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Henry stood at the stove, slowly adding milk to the heating pan of eggs, sugar, and salt. Stirring it together thoroughly, he hummed along with the Christmas carols playing from the record in the background.
The shop was decorated for Christmas, with holly and ivy garlands draped over the doors and windows and with red and green afghans spread out over the chairs. A large, red candle was nestled among the branches of holly in the window, waiting to be lit later that night. A simple tree was nestled in the corner beyond Henry's desk, bedecked with old ornaments and glittering silver tinsel. Beneath the tree were several brightly wrapped gifts, resting up against the tree stand; and on the kitchen counter, bags of sugar and flour, and other baking ingredients were lined up for the day.
The sun was just starting to rise over New York City, and a smile played over the doctor's face as he thought of all of the Christmases he had taken part in over the years – whether with his own family, or with the family of patients grateful to him, or even by himself. He remembered how traditions and expectations for the holiday had changed over the years, but how it had still somehow remained the same, at its heart.
Above him, he could hear Abe waking up, and he chuckled as he remembered how his son would always be the first person up, running to check the tree and see what Santa had left over the night. Staying up late to wrap the presents and place them out, only to be awoken at dawn by an excited child – uncaring that the world around him was asleep and only wanting to share the excitement of the morning with someone – was common as Abe grew up. Abigail would always tell Abe to go away and then roll over to go back to sleep, but Henry could never resist Abe's barely contained excitement and glee, and would always get out of bed and spend the morning with his son; and together, father and son would make a hot breakfast for Abigail when she awoke.
"Good morning," He called as he heard Abe coming down the stairs, "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, Dad!" He came into the kitchen and filled a pitcher with warm water to fill the tree stand with – not wanting the needles to fall off prematurely. As he poured the water into the tree stand's reservoir, he pushed the light's plug firmly back into the socket. In the branches, the multicoloured lights blinked on and twinkled merrily through the needles and tinsel, reflecting off the silver and the ornaments. Bending to pick up some fallen holly branches and replace them in the garland, Abe returned to the kitchen, where Henry finished adding the milk, and turned down the heat beneath the pan.
"Eggnog?" Abe asked, gesturing towards the pan Henry was minding on the stove.
He nodded, continuing to stir to avoid burning or scalding. He motioned toward the parade of cooking items on the counter. "What shall we make first?"
"Breakfast?" he reminded, incredulously. "You're the doctor, always saying it's the most important meal of the -"
"Yes, Abe." Henry shook his head in comfortable ease with their relationship and waved his son towards the table. "There is a plate of toast and egg awaiting you at your leisure."
"Thank you." Abe retrieved the cooling plate and returned to the kitchen. As he ate, he pulled a battered cooking book down from a cupboard and set it on the counter. Turning the egg and cocoa stained pages, he began to read through the list of cookies – giving extra consideration towards those marked with a woman's delicate hand.
"Date bars?" He finally asked, pouring a glass of milk to drink with his breakfast.
When Henry nodded, Abe began to measure out the ingredients into a different pan, snatching bites of breakfast from his plate. Moving the pan over to the stove, he began to stir it, standing beside his father.
"Are you going to invite her?"
"Jo?" Henry looked up. "I had not planned to – I'm sure she has other plans for tonight."
"Did you ever think to ask?"
"No, but unlike us, she lives in a correct time, and surely has friends and family to spend the holidays with."
"Well, if you want to think that..."
Henry glanced sideways at his son, but accepted the way out and dropped the subject.
When the mixture had finished cooking, Abe spread it out on a cookie sheet, setting aside two spoonfuls on a separate plate to cool. Motioning Henry aside, he placed it in the oven and set the timer. At the same time, Henry's eggnog also finished cooking, and he carefully took it off the stove and carried it upstairs where an ice-bath was waiting.
Waiting for Henry to come back downstairs, Abe washed up the dishes and straightened the house, knowing he would have no time to do it later. As he was sweeping the floor of the dining room, the doctor came back downstairs with the cooled eggnog, which was placed in the fridge. The two bent over the cooking book, deciding which cookie to make next. At the same time, they pointed to different recipes: Henry to peanut butter cookies, and Abe to snowballs.
"We'll make snowballs first, and then peanut butter -" Henry saw another recipe and added that to their agenda as well, "And then jam thumbprints."
Abe nodded in agreement and began to set out ingredients for the dessert; while Henry rummaged in a lower drawer to find a dark blue apron, which he tied on. When Abe saw it, he opened his mouth to tease the doctor, but Henry cut him off.
"Abraham, please. You may enjoy having flour and sugar permanently worked into the fabric of your garments, but I do not; and would much rather avoid the extensive cleaning that would result if I didn't wear an apron." He finished tying the sash and took the cooling date bar dough from the plate, eating it as he fetched the eggs, milk, and butter for Abe. "This is delicious!"
"Of course it is – I made it."
Henry smiled. "As I am aware – you always add too much cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla."
Abe shook his head, knowing he father was teasing. "Yeah, yeah, I know – but I haven't seen you offer to make it yourself yet, so..."
Henry and Abe worked in the kitchen for most of the day, making many batches of cookies and desserts – and eating nearly as much dough. A huge bowl sat on the dining room table, filled with gingerbread men, peanut butter cookies (some of which had rather odd patterns on them from when Abe stole the fork and sugar), date bars, no-bake cookies, jam thumbprints, snowballs, snickerdoodles, chocolate chip and M&M cookies (at Abe's insistence, for gifting away if need be), citrus pinwheels, toffee, fudge, caramel – none of which were perfect, and many of which bore signs of the miniature war Abe had started in the kitchen.
A bowl of sugar cookies was also set out, and some even appeared normal. But while the icing decorations on some were fit for company, many of the decorations had fallen prey to petty childishness and varied from sheer amount, to intricacy, to words in foreign languages.
The two rested in the kitchen, drinking hot cocoa and waiting for the final batch of dessert – Turkish Delight – to come out of the oven. Their smiles were wide, even as they looked around a kitchen fairly covered with sugar, flour, sprinkles and cocoa – the results of competition. Henry still wore the apron, but was still covered in flour from where Abe had thrown some at him. Abe appeared neater – but only because his father had refrained from acting too much the child, to his son's advantage and glee.
They laughed at memories and lessons learned through experience and misadventures through the years, remembering burnt cookies and the few accidental deaths from Abe's 'wars'. The memory of Abigail was not a shadow on this day, but a present memory – a merry part of the holiday, unmarred by tragedy.
As the cocoa was finished and the timer went off, Abe turned the oven off and put the last dessert away as Henry wet a rag and began wiping off the counters. Abe ran a sink of water for the dishes, and the doctor swept the floor, attempting to clear all of the corners of the mess.
The kitchen quieted, and they focused on their tasks: Abe washed the dishes, soaking the ones with long dried dough on them; and Henry mopped the floor, scrubbing it by hand with a rag to ensure that all was clean. They continued to laugh and tease as they worked, taking a day in the year where they had no one to act for, no secrets to keep, and were free to remember and play.
As the sun set, Abe worked in the kitchen making lasagna, having banned Henry from helping on the grounds that 'his noodles were always ruined'. Henry had laughingly capitulated, and had retreated to the sitting room with a large bowl of popcorn and another, slightly smaller bowl of cranberries, and was painstakingly stringing them in a repeated pattern.
The doctor was nearly halfway through both bowls when there was a knock at the door. Shaking his head at Abe's muffled order to see who it was, Henry got up to see their late visitor, preparing to turn one of Abe's customers away.
On the other side of the glass door stood Detective Martinez. She had pulled her hair back in a loose bun and secured it with silver pins. Wearing a bright red sweater over black slacks, she looked exceptionally seasonal. In her hands, she carried several wrapped presents, and a bough of mistletoe rested atop the ribbon.
"Welcome, Detective," He ushered her into the house. "May I ask what brings you here?"
She stepped in, balancing the gifts. "I had nothing to do this evening and didn't want to spend it alone. Knowing that you have no family outside of Abe, and that he would want me to stay at least, I figured I would try to find some company for the holiday here." She looked around. "Where may I put these?"
"This way." Henry led her into the sitting room where the tree was, and she deposited her load beneath the branches.
Standing up, she frowned at the live tree that scented the room. "First, why do you have a live tree in your house? Wouldn't a fake tree be simpler and less mess?"
Henry shuddered. "Those things do not qualify as 'Christmas trees', and should never be allowed into one's home. Trust me, Detective, the extra trouble and time spent to fetch a live tree will ever be worth it."
"If you think so..." Curious, she reached out to touch the branches, bending them around her finger. "How did you even manage to find one in the middle of New York City?"
"Much patience... And extensive use of Abe's driving capabilities." He gestured to the greenery that she still carried. "And may I ask about that?"
She held out the branch of mistletoe to Henry. "Here. I thought I should bring something for the house, and figured it was safe to assume that you wouldn't have this – I know a friend that owns a flower shop and was able to get me some." She smiled. "However, I took the liberties of removing the berries."
He laughed as he accepted the branch. "Quite safe – although I should warn you, Abe will likely care nothing for such a precaution." He searched through a drawer in his desk and found a tack. Climbing up on a chair, he secured the branch above a door, waiting for those who passed beneath. Finishing, he turned back to Jo, "Will you be staying for dinner?"
"I don't want to cause trouble -"
"No, please. Stay. It will be a pleasure."
She smiled and nodded. "Alright." She looked around. "Speaking of which, where is Abe?"
Henry waved towards the kitchen. "He is making lasagna for dinner, and claims that I would ruin the noodles – thus the garlands I make." He indicated the string of popcorn and cranberries. "Perhaps you would like to help him?"
"If he wouldn't mind..."
"I'm sure he wouldn't." Henry led her into the kitchen.
Abe heard them coming and frowned without looking. "Henry? I told you not to come in here – unless you like hard noodles..."
The doctor smiled. "Abraham, but your guest has arrived."
"My guest?" He dried off his hands and turned around, frowning when he saw Jo. "Now, I didn't invite her -" He broke off when he saw Henry's grin widen. "Oh, hysterical, Dad – really." He turned back to Jo. "Well, now that you're here, would you be so kind as to help me – or would rather share in his delightful company?"
She laughed. "As much as stringing popcorn and cranberries sounds fun, lasagna is more so. Sorry, Henry."
He put his hand to his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me with your abandonment!" At Abe's shooing motions and Jo's unrestrained laughter, he bowed gracefully and left the kitchen, returning to his garland, listening to the two youngsters laughing as they worked.
When the bowls of popcorn and cranberries were empty, he draped the string around the house alongside the garlands of holly and ivy. Gathering up the bowls and needle he used, he returned to the kitchen and put them away. He poured himself a cup of Christmas tea, and stood in the doorway watching Abe and Jo work, carefully layering noodles and cheese filling down in the pan before putting it in the oven. When Abe noticed him, he tried to shoo him out again, but Henry pointed out that technically he wasn't in the kitchen, only on the threshold. Abe shook his head and surrendered.
Soon, the lasagna was baking in the oven, and the dishes were washed again – spread out to dry across the counters. The three had congregated in the sitting room with several warm blankets and glasses of eggnog. Jo had been reluctant to try it; but finally had at Abe's urging, and had enjoyed it. Henry was changing the records, putting on a different, instrumental Christmas set.
Jo joined in with the first song, Jingle Bells, singing the words with the melody; and Abe joined her. After the first verse, Henry sighed and joined in. The songs passed, and, occasionally, Abe or Jo would rewrite the lyrics to a carol and sing their alternative, while Henry would continue to sing the traditional – or older – version of the song. Sometimes, when none of them knew all of the words, the doctor would tell them the history of the carols or of certain traditions, and what they had meant through time.
When the timer rang again, Jo got up to check the lasagna, taking it out of the oven when Abe declared the top to be 'perfect'. Henry boiled some broccoli and shredded some cheese to cover it, while Jo set three places at the table. Abe carefully set the hot pans on a hot pad on the dining room table, swiping a cookie out of the bowl when he had finished and ignoring Henry's mock-disapproving frown. When Jo smiled mischievously and swiped a cookie as well, the doctor sighed in exasperation and returned to the stove. The detective and Abe laughed, settling in at the table to wait for Henry.
Dinner was light and cheerful, filled with teasing and memories. Henry told Jo stories of Abe's past Christmases, and Abe retaliated with stories of his father's past misadventures. Occasionally, she would chime in with a story of her own, but was usually content to sit back and watch the two men correct each other on the proper sequence of events and on whom rested the most blame. Several times, she had to excuse herself to clear her throat before she actually choked on her food or drink while laughing, and Henry would often become somber afterward – although Abe would soon pull him out again.
When the meal had finally tapered off and finished, Henry gathered up the dishes and began washing them while Abe and Jo put away the leftover lasagna. Halfway through the process of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, Jo scooped a handful of bubbles out of the sink and blew them on Henry's head when he was distracted with worriedly watching Abe precariously balance the large pan of lasagna and the pan of eggnog, trying to fit both into the fridge. When the lasagna pan nearly tipped off Abe's arm, the doctor gasped and started forward to catch it, but Abe was able to safely fit all of the food inside the fridge. When he turned around and saw the bubbles in his father's hair, his eyes widened, and he quickly turned away to hide his smile.
Henry frowned at his son's abrupt exit, and suspiciously reached p to his hair. Feeling the bubbles, he smiled and threw a handful of his own at Jo. Laughing, she dodged them, and escaped the kitchen to help Abe wash the dining room table. Quickly finishing the last few dishes, Henry let out the water in the sinks and lit a burner on the stove to make hot chocolate.
In the other room, Abe selected several of each type of cookie and placed them on a platter before pulling on a warm winter coat and hat, giving Jo one of the spare coats. At his direction, she carried three chairs outside the shop and set them up on the sidewalk outside, carrying the platter of cookies out next. When Henry came out with three steaming cups of hot chocolate, she carefully took those from him as well, giving him opportunity to dress warmly.
Henry sat between Jo and Abe, holding the platter of cookies on his lap so that all three could reach it, and studying the clear sky above and the stars. The night was silent, for once, as if the city itself realized what night this was.
As the detective sipped her hot chocolate, she asked Henry, "What does Christmas mean to you?"
He thought for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. "Hope. Innocence and change for the better. Christmas is a time for kindness, forgiveness, joy, love, peace – it's a time for children and fantasy, when troubles can be forgotten and even the oldest among us can revel in play. A harbour from the storms of life. Christmas is...Hope." He fell silent again for a moment before asking her the same question.
"I don't know... I think it means family, memories. A time where people may come together with a clean slate and no bad ground between them, putting aside their differences for a little while."
Expectantly, the two looked at Abe, who had stolen the platter of cookies from Henry. His father sighed and took it back while Jo smiled.
Finishing the jam thumbprint he held, Abe answered her question: "Me? It means family. And no secrets. No worries that something's going to come out to ruin the holiday – I can be a child, and Henry my dad, and we don't have to worry."
Jo nodded. "It's so simple, yet some people make so much of it – too much of a good thing at times."
Henry nodded in agreement. All was quiet, and Abe began 'Silent Night', with Henry harmonizing in German.
Jo left after midnight, taking home a few hastily wrapped gifts from Henry and Abe, and a standing invitation for coming holidays. Seeing the time, Henry had offered to either let her stay at the shop or accompany her home, but she had declined, and thanked him for the wonderful day he had let her into – the best gift possible. She looked forward to joining them again next year, and smiled happily as she realized how grateful she was to have been accepted into Henry's 'family'.
Abe went upstairs to his bed soon after Jo left. Many years ago, his father and him had come to an agreement: Henry would put out his extra presents for Abe late at night and sleep in, while Abe would rise early in the morning and do the same for Henry. Belief in Santa Claus might be ancient history for him, but Christmas morning still wasn't the same without new presents under the tree – something they both knew.
He had a wonderful day with Henry, and was glad his father had been able to relax. Having Jo there as well had been an unexpected pleasure, but Abe knew that it was good in the long run for Jo to become a part of their lives before Abe left it.
Henry finished drying the dishes left from hot chocolate, having already said good bye to Jo, good night to Abe, and had locked up the shop. This day had been a mixture of nostalgia, and memories both happy and sad. At times, he had glimpsed Abigail out of the corner of his eye – but she would always disappear when he turned to look.
He fetched the presents and gently set them beneath the trees branches, settling down on the ground himself for a few minutes, and just thinking. So much had changed through the years because of his condition, but some things still hadn't, and likely never would. In the back of his mind, he knew that his years with Abe were limited – and once again, he resolved to make the most of every minute he had with his son – but he hoped, he wished, that there were still many, many more Christmases awaiting Abe.
"Henry? Henry!"
The doctor blinked away sleep and lifted his head from beneath his blankets, glaring at the door to his bedroom and the voice on the opposite side that disturbed his sleep.
"Henry! Wake up!"
"Go away..." Henry pulled the blankets back over his head. "I'm not awake..."
"Henry, you are awake!"
Silence fell through the house as Henry ignored his son; and after a moment, the doorknob turned – but the door was locked.
"Henry, unlock the door..." Abe was silent again for a moment. "Da-ad..."
Shaking his head at his son's childish antics, a smile spread across Henry's face; and he pushed the blankets back, surrendering and slowly getting out of bed. "I'm coming, Abraham..." He slipped on his slippers and wrapped his robe tightly around him. Unlocking and opening the door, he met Abe who immediately grabbed his hand and began pulling him downstairs.
"Breakfast first. I'll make the gravy; you make the biscuits. Then we'll scramble the eggs, and fry up sausage, and make toast..."
Henry laughed and allowed himself to be caught up in Abe's excitement.
The world outside the shop faded away. There were no homicides, accidents, sad memories – only a makeshift family that adopted each other. For a day, there were no secrets, misunderstandings, mistakes, hatred – there was only family, and hope.
There was Christmas.
God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay;
And with true love and brotherhood each other now embrace.
This holy tide of Christmas all other doth deface.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy – oh, tidings of comfort and joy!
AN: Firstly, I would like to apologize for any irregularities and mistakes in the characters. This story was written to have a good Christmas - and Abe became more of a child... Thank you for taking the time to read this, Merry Christmas, and God bless!