Let's check in on Hank before we go back to DC...

It was a little after eleven on Sunday morning when Booth and Parker walked down one of the retirement center's wide hallways to Pops' small apartment. Laughing as a sleepy Parker yawned, Booth nudged him gently with his elbow. "Did you have fun last night?"

"Yeah, it was great! Double overtime and the Wildcats win the game on a buzzer beater! Then ice cream and driving around to look at Christmas lights in the city? That was so cool…"

"I'm glad you think so." Stifling a yawn himself, Booth winked at his son. "Maybe we won't mention to your mom that I had you out a lot later than your normal bedtime…"

"Well, we slept in this morning, so I guess that makes up for it, right?" Parker giggled as his dad tickled his ribs. "I don't think she'll care...she said this was gonna be like a vacation for me…"

"That's good. I'm glad I'm not gonna get in trouble." Stopping about halfway down the corridor, Booth knocked lightly on the door. "Hey, Pops...it's us…"

"Just a minute. Keep yer shirt on.," came the gruff reply. The door opened and Hank beckoned them in. "Finally! I thought maybe you got lost. Good thing I'm not starvin' in here..."

"Hey, we're just a few minutes late." Booth chuckled as he walked in carrying a small potted cedar tree decorated with tiny ornaments. "Me and my little buddy here had a wild night on the town last night, so we slept late, that's all. Besides, we had to stop and get you a Christmas tree. Can't have Christmas without a tree, right?"

Hank grinned happily at the tiny tree. "Nope, I suppose not. Have a seat, Shrimp."

Booth was quick to comply as he looked around the tiny apartment. There was just enough room in the living area for a couple of armchairs, a television stand, and a small dining room set. The bedroom was behind a closed door on the other side of the kitchenette, which was made up of a sink, a coffee pot, and a mini fridge filled with fruit and other snacks. Hank didn't need much room to prepare food, since the center provided three meals a day.

After moving a few things around on the counter, he found a spot for the tree before perching on a bar stool. "There you go...you're ready for the holidays now."

"Hey, that looks great, Shrimp." Pops carefully eased himself into his favorite chair. Picking up a plate, he offered it to Booth. "Pour yourself a cup of coffee if you'd like. Want some fruitcake?"

Looking over the plate with a cautious eye, Booth reluctantly took a small slice. "Where did it come from? Was it forgotten in the bottom of somebody's pantry?"

"Nah, this is the good stuff." Hank handed a piece to Parker before taking a slice for himself. "Father Tinoro brought it to me when he came by to see me this morning. He said the nuns who run St. Agatha's school make fruitcakes from scratch for a fundraising project every year. It's not as good as what your Nana made, but I guess the sisters aren't as keen to soak their fruitcakes in brandy like she was."

"It's good, Dad.," Parker added. "A lot better than what comes from Priceco."

Nibbling on a small corner, Booth was pleasantly surprised. "You're right. This is good." He paused suddenly as something occurred to him. "Did you say Father Tinoro from St. Agatha's? I thought Father Kelly from St. Ann's was your priest."

"He had to retire...health issues, I guess." Hank grunted in annoyance as he picked up another slice of cake. "And St. Ann's isn't a parish any more...it's not even a mission. The diocese said it didn't make sense to keep such a small congregation going in that spot, so when Father Kelly retired, the church was disbanded, and we had to find other parishes. St. Agatha's is only a couple of blocks from here, so it's easy for Father Tinoro to come by every other week or so."

"Oh wow...I'm sorry to hear that about St. Ann's, Pops." Booth frowned at the sad news. "I know it's hard on a fella when that happens to his church. I was talking to a priest in DC the other day and he was telling me the same story...older buildings in the middle of the city are harder to maintain since more people live in the suburbs now. It's just not practical to have a Catholic Church on every corner any more."

"I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened, Shrimp, but it was still sad, you know?" Hank took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. "Your Nana and I got married in the church parlor at St. Ann's, and we had our fiftieth wedding anniversary party in the parish hall there. I had a lot of memories wrapped up in that place, but you can't stop progress, right? The time always comes when old things have to pass away in favor of the new."

"Yeah, but still...St. Ann's was such a pretty little church." Booth smiled sadly as he reminisced. "I remember being an altar boy there, sitting up in front during Mass and looking at all the colors in the stained glass windows...and the ceiling had those big dark beams with those milk glass chandeliers hanging from them…I can still smell the candles as they burned..."

"We tried to keep the parish open, but…" Hank sighed softly. "There were only 25 of us left...not enough to pay the bills and keep up with the maintenance, even with help from the diocese." He quietly blew his nose. "At least they didn't tear it down. The building was sold to a couple of ladies who wanted it for a tea room, so I guess they have the prettiest tea room in town, right? Still...I miss the place. I wish we could've kept it going for our little congregation, but it just didn't work out."

Suddenly Booth had an epiphany. "That must be what Ben wants, too!," he said to himself. "That's why he keeps unlocking the doors...he wants more people to come in…he wants to keep St. Vincent's open...and Sister Philomena keeps inviting people inside, too..."

Hank looked at Booth in surprise. "What are you talking about? Who's Ben? And Sister Philomena? Who's she?"

Knowing that there was no way he'd be able to explain why he was thinking about two friendly ghosts, Booth laughed off his grandfather's questions. "Never mind...just some people I know in DC. Hey, I hope you didn't eat too much of that fruitcake, because we're supposed to go have brunch."

"Oh?" Hank couldn't help but grin. "You buyin'?"

"You bet. C'mon, grab your jacket, Pops. Time's a-wasting. Let's go eat."

"Alright...just a minute. Geez...you get here late and then you push an old man to hurry up and get ready so you can make up the time." Laughing happily, Hank pulled on his coat and hat. "Okay! Let's go eat!"

As they made their way out to the car, Booth felt an odd sense of relief. He finally knew what the ghosts at St. Vincent wanted from him.

The question now was what to do about it.

Thanks for being patient during these seemingly random vignettes. Things will all make sense soon.

I know a lot of you are wondering when Booth and Brennan will finally get back together. All I can say is...wait until the next chapter!

Thanks for reading. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it. Laura.