A/N: If I'm posting the chapters too fast, let me know, I can slow down. Didn't mean to overwhelm y'all with a torrent of chapters.

Chapter 7

With a sigh and a nod to the taxi driver, doctor Oliver Crane picked up his suitcase and entered the airport. The weather outside was unusually bad for the area, and while he was quite used to the cold and icy roads, most drivers around here weren't, so the traffic had been very slow. At least he had planned ahead – he had seen the weather reports, and decided to leave an hour earlier than he had initially planned. They had needed it!

The good thing was that the conference had also ended earlier than expected, so at least he hadn't missed anything important.

When he arrived at the departure hall, Oliver eyed the long lines. Right. This was going to be a long wait, he thought grumpily. Well, at least, once he was on the plane, he could just close his eyes, and wait for the plane to arrive back in New York, where he could then celebrate Christmas with his wife.

First however, he had a queue to conquer.

"… so then he goes, 'I've been lookin' fer a cowboy fer ages, couldn't find any good unes. I go to the doctor, and find myself lookin' at a cowboy'." Clint grinned. "At first he thought I was jokin' or somethin', and that the real doctor would appear at some point, but then when I asked him how long he'd been havin' these symptoms, he started to believe I might be tellin' the truth after all."

Nancy laughed. "Oh, I wish I could have been there!" she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She'd seen that type of reaction more often of course, but it just didn't get old. And Clint told it so vividly.

The country doctor chuckled. He was glad to see Nancy looking so much better. He took a sip of his coffee while he watched his friend. Her smile was infectious, and one he did not want a cure for. For a few moments they just enjoyed the comfortable silence they shared.

"Hey Clint?" Nancy asked pensively.

"Yeah?"

"Last night…" Nancy let the sentence trail off, unsure if she really should ask, since it had sounded like something private between Clint and Raul. "Never mind."

Clint tilted his head back a little, watching Nancy closely through narrowed eyes. "You heard the talk Raul and I had, didn't you?"

Nancy looked up. "The one about his mom," Clint prodded a little further. Finally Nancy nodded. "Yeah. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but…"

"That's ok," Clint assured her immediately. "If we hadn't wanted you to hear it, we should have talked about it in private…" He sighed. "Besides, I wanted to tell you at some point anyway…"

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," Nancy said, but Clint shook his head. "It's ok, really." With a nod in the general direction of the Jacksons' house, he started explaining. "When it was Raul's first Christmas with Nate and Beverly, he missed his mother a lot. We talked a bit – still do every year – and I told him about what I do when I miss my Dad." He looked down at the near empty cup in his hands. Nancy could see the intense emotions written clearly on his face. "When I miss my Dad, I go somewhere quiet, and sing his favourite song, 'Silent Night', to myself… it always helps." Clint looked up, seeing the support in her eyes.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "And Raul does the same, with his Mom's favourite song, 'Away in a Manger'?"

Clint nodded. Now Nancy could remember clearly the first time they'd celebrated Christmas together, and Clint had pulled out his guitar from his office, and had just started playing and singing Christmas songs. She remembered the look Raul and Clint had shared at some point. It all made sense now.

After a few moments of hesitation, Clint continued.

"You know," he said, slightly lost in thought. "My Dad would never mind if he sang that song during winter or summer. Often, when I couldn't sleep, I'd go downstairs to my parents. They'd take me outside to sit on the porch swing, wrapped in a blanket… We'd just sit there for a while, gazing at the stars and listening to the sounds of the night. My Dad would tell us something about a Bible passage he'd read that morning… Then he'd tell me, 'Clint, don't you ever forget, that God loves you so much, that even though you do bad things at times, He still sent His only Son, Jesus, to the Earth as a baby. And Jesus came to die on the cross, in your place… Don't you ever forget that, Clint.' I'd shake my head - I wouldn't forget. He'd nod, and would pray. And at the end of his prayer, he'd sing 'Silent Night'…"

Clint swallowed, and Nancy could hear the pain and sadness, mixed as they were with the comfort and other emotions that these memories brought forth. She ached to reach out to him, and share his burden, soothe the pain. All she could do was reach out her hand and put it on his. "Sounds like your Dad was a great and wise man," she said softly. Clint nodded, looking up at her, comforted by her steady presence, knowing she was there for him. "Yeah, I'd like to think so too."

He took another deep breath. "Anyway, ever since, 'Silent Night' has always reminded me of my Dad, and those nights especially," Clint wrapped up the story. He had never shared these particular memories with anyone else. He had told Doc Johanson and Dottie the same as he had told Raul – that 'Silent Night' was his father's favourite song, and that it reminded Clint of his father. Yet he'd told Nancy far more – had entrusted her with these precious memories… and he felt better because of it.

Nancy for her part realised how hard it must have been to tell her all this, and somehow she sensed that he hadn't told this story often. "Thank you," she said quietly, the depth of her emotion carried by the tone of her voice as she spoke those two simple words. Clint gave he a small but genuine smile. "Thank you, for caring… for letting me talk."

Nancy smiled too. "Any time, Clint, any time," she said, squeezing his hand. Clint nodded, then suddenly chuckled. "Well, guess that was more than you bargained for when you asked if I wanted to come over for lunch."

Nancy shook her head. "Nah, I'm honoured you told me."

"I could have told you when you were more up to it," Clint countered, but he was glad to hear that Nancy understood just how much it meant to him.

She chuckled. "Well, I told my Dad that I was up for tonight, so I'd better be up for listening to my best friend!"

Chuckling, Clint winked at her and said, "Well, since you're in the mood for listening, why don't you rest up some more, while I go back to the clinic. And don't ya worry about cookin' or anything – I'll take care of that. We don't want you crashing, and definitely not on Christmas Eve."

Seeing that Nancy was about to protest, he held up his finger. "Ah ah! Doctor's orders."

Nancy pouted, but grinned. "Yes, Doc, Sir."

TBC