The conversation abruptly halted when Emma stepped into her parlor with a tray of sweets for those gathered to nibble upon. She didn't know why they bothered. She'd heard well enough to know what, or rather who, they were talking about.
He was the only one missing. Even those who had passed on were there. Ike's presence would always be felt by all of them. Emma had never met Noah but the stories of him were vivid and so often told over the years that she believed he had been one of "her boys" just as the others the one who was truly missing was so far from her. He was too far. Distance didn't matter but how completely he'd pushed them away…no, he hadn't pushed them away…he'd run from them. He'd taken himself from them.
Everyone else was here and when Emma wasn't there to hear, they'd share what they knew. They'd speculate and gossip. But they would clam up tight when she came into the room.
She understood it. They were trying to save her feelings. As if they agreed with him that out of sight was out of mind. But his absence stood in the middle of the room as big as a buffalo and refusing to talk about him didn't make that absence hurt less.
The tiny fragments of conversation only made her long for him more.
"I heard he was keeping peace in…"
"…heard he gunned a man down in…"
"…ran into him a month or two back…almost didn't recognize him…"
No one in the dingy saloon in the equally dingy little town took note of the trail weary man that walked deliberately through the doors. Each step he took was the step of a man carefully placing tired feet as if begging them to stay sturdy enough to hold him up.
Only the barkeep looked up into the tired eyes of the traveler. Whiskey was ordered and served and downed without fanfare. The man quietly inquired about accommodations and was directed to the hotel across the street. Thanks were given and a hat tipped and the weary man was gone with no one any the wiser. Even if anyone had noticed him there, they'd not have known the significance of it.
The scene at the hotel was much the same with the man paying for a room, signing in and receiving a key. The man spoke little but cast a tired glance upon the wreaths of evergreen adorning the check in counter at the hotel.
"You alright?" Sam asked Emma as he settled down in bed next to her.
The guests had turned in an hour ago, the children a good hour before that. Guests wasn't the right word…family. Still, Emma had much to do before the next day dawned.
Today had been Christmas Eve. Family had come from nearly every corner of the nation to be with her and with Sam. Children of her sweet boys…and girl were nestled in rooms with her own children. Before that, they'd had a wonderful meal filled with stories of the old days. There was laughter, so much laughter.
But not all the stories were told. Sometimes one of them would start a story and abruptly stop.
"Remember that time me and Ji-"
The room would go silent for a moment and they would all look at their plates or napkins intently waiting for the awkwardness to pass. Eventually someone would come up with another story to tell and they would move on. But not Emma. She was remembering him.
They had come to her so young and so wounded. Every one of them had needed something of her. And she had given willingly…happily even. They fixed what was broken in her as well.
She'd done right by them too. She knew it by how they welcomed Noah into their family. They had tried to heal him as well. They were good boys and she was proud of them. Most of them knew it. One did not.
She had failed him.
"Hmmm?" she grunted in reply to Sam's question.
"Emma, put down the crocheting for tonight and get some sleep."
She didn't move. She'd promised things to those boys. Things she never said aloud. She promised they weren't orphans anymore. She promised to give them a family, a home, a safe harbor. She'd succeeded with most of them but not all. One was lost. One had no home, no family…he was alone. It was the one thing she'd sworn to herself the day she saw them all line up against the fence to meet Mr. Spoon. None of them would ever be alone again.
Emma looked helplessly at Sam. He knew. She didn't need to say it. He knew what she was thinking, feeling. He always knew. His strong arms wrapped around her. It should have been a comfort but it only made her feel guilty. She had home and hearth and a family filling it. She had no right to these things.
Tears began falling silently without her consenting to their journey.
"Shh," Sam comforted pulling her tighter to him. "He wouldn't want you sad like this."
"Then why won't he come home?"
"I ain't sure he knows how, Emma."
The man sank heavily into the bed in the sparse hotel room. A mirror was attached to the chest of drawers facing him. He barely recognized the face staring back at him.
Wrinkles had formed and deepened across his forehead, the result of years of worry. Even more lines creased around his mouth in demonstration of his near constant frown. His eyes had once danced in glee but were dead now.
Someone…probably Teaspoon…had told him once that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Fitting that his should look like those of a dead man.
For the first time he bothered to look at the tag attached to the room key. The name of the town…how had he let himself get so close?
That voice in the back of his head told him it couldn't hurt to just stop in and see. He knew how wrong that voice was. He knew how bad it could hurt.
Closing his eyes, he allowed the fantasy. He'd ride into the yard and quietly stable his horse. Then he'd tap lightly on the door. It would open and there she would be. They would all be there but the most important one would be the first to see him. The one he needed the most would be the one to open the door.
Her red hair would be pulled back with escaped strands framing her face. She would brush it back with her hands but he wished she wouldn't.
She worked hard to take care of those she loved and her true beauty came through when she wasn't aware of herself. Flour on her face, hair struggling against the knot she would endeavor to put it in, apron tied securely over an everyday work dress…that was the way he thought of her. He'd seen her prettied up for church or socials. But those times couldn't hold a candle to how she looked in the midst of cooking a meal or hanging the wash.
She would look up at him with dark brown eyes questioning.
"Hello Emma," he would say.
Her brow would furrow in momentary confusion and then the realization would dawn.
"Jimmy!" she would cry out as her arms opened to embrace him. Nothing could be as sweet as her motherly embrace.
She would drag him inside to the welcoming hugs of his family. He would be home. It would be the safe haven that being near Emma always was.
But this was a dream. If he dared show his face after all these years—after all he'd done—there would be no welcoming embrace. He didn't deserve one. They'd make sure he knew it too.
In the dark of a lonely hotel room, James Butler Hickok rolled onto his side and let the unmanly tears trickle onto the pillow. He'd been handed everything and hadn't appreciated any of it until it was too late.
There was a time when he thought he might be in love with Emma. She'd be an easy enough woman to love. But he was hard to love. He understood her choice and understood he confused the love he felt for her with something else.
But when she ran to Sam Cain at Fort Reunion, Jimmy had sworn something to himself. He would look out for her. Even if it was from afar and even if he lived out the rest of his days alone, he would not let anyone hurt Emma. He would see to her. He would not leave her.
But he had left her. He had run away. He had made choices that forced him to leave her. He had not looked out for her at all.
She had offered him love. She had given her love to him, the love she had once showered on her baby…she gave that precious gift to him. And he had thrown it back in her face. He had failed her.
Jimmy watched the shadows in against the wall in the room as he imagined he was back in the old bunkhouse where those shadows would belong to those he loved.
Christmas morning in the Cain home was utter and beautiful chaos. The children were excited for presents, the parents were groggy and Emma was at the center of it preparing breakfast and doling out gifts and hugs to all. She was in her glory.
But it was hollow in a way she couldn't explain. She loved those who were with her but she would always hope for the missing one to come home.
The first few years that Emma had hosted the gathering, she had insisted on setting a place for Jimmy…just in case he showed up. She no longer did that. But it wouldn't have taken her half a minute to have another place setting at the table should her boy return to her.
Soon the children were off playing with new toys or reading new books and Emma, Lou and the other women took to the kitchen to prepare the big meal.
Emma tried to keep her head in the conversation around her but somehow she missed him more this year than others. And she always seemed to miss him most at Christmas. It was a time when she wanted family around her and her family was not complete without him.
The bird had been basted for the final time and all else was nearing readiness when Emma walked back into the parlor to look outside at the snowmen the children had been building.
Her thoughts turned once again to Jimmy. She hadn't even told Sam of the letter she had received not six months ago. She had been in town running errands and had been the one to pick up the mail. Her hands had begun to shake when she had realized who it was from. Fear and dread overwhelmed her as she tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper and not much was written there.
"Dear Emma, I know it's been a long time. Too long. I just needed to tell you something. Thank you for well, just thank you. And I'm sorry."
It was signed simply, "Jimmy." There was no endearing close…just a name, a name he seldom used anymore. It sounded so final. She dreaded to think of the meaning of it.
As she thought of Jimmy's letter, something caught her eye near the barn. The young ones were all excited about the snowmen and heading inside for dinner and saw nothing. But Emma lingered at the window to see if it had been a trick of light or if someone was really there.
After a few minutes, a man emerged from the barn. He looked tired and as if he'd spent too much time in the saddle and not nearly enough eating or enjoying warmth.
She went to the door and opened it, tightening her shawl as she stepped out into the cold of the porch. This stranger would be made welcome at their table for the day. No one should be cold or hungry on Christmas. Perhaps Sam had some old coat that could make this man warmer before he went on his way.
His face was tired and weathered. The mustache was long and the eyes squinted against the brightness of the winter day. It was a face that likely inspired fear in those that met it.
But Emma did not feel afraid. Something was familiar about him though she wasn't sure why that should be. And besides, he looked more frightened of her. Probably a rough looking sort like this had been run off of other places. She would not run him off.
"Merry Christmas," she said with as much assuredness as she could muster. "My family was just about to sit down to dinner. We'd be honored to share our meal with you."
The man resumed walking toward her but each step was measured. His fear turned to an expression of sadness. It broke her heart to see it. At last he had made his way to the porch and climbed the three steps.
"Same old Emma," he whispered in a raspy voice.
pEmma's head shot up and she studied his moistened eyes. Amid the red rims of them and the tears beginning to form, there was a familiar golden color…
"Can it…is that…" the words kept dying on her tongue as if uttering them would render her dreams and wishes impossible. This man before her offered nothing but the glimmer of hope in those sad golden eyes.
"Jimmy?" she breathed not daring to speak the word too loudly.
Jimmy opened his mouth to speak and found nothing would come out. Instead he simply nodded.
"Oh Jimmy!" Emma cried and threw her arms around him. She squeezed him hard and then released him and pulled back placing her hands on either side of his face. "Let me look at you. I can't believe it!"
"I should've sent word…but…I didn't know myself I was coming until I got here."
"I like surprises," Emma told him smiling warmly and patting his cheek. "You come on inside now before the cold takes a hold of you. You should dress warmer in the winter, Jimmy."
Even being chastised by Emma felt good.
"Lou!" Emma called as she stepped into the house leading Jimmy by the hand. "Set another place at the table!"
Lou peeked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. Her questioning look turned quickly to wonder as she screeched Jimmy's name.
Soon Jimmy was swarmed by his brothers. There were hugs and introductions to wives and children he'd not met before.
Dinner was festive and full of laughter as stories were no longer edited. Emma beamed and blinked away her happy tears.
That night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Emma sat up in the rocking chair in the parlor and crocheted by the fire. Jimmy was in the armchair next to her.
There were times through the day that Emma thought he might be readying to bolt but now that it was just the two of them, he looked relaxed.
"Thank you, Emma," he said breaking the silence that had settled calmly over them.
"What for?"
"Everything. You…you didn't have to take me back…didn't have to treat me like you did. You could've shut the door in my face. It's what I deserve."
"No one deserves that, Jimmy," she told him. "Especially not on Christmas."
The quiet returned once again and this time it was Emma who spoke.
"Thank you."
"What could I have possibly done to earn that from you?"
"You answered my prayers, Jimmy," she replied. "You brought me the only thing I wanted for Christmas."
Her hook stopped in the yarn and she stopped rocking and placed one hand over where his rested on the arm of the chair. She gave his hand a small squeeze before patting his arm. Then she returned to her crocheting and rocking with a satisfied smile on her face.
Jimmy looked into the warm fire and felt the corners of his own mouth tilt upward. He'd worried that even if she took him back that it could not measure up to his dreams. But sitting here next to Emma before a warm fire and with his belly full of the first good meal he'd had in longer than he cared to think…this was even better than he'd dreamed.
Hello out there! I did not forget you all! But I was working on something that is not TYR and then work and family have been busy and I was crocheting a lot for Christmas presents too. Some of that will lighten up now...of course now I need to crochet some blankets for my granddaughter who will be born in May! Yay!
Anyway...Jimmy decided to talk to me and it was nice so I jotted it all down. I hope you like it. It felt good to write...like maybe my muses and talent haven't completely left me.
So...Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy your gift. Love you all!
Kisses,
Jenna
I'll Be Home for Christmas – Gannon/Kent
I'm dreamin' tonight of a place I love
Even more then I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
If only in my dreams