Through the living room window, Helen Belden watched the boy standing on her front porch, gripping onto her front railing like it was a lifeline. She had kept an eye on Dan throughout the Christmas Eve festivities, watched as his discomfort grew as the night wore on, until he'd slipped out of the house quietly. She wasn't sure what to make of this man-child who smoked, cursed, and had a criminal record that she suspected included only a fraction of his actual misdeeds. And who had stood between her two youngest children and a wildcat….poised to protect them with his life.
She spared a glance at the teenagers laughing and joking around her living room, playing a board game, and realized she wasn't the only one keeping an eye on the boy outside. Trixie was also watching. And then she grabbed a mug of hot chocolate off the tray on the coffee table and slipped out the door. And, Helen realized…someone else was watching Trixie. Jim's eyes followed Trixie across the room, his expression hardening as he realized where she was going, and why. He half-rose from his chair, then seemed to change his mind, and sat back down to try and focus on the game. It was only a few minutes before Trixie re-entered the room, and sat back down next to Jim, who visibly relaxed as she settled down next to him.
Helen sighed. The kids were all growing up, and the next few years promised to be interesting.
Later, after the others had gone home, Trixie volunteered to help her Mother wash up the dishes. Helen smiled at her only daughter. "Did you have a nice Christmas Eve?" she asked. "Moms, it was the absolute best" Trixie said. "The gang had a great time!"
"Most of them" her Mother responded, "I'm not sure Dan had such a good time." She spoke casually, but watcher her daughter for a reaction. A tell-tale blush crept into her daughter's cheeks. "He isn't used to so much family around." Trixie said.
"Is that what he told you when you went outside?" Her mother probed gently. "Not exactly" Trixie said, uncertain about how much to share with her Mother about her brief conversation on the porch.
"Gleeps, Dan" she'd said, coming out into the cold. "What are you doing out here, it's freezing!" She offered him the mug of hot chocolate, but he shook his head. It was dark on the porch, lit only by blinking Christmas lights, and he hoped she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. He tried to put on the mask of indifference he'd perfected on the streets, but failed.
"It's a little crowded inside, is all," he said, managing to sound indifferent. Instantly, Trixie took offense. "Well, I guess it's not a mansion, like Honey's place" she said as she turned away hurt. "But the others seem to think it's OK." Her cheeks burned despite the cold. "You can freeze out here if you want to, I'm going in." She started to walk away but stopped at the sound of his voice.
"Last year at Christmas I was in jail." He said it so quietly she almost missed it. She stopped, and turned back to stare at him. The Christmas lights blinked, and cast a light onto his face, and for just a second she read his hurt, his fear, and his anger, all in one glance. Then his expression closed off again, just as the lights blinked off. "Don't feel sorry for me." The old sneer was back in his voice. "I deserved to be there, and anyway, it's no big deal."
Then why, she wondered silently, did you just tell me that. Aloud, she said "Well, this year, you're here. Are you coming in? or not?" She smiled, to let him know it was OK. "I need someone else to come in an lose at Trivial Pursuit with."
He nodded. "I'll be in in a sec. I just need a minute" he admitted. She nodded and slipped back into the warmth of her family's house.
"Earth to Trixie" her mother said after a prolonged silence. "Sorry, Moms" Trixie said. "I guess I got distracted." Her mother smiled. "Well, honey, why don't you go up to bed. I'm sure Bobby will be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow." Her mother laughed a little. "Thanks Moms," Trixie responded. "Merry Christmas." Trixie gave her mother a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, honey."
At the same time, Dan was trudging through the snow, making his way back to Maypenney's cabin by flashlight. Reagan had offered to let him stay on the couch in his little apartment above the garage, but Dan had declined, preferring to return to the warmth of his own bed. His own space.
He'd told Trixie the truth about his Christmas in jail …he just hadn't told the whole truth. How jail had been an improvement over the Christmas before, which he'd spent trying not to freeze to death in the unheated squat he shared with other members of the Cowhands who had nowhere else to go. Or the Christmas before that, as he'd sat, helpless, watching his mother waste away in a charity hospice. His rat-bastard of a stepfather nowhere in sight.
He stopped walking, turned off the flashlight, and stared up at the sky. A city boy born and bred, he marveled at the stars in the sky, how many you could see out here, in the middle of nowhere. He wondered if somehow, from somewhere, his mother was looking down on him. Or his father. Then he pushed the thought aside. Why would they look? A voice in his head asked. What would they see? A street rat? A drug dealer? Why would they look. He pushed the negative thoughts away. He tried to remember what his parole officer said. "That's what you did, Dan" she'd said. "Not who you are."
He'd taken a chance tonight. Shared a piece of the truth with Trixie. And she'd still invited him back in. Maybe, he thought, next Christmas would be better.