After supper every night, Da would light the candle and say a prayer about the Christ Child bringing His love into the home. He knew that his thinking was different from many families, and he could hardly have been unaware that his view was considered strange.

It was what he believed, though, and while willing to compromise on the decorations and the gifts (and stockings!), he would not budge from the Reason Why the day was celebrated. If the boys chose to celebrate differently after he was gone, that was their business. While he was here, he was their father, and it was his responsibility to teach them what was right.

The boys didn't seem to mind. Jeremy watched and listened with awe, Joshua was interested, and Jason was polite. Well, he himself had been born and raised in the cradle of paganism, had he not? And did they not all have that in their very blood?

He wondered, uneasily, if he was trying to rationalize his own fall into wrong-thinking, to bribe his sons into remembering him with happiness.

But, if he were asked that question at the Final Judgement, his honest answer would be that he didn't know. If he had committed a wrong, he was sorry for it. And no excuses.

After the lighting and the prayer, he would go to his chair and wait.

Jason would go for his coat, and leave. This idle town life did not agree with that one, and he needed the outdoors, where he could take long strides and wave his arms when he talked. Jason and Joshua had had a few quiet conversations, and their father thought it probably had more to do with Jason getting back to work than any Christmas gifting secrets.

Joshua would start heating water for the dishes and wiping down the table and the stove. That Joshua, he was always doing something, like his mother. He was also organized, like his father. An interesting combination. He was happy to get his schooling, which was a relief. That was an argument the father did not want to have with one who had a taste of working for himself.

Jeremy would stand watching the candle flame, or its reflection in the window glass. Sometimes he would gently adjust the position, but for the most part he just looked. Then he would make his way to stand beside his father's chair, until the man looked at him.

"We're gonna have presents?" he'd ask, with wonder in his voice. "And stockings? Not just our own?"

"I suppose I could have changed my mind since this time last night," his father teased. "But I havena."

Jeremy would smile, give his father a quick hug, and run to help with the dishes once the hot water was ready for use.

This was such a good life; why had he not valued it when it had been endless?