Present

Sitting in the back seat of the taxi as it drove along Glen Road, Andrew Belden mused that the area had hardly changed since he’d lived here. He had many memories of growing up here, both happy and bittersweet. This would be the first Christmas he would be spending at his childhood home for some time. He had mixed feelings about this visit.

Helen and Peter were aware of the new diagnosis, but he had requested that Trixie and her brothers not be told until after he’d gone home. All he wanted was to spend time with his family with as little fuss as possible.

He instructed the driver to let him off at the end of the driveway to Crabapple Farm. He knew that Helen would scold him for not calling her to pick him up, but he just needed a little time to prepare himself. As he approached the house, he was greeted by the enthusiastic barking of Bobby’s black Labrador, Beaker. Helen came out onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Beaker!” she scolded. “Stop that!” Beaker gave a final bark before bounding over to Andrew. The dog stopped in front of him with his tongue out and tail waving furiously. Andrew let him sniff his hand before scratching Beaker behind the ears.

“You’ve probably made a friend for life,” Helen laughed as Andrew climbed the steps with Beaker right behind him, snuffling for attention.

“He’s certainly friendly,” Andrew commented, kissing Helen on the cheek. There was a smudge of flour on her cheek and he brushed it off. “Been baking?”

“As always. Despite the fact that they no longer live here, my three eldest children expect me to keep a ready supply of cookies for whenever they come to visit.”

“You know that you love it,” Andrew said. Helen wrapped her arm around Andrew’s waist.

“Come inside, it’s too cold to be standing out here.” She looked at the sky. “We should get a white Christmas this year.” She closed the door on a rather forlorn looking Beaker. He let out a little whine. A few moments later the door was opened.

“Come on then,” Helen sighed. Beaker ran up the hallway in search of his new friend.

Andrew stood in the lounge. Helen had shooed him out of the kitchen, telling him to go and make himself comfortable. Feeling nostalgic, Andrew went across to the cabinet which he knew contained the photo albums. Helen had several that were dedicated to Christmas. He pulled these out and settled himself onto the sofa. The first photos had been taken while Peter and Helen were still dating. He looked up as Helen entered the room.

“How did we get so old?” he asked.

“Speak for yourself,” she sniffed as she sat down beside him.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting these out,” Andrew said, indicating the album.

Helen shook her head. “Of course not! You know, I don’t think I’ve looked at these myself in years. I even have your mother’s albums here somewhere.” She laughed at the face Andrew pulled.

“There are some lovely photos in there,” she teased.

“And they can stay there, away from view,” Andrew replied with a mock shudder. He would never forget the year he’d been dressed as an angel for a school Christmas concert. His mother thought he looked cute, but Andrew hadn’t been impressed with having to wear his mother’s voluminous cotton nightgown as his costume. He knew that that photo was around somewhere. He’d always wanted to get rid of it, but his mother wouldn’t let him.

“That must be from Mart’s first Christmas,” she said pointing at a photo of herself, Peter, Brian and Mart. That year Mart had taken more interest in the mountains of wrapping paper rather than the presents themselves. Peter and Helen could have saved a considerable amount of money if they had simply given him wrapping paper instead of the books and toys they had bought.

Past

Helen was in the middle of decorating the tree when the doorbell rang. She expected it to be Mrs. Frayne, but was pleasantly surprised to see that it was her brother-in-law Andrew.

“Andy!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” She stood back and smiled at him happily. He returned her smile.

“How have you been?” she asked, studying him with concern. She thought that he was looking a lot better than when she saw him several months earlier. He had put on a little weight, so he didn’t look as gaunt. She was glad to see him more like his usual self. It had been a long and difficult few years and she had been worried for him. She had extended the invitation for him to join them for Christmas, not really expecting him to accept. He had declined the invitation last year, and she had expected that he would do the same this year. For the past couple of years he had essentially shut himself off from friends and family. He had put all his efforts into his farm in Iowa and used that as an excuse to avoid family gatherings.

“I can honestly say that I’ve been good. I know that it’s been a while since I’ve been able to say that.” He appreciated her concern; she had certainly had enough cause to worry. Helen had been there through the worst of it, and he owed her a great deal of gratitude.

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. I almost didn’t come then thought that I had shut myself away for long enough. It wasn’t going to change anything. I can’t keep living in the past, I have to move on. I thought that this was the perfect opportunity. So, where are those two nephews of mine, anyway?”

Helen looked involuntarily at the ceiling. “Upstairs. I’ve put them down for a nap, so I hope they are still asleep. Brian has been constantly on the go lately. If I turn my back on him for a moment he’s into something. For a little boy he can certainly move. He’s only still when he’s asleep. As for Mart, at the moment, all he wants to do is eat and sleep. He has quite the appetite on him,” she said wryly.

As if he had been able to hear his mother’s words, a wail came from upstairs. Helen began to get up but Andrew put a hand up to stop her.

“I’ll fetch him,” he said. Helen smiled at him gratefully. Andrew followed the sound of crying and returned within a few minutes with the baby. Although he had stopped crying as soon as Andrew picked him up, Mart was looking a little disconcerted at being held by a stranger. He put his arms out for his mother as soon as he got near.

“I’ll go and bring my bags in while you’re …you’re…” he waved a hand at Helen, and flushed. “Where should I put them?”

“I thought the downstairs guest bedroom would be best. You’re not so likely to be woken up in the middle of the night by the children. However, if you want your old room you can.”

Andrew shook his head. “The guest room will be just fine.” He went to fetch his luggage. It had been several years since he had been back at Crabapple Farm for Christmas. It wouldn’t be the same without his parents though. He hadn’t been back to Sleepyside very often. There were too many memories here. Part of him missed his old home town. He hoped that one day the good memories would overshadow the pain of returning.

The farm had changed little since Peter and Helen had moved into it. It was good to know that there was a family living in it again. It was a far better environment to bring children up than an apartment in the city. Peter was lucky to have married Helen, who loved the place as much as any Belden. Andrew knew that Helen would soon make her own mark on the home and he was looking forward to seeing what she would do.

Tomorrow he would go alone to the cemetery. He preferred to pay his respects in private, and knew that Peter and Helen would understand.

He hoped in time that he would have something to look forward to. For the moment, he simply wanted to spend more time with his two nephews.

Brian took an instant interest in his uncle, climbing into his lap and demanding a story. Andrew was only too happy to oblige.

“You’ll be there for hours,” Helen warned with a laugh. “Brian loves his books, don’t you, sweetie?” Brian nodded.

“I don’t mind,” Andrew said.

“I think you’ll change your mind after you’ve read the same book more than once. Don’t even think about skipping any pages because he has them memorized. Peter tried to do that one night and Brian was not impressed.”

Andrew laughed. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Has Helen told you our news?” Peter asked. They were sitting in the lounge after dinner. The fire had been lit, filling the room with its warmth. Brian and Mart were both tucked up in bed. Andrew had supervised Brian’s bath and had ended up nearly as wet. Helen had looked in on them and shook her head.

“I don’t know who the biggest kid is,” she had sighed. Andrew and Brian had simply grinned at her and made even more mess.

Andrew had to admit that he was having fun. It had been a boost to his spirits. He should have done this much earlier. There was something healing about being around children, and watching their pure joy at the simplest of things.

Andrew shook his head. “No.”

“We’re having a baby!” Helen said with delight. Peter was practically beaming.

“Another one? How?” He was surprised by the news. Baby Mart was only six months old after all. It wasn’t a very big gap. It would mean a lot of extra work.

“You’re the farmer, you tell us,” Peter said dryly.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’ve only just had Mart.”

“I know,” Helen said. “It was a little unexpected, but we couldn’t be happier. I’m glad that they’ll be close in age. I think it makes a difference in relationships.”

Andrew nodded. As the youngest, he’d always been closer to Peter than Harold. The eight years between them had been too great to find any common interests. Not to mention that Harold had never been interested in having his youngest brother tagging along with him. Peter had had more patience and never complained about having to keep and eye on Andrew.

Helen laid a hand upon her stomach, and smiled softly. “I do hope it’s a girl. I’d love to have a little girl to dress up in pretty clothes with lots of pink and frills. Buying dolls for her and making dolls dresses. Of course I’ll be happy with another healthy baby, but a girl would be simply perfect. I think we’ll stop after this one though, three will be plenty.”

The following morning Peter left for work at the bank. Andrew helped Helen wash up the breakfast dishes.

“Are you sure that you will be able to manage with three little ones?” Andrew asked with concern. “It won’t be too much work for you?”

Helen shook her head. “I’ve had a lot of help from the James and Nell Frayne up at Ten Acres. They’ve been absolutely wonderful to Peter and I, and they love the boys to bits. They spoil them so much. Every time they go into the city, they always bring them back a gift. I’ve been fortunate to have them. They’ve been like an extra set of grandparents.” Her face clouded as she thought of Peter and Andrew’s parents. She missed them so much. She knew that they would have relished being grandparents. Peter’s mother had mentioned how much she was looking forward to grandchildren.

“Mom would have been in her element,” Andrew said, as if reading her mind. “You may think the boys are spoilt now, but it’s nothing compared to what Mom would be doing.”

“You know, Helen,” he continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for what you did for me. For never giving up on me, even when I was giving up on myself.” “It’s what friends do,” she said. “Not to mention that you’re family, and families always stick together.”

Not always, Andrew thought. His oldest brother hadn’t been supportive. True he didn’t know the whole story, but he hadn’t been there for him. It had been a lonely time. He didn’t know how he would have gotten through it without Helen’s gentle care. She hadn’t pushed, hadn’t expected anything of him, just simply let him know that she was there and that she cared.

Andrew sniffed at the air appreciatively. “Something smells good!”

“It’s the Christmas cookies I’ve got baking. It’s your mother’s recipe.”

Andrew grinned. “Have you any ready to eat?” he asked hopefully.

Helen rolled her eyes and pointed to the rack on the table. “Don’t eat too many or you’ll spoil your appetite.”

“Yes, Mom,” Andrew laughed as he grabbed a couple of the cookies. They were still slightly warm, the way he preferred them. He smiled as he remembered his attempts as a young boy to filch freshly baked cookies. For his efforts, he had received numerous smacks over the hand from his wooden spoon wielding mother. He didn’t dare try it with Helen, as he suspected she would be just the same as his mother.

“I suppose it’s just as well that I made a double batch,” Helen sighed. “I have a feeling that these are going to go pretty quickly.”

“You shouldn’t make them taste so good,” Andrew mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

After that first Christmas with his nephews, Andrew had tried to return to Crabapple Farm for the holiday as often as he could.

Present

A few more pages in the album were turned, and Trixie made her first appearances.

“Not quite the little girl you were expecting,” Andrew laughed.

“No,” Helen agreed. “But I wouldn’t swap her for the world.”

“Wasn’t this the Christmas that Trixie entertained us with her renditions of certain Christmas carols?” Andrew laughed, pointing at a photo of Trixie and her brothers.

Helen nodded and grimaced. “That’s right. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed!”

The subject of their discussion opened the kitchen door.

“Moms?”

“In here, honey,” Helen called. Trixie came into the lounge rubbing her hands. Her cheeks were flushed with cold. She went first to her uncle, hugging him, and then to her mother.

“It’s freezing out there,” Trixie said, joining them on the sofa. She sat on Andrew’s other side, leaning against him.

“I didn’t hear your car,” Helen said.

“That’s because Di dropped me off. My car’s getting fixed again, and Di was coming to see her family so I got a ride. I hope you don’t mind me just turning up.”

“Of course not! You know that you’re always welcome here.”

“Plus,” Trixie continued. “I knew that Uncle Andrew was coming. What are you two doing?”

“Reminiscing over old Christmas photos,” Helen replied

“How far have you gotten?” Trixie asked.

“Up to when you were four,” Andrew replied. “The year of the Christmas carols.”

“I don’t really remember it, although I have heard it mentioned several times,” Trixie said. “Remind me again about what happened.”

Past

“Uncle Andrew!” Trixie yelled as she ran in to his arms. He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“My goodness, you’ve certainly grown since I last saw you. How old are you now?”

“Four,” Trixie said proudly. “Uncle Andrew, I can sing Jingle Bells now. Do you want to hear me sing it?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Andrew said.

“Dashing through the snow, in a one whore soap and sleigh!” Trixie sang at the top of her lungs.

“What did you just say?” Helen asked. She was unsure if she’d heard correctly or not, but one glance at Andrew confirmed her initial thought. Andrew was struggling not to laugh. Unaware of that she had sung anything wrong, Trixie continued to sing.

“Very good,” Andrew said smiling widely once she’d finished.

“I’m going to have to work with her on that one,” Helen sighed.

“I kind of liked it,” Andrew said.

“You would! My sister and brother-in-law are coming tomorrow, and I don’t think they’re going to be as impressed as you at Trixie’s version.”

“Uncle Andrew?”

“Yes, Trixie?”

“Did you bring me a present?”

“Trixie!” Helen scolded. “You know better than to ask for presents.”

“It’s alright, Helen,” Andrew said. “Maybe I have.”

“Two presents?” Trixie asked hopefully. “One for now and one for Christmas?”

“I might do.”

“You spoil her,” Helen sighed. Andrew was unrepentant as he grinned at her.

“Can I help it if she has me wrapped around her little finger?”

“Is so!” Trixie shouted.

“Is not!” Mart yelled back.

“Is too!”

“Children, children,” Helen admonished. She walked over to them, wiping her hands on her apron as she did so. “What’s going on?” Trixie and Mart stopped arguing and stood glaring at one another. Both had their hands on their hips.

“Trixie’s singing it wrong,” Mart said. “I told her it’s Hark the Harold Angels Sing, but she won’t listen.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Hark the Hairy Angels Sing, isn’t it Mommy?”

“Don’t be stupid…”

“Mart!” Helen intervened. She frowned at her son. “I will not have you speaking to your sister like that. Actually, you are both wrong. It’s Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

“Told you you was wrong!” Trixie said poking her tongue out at her brother. Helen sighed loudly. Trixie and Mart had been diabolical all day. There was always a certain amount of teasing between them, but today it was getting out of hand. She had already tried to separate them, but they always wound up back together again. Helen ran her hand through her hair.

“I’ll keep them out of your hair for a bit,” Andrew said. Helen gave him a grateful look.

“Thank you,” she said. “They’ve been little monsters today. I hope that they’ll be better behaved tomorrow. I’ve tried telling them that Santa won’t come tonight if they’re naughty, but it hasn’t had any effect yet.”

After lunch on Christmas Day, Alicia insisted that everyone gather together to sing carols. While only the children shared her enthusiasm, the adults gave in with good grace.

Helen could hear Mart singing Harold, and Trixie singing Hairy. She couldn’t help smiling. She wasn’t worried about them singing the wrong words, she was happy they were enjoying themselves. They were completely unselfconscious – singing as loudly as they could, trying to outdo each other. Her eldest son was more reserved. He was growing up so quickly now that he had turned seven only a few months previous. He caught her gaze and smiled at her.

“God damned sinners reconciled,” Trixie sang. She never noticed the pinched look on her aunt’s face. Helen was mortified, her only consolation was that only family were around. It would have been so much worse if they had been in public. Only Alicia was able to carry on singing. Helen wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She noted that Peter and Andrew were struggling valiantly not to laugh. Brian was staring at the floor, his shaking shoulders betraying his mirth. Mart was rolling around on the floor laughing hysterically.

“Moms, Trixie said damned!” he gasped.

“I’m well aware of that. You needn’t repeat it.”

Present

“While your father, uncle and brothers thought it was hilarious, your Aunt Alicia was not impressed,” Helen said wryly.

“Is that why she’s always had it in for me?” Trixie grinned.

“She hasn’t had it in for you,” Helen protested.

“Oh yes she has,” Trixie countered. “Look at the gifts she’s given me over the years.” Trixie was referring to the jewelry and sewing paraphernalia her aunt had given her for birthdays and Christmases. Trixie didn’t recall liking a single gift she had received. She knew that she should be grateful anyway, but she’d always been frustrated that her aunt kept giving her things that she had no use for.

“She was simply trying to encourage your feminine side.” Trixie rolled her eyes at this, as this was at the very root of her issues with her aunt. Aunt Alicia had failed to appreciate that her only blood niece wasn’t a girly girl.

Trixie snorted. “Did she really think they were going to make a difference? If growing up with you as my mother didn’t turn me into a lady, then they certainly weren’t going to have any effect.”

“It probably would have been different if Alicia had had a daughter of her own,” Helen said. She understood both sides. She herself had wished many times that Trixie hadn’t been such a tomboy. It had been clear early on that Trixie had no time for dolls and frills. She never wanted to stay to long in one place, and would follow her older brothers around. Helen had simply thrown up her hands and left Trixie to play with Brian and Mart. She hoped that it was simply a phase and when she started school she would grow out of it.

“I guess I lucked out on the Johnson genes,” Trixie mused. “Hallie’s been just as bad, so it must be a Belden thing. Or is it because we both have older brothers?”

“You may have just turned out a tomboy anyway,” Helen said.

The three of them continued to laugh and reminisce their way through the rest of the album, before Helen glanced at the clock.

“Goodness,” she said, standing up. “Where has the afternoon gone? I’d better get dinner ready before your father and Bobby get home.”

Trixie also stood. “I’ll help you,” she offered. Helen shook her head.

“No, it’s okay. You stay here with your uncle.”

Trixie filled Andrew in with what had been happening in her life recently, and those of her friends. The Bob-Whites had become nieces and nephews by extension. They all called him Uncle Andrew, and he had maintained an interest in their lives.

At dinner that night, Andrew looked around the table at his family. He had never regretted not having children of his own. He knew that it was something that was never meant to be, so he had indulged his nieces and nephews instead. Trixie had always been his favourite. She reminded him so much of her mother.

They had been a vital role in helping him get his life back together. It had given him something else to focus his attention on. They had brought him back to Sleepyside. He probably wouldn’t have come back if it wasn’t for them.

This last year had been difficult, first with the diagnosis of lung cancer and the subsequent surgery and radiotherapy. It had knocked him around but he had remained strong. He was going to beat it. For awhile everything had looked promising, and he had been positive that he had beaten it. But once again his body had betrayed him. He had to admit that it was mainly his own fault, he had known the risks. But his fondness for his pipe had won over the knowledge of the damage it would do his health. He hadn’t really been surprised that it had eventually caught up with him. He was resigned to the way things had happened, there was no point feeling bitter. For the past thirty years he had known that life wasn’t always fair.

He had noticed Helen looking at him with concern a few times today. He knew that she worried about him, but she wouldn’t fuss. He would tell her, but not yet. He didn’t want anything to cast a dampener over the holiday period. He wanted and needed this to be a happy time.

He went to bed early that night. He hated to admit to any weakness, but the trip had taken a lot out of him. It was one of the things he struggled with the most, not being able to do the things he always had. He missed the hands on work at the farm and after the seizure he was no longer able to drive. He knew that he had to be prepared to give up a lot more over the upcoming months. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. He hated not having control over his life.

“Do you want me to take you to the cemetery?” Helen asked the following morning. Andrew had to smile at the irony in her question. He hadn’t planned on going this year, but as he had decided not to tell her his news until after Christmas Day, he would have to go. He needed to keep up appearances, otherwise there would be questions, and he didn’t want to lie. He should have realized that Helen would think of it.

Andrew nodded. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

They went first to the graves of Andrew’s parents, before moving away to pay their separate respects. Andrew stood at the gravesite with his head bowed. It had been at least two years since he had been here last. How quickly time went. It was hard to believe that it was nearly thirty years ago. Where had the years gone?

Usually when he visited, he felt overwhelmed by grief. Time had never made it any easier. But, this time it was different, he had a feeling of peace and acceptance. He knew that a lot of it had to do with the decision he had made. It confirmed to him that he was making the right decision.

He whispered a goodbye before seeking out Helen. He found her at the gravesite of her father. She heard him coming and turned to him. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and gave him a small smile.

“Shall we go?” she asked. Andrew nodded. She threaded her arm through his as they walked back to the car. At the gate she looked back over the rows of headstones and gave an involuntary shiver.

“I hate this place,” she said. Andrew patted her hand.

“Don’t we all,” he replied.

On Christmas Eve everyone put their gifts out under the tree. Andrew remembered an early Christmas when he was five or six years old.

Past

On Christmas Eve before going to bed, his mother helped him to leave out cookies and milk for Santa, and twelve carrots for the reindeer. He’d insisted that each reindeer get his own carrot. Before bed, along with Harold and Peter, he had placed the gifts he was giving under the tree. Harold and Peter had been old enough to wrap theirs, but their mother had had to help Andrew. He wondered what was in the gaily wrapped packages. He tried to guess from their shapes, but it was difficult to tell for sure.

That night he had lain in bed and desperately tried to go to sleep. No matter how hard he tried, his excited state meant that sleep was elusive. His mother had told him that Santa Claus never came to houses where children were still awake, so was terrified that Santa wouldn’t come if he didn’t go to sleep. In the end he had drifted off, and awakened early on Christmas morning. At first he lay there in the darkness then he remembered what day it was. He threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. He didn’t even stop to put his slippers on. He crept down the hallway, pausing as he stepped on a particularly creaky floor board. He paused, his heart thudding in his chest. He expected someone to either come out, or yell at him to get back to bed, but the house remained silent.

He breathed a sigh of relief and began to descend the stairs. Only at the bottom did he feel more at ease. He was pretty sure that he had managed to evade his parents. He stood outside the lounge door. He paused in anticipation before opening the door. It was too dark to see clearly so he switched on the light. Standing in the doorway, he surveyed the room with wide eyes. There was a mountain of gifts under the tree. Above the fireplace, three stockings hung, all stuffed to overflowing. Andrew danced from one foot to the other. He wanted to rush straight in and rip open his gifts, but he knew that there would be trouble if he did. Instead he switched off the light and closed the door with regret. He told himself that he would be allowed to come back soon.

Not so concerned about being caught out of bed, he hurried back upstairs. Instead of returning to his own warm bed, he pushed open Peter’s door. He crossed the room and jumped on Peter’s bed until his brother awoke. Despite the early hour Peter was good natured about being woken up by his little brother. He propped himself up on his elbow and listened with a grin as Andrew described how Santa Claus had left ‘hundreds’ of gifts. Andrew wanted to go and wake up his parents, but Peter advised that they should wait. He shifted over in the bed to allow Andrew to climb under the covers with him. His only complaint was Andrew’s cold feet.

When it was a little later in the morning, they both went in and woke up Harold. The three brothers then went into their parent’s room. Andrew jumped on the bed with excitement, urging his parents to wake up. Peter and Harold remained at the foot of the bed as they waited for their parents to rouse. Finally they blearily opened their eyes. Mrs. Belden smiled at the excitement of her youngest son, and willingly allowed herself to be pulled out of bed. Andrew took her by the hand and dragged her into the lounge to show her all the gifts. She gasped with surprise and asked where all the presents came from.

Andrew had laughed. “They’re from Santa, of course!”

By then, Peter and Harold already knew the truth about Santa, but for Andrew’s benefit they were happy to play along. The boys were allowed to get their stockings while their mother prepared breakfast. After breakfast, they would all gather in the lounge to open the other gifts.

Present

“Now, no peeking!” Helen said, waving her finger and trying to look stern.

“As if we would,” Trixie scoffed. She caught the eye of her uncle. “Well, maybe just a little shake.” He grinned back at her. She went over to him and hugged him.

“I’m glad you’re here for Christmas,” she said.

“So am I, Trixie,” Andrew replied. “So am I.”

Author’s Note: I’d aimed to have something a little more upbeat for Christmas, but really needed to get this finished. Parts of this story have been around for about 4 years. It’s nice to get it completed.

Background courtesy of GR SITES