Sarah stood by the window, listening to the mournful patter of the rain on the glass with batted breath. Dark lines of worry flowed from her anxious eyes as they darted back and forth in their gaze, waiting. The steady tick-tock of the wall timepiece became the drum of her heartbeat. Her long hair fell frizzled from worry on her tense shoulders, and she hugged herself, as if she'd surely fall apart should she let go.
Tick-tock. A movement outside the window - bleeding patches of color shifting in the darkness. She held her breath. Tick-tock-tick. Now there was no mistaking; she hurried to the door and flung it open.
There stood a young man, filthy clothing dark with rainwater. In his arms he struggled to clutch a curled bundle, which, on turning its head, turned out to be a very doleful looking young boy.
The man tried to smile, raindrops glistening in the firelight from the house as they trickled down his face. "Excuse me, my lady, but I believe this belongs to you."
Tock. Her shoulders slumped in relief and her heart seemed to disappear as she reached out desperately for her son. "Kent, thank goodness!" The young man handed over the boy without hesitation, and she welcomed her wet and bedraggled son into his mother's arms. He was getting almost too big to hold. She turned from the door and the chap Kent followed her in, shutting the door on Winter's tears and shaking himself, oblivious to the splatter on Mrs. Hawkins' well-kept floor. "I was beginning to worry about you," she continued, though whether she was speaking to Kent or her son was uncertain. "Was there any trouble?"
"Not particularly, no," Kent replied, slipping off the wet jacket and placing it on the coat hooks. "I believe the schoolteacher might have been a bit, uh… startled by my appearance, but once I explained the situation to her, she was more than supportive."
"That's good, I was hoping she'd understand… this hasn't happened before, not like this… thank you so much for everything, Kent, we really appreciate you going out of your way…"
"Oh, it's no problem, Mrs. H… how is he, anyway…?"
Sarah bit her lip. "I'm not sure; the doctor's upstairs with him now."
Jim clung to his mother's dress sleeve, staring off blankly into space with his solemn blue eyes as she rocked him side to side. With a start those eyes suddenly widened, and he struggled to escape Sarah's arms.
"Jim? Jim, what is it? What's wrong?" she stuttered as she set him down.
"Patches! I left her at school!" he said with an edge of dismay to his voice, hurrying to the door.
"Oh honey, not now, I'm sure Poquito will take care of her…"
Regardless Jim tugged at the doorknob, and sitting on the steps, looking quite pitiful, was the forgotten feline. She let out a long, sobbing cry underneath a blanket of sopping fur.
"Patches! I'm so sorry!" Jim cried back as he let the kitten in, despite Sarah's unvoiced protests. The kitten shook the droplets from its fur and tottered off dejectedly to bask in front of the fire.
A door opened and closed above, and they all looked up to see the doctor leaning cautiously over the rail. "Mrs. Hawkins, may I speak with you for a moment?"
"Yes, of course, I'll be up in a second," she called back up, and headed for the stairs. Jim ran after her, but was suddenly caught by the shoulder.
"Hold on there, buddy," Kent murmured in Jim's ear. The boy stood impatiently under Kent's hand, watching his mother speak to the doctor with longing. His heart wrenched at the grave expression on Sarah's face. After a moment the two came down, and exchanged a quiet farewell as the doctor grabbed his hat and left Sarah with some parting instructions. Then with a patter of rainfall and a creak of the door, he was gone.
Sarah turned to Jim and Kent, staring off past the floor in a sort of numb shock.
Kent hesitated and cleared his throat, scrunching the shoulder of Jim's jacket under his hand. "… Mrs. Hawkins?"
She dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron, hands shaking. "He… he…" she stuttered, voice shaking, "The doctor says he'll recover, in a few weeks… a respiratory infection… all that dust from the mines, the weather; he's been straining his lungs…"
"Is that bad, Momma? Is… is Daddy going to die?" Jim ventured, voice overwrought. He had met other children before who had lost fathers… their daddies went away into the sky, into the sunlight, and never came back. He didn't want his daddy going away like that, never ever.
Sarah looked alarmed. "No! No, oh Jim, of course not…" She kneeled down in front of her son, who looked questionably into her pained and fearful eyes. "Daddy's just… going to be very sick for a while, that's all, but he will get better. He's going to be fine, everything's going to be fine." (Silent, Kent wondered whom she was really trying to convince.) "But…" And here she turned to glance at Kent. "Your father won't… won't be working anymore, at least, not while he's sick."
Kent covered his forehead with his hand and seemed to take in a long, thin breath. Sarah clasped her mouth at the reaction and her shoulders shook, eyes tearing slightly. Jim looked perplexed. "Oh…" he said at length. "But that's good, right? Daddy will get better here with us, and he can go back when he's all better, right?"
Sarah searched the boy's face, eyes glittering. He was too young to understand… too young. There was no use burdening him with more than his little heart could hold. "When he's better, he will... I hope he will."
"Uh, Mrs. Hawkins…?" Kent whispered, and then pointedly: "Perhaps it's getting a bit late…"
She blinked at Kent a moment, and then understood. "Ah, Jim, why don't you go up to your room and take a nap? It's been a long day… and Patches looks exhausted…"
"But Momma," Jim whined, glancing at the maroon kitten curled up in front of the fire. "Can't I see Daddy? Please?"
"No, Jim, I don't think it's a good idea for you to visit Daddy tonight… now go on, I'll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in."
Jim hung his head dejectedly and trudged off. He scooped up the kitten in his arms (who made a slight murr of disagreement of being dragged away from her precious hearth) and headed for the stairs, boots thudding on the steps as he went up to his room and closed the door.
Kent let out the breath he had been holding as Sarah stood up next to him. "Oh heavens, I'm so sorry…"
Sarah looked around at the inn, at the little pockmarked tables and the chipped dishes waiting to be taken into the kitchen, at the clock tick-tocking on the wall as the pendulum swung. "Two weeks, Kent… and this is all we have now," she said with a sigh. "Hopefully it will be good enough for him. Hopefully it will last."
Kent looked down at his shoes. "Christmas is coming in two weeks."
Sarah blinked, and a tear fell down her cheek. "For everyone else, perhaps, but not for Jim."
"Well… you can take the kid out of Christmas but you can't take the Christmas out of the kid, or so they would say. Don't worry, Mrs. Hawkins, we won't let you miss out on the holidays… you three deserve it most of all."
She smiled at him, eyes full of tears. Despite herself, she chuckled. "You're unweariedly kind."
Kent returned the smile and dipped his head to hide the tinge on his cheeks. "Well, Leland's a great guy with an extraordinary family," He said as he crossed the room to the door, taking up his hat and jacket. "And if he doesn't appreciate that, then he doesn't deserve you two."
She just grinned. "Take care of yourself, Kent."
He waved to her as he opened the door, cap on his head and jacket pulled over his shoulders. "I will! Good luck with everything… and say goodnight to Jimmy for me!"
And he was gone, like so many shadows that had passed that door into the rain.

Sarah placed her hand on the doorknob, turning it cautiously, as if it pained her to do so. Peeking through the slit in the door, she looked in the room.
The boy sat cross-legged in his pajamas on his quilted bed, tinkering with some little toy in his lap. The maroon kitten lay curled up at his feet, the sound of her purring reverberating through the bedding. Outside the rain clouds were beginning to clear, and the light of Crescentia barely shone through the gossamer curtains flitting in the breeze of the open window. A candle sitting on the nightstand gave the room a sort of warm, yellowed glow, which flickered at the shadows furtively.
Jim looked up at his mother for a moment and went back to his work. Tentatively she stepped into the room, watching him trying put the toy back together. After a pause, she spoke. "What are you up to?"
The boy didn't look up this time. "Fixing it."
She stared at him. He continued to work quietly at it, his little hands going over the pieces, working with a sort of stubborn ferocity. "Jim, it's broken, you can't fix it. We can just throw it out…"
"No. I can fix it," he countered bluntly.
She blinked and looked at the ground, then slowly sat down on the edge of Jim's bed. She hesitated for a moment, and put her hand on top of Jim's. He stopped, relaxing slightly under her touch. "You can work on it tomorrow, okay?" she coaxed as she slipped the pieces from his hands.
"'Kay…" Jim yamned, turning about and slipping under the covers. Sarah set the pieces on the nightstand next to the candle and helped Jim settle down against the pillow, tucking in the sides of the quilt. He smiled at her.
She smiled in return. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he whispered back, cheek pressed against the pillow. "And I love Daddy."
"I know you do." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then stood up. She blew out the candle and the little room was plunged into shadow. With one last look at him curled up in his bed, bathed in the light from the window and eyes closed peacefully, she closed the door.
His eyes fluttered open, and looked to the broken pieces sitting next to the candle, still smoking. "I can fix it," he whispered, then closed his eyes once more and turned over. At the foot of the bed Patches let out a long sigh, and the room was silent.