had
bought, falling literally into her arms… Adam still felt quite nauseous at the
very thought of what had transpired with Abigail Jones. She still leered
unattractively at him each time they met…
Ben eyed the bearskin rug that lay before the stone
hearth and exchanged passionate glances with Marie. He remembering how her skin
gleamed against the fur as she luxuriated before the fire late at night on
Christmas Day, once all the boys were safely tucked away upstairs and Cousin
Clarissa had retired to bed. There really was nothing quite like a log fire —
and it was always good to start a new Christmas tradition, to add to the old
ones.
All in all, last Christmas had been pretty memorable,
Ben thought. Still, he wouldn’t say no to a nice, quiet, family Christmas this
year.
Claire O’Neill
December 2004