December 30th

Dear Sydney,

we've nearly made it through the holidays yet again this year. For me it's been the usual mix of anticipation, dread, sorrow and enjoyment, all in equal measure. Anticipation because of the good things that happen with my family and friends; dread because of old memories that are fading, but still strong; sorrow because my brother won't be here much longer; and enjoyment because I love and am loved, and life doesn't offer anything better than that.

Well, a good book, a comfortable chair and a cup of tea comes close. But definitely second place.

Sarah paused, took a sip of tea, and looked out over her back yard. Jason and Mandy were outside to add onto the fort constructed throughout the weekend. They had plenty of material to work with, as a storm system had dumped another few inches of snow overnight, and more to come during the day. In fact it had started to snow again. Sarah watched them, and sighed softly, her hands wrapped around the comforting warmth of the mug.

She and Gene had decided against the Keys in January. With a young man headed for college and medical school, it was likely they wouldn't see palm trees for years to come. She was all right with that—Jason deserved every penny and far more, but she missed the warmth, the beach, and the ability to move about unencumbered by multiple layers of clothes. With a quiet sigh Sarah set down her mug and picked up her pen.

We won't be on vacation again this year. That sounds like a complaint, but there's more pride than you'd think in those words, Sydney. We're saving our money for our boy's schooling. He's going to make such a fine doctor. We can see it in him already. He's observant, intelligent, and compassionate without allowing his emotions to carry him away. It's our privilege to help him realize his dream. We couldn't be prouder of our boy.

'Our boy'—those words struck home. Her heart full, Sarah looked down at the letter. How often she'd longed to say or write that phrase; so had her husband, she knew. And now through a quirk of fate no one could have anticipated, she and Gene had a son, the best young man in the world. She looked out on that young man now as he laughed and dodged a snowball from his girlfriend. It was good to see him laugh; he was a serious young man, too serious most of the time, but in the last year he'd begun to find the humor in things a bit more often.

It had begun to snow harder now; large fat flakes swirled past the window. Sarah watched as Mandy stuck out her tongue to taste one, and smiled a little.

He's also just discovered his first love, and we are delighted to find he's just as sappy about it as anyone else his age would be. Given his background, that wasn't something we thought would happen.

I'm also proud of him for another reason, Sydney. He told his girl about his childhood. No details, just the basics, but even that was a huge leap of faith for him. And for her too. Sarah paused, remembered Jason in the kitchen, anxiety mixed with hesitant hope as he paced back and forth. A slight smile touched her lips at the memory. His faith had been rewarded; Mandy had asked questions, had shown him how much the information hurt her, because he'd been hurt. But she had stayed with him, and in the end Sarah had seen them on the couch together as they talked quietly.

We'll see what happens, Sydney. Maybe they won't need to look for anyone else. Sometimes it happens that way, though growing older changes things. Anyway, for now they have each other, and Gene and I couldn't be happier for them both.

So we head into another year—not exactly a blank slate, more like an appointment book with plenty of open hours and all the opportunity in the world. Life is incredibly good, and we are blessed beyond measure. That's plenty to start with.

Sarah lifted her head at the sound of shouts, and a growl of laughter—Greg was pelted with snowballs as he came down the path. He ducked, bent and made one, whipped it at Jason, his lean face creased in a grin. Sarah caught her breath at the sight of her oldest foster son as he enjoyed himself. While he was more inclined to do so, it was still rare to see him open up this way. The genuine happiness there was the best gift he could offer.

She watched him as he made his way to the house, his coat white with the marks of Jason's excellent aim. After a moment she opened the top drawer, took out the homemade folder in which she kept her correspondence, and frowned a little.

Greg entered the office a few minutes later, a mug of coffee and plate of cookies in hand. He stopped in the doorway at the sight of the folder in Sarah's hands.

"Good morning," she said mildly. "Have a seat."

He hesitated, then advanced into the office with caution. He took Gene's seat, placed the plate and mug with care on the desktop, then faced her. "Problem?"

She held up the folder. "What did you think?"

His expression was priceless. Defiance, amusement and wariness warred with a faint sense of guilt. Defiance won out, of course. "Sentimental, emotional, and completely illogical. About what I'd expect."

"Uh huh." Sarah kept her gaze on him. "There's a new one hot off the presses. Want to read it?"

For answer he held out his hand. Sarah gave him the folder. "I'll be right back," she said, and took her mug with her into the kitchen to make more tea, and find a few cookies for herself. When she returned it was to find the folder placed neatly atop her keyboard. She tucked it into the top drawer, gave her tea a stir and bit into a shortbread.

"No words of reproach? No recriminations, no scolding? I'm impressed." Greg ate a cookie, watching her.

"I knew it was a matter of time," Sarah said calmly. "All things considered, I think I'm taking this quite well. Which makes me wonder, how would you feel if I came into the clinic, grabbed a handful of folders and started reading them for light entertainment?"

"I'd expect notes," Greg said. "If you want some from me, I can provide them."

Sarah looked down her nose at him, and did her best to hide a reluctant amusement. "I don't need crib notes from you of all people. What I do need is a promise you won't use what you've learned."

"Moi? You wound me to the quick." Greg ate another cookie and slurped some coffee. "I supposed you're worried most about the kid." He gave Sarah a keen look. "How bad was it?"

"You'll have to ask Jason," Sarah said. She took a nibble of shortbread. Greg sat back.

"That bad," he said. Sarah kept her expression impassive. "Is he gonna be able to handle sex?"

"Greg," she said quietly.

"It's a legitimate concern," Greg shot back. "He'll be under a lot of pressure in med school and facing the usual temptations along with it. If he implodes halfway through, we'll have a mess to clean up."

Sarah raised her brows. "We?"

"Yes, 'we'. I've already begun investing in him, so he's a joint project." Greg chose an oatmeal-raisin cookie and bit into it. He stared at her as he chewed noisily.

"That still doesn't give you the right to know anything he doesn't choose to disclose," Sarah pointed out. "You sure as hell haven't told him anything about what John did to you."

Greg flinched. It was faint, but she knew her oldest well enough by now to read his body language. "Different circumstances," he said quickly.

"Financially and culturally, to some degree, yes. In attitude, not by much. And that's all I'll say." Sarah dunked her shortbread in her tea and munched. Greg gave her an accusatory glare.

"You are no fun."

"Ethical behavior sucks," Sarah agreed cheerfully. She polished off her cookie. "The kids are coming in. Wanna play Hearts with us?"

Greg groaned. "I'd rather hack off a finger."

"Suit yourself." Sarah got to her feet. "See what I did there?"

"So, so clever," Greg mocked. He stuffed the last of the oatmeal cookie into his mouth and stood as well. "Have to go to work and put in an hour or two."

"I'll see you at rehearsal tonight then," Sarah said. As Greg came past her she reached out and put a hand on his arm, kept her touch light. "Thank you."

He paused to look at her. It was clear he was surprised by her action. "For what?" he said harshly, and she saw the same sort of anxiety Jason had displayed in the kitchen the night before.

"For caring," she said. "I know you're also motivated by curiosity. That's all right. Just be careful with what you know, okay? That's all I ask."

He looked down at her. Then he gave a single short nod. "'kay," he said, and went out of the office.

[H]

Jason entered the barn and shook off the snow, then took off his coat and hung it up. It was warm here; Dad had come down half an hour before and turned on the heater, as well as got the wood stove started; now he set up the chairs for the players. At Jason's approach he straightened and smiled a little. "Hey," he said. "Ready to play again tomorrow night? You did a great job on Christmas Eve."

"Thanks." Jason set his sax case on one of the chairs and began to plug in amps. "Yeah, I think I'm ready. Did you get the playlist finished today?"

"It's ready to go," Dad said. "I have copies for everyone. The only song off the list is 'Happy Birthday', but we all know it anyway and House will know it's coming up, so that won't be a problem."

"Yeah." Jason dusted his hands. "How old is House?"

"He'll be fifty-five. We found a couple of big purple five candles for his cake. He's gonna hate 'em." For a moment Dad looked all of eight years old. A wicked light of mischief gleamed in his eyes. "Roz will make sure we get a picture for the Facebook page." He went to the cube fridge. "Want a tea?"

Jason accepted the bottle and twisted it open, indulged in a long swallow; it was unsweetened of course, he'd learned some time ago about the havoc sugar wreaked on his instrument. Dinner had been good and plenteous as always, something he never took for granted even though he knew it was a given now, and not a chance thing as it always had been in the past—but it had been an hour ago, and he was already hungry again.

"We'll make a snack when we get home later," Dad said. Jason nodded and tried not to think of how long that would be. "In the meantime, here." And he was given a roast beef sandwich.

"Thanks," Jason remembered to say before he took a huge bite. It was thick with cheese and mustard and pickles, the way he liked it.

"I used to be your age and half-starved all the time," Dad said with a smile. "There's another one in the fridge with some apple slices if you need more, but don't be surprised if House gets to it before you do."

Jason thought of the full cookie jar on the kitchen counter at home. "'sokay," he said around a mouthful of beef, and swallowed.

Rehearsal went well. Hawkeye was in attendance, as he'd walked over with House. He sat next to the wood stove, an appreciative audience. About halfway through proceedings Roz came in and joined him. Jason observed them as they sat side by side and conferred quietly now and then. Their mutual affection was clear, as was House's watchfulness. Still, it wasn't a hostile surveillance, more a deductive one. House wanted to know why they liked each other, Jason realized. He was a bit surprised to feel a muted sadness at the knowledge, but he knew far better than to let any of it show. It was something he tucked away inside, to think about later on when he was alone.

After rehearsal, everyone got together to discuss their secret plan for New Year's. "You'll have to keep Sarah out until the last minute," Jay told Gene, as though they hadn't talked about it already. "Everyone has their shirts?"

"I can't wait!" Hawkeye said. He sounded even more excited than the band. "This is gonna be a blast! And just what everyone needs this time of year too."

Plans agreed on, they all went their mutual ways. Dad invited the Houses and Hawkeye over for cookies and coffee, and was refused—a rare event, but as Hawkeye said, "It's late and we've got a lot of work ahead of us again tomorrow. But we'll take a rain check. I hear we've got another bad storm headed our way this weekend. That would be a perfect opportunity to sit and talk. And eat plenty of your wife's good cooking, if she's willing."

After mutual goodbyes, Jason headed home with Dad. It was a cold night, chilly and raw with the smell of snow on the wind, all elements so familiar Jason noted them almost without conscious thought.

"Hawkeye's right. Forecast for the weekend is a bad one. It's entirely possible we'll be digging out from two feet or more, and that almost guarantees we'll be without power for a while," Dad said quietly.

"Okay," Jason said, and understood everything Dad hadn't said. Mom hated the cold, though she never complained. "We'll be okay."

Dad put an arm around Jason's shoulders. "Yeah, I know we will," he said. "Thanks."

"For what?" Jason asked, bewildered. "I didn't do anything."

"Now there you're wrong." Dad dropped a kiss on his head, then gave him a gentle hug. "Race you home."

They made it together, just barely. They burst through the back door, and Dad managed to dump snow down Jason's back as Mom came in. She shook her head at them.

"Get in here before you catch your death," she scolded. "I made hot cocoa and heaven knows you'll raid the cookie jar, just come into the living room and do it by the fire so you thaw out." She took their coats and shooed them into the kitchen.

Eventually Jason lay in his warm nest of a bed, sleepy but with a thousand thoughts in his head. He fell asleep as he made a list of situations and people to study and ponder when he woke up. His last awareness was of his parents in the living room. They talked together in the easy, desultory way that comforted him more than almost anything else. He smiled and let tiredness steal him away.