[Author's note: While I am not a fan of his character, Preston was the most logical person to write this story about. This tale is an adaptation of "A Christmas Carol" (like "Dr. Mike's Dream") where Preston is basically Scrooge. New families are added for sympathy sake as is a Nephew and some children in the Sully family, they all will be explained. Credit for 'Cindy' goes to Mrs. Rev who created this character as the Reverend's wife. As an extra note, Michaela took Sully's name as a special five-year anniversary gift. She may occasionally be referred to as "Dr. Sully." This is not meant to confuse anyone.]

Finally, the train came to a stop and Preston straightened his lapel and huddled under his warm wool coat. The December air seemed extra icy this particular day and Preston could feel a hint of snow in the air. He watched men and women disembark from the train and run to family members, their arms open for hugs. He groaned. The only person who met him in such a way was Donald, his nephew from Boston, and Josh, his long lost sister's son. Annette was a beautiful girl and Preston had been very surprised to learn she was a Lodge. She arrived without any knowledge of his being in town or that he was the big brother she had never met. She was slightly appalled to learn that she had been left on a neighbor's doorstep two nights after her birth. In turn, he could hardly believe that this woman was his missing sister, someone he knew nothing about. Then, she married his enemy's son, Matthew Cooper...well, it was not a marriage blessed by him.

"Well look who's here wasting time," a deep voice hovered in the air. Preston turned to find Blake behind him. Blake was an amazing man. He was slightly over six feet tall with short cut blond hair and blue eyes. He was intelligent in all that mattered, and in his forty years, had never married. They had been college friends; both graduated high in their classes and worked for the same banker back in Boston. Until Preston's excursion west, they had been the best of friends. Now, the two were partners and their relationship ran no deeper.

"Welcome back," Preston said extending his hand. He was surprised when Blake did not shake it. "Did the acquisition go through?" he asked, pulling away the proffered hand.

"Yes, yes," Blake said, shaking his head somberly. "The paper work will be drawn up and sent to you prior to the end of the year, but not before Christmas. Those gentlemen actually have families," Blake said, a sadness creeping into his words.

"Don't get sentimental, Sam, you did the right thing turning Martha down. She was poor, you couldn't afford that move." Preston shook his head slightly. Of all the times for his partner to have second thoughts about his broken engagement, now was not it. Martha had been a poor choice for marriage and it was time Blake realized it. Finally looking into the man's face, Preston realized he was much paler than he remembered. "Have you been ill, Sam?"

Samuel did not know what to say. He had started to feel sick as they reached the town and was almost afraid to admit it. Sam looked around. The snow had already fallen sometime during the week and the chilly air was starting to make him tired. "I've never felt better," he lied.

"I think Dr. Sully and Dr. Cook are over at the 'hospital'," he said with a snicker. "You could see one of them."

"There is no need for you to be worrying, Preston. I shall be fine; I assure you." His friend secured his jacket around himself. "What date do you have?"

"December the eleventh," Preston replied.

"Come, we have a meeting with Mrs. Merriwether over her loans. We mustn't be late."

"Yes, yes," Preston said nodding. "Let us go find out the cause for this months tardiness." The two departed for the bank.

"I can't just yet, Andrew, I have some more work to finish," Michaela replied pouring over the latest medical journal. "Why don't you take Colleen home and I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Michaela, you mustn't worry about paying me for that operation. Vicky's life was in danger," Andrew explained. Vicky was very ill, her fever far too high for anyone, especially a child. Michaela had been out gathering herbs for her medicines when Sully rushed the baby in. Andrew felt the need to save his sister-in-law's life and performed an emergency appendectomy. To him, no money was necessary, but Michaela had insisted. Yet, she had not had quite as much as she thought he deserved and was almost tempted to ask Preston for more money, since the operation and care of her daughter was costing so much. However, when she went to see him, he wanted her homestead as collateral and that was not what she had in mind. She decided to work later and borrow the money from her mother.

"I told you, Andrew, that discussion is closed," she said smiling. "Have you checked Billy Gates?"

"He's resting peacefully. His mother is upstairs with him. I wish Bob could be here, but Preston is working him hard at the bank," Andrew replied glumly.

"Poor fellow, it's too bad he didn't take Loren's offer at the store. Preston overworks that poor man," Colleen said, finally joining the conversation around her.

"As long as Billy lives, Bob couldn't care. He needs that money for his family. Preston wouldn't understand that," Michaela shook her head sadly. "Poor Mrs. Merriwether is over there now, she was so worried when she came to see me today, that she had another panic fit. Preston is probably robbing her blind again..."

"But Mr. Lodge, I've tried so hard to get the money. I need more time," she sniffled.

"You are denied," mumbled Samuel. "You've been late three times in the last five months. I'm sorry, but we're foreclosing on your homestead."

"You can't do that, we'll have no where to go!" she yelled.

"It's all ready done. Be off the premises by midnight on December the twenty-sixth or we'll have the sheriff remove you. Good day," he said ushering her out.

"Wonderful, we can have that land sold in no time," Preston said merrily. "We can put it on the market right after that dreadful holiday."

Samuel nodded. "Now, we've been open too late again. Let's close and get something to eat. Bob, get going, I hear tale your child is ill. Go spend time with the wretched thing."

"Thank you sir, and have a wonderful weekend," Bob said collecting his things and leaving fast. He headed right to the clinic.

"Fine," Andrew said taking Colleen's arm. "Good night, Michaela."

"Goodnight Ma," Colleen said with a smile.

"Night," she said with a small grin, after hugging Colleen goodbye. She watched them depart in Andrew's new buggy. She looked towards Loren's to see Bob Gates hurrying over to the clinic.

He met her at the door and smiled, "How's my boy?"

"Fine, Mr. Gates. Your wife is upstairs right now."

He grinned merrily. Bob was a nice looking man. His hair was neither brown, nor blond, but a perfect blend of both. His eyes were silver, and danced when he smiled. He was tall and thin, too poor to feed his large family, but they were all happy. Michaela had to admit, being friends with the man felt right. He cheered her up immediately.

"Go on up, I'm sure they are waiting for you," Michaela added.

He nodded and disappeared up the stairs and into his son's room. Michaela closed the door; it was amazing how chilly the air was tonight. She returned to her desk and sighed. Closing the book she was reading, she decided she was not in the mood for medical texts or patient files; she wanted to go home. Just as she rose to tell Bob she was leaving, there was a knock on the clinic door. Opening it, she discovered Preston and Robert E supporting a very weak Mr. Blake.

"What happened?" Michaela asked, making way for them to put him on the examination table.

"He slumped over in his chair," Preston explained, rather rushed. "We were at Grace's."

Michaela checked the man's vital signs and then looked at Preston and Robert E, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Preston looked down at the pale, barely breathing form of his best friend. He was reluctant to admit it, but Samuel L. Blake II was his closest friend and he would hate to lose him. Preston nodded and left the building, Robert E not far behind him.

"Dr...Sully, I...I am sorry for not giving you that money to help the girl," Blake mumbled. "Did she live?"

"Yes, Mr. Blake, my Victoria lived," she said trying to decipher his problem. She prepared to give him some digitalis to slow his irregular heartbeat.

"I'm glad," he said closing his eyes. "You'll be repaid...I promise," he gasped...and then he was gone.

Michaela quickly re-examined the patient and performed artificial respiration on him, but to no avail. He was past saving. She sniffled and shook her head. Michaela went to the door and found Preston on the bench, alone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lodge. Mr. Blake died."

Preston stood: angered that the woman at the door had not saved his friend's life. But the anger disappeared as quickly as it had come. Handing Michaela three dollars, he said, "Just make sure Mr. Slicker buries him properly. There will be no service," he muttered and walked away.

Grimly, Michaela sought out Jake and had him take care of the body. After quickly checking Billy, she headed for home to be with her family.

"You're late, Gates," Preston growled from his desk. "I can't open the office if the clerk isn't here."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lodge, my son's still not his best and I needed to help my wife a little."

"You'll be docked for this tardiness, Gates. Make sure it never happens again."

"Yes, sir," Bob replied taking his seat. He tested his pen and ink well, but was unhappy to discover it frozen. "Sir, might I add some coal to the stove. My ink's frozen again."

"No, you may not. It is warm enough in here. Use your pencil," Preston replied, annoyed at such frivolity from his employee. Not only did he have the gall to arrive late, he also asked you use some very expensive coal to warm his ink!

"Yes, sir," Bob replied starting on the books. "Mr. Morris is late with his buggy payment again sir, should I send him another notice?"

"No, that's the third notice this month. Repossess it." Preston did not even flinch.

"But sir, it's Christmas Eve and he's got young'uns that might need ta get to town."

"Bah, humbug," Preston growled. "I said repossess it, Gates. Send James out to fetch it," was his cold reply.

"Yes sir," Bob said making note of it.

"I assume there is something else on your mind," Preston turned to the clerk.

"I would like tomorrow off sir," Bob answered. "To be with my family."

"Foolish. Why should a man close his shop to appease the workers? Nonsense." Groaning, Preston added, "You can have the day, but be here all the earlier the next morning."

"Thank you, sir," Bob replied.

A knocking at the door cut off the conversation. "Come in," Preston yelled.

The Reverend Johnson's wife, Cindy, entered with a Christmas wreath on her arm and a smile on her face. Cindy was beautiful. Her red hair and green eyes attracted the attention of many men, but her heart belonged to the Reverend. She had been a close friend of Michaela's as a child and moved to Colorado to teach the Reverend Braille. They had fallen in love and married quickly, immediately inheriting a family of orphans and having a child of their own. "Good morning, Mr. Lodge. I was wondering if you care to make a donation to feed the poor and hungry this year."

"I don't," he stated simply. "Be gone."

"But it's Christmas, Mr. Lodge," Cindy said merrily. "The poor need our help."

Preston laughed wickedly. "The poor should work or seek other help. They needn't take the working man's money. Besides, if the pitiful beings die, then the surplus population shall decrease. I care not to help them breed, Mrs. Johnson. Good day."

"Well a Merry Christmas to you too...you...you... rodent," she huffed, leaving the bank.

Preston chuckled under his breath as she left. "And good riddance." He turned back to speak with Gates when someone busted inside.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Preston!" Donald Lodge entered the bank. "I brought you a Christmas wreath for the front door." He attempted to hang it straight.

"Bah, humbug," Preston muttered again. "And take that stupid tree off my door. I wish to have it plain!"

"But, Uncle, it's Christmas!"

"Bah, humbug!" he replied. "I'm sure you're having a feast with your Aunt Annette."

"No, Uncle, Jane and I are having a feast with our friends. Do come, Uncle. We're making a goose and all the fixings." The party Donald had planned with his wife was a spectacular one. Donald had originally come to Colorado to be part of Preston's bank. Instead, he went into business of his own, selling hand-crafted furniture to the town, with the occasional help of Sully.

"Plum pudding? Potatoes?" Preston asked with mock interest.

"Of course," he said cheerily. "After all, it's Christmas."

"Well keep your feast and do what you wish. Christmas is for fools."

"You shouldn't say that. My father would hate you're saying that," Donald replied.

His father Marcus: a name Preston had not heard in years. Marcus was four years Preston's elder and one of the kindest souls on earth. When he passed away, he took a piece of Preston that would never return.

"Marcus is long since dead and buried, no need to mention him!" Preston exclaimed. "Now take your wreath, your happiness and your dinner and be gone!" He threw the wreath out into the snow.

"Well, Merry Christmas all the same, Uncle," Donald said, leaving with a slight bang of the door.

"Bah, humbug," Preston replied. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, his nephew was certainly like his brother Marcus.

"Sir, you have an appointment with Dr. Sully about a loan," Bob broke the tense silence.

"I've spoken to the good doctor already, Gates. She won't be using our bank," he replied, looking at his books. "Now send James out to repossess those buggies and horses," Preston said returning to his work.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lodge," Bob said leaving in search of James.

"Christmas," he mumbled as Bob Gates left, "Bah, humbug!"

"Why, hello there Dr. Mike," Loren greeted her cheerfully. "I wrapped them like ya asked. It's really nice that ya bought them gifts for the Gates' children. They sure ain't gettin' a lot this Christmas."

Michaela nodded sadly. "It was the least I could do for them. Margaret has been very kind in watching the twins from time to time," she replied. She turned in time to catch Byron Junior, nicknamed BJ, picking up a ceramic box from Loren's display. "Byron Sean Sully, I told you not to touch anything," Michaela scolded her six-year-old son. He and his identical twin brother, Josef, would be seven in April. For most folks, the boys were too hard to tell apart, so blaming one was always impossible. But Michaela knew that it was Byron who was the troublemaker, and the exact opposite of the man he was named for. Josef was shy and usually a "Mama's boy," who stayed close to one of his parents all of the time.

"Sorry Ma," Byron said carefully returning the box to the shelf. "I was just lookin' ta see if I had enough money for the jewelry box."

"What do you need one of those for, boy?" Loren asked the child. He hated to admit it, but the twins looked more like Sully every day. They had brown hair that was longer than most children's and sparkling blue eyes.

Byron looked around to make sure his older sister, Katie, was not listening. "I didn't get nothin' for Katie's present yet, Grampy Loren."

"It's Christmas Eve and you still haven't got nothin'?" Loren asked in mock surprise. "Well, how much ya got?"

"Two whole dollars," he replied, pleased that he had saved some money to buy Katie a gift. "What can I get 'er?"

Loren smiled and led the boy over to something he knew Katie had wanted. Michaela shook her head; it was amazing how the children had opened Loren up. "Katie, put that book back now, sweetheart, we'll be leaving soon. Josef, take Victoria out to your father and Hannah in the wagon, tell them we'll be leaving soon."

"Okay, Ma," Josef said taking Vicky's hand and leading her out to the wagon. Hannah had been found in a home in Denver. Loren had known she was alive all these years since he had placed her in foster care rather than see her with Sully. He claimed that Sully would have been a horrible father and immediately gave custody to a doctor's family. However, she found out about Sully and moved to Colorado Springs to meet him. Hannah became part of the family and moved in with them for her sixteenth birthday.

Katie put her book away on the shelf and went over to Michaela. "Mama, did Grandma Quinn send us any presents?"

"Maybe," Michaela replied slyly. "Do you know if Brian is coming to supper tonight?"

"Yea, and he's bringin' Miss Sara too. They wanna hear you read that story," Katie said heading to the candy shelves.

"Which story?" Michaela asked digging out some money for her purchases.

"The one you read every year, 'bout the ghosts," Katie replied, ogling the candy.

Michaela finally realized Katie was talking about "A Christmas Carol" and smiled. "We'll read it around the tree. Speaking of which, did you and your father finish decorating it?"

"Yea, but Papa was sad that you weren't around to help," Katie replied picking a piece of candy and putting a penny on the counter to pay for it. "Why'd you work late?"

Michaela sighed. "Because I was looking for something to help cure Billy Gates so he could return to school. I'm afraid he's ill again."

Katie sighed. She and Billy Gates, as well as Tim Johnson, were the closest of friends at the school. She missed being about to go outside with them at recess and sneak over to the land where the College was located. Sara and Brian had both attended the Colorado College and graduated with degrees: Brian was now a journalist and Sara was a certified teacher. Katie looked at her mother and asked, "You'll be with us tonight?"

"Of course, my darling. It's Christmas Eve and I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Katie smiled. "I'm gonna go out to the wagon. Tell Grampy Loren the penny is for two licorice sticks."

"I will," she said watching her daughter run out to the wagon. Katie was very pretty and looked much older than her nine years. It was amazing that their first born would be ten soon and was a complete blend of both parents. Katie had Sully's brown hair and Michaela's brown eyes. "Are you coming, BJ?" Michaela asked turning to the pair at the shelves.

"Yup, look what I'm gettin' Katie," he replied walking to his mother. "Grampy calls it a snow globe."

Michaela took the globe from his hands and shook it, her eyes twinkling in delight. Small white flakes slowly descended over a miniature of a village. "I had one when I was a child," she placed the globe on the counter. Turning to Loren she inquired, "How much do I owe you?"

"Three dollars, ten cents," Loren answered putting her packages on the counter.

"Loren, I only have two with me today, can you put the rest on my account? I'll pay as soon as I can."

"Sure thing, Dr. Mike," Loren said writing Michaela's amount owed into his book. He then gave BJ his change and put all the money into his cash box. "Need some help gettin' these outside?"

"No, thank you. BJ, let Mr. Bray wrap that for you so it doesn't break."

"Yes, ma'am," the child replied, handing the globe over to Loren.

Michaela lifted the packages and looked at Byron. "We'll be waiting in the wagon, so don't be long."

"Okay, Ma," he replied with a smile. "I'll be right there."

She shook her head and headed out to the wagon. Placing the brown parcels into the back, she climbed into the front near her husband. She smiled. In the last eleven years that she had been married to Sully, he had change very little. He still had his striking blue eyes and long brown hair that was graying only slightly. His dimples still appeared when he smiled and he was wonderful with their children.

"Where to next?" he asked as she climbed into the wagon.

"After BJ is done with his purchase, we must head to the Gates' home. I want to drop these off before Bob gets home."

He nodded and kissed her lips lightly. As they leaned in to deepen it, a little voice said, "Ewww…yucky!"

Michaela and Sully pulled apart and turned to see Victoria staring at them. Michaela lifted her daughter into her lap and her brow creased. Vicky was still very small for her age and weighed, what seemed like, nothing. She had very long brown hair, which grew faster than she did, and mismatched eyes; one was brown and the other green. Everyone agreed that she looked exactly like Michaela.

Tickling her daughter, she asked, "Did you think that was 'yucky,' Victoria?"

The child nodded and smiled. "Santa comes tonight, right Mama?" the little one asked.

"Yes, tonight after you're in bed," she replied, kissing the child's head. She looked up and saw Byron climb into the back of the wagon, his globe held tightly. Michaela smiled at him and he returned the smile.

"All right, off we go," Sully said, clicking his tongue to get the horses moving. Slowly, the wagon full of people moved out of town and headed north to the Gates home.

Susanna glanced worriedly at her mother and then ascended the steps to the upper floor where Billy lay. This area was meant as an attic, but most of the children slept up here and Billy refused to be treated special. His limp was still bad and his bones and muscles often weak, but he was happy and wanted to be with his family. She walked over to his bed and asked, "How are you feelin', brother?"

Billy looked up at his sister. Her face was beautiful: like an angel. She had her mother's blond hair but her father's silver eyes, which made her stunning. Susanna worked hard for her thirteen years, working part time with Mr. Bray at the store and the rest of the time as a laundress for the townspeople. Her face showed her courage and her pain, which was a pity. "I'm fine, Sue," Billy replied solemnly. "Kinda tired of layin' here though."

"How 'bout I ask Mama if you can come downstairs?" she asked with a smile. Billy was the spitting image of her father, but far too small for his eight years. He was pale and thin, almost gaunt. His silver eyes had a luster to them that could not be explained and his brown hair had one small streak of gray running through, making him appear old. He walked with a crutch tucked tightly under his arm, and long journeys tired him so much that even going past the gate was forbidden without his parents. Susanna sighed: why was Billy so weak and fragile?

"Is Papa home yet?" Billy asked excitedly. Tonight they would have the small goose Mother had purchased from the Mercantile and some plum pudding given to them by Miss Grace at the café. They could not afford much, but tonight they would have the best feast Billy had ever known.

"Not yet, dear one," Susanna said taking his hand. "Mr. Lodge asked him to work until the evenin' hours."

"Does he know you're not workin', Sue?" Billy inquired.

"No, it's a surprise. Papa thinks I'll be at Mrs. Monroe's home watchin' Sophie and Stacey."

Billy giggled excitedly. "We were supposed to go to church today," he sighed.

"I know, Billy, and we're all goin' tonight for the Christmas party, but Papa had work to be done."

"Evil Mr. Lodge, why can't Papa be with us?"

Sue shrugged. "I don't know. Now you rest and I'll ask Mama 'bout lettin' you down early."

Billy nodded and closed his eyes, still angered by his father's evil boss. Susanna slowly descended the staircase, her eyes watching her brother until he was out of view. The child was very understanding for a young one, too bad he had so many challenges to face so young.

"Mama, I was…" Susanna started as someone knocked on the door. The other children paused from their chores and looked over at the wooden door.

"Don't just stand there, Francis, open the door," Margaret snapped the boy into action with her words.

Francis, the second oldest child at a ripe age of twelve, opened the door slowly. At first, he showed only his wide aqua colored eyes to the person awaiting entrance; but as the realization of whom it was hit him, he swung the door open wide. "Dr. Mike, it's real nice ta be seein' ya," he said with a smile.

Michaela ruffled the boys blond hair. "Francis, it's very nice to see you too," she replied.

Margaret stepped into the living room from the kitchen, which was in the back. Wiping her hands on her apron, she asked, "Are ya here ta see Billy, Dr. Mike?"

"Not really," the good doctor replied, "I actually came to see you."

Realizing that Michaela had indeed gone ahead and purchased things for the family, Margaret blushed and shooed the children into another room. She turned to Michaela and said, "You really didn't have to do this, Dr. Mike."

"I wanted to," Michaela replied, motioning for Sully to bring in the parcels. "One present for each, their names are written on the boxes. I hope Anna doesn't consider herself too old for dolls."

"No, she doesn't. In fact, that's what she asked for. My little one is reluctant to grow up."

"Just hope she stays that way," Michaela replied chuckling.

Margaret smiled and felt good in doing so. "Will you join us? We managed to scrape together a feast."

Michaela shook her head. "My family is counting on Colleen's wonderful supper. If you like, she can set some extra places."

"Thank you all the same, but you've done enough by bringin' them gifts. Will we be seein' you tonight at the dance?"

Michaela nodded, "Wouldn't miss it for the world." She stepped towards the door. "I should be going, the twins are starting to get restless and Vicky hates sitting in the wagon."

Margaret smiled, knowing all to well the problems children could make up. "See you tonight," she said to Michaela's retreating form.

"Yes, see you tonight," Michaela said leaving and closing the door behind her.

Margaret looked at the tree in the corner that was decorated with paper cutouts the children had made at school. It did not matter that the tree was not lit with candles or that they did not have fancy decorations, it was their tree. She loved how her children worked so hard in making it a special tree. Now, six large packages laid beneath it, each inscribed to one of her children and signed "Love Santa Clause."

"That Dr. Sully sure is an angel," Margaret said with a smile and headed back to check on the goose.

Sighing, Bob again put out his books and began working again. Without a word, he continued to take notes on all late payments for the month.

Preston glanced up and shook his head in disbelief. The man at the desk would literally do anything to keep that job. It made him feel good that he could control Bob Gates' life. "Get going, Bob. Wouldn't want you to miss your goose, but remember, all the earlier the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, Mr. Lodge," Bob said gleefully, putting on his gloves and hat. He packed away his things and headed straight for the door, whistling. He paused a moment, turned to his boss and said, "And a very merry Christmas to you, Mr. Lodge."

"Bah, humbug," Preston muttered putting on his coat and watching his clerk leave. "Christmas is for the small minded, even Blake thought so." He shook his head. How impossible that Blake could be dead for two weeks now. Preston was actually feeling lonely without the old chap. They used to make the poor people poorer together and laugh about it over coffee at Grace's. They would clear land for new homestead without a thought and dream peacefully of the money that would pour in. Yes, Blake and Preston had the same goals and the same past. "She was nothing," he muttered again, leaving his office after locking the door. "Mary Ann Morse was nothing at all."

"Remember when Ma first moved here and the blizzard got us caught out at the old homestead," Matthew stated. "Colleen cried for an hour that she'd never get to show off her dress."

"It was a very pretty dress," Colleen defended.

Everyone laughed.

"Matthew nearly pushed me into Sully's arms later that night," Michaela said glancing at her eldest son. "He told me that had I not invited Sully for supper, he would have."

"We all knew you were in love, Ma," Brian replied. He took Sara's hand into his own and his mind shifted to other more recent things.

She smiled. Her children were very observant. "Well how about the second Christmas I was here?" Michaela asked. "The one where I missed the party."

Everyone looked down and his or her plate and ate. That Christmas Michaela had left them to help deliver a baby for a couple, who was on the run. She did not get to spend any time with the family until the tree lighting that night.

"We all missed ya, that's for sure," Sully said, sensing the tense subject. "But we were never apart after that," he added.

The family nodded in agreement. They had made the pact that Christmas and never broken it. It had meant that Colleen and Andrew had to quit working at the palace in England, but she would do anything for her family.

"So many Christmases together," Michaela sighed.

"So many changes over the years," Matthew added patting his mother's hand from his position beside her. His beautiful, and pregnant, wife Annette sat to his right. Across from him was Brian, who was seated beside Sara. Colleen and Andrew were across from each other and Sully was at the other end. Hannah decided to sit and watch the children and help the younger ones. She loved being in charge.

Hannah was listening to the conversation. She reminded Sully of Abby: long dark black hair with stunning brown eyes. She was a little pale skinned, but a beautiful girl.

"Yes, and soon another member will be added to the family," Michaela said looking at her daughter-in-law. "And judging by her size, it will be any day now."

Annette smiled. She was due on January first, exactly two weeks prior to Joshua's birthday. He would be four this year and looked more like his father every day. Peering over to the table where the children sat, she noticed most were finished and chatting in a huddle. Suspecting trouble, she nudged her husband's side and motioned to the table. He too suspected trouble when he saw Katie, peek over the other's head to see if they were being watched. She left her spot at the head of the children's table and marched over to her mom, saluting like Brian had once show her.

"Private Katie of the children's army," she said in a deep voice. "Children requesting permission to leave their table, ma'am."

The table of adults could not remain silent and burst into heartfelt laughter over her performance. Katie attempted to keep a straight face, but she was slowly losing control and cracked a smile.

Michaela saluted her daughter back and replied, "You may leave the table, but do not touch the Christmas tree."

"Yes, ma'am," Katie saluted again and marched off to announce the victory.

The table of adults again laughed at the performance, applauding a little for the well-done skit.

"Does she do that often?" Matthew asked looking back at the table where the children were now merrily skipping away.

Michaela nodded. "She was told to be a brave little soldier in school one day and ever since has marched around." Michaela looked at her now empty plate. "Colleen, you've outdone yourself again."

"I agree," Andrew said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I think Grace could have competition with you, my dear." He smiled.

Colleen blushed at the wonderful compliments. She had often made her family meals, but each time their kind words caused her cheeks to burn a bright shade of red. "Thank you," she replied with a grin.

"Hey, Poppy Sully, will you tell us a story?" Little Andrew asked. Andrew Jr., also known as Andy, loved to hear Sully talk about the Cheyenne. His red hair and brown eyes made him a very handsome young man and he certainly had his mother's smile. Andy had just turned five.

"Yea, peas, Poppy," Joshua begged. Joshua had dirty blond hair and brown eyes that sparkled with mischief. He was named for Annette's maternal grandfather Joshua B. Witherspoon. Josh was joyfully expecting his new baby brother or sister.

"All right, just let me help Grammy Michaela clear the table," he said patting their heads and casting a grin at his wife.

Michaela sighed. She hardly felt old enough to reply to "Grammy Michaela" or "Grammy Mike." With a daughter the same age as her grandchildren, Michaela felt as if she was playing two different parts. She smiled at her family: what a wonderful family it was. "Sully," she said looking at him, "we have a party to get to. Why don't you tell the boys the story before bed tonight?"

Sully had done a wonderful thing. Since Michaela wanted her family close by, Sully managed to help each build homestead on land close to theirs. Michaela merely needed to walk down the road a little to see Colleen or Brian. Matthew was slightly further away. By wagon it took ten minutes, but walking took nearly a half-hour. He was still using the old homestead property.

"All right, before bed it is then," he smiled. Annette looked tired. "Is everyone going to the church for the dance?"

Matthew looked at his wife. "I'm afraid Annette is half asleep as it is, we're gonna take Josh home and let 'er sleep."

"But Papa," Josh whined, "Auntie Katie's goin'!"

"Matthew, he is more than welcome to join us," Michaela said pulling Josh onto her lap. "We'd love to have him. Besides, it wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't do the reading of A Christmas Carol."

"You're reading it again?" Matthew asked. This was not one of his favorite traditions. He preferred opening one gift before bed, drinking some hot cocoa and then hearing the Christmas story. However, he could only take so much of evil Mr. Scrooge. "That man reminds me of Preston."

Sully chuckled. "Hard imagin' that man changin' any," Sully replied. He glanced over at Annette and added, "No offense, you know."

She nodded. "I've learned my brother is not the most compassionate of men, Sully. Actually, he is the least compassionate of all his brothers and I have met them all…except Marcus. Then again, wonderful things can happen at Christmas time."

"Yes," Michaela agreed, "we have witnessed the magic of Christmas first hand. Just think of all the wonderful things that have come of it; of all the hope it has brought."

"Yes, and it brings something special every year," Brian continued. "This year, it is my turn to make it special." He stood and pulled Sara beneath a small cluster of mistletoe. Taking her hands into his, he knelt and said, "For many years I have loved you with all of myself. Tonight, in front of my family I wish to ask for your hand in marriage. Sara Sheehan, will you marry me?" he asked pulling out a black velvet box and opening it to reveal an engagement ring. It was a tiny diamond, perhaps even a chip, on a simple silver band, just like Michaela's.

Sara's eyes were tearing as he placed the ring on her finger and she whispered, "Yes, Brian Cooper, I'll marry you!"

Brian hopped up of his knee and took Sara into his arms. Pulling her close very slowly, he placed his lips on hers for a long passionate kiss. They broke apart, grins pasted on their faces and stars sparkling in their eyes.

"Welcome to the family," Sully said going over and hugging Sara. He shook Brian's hand and added, "Congratulations."

Michaela was shocked. Brian had never mentioned anything about proposing to Sara, especially not tonight. Watching her husband's blue eyes dance with mischief, she realized he had known. She slowly rose to her feet and watched as the family began to congratulate the lovebirds. Her mind was racing: her baby was grown up. Finally, the family calmed and realized the only one that had not blessed the engagement was Michaela, who was looking rather pale.

"I don't know what to say," Michaela whispered almost too low for anyone to hear.

"Give us your blessin,' Ma. It would mean the world to me," Brian pleaded.

Looking at the two carefully, she saw herself at their age. Stars in her eyes when David took her for rounds. Her mind was still spinning as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm going to miss having you in the homestead," she said with a smile as sincere as could be. "Congratulations, Brian," she added, clearing the distance between them in no time. She hugged him and then Sara. "You have my blessing."

"Thanks, Ma," Brian responded hugging her again. "I love you."

"I love you to," she replied pulling away. "You'll always be my little boy."

"You'll always be my mother," he sniffled.

Michaela wiped at a stray tear as it rolled down her cheek. "Well, why don't we head into town for the celebration? I am sure there are a lot of people ready to congratulate you two." She started to clean up, with the help of Sara and Colleen, so that soon they could leave for town.

Blake: that name was like a dagger now. People had pitied him for some time; they felt sorry he had lost his partner. How foolish they were! Preston did not care about the partner; he was just another expendable part of his plan. Soon, he would conquer the market and make up for his past blunder. Someday, the entire town would envy him!

He sighed as he pushed the door open and the chill inside the house caught him off guard. Preston had seen the sorrowful glances cast at him by Dorothy and Loren. Both sat with that Indian friend of Sully's at a table full of chatter. When he entered the café, they all turned and were silenced, his dark outfit showing just how pale he was. Quickly they looked away, for fear he might see the compassion or perhaps hate, which lurked in their eyes.

"Fools," he shouted into the darkness, "I wish for nothing from you! Not pity, not hate…nothing!" He kicked shut the door. "I had turned down all that could be and am pleased with my choices," he continued his rambling. "I care not what they feel…I'm better off this way."

He continued up the stairs, his basket in his arm. His father had insisted his son have servants in his household: the first in all of Colorado Springs. Immediately, Preston had sent for a good maid and cook to take care of him. He paid them almost nothing at all and would often be forced to lodge them at the Chateau, which he no longer owned. It did not matter, they were good servants and they did his bidding. Foolishly, he had given them the evening off.

Opening his bedroom door, Preston was again surprised by the frosty air that he met indoors. The fire had rarely been used, he was often at work late checking his accounts and counting his earnings. Sometimes, he and Blake would go to the saloon and enjoy a round of Hank's finest. Preston shook his head. Why bother remembering? Placing the basket on the ottoman to his chair, he went over to his hearth to start a fire. As the flames began to eat at the wood, he decided to dress for bed. He had been late in getting home and it was nearly eight. He wanted to be up early to get to work again on the books.

Finishing his ritual, he sat in wingback chair and began to eat the goose purchased from the café. It was only slightly warm, probably sitting too long in the cold air of the outdoors and his room. He sighed and pushed away the food; he was not very hungry anyway. Leaning back in the chair, he released a pain-filled sigh. Again his mind traveled to better times when he was away at boarding school and courting Mary Ann.

Suddenly, a noise behind him caused him to leap to his feet. Glancing about the room, he saw nothing. Had he fastened the locks on his door downstairs? Indeed, he had. Fastening the one on his bedroom door as well, he returned to his chair. "Probably just the wind."

Again he settled in the chair and relaxed against the soft material. No sooner had he closed his eyes and began to drift, than the same noise as before resounded only louder. Listening closely, he identified the sound as chains rattling combined with a low moan. Struggling to hear it all, he noticed that the sound moved closer, as if the chains themselves were moving up the stairs. Again he jumped to his feet and faced the door. "Only the wind," he repeated, undoing the lock and swinging the door open wide.

Nothing, but the blackness of night, faced him. The staircase was still black as could be and the home completely silent. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Preston again returned to his seat before the fire. He again relaxed into the blue material and watched the flames dance and play. Memories played in his mind: Christmases of long ago when his mother would fuss over him and his brother Marcus would play the piano so they could sing carols. He thoughts were again interrupted by the sound of chains banging against the stairs and finally dragging along the platform.

"Preston Lodge," the name was moaned into the night. It echoed in the empty rooms, sending chills down Preston's spine. He jumped to his feet.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" he demanded.

"Preston Lodge," the voice again moaned.

Preston's eyes darted around the room. Seeing nothing, he sat again this time ready to defend himself. But slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes focused on something beside his chair. He gasped as he recognized Blake, covered from head to toe in heavy metal chains and coin boxes.

"Blake?" he whispered in disbelief.

"I've returned, Preston," the spirit replied. "I was sent to bring you a warning."

"A warning?" Preston laughed. "The spirit of my dead partner is bring me a warning!"

"Do not mock me, Preston. I was sent to make you change your ways before it is too late. You do not know what I have seen in the life that comes after the one on earth. It is pain and torment to those that have made others suffer."

"I do not make them suffer, I help those that can repay me," Preston replied shaking his head.

"You are greedy, Preston. Just like I was greedy and our fathers were before us. But now we all carry chairs; chains our own greed and selfishness forged in life. For every avaricious act we have performed, another link has been added."

"You've never done so many selfish things, Blake. It's impossible."

"I have and yours is even large. You passed my length by sevenfold over three years ago. You must change, Preston, and quickly." Preston shook his head. "And if I don't?"

"You shall be doomed to live the same fate as me and all that have come before me. Your chains will be heavy and bear you down and your soul will be tormented forever. Improve now, Preston, help your fellow man: or else pay with your soul."

Preston stood and walked to the window. Other tormented souls lingered in the air and tried to help an old man in the road who was frozen. "What are they doing?"

"These are the tormented spirits you will join. They see man's suffering and know they were once the cause. Now, they spend eternity trying to help, but cannot and are forced to watch the world suffer."

Preston shook his head. "Why do you not let me be condemned with them?"

"I was a friend, Preston. I want to save you from this fate. Tonight, three ghosts shall visit you, the first coming at midnight. She will lead you to a time gone by, a time you cannot change. The second will come one hour later. She will show you the Christmas that will occur, the one you shall miss if you do not change. She is of the present. The final one shall come when it is convenient for him. This ghost is what will be. This is the only one you stand to change, Preston. Take heed, or you too shall suffer." With that, Blake disappeared.

"What foolishness. Ghosts: most like a bit of food gone bad or something not quite digested. Figments of my overactive imagination," he chuckled. "Suffering in the afterlife is not a fear I have," he said as he climbed into bed. "Bah, humbug to you."

As soon as the family entered, Katie and the twins ran off to a crowd of children, who were in the corner playing with jacks. Michaela and Sully linked arms and made their rounds, greeting all their friends and neighbors. They had arrived rather late, just in time for a little mingling before the tree lighting.

They stopped for a moment beside Margaret and Bob Gates who were against the wall with Dorothy and Loren. They were all chatting nonstop as Michaela and Sully walked over.

"Hello, Dr. Mike, Sully" Margaret said with a smile.

"Hello, Margaret, Bob," Michaela replied. Sully nodded his greeting. "It is so nice to see Billy up and about."

"Our little Bill is feelin' much better, thanks to you, Dr. Sully," Bob responded, his smile bright. "We can't thank you enough."

"No thanks is necessary," the good doctor stated. She glanced over to the area where the children were playing. Billy and Katie were talking in a huddle with Tim Johnson Jr. They seemed to be plotting something, which Michaela knew was not going to be pretty. Her daughter was a little tomboy at times.

"Are you stayin' for the tree lightin'?" Dorothy asked Michaela, seeing Vicky close behind.

"Of course," Michaela replied lifting Vicky from the floor. "It's Victoria's favorite part of Christmas Eve. She likes the sparkles on the tree."

"Pretty tree," Vicky said with a bright smile. She placed her head on her mother's shoulder.

"How has she been, Dr. Mike?" Loren asked rubbing the small child's back. These children were the grandchildren he never had and when one hurt, he did as well.

"She's been much better," Sully said caressing his daughter's cheek. "Just tired a lot."

"Well, she's only been strong for a few weeks now. Can't expect her to be better immediately." Margaret knew all too well the problems of sickness in children. Billy was not nearly as resilient as his other siblings.

"Where is Susanna?" Michaela asked looking about. She noticed that Hannah was no where to be see either.

"Martin and Lawrence Mason took them for a walk. The girls said they wished to walk in the snow," Bob shook his head. "The girls certainly are growin'." Martin and Lawrence were brothers; Martin being the eldest.

"Sure are," Sully agreed. "Hannah will be twenty in May. Hard ta believe my baby is graduatin' from college this year."

Michaela smiled and leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. The years certainly had gone quickly, but she would not change a thing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Reverend's voice broke through the chatter of the room and the people became silent, "we will be moving outside now to light our Christmas tree. I wish to take a moment to wish you all the merriest of Christmas," the Reverend said. "Onto the tree!"

The crowd slowly made their way towards the exit of the church while Michaela sought out her other children. Taking their hands so as not to lose them, Michaela and Sully lead their clan to the giant Christmas tree, just as the bank clock tolled midnight.

He turned onto his side and closed his eyes. It must have been a dream: Blake's visit was just a dream. But suddenly, the room seemed lighter and upon opening his eyes, Preston saw a great light. Turning back, he saw a woman glowing so brightly he needed to squint his eyes.

"Do you mind," he said viciously, "I cannot see with that glow."

"I glow with truth," the woman replied, losing some of her light. "The truth that you wish not to face, Preston Lodge."

Looking again, Preston realized he knew the spirit that was visiting him. "Marjorie…Marjorie Quinn! You've been dead for more than eight years now."

"Dead, but not unable to witness your cruelty to the families of this town." Marjorie moved closer to his bed. "Come, we have much to see and little time in which to see it."

"I wish not to go. Can't you simply tell me what I'm supposed to see?" he grumbled.

"No, now take my hand, Preston, tonight you shall see all you will ever need to see."

Taking her hand, Preston felt gravity losing its pull on him, as he seemed weightless. In his mind, he could not fathom how such a thing could occur. Within moments, he recognized a place he had not been for years.

"The Boston School for Boys," Preston whispered in awe. "Why, I haven't been here since I was nearly sixteen!"

"Your father sent you here, thinking you would be the son to make a fortune like his."

"No, he sent me here because I was the youngest and constantly in his way. I was six when I was sent away and only allowed home during the summer months."

"Why did you not go home for Christmas?" Marjorie asked with compassion.

"My father thought Christmas was a frivolous holiday and wouldn't send for me. I used to watch the boys go home to their families and wonder when I would be sent for. I realized early on that I wouldn't go home."

Preston watched as wagons carried away small boys ranging in ages between six and seventeen. Each waved and called to the others as he left, sending wishes of happy holidays and a wonderful New Year.

Suddenly, he saw one he remembered well. "Jordan Montgomery! Jordan, hello!" he called to the child.

"He cannot hear you, Preston. We're like shadows: silent viewers. Not like it would matter, how many of these children would know you as an adult?"

Preston groaned. "So I lost touch with a few of them, I'm sure they would remember me."

"Did they have reason to?" She asked.

He looked down, ashamed.

Marjorie sighed and shook her head. "Lead on Preston, I'm sure you remember the way."

"Remember the way? I'm sure I could walk it blindfolded!" Preston exclaimed excitedly. He quickened his step and was inside the old brick building in no time at all. Making a sharp left once inside, he led the way to his very first class room. He was immediately taken back by a small boy sitting alone at a wooden desk in the front, a green covered book open before him. He looked lonely. His brown eyes were red with tears and his brown hair was left unruly. When he glanced up a moment, the streaks for tears shimmed and his eyes were puffy with ones yet to cry.

"Dickens," Preston mumbled. "A gift from Marcus. He sent me Oliver Twist to keep me company. My books were often my only company."

"Not much company for a boy, is it?"

"Well not everyone had a father like you! My father wanted us breed to be businessmen, not run about the territories as liberal minded activists!"

"This isn't about me, Preston. This is about a seven-year-old child sitting alone no more than fifteen miles from home. It's Christmas Eve and no one was sent to bring you back to your family. No one cared…"

"They cared," he cut her off and neared the boy. "My father wouldn't permit it. I was a rebellious youth." He sat on a chair in front of the desk. "My parents hoped that in sending me away, I would learn to behave like a good banker and be more like Paul."

"Paul was good man indeed, but just as insensitive to the needs of others as your father once was."

"That's expected of a man that wishes to keep his money," was his reply.

"Is it Preston? Or is it the expectation for a man that wishes to lose his soul?" she lashed back sharply. "Come, there are other Christmases to see," she added gently, holding out her hand for him to take.

He reluctantly took her hand and the schoolroom faded away. When she released his hand, they were in the same room, many years later. The once fresh white paint of the room was now cracking in places and the desks were much aged with use. This time, they did not see the same little boy of moments before. Now there was a young man. The boy was very tall for his sixteen years. His brown hair was combed perfectly and he no longer cried, although he was still lonely.

Preston immediately sat on one of the desktops, watching the young man stare out the window.

"This year was the greatest one of my life. I finally was allowed home!"

"Were you considered 'improved'?"

"Improved! HA! I was saintly in my father's eyes. Ten years away from anyone I loved…ten years away from Marcus and Paul… they taught me things I would have never learned at home."

"Like what? Loneliness? Greed? I'll tell you now, Preston, none of the things you learned in these walls could compare to what you would have learned at home. You missed so much more than you ever gained!"

"What can you mean? I would have ended up like that sister of yours!"

"At least she cares about the people she knows. Can you say the same?"

He turned away to watch his younger self once more.

"Preston!" a voice cried from the doorway. Both figures, old and young, turned their heads to view the owner of a voice.

There stood Marcus. Slightly older than Preston, he was a stately twenty. He had blue eyes, acquired from his mother, and the same brown hair of all the Lodge boys. His eyes sparkled, as they always did, and he had a bright smile. His clothing was all colored black, except for the gray tie he wore.

"Marcus," both Prestons muttered at the same time.

The younger Preston moved closer to the door. "Marcus, what on earth are you doing here?"

"I've come to bring you home. Father sent me here in a carriage immediately. You're never coming back here, dear brother, for father has found you an internship."

The older Preston groaned. "He sent me away again. No sooner had I returned than he sent me to an internship that was far from our home. I had to move closer and took up lodging with the owner himself: Daniel P. Morse." He watched the two boys hurry away and wished he could change these events.

"Why show me this, Marjorie?" he asked. "I certainly cannot change these events in my life. Why bother with them?"

"How are you to learn what made you come to my visit, if you are to bury the past? Honestly, Preston, you cannot learn from mistakes if you fail to admit them. I learned too late what a good baby sister I had. I died before she knew the depth of the love I held for her, I'd do anything to change that."

"But you can't," he countered, "just like I can't change this!"

"Changing the past is not the point, Preston, it's learning from it before it is too late!" She grabbed his hand. "Come on, we have to visit Mr. Morse's firm."

In no time, the school was behind them and they were again outdoors in front of a brick counting house. Marjorie looked confused; it was not a bank at all, but a firm.

"He was a commodities trader," Preston explained looking up at an old green sign. The gold letters read, "Daniel P. Morse, trader."

"What did he trade?" Marjorie asked.

"Corn," Preston chuckled. "He bought corn from farms in the mid-west and would sell it all over the east. He traveled quite a bit, but I was expecting a banking position."

"You were sixteen and sent to work here? What happened to college?"

"I didn't go until some time later. Mr. Morse was a kind man, I'll admit that."

"Very kind," Marjorie agreed. "He used to throw parties, didn't he?"

"Every Christmas Eve. We danced until we couldn't dance any longer."

Taking his hand, she led him inside where old Mr. Morse at his desk, which was raised by a platform. The man was plump and jolly and almost completely bald on the top of his head. His hair was gray and his eyes were silver, which made him an interesting fellow. He was dressed in a suit, complete with a vest, but his coat was removed. He stood and checked his pocket watch.

"All right, George, Preston, put down those pencils and pack away those books. It's time."

Both boys rushed to tuck the ledgers away in a draw behind them. They knew what it was time for. In the two years both had been with Mr. Morse, they learned his schedule. As if on cue, in rushed Mrs. Morse and their four daughters. There was Mary Ann.

Marjorie watched as Mary Ann, a beautiful girl with fiery red hair and glowing blue eyes, walked gracefully over to a table to start setting out the many treats in her arms. The young Preston was pushed forward by George, a tall boy of eighteen years with black hair and brown eyes that smiled at his friend.

"Go on, Preston, talk to her," George pressed.

"I couldn't, she's his daughter," Preston shook his head.

"So?"

Preston just shrugged. Slowly, others filed into the rooms as tables were moved and music began to play from a band in the corner. The ladies all chose partners and began to dance. George left Preston's side to seek out Emma Billings, a worker at the clothing store adjacent to the office.

Both shadows watched as the young Preston hesitantly walked over to Mary Ann. He bowed slightly and said, "Hello, darling."

She smiled. Secretly, she and Preston had been courting since Christmas last. They wished for no one, but her father, to know anything of the kind. Mary Ann took his arm.

"I thought you would never come over to see me," she smiled as they walked into the shadows of the room for privacy.

"I was waiting for George to go off with Emma," he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "He has such prying ways sometimes."

She smiled again and batted her eyes. "Father wants you to join us for Christmas supper tomorrow, Preston. I do hope you can make it."

"I'll try. I promised Marcus I would come meet his new bride, she's with child."

"Oh, splendid. May I come as well?" she asked quickly.

"I was going to ask you to join me…as my fiancee," he smiled. Removing a ring from his pocket, he held it before her eyes.

"Oh, Preston! Of course I'll marry you," she squealed in delight.

"Good," he whispered, sliding the ring onto her ring finger and kissing her cheek. "Shall we announce the good news?"

"Yes!" she squealed again.

"Engaged?" Marjorie asked. "I didn't know you were married."

"I wasn't," he replied flatly. "We never wed."

"Why not?" she questioned.

"Marcus died that summer in a wagon accident. Your father was the one that pronounced him dead on his birthday! I was thrown into a state of despair: he was my most beloved brother. He left me a small part of his fortune for a wedding, but I couldn't marry her. I went to college and met Blake…we planned to seek our fortunes. I promised I'd find her again some day, but I was too busy."

"That's our next stop. Christmas of the next year."

Traveling again, the two appeared beside the river Charles on Christmas Eve the following year. On a bench sat Mary Ann, waiting patiently for her true love. Suddenly, Preston was spotted walking quickly down the pathway to the bench. He stopped in front of her.

"Sorry I'm late. I was concluding things at the bank with Paul. Father left early to be with Mother, she's still feeling ill."

"Send her my wishes for a speedy recovery," she mumbled. "We need to talk."

"What about?" he asked, sitting beside her and taking her hand, but she pulled away.

"Us," she said, looking into his face. "You've changed."

"No, I haven't," he began to refute her statement, but she continued.

"Yes you have. Ever since you left my father's failing commodities exchange, you've set your goals on higher things. You wish for what I can not bring you: wealth. You have your little piece of fortune to work with, Preston, and I'll bring nothing to our marriage." She looked at him, hoping he would deny this statement, but he did not. She removed the ring from her hand. "Can you honestly tell me you wish to wed me now that I have no fortune to bring you?"

"Is that what you think?" he asked, knowing how true her statement was.

"What a terribly safe answer, Preston!" Mary Ann exclaimed, rising to her feet. She placed her ring into his hand. "Remember me someday, Preston, and suffer knowing what we would have had!" With that said, she dashed off.

"Go after her," the older Preston urged the man in his vision. "Don't sit there! Go!"

But he did not go; he watched her figure retreat into the snowfall.

"Why didn't you go, you fool?" Marjorie exclaimed, slapping his arm. "She loved you."

"Ow!" he whined. "My opinions of love had changed. I wanted the fortune Marcus had died for."

"Marcus gave his fortune to others, even you knew that. Donald is like him, you know. He shares his money with the less fortunate. He looks like Marcus as well."

"Don't remind me! You don't know how painful it is to see that foolish nephew of mine parade around with his father's looks and giving away all that his father left him! Take me home. I wish to see no more!"

"I will not show you any more, but more you will see. The next ghost will not be so kind, Preston. She will show you what you missed this Christmas while you were suffering in self pity and greed!"

Before he could respond, she had disappeared and he was back in his bed. Glancing about he whispered, "Foolishness!"

"There," she whispered, hearing her mantle clock strike one. "Time for bed myself," she said and tiptoed upstairs and into her room.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Lodge," the spirit of Becky greeted him. "I was decoratin' while I waited for ya to wake. Sides, I'm pretty new at this visitin' stuff." The homestead was decorated from wall to wall with garlands, holly and ribbons. In the corner stood a seven foot tall tree covered in candles and glass ornaments.

"Oh, great. Now I get Colleen Cook's best friend! Who next? Josef Quinn as the ghost of Christmas yet to be?" Preston groaned

"No, Dr. Quinn is on announcements. He doesn't do visits. Just be glad it's me, Mr. Sully's father was set to come and he was real angry at how you've been treatin' his family," she giggled. "Have you ever seen a ghost turn red?"

Preston rolled his eyes. "Well you can just go back, I don't want to go."

"You don't got a choice. I have to take you to Miss Mary Ann Morse's, Dr. Mike's…and Donald's."

"Look, Becky, right?"

"Yea."

"I'm not in the mood for this or your…your being, what's the word?"

"Merry?"

"Yes, merry. So let me go back to bed and you can tell whomever sent you that you tried."

"Mr. Lodge, I hate to press ya, but I'll use force."

He chuckled. "Force? Right?" he said heading for the stairs. He was stopped suddenly by a hand on his arm.

"Look, Preston, I ain't exactly happy 'bout coming to save your ungrateful soul and miss the Heaven's Chorus Christmas sing-a-long, but I'm here now. You just be thankful they didn't send Mr. Sully, cause you'd be in trouble. Now stop your whinin' and let's get goin'!" Becky replied pulling him along.

"I don't want to go," Preston whined like a child.

"Get over it, we're going to visit the Gates'," Becky said dragging him along. "You're really makin' this a lot harder than it has ta be!"

He rolled his eyes again, but no sooner had he done that then they were outside again. His feet started to sink into the cold snow piled up around the yard and doorway of a small homestead. It was not much: two levels with a few windows. The shingles on the roof were starting to fall off and the planks of wood used to build the house were worn from age. However, the little house was quite cozy looking, in a rustic sort of way.

"Bob does well with what I pay him…though this place needs some work."

Now it was Becky's turn to roll her eyes. "I may only be eighteen, Mr. Lodge, but even I know a shack when I see one. Bob has no where else to go, so he makes do."

"That's not my problem, Becky," Preston said opening the door and walking inside.

"It is your problem, Mr. Lodge, or else I wouldn't be here!"

"Right, sure, how his money is spent is my problem. Honestly, I have no more control over his finances than I do this journey!"

"You do control his finances, you pay his wages. If he had better wages he could use the money to do some repairs and care for his ill child, Timothy. The poor child can barely walk!"

"Can they hear us?" Preston asked self-consciously.

"No, we are shadows once again, Mr. Lodge."

"Good," he said taking another step into the room. The house inside was only slightly better than outside. In the small sitting room, there was a tree more magnificent than any other. The lush green branches filled the entire tree and deserved the best of ornaments to adorn them. Instead, paper cutouts of angels and bells covered the tree and not a candle was placed on it. Preston shook his head: the tree was far too splendid for such décor.

Under the tree were a few presents wrapped in simple brown paper. As he neared the tree, he noticed they were signed "from Santa." Inspecting the writing just slightly closer, he realized it was Michaela's handwriting. So Dr. Sully could support other families but not her own. Now he was glad he did not show sympathy to the lovely doctor and let her have her loan.

Straightening, he took one last look at the room's simple and dusty furniture as well as the lack of color and decorations of Christmas. He shook his head; Gates really did need to find a way to improve this home.

"Where is everyone?" he asked Becky.

"Margaret is in the kitchen, through that door there," she pointed. "The older girls are there as well, helping to cook the goose. Billy and Bob went to church alone this morning, more for Billy's sake than to go. The other children are out in the snow."

Preston nodded and headed for the kitchen. He stopped when he heard the front door open. Quickly, he neared Becky and watched as Bob, with a rather small young boy on his shoulders, entered the homestead.

Bob bent down and put Billy on his feet. "Go on my boy," he said handing the child his crutch. "Go see what the others are up to."

"Yes, Papa," he said walking at a rather slow pace to the kitchen. With each painful step Billy took, Bob cringed.

"What's wrong with the boy, Becky?" Preston asked, showing the first signs of compassion.

"How many time do we have to explain that he's ill, Preston? The boy doesn't get enough to eat and was born a little early. Dr. Mike says it looks grim."

"He will live of course?"

"I foresee an empty chair at their dinner table, at Christmases to come, and a crutch without an owner preserved by loving parents."

Preston's eyes saddened and he followed Bob into the kitchen.

"Hello, my dear," Bob said, wrapping his arms around his wife and pecking her cheek. "Is supper almost ready?"

"Yes, dear, we shall dine soon. The children are anxious to see what Santa has brought them."

Looking around the room to make sure the children were gone, Bob whispered, "And who is Santa?"

"I'll tell you once the children are in bed," she smiled. "I made some plum pudding, but I fear it won't be done right."

"Nothing to worry about, Margaret. I am sure that it will be perfect, like always."

She giggled. "Susanna!" she called stepping out of her husband's arms. "Julie, come help me set the table."

The girls came running inside the kitchen, one from out back and the other from upstairs. Susanna immediately took the plates from the cupboard and started to lay them out. Julie removed her coat and proceeded to help Sue. Bob pitched in and in no time, the table was set.

"Bob, call in the other children so we can eat," Margaret instructed as she neared the oven to remove the goose.

Bob walked to the back door, swung it open and called in his other children. Anna and Peter ran inside at their top speeds, but Francis carried Billy inside on his back. Once inside, the older boy placed Billy into his seat and then removed his own coat. All the children placed their coats on the proper wall hooks and then took their seats at the table. Once Bob was seated, Margaret carried over the covered tray, which was old and silver. Placing it on the table, she smiled and slowly uncovered the…

"That's their goose?" Preston asked in shock. The goose looked very delicious, but was certainly too small to feed such a large brood.

"I'm afraid that's all they could afford," Becky replied sadly. She watched as the father carved the small goose and shared it evenly with each child.

"A pathetic bird for such a large family," Preston mumbled, a slight pang of guilt creeping into his system. "And the boy will die because of it?"

"Because he cannot receive the proper food and care, he will die."

"Please, Becky, say it won't be that way. Tell me that the child will live a long healthy life."

"I was sent here to teach you the truth, I cannot lie about the child."

They were interrupted when Bob spoke again. "Before we eat, let us raise our cups to Mr. Lodge, founder of this feast."

"Founder of this feast?" Margaret mocked his tone. "Ha! He has founded nothing in this home and I will not drink to him." The family turned to their mother is surprise and watched their father carefully as well.

"Do it for me, Margaret, and if not for me, at least for the season. It is Christmas, my dear, a time of joy and celebration…a time to love our fellow man."

"I would love him…if he were a man! He is a spineless creature and I cannot drink to his health or his happiness. But I will drink for the season and for you."

Bob smiled and nodded, raising his cup again. "To Mr. Lodge."

"To Mr. Lodge," Margaret replied in a huff.

"To Mr. Lodge…and may God bless us, everyone," Billy said with a smile. He sipped his milk and was pleased that the family had toasted Mr. Lodge with a blessing.

Preston felt touched. After all the cruel things he had said and done to this family, they were willing to forget them all and toast him on Christmas day. He shook his head ruefully: perhaps there were more to people, all people, which he was not actually seeing.

Becky took his hand into her own and reality returned. "Come, you're sister is celebrating with Dr. Mike and I really want to see Colleen and her family."

Preston sighed and allowed himself to be carried away to another homestead. This time he gazed at the house longingly. When he had met the beautiful Dr. Sully, he was mesmerized. She had grace and charm…and a blush to her cheeks. Stars had danced in her eyes as she…looked at her husband. Preston chuckled slightly. The woman was married and he had wanted to take that savage mountain man's place. The thoughts continued to race through his mind as he stepped inside and saw their celebration.

In the corner of the living room, stood a magnificent tree with a gold star prominently displayed on top. The glass ornaments hung beside hand carved ones, mixing both of Michaela's worlds wonderfully. Candles shone brightly, illuminating the tree and sending sparks of light around the room. The fireplace was lit and burning wonderfully, while right above it about a dozen stockings hung filled to their tops with fruit and small toys. Under the tree were stacks of presents and a garland decorated the entire room with an occasional large red velvet bow causing it to loop.

"This place is magnificent," Preston said in awe. It smelled of pine and cookies, which he spotted on the table. Children ran about, impatiently pleading to start opening their gifts. The entire family was preparing to settle around the tree to see what Santa had left for them.

Becky smiled. "They haven't changed in all these years," she said whimsically. "Still the same happy people."

"We can't open anything without Grandma Sully," Andy Jr. said to his aunts, uncles and cousin.

"Of course we won't start without her," Hannah smiled and took her nephew into her lap. "We'll wait until she comes downstairs with Victoria."

"What's happening?" Preston asked Becky, wishing he could talk to the people around him.

"You'll see," Becky said painfully. She already knew what was transpiring upstairs.

Suddenly, all heads turned as Sully slowly came down the stairs. His face was rather pale and drawn painfully. He looked tired and aged this morning. "Your grandmother said to start without her kids. Vicky's got a real high temperature and she's gonna have to take care of her first."

"Oh no!" Colleen gasped, covering her mouth. "How high, Pa?"

Sully looked down again, trying to fight back tears. "Real high…your Ma ain't sure what's wrong just yet."

Andrew stood. "Why don't I go up and attend to Vicky while Michaela watches the children open their gifts."

Sully smiled at his offering. "Michaela ain't gonna leave her side 'til that fever breaks, so you might as well enjoy what you can of Christmas." He glanced upstairs longingly. Shaking his head and sighing, he added, "Go on, get started on those gifts. We'll be upstairs if you need us."

Katie looked at the stacks of presents, each belonging to a specific person. She reached for her gift to her parents and walked over to her father. Handing it to him before he went upstairs, she whispered, "It's for you an' Mama, Colleen helped me make it. I think it can keep Vicky warm now."

Sully hugged his eldest tight and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, my sweet girl," he whispered painfully and then turned back up the stairs.

"This Vicky…who is she?" Preston inquired.

"The youngest child of the Sully's born almost four weeks early. Andrew and Dr. Mike have struggled long and hard over her, but she needs a treatment they cannot afford. It would involve traveling to New York, but it doesn't matter. Vicky will join us if she doesn't get this help."

"Not today, tell me I have time to save this child."

Becky did not reply. "Take one last look, Preston. We're leaving."

"No, Becky, no. Tell me Victoria lives. Don't do this to me…don't let this child die too."

"Why should you care? If they die, they will 'decrease the surplus population.' One less peasant to worry about." She looked at him, for the first time showing rage over his actions. "Who is to say that you are worth more than all these souls? You? Because you have money, Preston A. Lodge III, does not mean your worth is greater. Their kindness and sincerity far surpasses your wealth and in the greater scheme of things, they are above you and you are nothing but the 'surplus' you so hate!" Taking a deep breath she added, "And it takes a foolish man to ignore the lessons he should have learned long before. Come, you're nephew awaits us."

"I wish to see no more," he said watching the Sully family sulk in misery. Each face turned to the steps where parents were painfully caring for their youngest. His heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces as each teary eye scanned those steps for signs of a change. No one touched the full stockings or the painstakingly wrapped gifts. Each simply waited to hear something. Suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, a low noise began, growing louder by the second. Preston's eyes widened as he realized the origin and the sound: sobs, pain-filled sobs emanating from the room above them. He knew immediately they were Michaela's tears, but before he could ask, they were gone.

"She…she isn't dead. Swear to me that child lives."

Becky shook her head. "We have other business to attend to," she replied, dragging him along. They quickly appeared inside his nephew Donald's house. The interior reminded him of the Sully home. The decorations were lavish and cheery. Several people settled in the sitting room, cups of steaming hot coffee or tea in their hands. Some were playing cards, others were talking. Some sat around a small piano singing gleefully.

"You're missin' all of the fun!" Becky exclaimed as they started a new carol. She began to hum along.

"What are you thinking, dear?" a beautiful young woman asked Donald. Her strawberry blond hair fell loosely over her shoulders in soft curls. She wore a mauve hoop dress, which swayed as she walked. The gown was stunning: small pink rosebuds adorned the edge of the shirt and the curved neckline. A sting of pearls completed the outfit. Her cheeks were covered in fine freckles and as she smiled, two small dimples appeared. Her pale violet eyes sparked with love and adoration as she watched her husband.

"Uncle Preston," he said as if she should have known. "He turns down our invite every year and still I cannot bear to think of him alone in that dreadful home. He should be here, with us…with his family."

"Aunt Annette warned you not to bother, she knew it would upset you. Please, don't worry about that old avaricious man. Think only of our friends and the dear family that came."

"He was my father's favorite brother, Jane. I cannot easily forget that."

"And rightly you shouldn't," her sweet voice replied. "But why let him ruin our day?"

He nodded. "Why indeed?"

She smiled and pulled him back into the sitting room with the others.

"He reminds me of Marcus," Becky said to Preston. "Looks just like him."

"Indeed he does, too much so, in fact." Preston shook his head. Thoughts of Billy and Vicky still lingered on the edge of his mind.

"Why aren't you with your family, this day of days?"

"Because Christmas…"

"Is for fools," Becky finished. "I know, simple minded people enjoy parties and other such wastes!"

Preston looked down ashamed.

"Well, you've seen what you're missin', so we might as well keep goin'." She took his hand, "One last stop before I leave you."

"Where now?" Preston asked.

"To Boston, where Mary Ann Morse…er…rather Mary Ann Norton celebrates with her kin."

"Mary Ann?" Preston whispered. "She married?"

"Yup, and you know him rather well."

"I know her husband?" he queried as they appeared inside another home. The style was that of a rich upper class family and inside, the same lavish décor of his own home in Boston resounded. The Christmas decorations were the same as Michaela's except there were slightly more of them. He looked around; unwrapped toys covered the floor and small shoes were strewn about.

"She has children?" he continued to question as the entire family seemed to appear from no where. Mr. Norton, came in through the front door, as it closed, Mary Ann ran into the parlor.

"George, you're home!" she called. "Are they coming?"

He took her into his arms and gently kissed her lips. "They are here," he replied. "Unloading their packages. They insisted I have everyone assembled when they entered."

She smiled. Turning in his arms, she called, "Joanna, Michelle, Patrick, come quick, Father's home."

Three beautiful little children, ran into the room with bright smiles on their faces. The boy could have been his father's twins, while the girls looked more like their mother: the same fiery red hair and blue eyes.

"To think," Becky said looking at the small children, the youngest being about five, "they all could have been yours."

Preston's eyes saddened. They could have been his, had he not been a fool and given up on her. "He married her when I left," Preston mumbled, knowing all too well the story he had seen in papers. George had saved her father's business and won the love of Miss Mary Ann Morse.

"You gave up on her, left her when she was down. You didn't honestly think she would wait for you?"

Preston shook his head. Of course he had not believed in such love, that she would wait forever. However, he had hoped she would not marry George, not his former best friend.

"You'll never believe whom I saw while fetching your parents," George said removing his leather gloves.

She turned, interested. "Emma Billings?" she asked of his old love.

"No, Preston A. Lodge II," he smiled. "It seems Preston III has lost his latest partner when he had a heart attack or some such thing. His father is seeking someone to take Samuel Blake's place in Colorado Springs."

"Preston?" her voice choked. So many years since that name…that face…appeared in her mind. Oh, how she still loved him, how she had wished he would return to her. Still, that day by the Charles was all she remembered, even in her dreams.

Preston realized the pained look on her face was that of tormented love. "She still loves me…doesn't she?"

Becky nodded. "She never did stop lovin' you, you started lovin' yourself more."

He looked down, abashed. "I never stopped loving her, I was prideful."

"You're telling the wrong person," Becky said shaking her head. "One last look," she said touching Preston's shoulder. "I'm being told that your next visitor is ready to see you."

"I want to see no more. I don't want to watch them suffer!"

"It's too late," she whispered, leading him into the snow. Once outside, she released his hand. "It is too late." Opening her cloak slightly, two small children appeared. They were thin and unruly looking creatures, eyes wide with savagery. "They are what you should fear, Mr. Lodge. The boy is ignorance; the girl is greed. Beware them both, especially the boy. They ruin the soul, as they are ruining yours." Slowly, her form disappeared into the cold, snowy night, leaving Preston alone on the porch of his loves home. He began to weep.

"I'm sorry! Just don't let those children die!" he called into the darkness. Anger took his body over and he screamed, "If you're so loving, why do you torment me? Why do you let them die!" Preston fell to his knees, crying into his hands. "Just don't let them die," he pleaded. "Take me instead."

Suddenly, a hand fell upon his shoulder, sending chills down his spine. He slowly looked up and saw nothing but a black cloaked, faceless being. The creature was tall and his hands were thing and bony. Preston shivered again. "Are…are you the ghost of Christmas yet to be?"

The being nodded and motioned for Preston to rise.

"Will you not speak to me?" he begged.

Without an answer, the spirit led Preston through some fog that seemed to be settling. Once on the other side, Preston realized they were home in Colorado. They continued down the street, watching as people rushed around. The town was slightly larger than he remembered, but not quite as grand as other cities he had visited. Looking about, he realized there were a few changes. The Saloon was now a hotel without the improper women walking about. Bray's Mercantile no longer existed; it was renamed to suit its new owner. Reading the sign, Preston gasped. "Proprietor: Hannah Martin," of course it was closed this day.

Across the street, a hospital stood in place of the clinic. It was certainly more like the one in Denver than every before. The list of doctors included Michaela Sully and Colleen Cook. The spirit stopped at the door and motioned for him to sit on the bench. Preston sat and waited reluctantly.

In no time, Sully and his three children, Katie now almost fifteen, rounded the corner. It looked as if they were coming to retrieve Michaela, Colleen and Andrew for another wonderful holiday. However, Sully stopped the children at the door and said, "Now, be good while you're with your Ma and I'll come get ya for supper."

"But Pa, she ain't…hasn't been the same since Victoria died. Do we have to see her today?" one of the twins asked. It was obvious they all agreed that they did not want to see her.

"I know, Byron, but Ma really wants to spend some time with ya, she's got the night shift again," Sully replied with a sigh. Every Christmas it was the same thing, Michaela would work herself until she could not work any longer. Then she would take a week off to cry over the loss of her "baby." It was like this for almost four years now…Vicky would have been ten.

"She always has the night shift," Katie replied frustrated. "I think this is a waste of time, Pa. She does nothing but cry every Christmas."

"Vicky died on Christmas," Josef said in defense of his mother. "Mama just remembers her this time of year."

"Yea well, sometimes the rest of us want to be remembered," Katie replied. She opened the door before her slowly, but was surprised to find Michaela coming outside.

"Ma!" Katie exclaimed and threw her arms around her.

"Oh, hello, darling," Michaela whispered, kissing her daughter's head. "I was just coming to look for all of you." She was certainly not looking in best, even Preston had to admit she looked ill. Her usually beautiful skin was pale and there were bags under her eyes. Her eyes were red, obviously from crying and she looked far too thin.

"We came ta visit, Ma," Josef said, pulling a present out of his pocket. "We all chipped in and got ya this."

Michaela took the gift and smiled. "Why don't I open it tonight, with all of you?"

"Really?" the three children asked.

Michaela nodded. "Miss O'Neil has just gone home and Dr. Richardson is going to work my shift. He insists I go home and rest."

"He's right, you need rest," Sully chimed in. He had not left as intended and stepped closer, putting an arm around her shoulders. "You've missed one too many Christmases."

Michaela looked down, ashamed. "Well, why don't you four head on home and I'll be there within the hour. I just need to clean up my office a little and I have a stop to make at the Gates to check on Margaret."

"How is she?" Katie asked looking at her mother. Billy Gates had passed away three weeks after Victoria. The town was in mourning for almost a year after. That they should lose such young babies nearly broke every heart, except for that old scrooge, Preston Lodge.

"She is doing slightly better this year. I promised Bob I would stop by and speak with her. She still cries herself to sleep."

Sully bit his tongue to keep from saying, 'Like you do.'

"Come on kids," he said instead, "Let's go get the place finished so Ma can clean up."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, "I promise, no more than an hour."

He nodded and left with the children. Michaela watched her family leave and returned inside the hospital.

"Did you hear?" an old woman, her red hair going gray, asked her companion.

"About what?" Brian, a very handsome young man, inquired as the pair headed for the Gazette office.

"About the recent death of…" she was cut off as they went inside. Not far from them someone else seemed to be discussing the same thing.

"No one will mourn his death," a middle aged gentleman stated. "He didn't do anything for this town."

"I'm told he was its greatest financier," a lady, obviously not from Colorado Springs, replied. Her long blond hair hung loose down her back.

"Ha! He did nothing but rob the poor to make them poorer. Why, I hear he kicked some poor woman out of her home on Christmas Eve."

"No!" the woman gasped. "On the Eve of such a hallowed day?"

The man nodded and took her arm. "Catherine, you wouldn't believe the tales I've heard of this…banker."

"Do tell Mr. Austin. I'm dying to hear them!" the girl replied as they started to walk.

"Whose death do they not mourn?" Preston asked the spirit beside him.

The figure merely motioned for him to follow another way. They walked for some time until they reached the same tired, run down homestead of the Gates family. Preston immediately went inside. In one corner, displayed in clear view, was the crutch once used by Billy. Preston went over and fingered the crutch. Suddenly, the door swung open and Bob walked inside, his face drawn and pale. His wife entered from the kitchen.

"You're late, Bob," she said looking at him sadly. "You promised to be on time after mass."

"I'm sorry, dear," he replied despondently. "I stopped by the cemetery. It is covered in a small blanket of snow. In the spring, it will be a beautiful spot."

Margaret nodded.

"We haven't been there since he died, not as a family. Please, Margaret, let's go after church on Sunday. Let's go see our little boy."

"And do what, Bob? Weep for our loss?" She shook her head. "I want to move on."

"I promised we would visit him." He took her into his arms; "It's all right to hurt."

"I miss him so," she cried. "With you out of work, I don't know what to do anymore."

"I'll find work…and we'll honor our Billy right."

She nodded. "Supper is ready, when you wish to eat."

Bob took her hand and led her into the kitchen.

"Tell me spirit, these are vision of what might be, but can be changed, aren't they?"

Without an answer, the spirit touched his arm. Preston knew it was time to leave. Slowly, he stood and started to walk, but the spirit stopped him again. Taking hold of Preston's arm, the spirit helped them journey to a bedroom. On the bed, beneath a white sheet, laid a body, cold and covered. Obviously, this was the man no one wished to mourn.

The dark figure motioned to the bed, telling Preston, wordlessly, to uncover the body.

Preston stepped forward, his hands shaking. He reached for the top of the sheet so he could unmask the man. Quickly, he drew his hands back. "Can you not just tell me whom this is?"

The spirit shook his head and motioned again for him to uncover the body.

"I wish to see no more!" Preston replied. "I demand you take me home…or show me some compassion!"

Compassion was an easy thing to find in this town of sorrow and death. The spirit grabbed Preston's robe and they disappeared again, only to return to the cemetery. It was certainly much larger than it once was, spreading partly into the meadow.

"I asked to see compassion, why did you bring me here?" he inquired.

The spirit pointed to a woman sobbing beside a tiny mound. Preston stepped closer, immediately recognizing those pain-filled sobs from a Christmas long ago. "Michaela? Does Dr. Sully mourn this mystery man's death?"

The spirit replied in the negative and pointed to the stone by the grave. Preston read it quickly: it was Victoria's grave.

Michaela reached out and traced the carved letters: Victoria Sully, b. Feb. 14, 1876 - d. Dec. 25, 1881. Her tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she whispered, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Victoria. I miss you so much. I love you." Her hand fell from the cold marble stone and her head bowed. She continued to weep, so violently that Preston felt a ripping feeling in his chest.

"Tell me I have time to change this. Promise me I have a chance!"

The spirit motioned for Preston to follow. Reluctantly, Preston followed the black cloaked ghost across the cemetery to a freshly dug grave. Pointing to the headstone, he motioned for Preston to wipe off the snow. Covering his hand with his robe sleeve, Preston uncovered the letters slowly and carefully. He gasped when the name Preston A. Lodge III became revealed.

"No! If this is what I shall become, what good was this entire night? How can I change myself and the lives of those around me if I am to die?"

The ghost did not reply, merely pushed Preston into the hole, which was bottomless. He felt as if he were falling…falling…falling…

Preston climbed out of his king-size bed and ran to the window. Seeing a boy outside heading to town, he called, "You there, what day is it?"

The boy chuckled and replied, "It's Christmas Day, Mr. Lodge."

"Christmas, so I haven't missed it! Is Mr. Bray's store open, lad?"

"Yes, sir," the teen replied. He shook his head; something seemed different about the curmudgeon today.

"Wait there," Preston commanded, leaving the window and running down the steps inside. He reached the front door and called the boy over. "Do you know where Bob Gates lives?"

"Yes, sir. I go to school with the younger ones."

"Here is five dollars. Go to Bray's Mercantile and buy the great goose he has in the pen. Bring it to the Gates residence and say it is from a friend. The change is for you."

"Really, Mr. Lodge?" the boy asked with wide eyes.

"Really, no hurry along!"

"Yes, sir," the child replied, taking off for town.

Preston chuckled and returned inside. He still has some shopping of his own to do. Some toys for all the children and then some money for each family. Then it was off to Donald's…if he would still allow his foolish uncle to come!

He headed up the stairs again to dress, putting on his finest suit to impress his niece with. No one would know who had brought the presents and left them on the snowy doorsteps, but they would be happy with the extra money.

After he was dressed, Preston hitched his own buggy and climbed inside, driving straight to the Mercantile. On his way there, he passed Cindy Johnson heading for the church.

"Mrs. Johnson, may I have a moment?" Preston called to her.

She paused a moment, "What for?"

"I wish to donate some money to your little fund," he replied, taking out his wallet. "How does five dollars sound?"

"Fi…five?" she stuttered. "That's wonderful, Mr. Lodge!"

Taking out five dollars from his wallet, he handed her the money. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Johnson."

"Merry Christmas to you to and the happiest of New Years!" she scampered away.

Preston continued on to the Mercantile. Once inside, he noticed the boy was leaving with the goose and smiled at Preston as he went by. Preston shook his head: this was to be a fine day.

"Loren, I need four dolls, six train sets, a baseball bat, a sewing kit, five jewelry boxes, a writing tablet, one of those whittling knives, a hat, and two of those new coats," Preston requested immediately.

"Four dolls, six train sets, a baseball bat, a sewing kit, five jewelry boxes, a writing tablet, a whittling knife, a hat and two new coats?" Loren asked confused. "What do you need all that for?"

"Never mind, what for, Loren, I need those and immediately."

"Would ya like 'em wrapped too?" the storekeeper asked as he went to fetch the ordered items.

"No, that's not necessary, but I will need name tags for them," Preston replied.

Loren brought over the items Preston asked for and some tags for them as well. Counting the items purchased, he said, "Thirty-five dollars."

"Is that all?" Preston replied with laughter. "Add fourteen packages of assorted candies as well!"

Loren went off and mixed some packages of candy for Preston. Pulling out two crates he asked, "How do you want these packed?"

Preston directed him on how to name and split the purchases according to the two families they would be brought to. After Loren finished with the gifts, Preston handed him forty dollars and added, "Keep the change."

Preston, with the aide of Max the storehand, loaded his buggy with the two crates. Before he left, he stopped at the bank and took out some of his money. Placing the cash into two envelopes, he added notes saying what they were for without putting down his name. He then returned to his buggy, adding the money to the crates, and proceeded to start off to Bob Gates' homestead. When he rounded the last bend of the road that led there, he paused. The countryside was so quite and untouched. He clicked his tongue and continued onto the front door. Stopping the carriage, he climbed out and placed the box on the porch. He then rode the carriage out of view and ran back to the homestead. Preston knocked on the door and then hid beside the house.

"Susanna, get the door please," Margaret called from the kitchen where she was fixing the goose that had arrived.

Susanna sighed loudly and headed to the door. She swung it wide and was surprised to find no one there. Seeing the crate she yelled, "Mother, Santa came!"

Obviously, Margaret was a little confused and left the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag. She spotted the crate and gasped, rushing over to it. Looking at the names, she began to cry. "Presents, for the family!"

Susanna was so happy she shouted, "Santa remembered!"

Margaret had no response for what the child said. She lifted the crate and brought it inside, closing the door with her foot. Preston grinned and returned to his surrey.

Preston performed the same stunt at the Sully residence. He left the crate by the door, knocked and hid. Once it was brought inside, he peeked through the window. Michaela was on the floor; Victoria wrapped in a blanket on her lap. His grin turned into a beaming, bright smile.

After leaving the Sully's homestead, Preston went to his nephew's. Walking hesitantly to their front door, he raised his hand to knock. Unsure of himself, he again lowered his hand and paused a moment to collect himself and then knocked on the door. In no time, Donald opened the door.

Shock was clearly writing on his face. Shaking himself, he choked out, "Uncle Preston? I…I wasn't expecting you."

"I hope I'm not intruding," Preston began. He was nervously playing with his hat, which he had already removed.

"No…no, not at all," he nephew cut him off. You're always welcome here, Uncle."

Preston smiled. "I would like to join your family for Christmas dinner, if I'm not too late."

His nephew was confused at first: shaking his head as if he had heard Preston wrong. "Of course," he said, a tinge of confusion in his voice. Making way for Preston to enter, Donald let Preston inside and then closed the door. Leading him into the parlor, Donald added, "Jane is finishing the goose now. We're just waiting for some of our friends."

"Splendid, I can't wait to meet the people you call friends." Smiling, Preston added, "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

Donald's eyes were wide in surprise. Just as he went to question his uncle's intentions, Jane entered the room. She looked just like his vision: the same lovely gown and fragile face. She was beautiful.

"Uncle Preston, what a surprise! I wasn't expecting you," Jane stated softly. Walking further into the room, she added, "I am so glad you could come."

Preston stood and hugged his niece. Stepping back, he took her hands into his own and looked at her. "Absolutely beautiful. I can see why my nephew married you."

Jane blushed and giggled. "Thank you," she replied.

Preston added. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My brother Marcus would have loved you."

Jane's eyes fell to the floor in embarrassment. "Thank you very much, Uncle Preston," she replied softly.

"You are very welcome."

"Why don't we sit and wait for the others?" Donald asked motioning to the couches.

In no time, the three had sat and began to discuss family and friends, as well as the quaint town they were living in. Donald describes how well his business was doing and explained that Jane had begun working at the dressmaker's shop. She had even had a hand in making the dress she was now wearing. Preston listen as the couple filled him in on their lives here and for the year they lived in Boston as a married pair. He cried and laughed with them and finally realized this is what Christmas was about.

As the friends began to arrive, Preston would greet them with enthusiasm and joy, listening to every story and laughing at every joke. They sang carols and ate at a large oak table. Later, they danced and opened gifts that were passed around the room. Preston smiled and thought, 'There is no place better to spend Christmas.'

That night, when Preston arrived at home and went to bed, he could still hear the echoes of laughter and singing from his nephew's party. One woman stood out in his mind Melissa Gold. She was new to town and as beautiful as any woman he had ever seen. Her long copper hair shinned in the candlelight and her green eyes sparkled when she was happy. She was not married and over the course of an hour, the two had become wonderful friends. When Preston closed his eyes, the last thing he saw before sleep consumed him was her face in the light as he kissed her beneath the mistletoe.

Bob Gates was on the other side of town, running down the main street hoping to beat Preston to work. He again peeked at his pocket watch: 9:08 am. Bob was late and he knew Preston was not going to be happy. He stopped outside the door, took a deep breath and headed inside, prepared for the worst.

"You're late, Gates," Preston growled in mock anger. "That's twice this week."

"I know, sir, I'm sorry. We were having so much fun last night that it was hard to fall asleep. The children received toys from some unknown origin."

"Well, I care not for your excuses, just that you are eight minutes late for work. You leave me no choice," he said standing, "but to…to raise your salary."

"Ex…excuse me, sir. Did you just say that you were raising my salary?" the man asked.

"Yes, I'll raise it five dollars a week."

"Five dollars, thank you, Mr. Lodge." Bob grinned and went to his seat.

"Are you crazy, Bob? Light the fire first, it's far too cold to work yet!" Preston chuckled.

Bob ran over to the stove and had it lit in to time. The warm fire and the cheer seemed to make the bank a merry place. Bob went to work and the day flew by. Both boss and worker enjoyed their time together and ever shared lunch and talked.

On Christmas day the following year, Preston married Melissa Gold. The wedding was grand. The church was filled with townspeople that Preston had been kind to over the past year. His wedding party included the Sully children and the Gates family. As he danced with his beautiful wife, the guests chatted about the change in him. Some questioned his integrity, and his sanity; while others claimed it was the magical power of Christmas.

He had saved the lives of two very special children by secretly donating money to their families. Vicky received the treatment from the specialist in New York just last month and was much better. She showed none of the signs she once did. Billy was now eating properly and was growing by leaps and bounds. In no time, both children seemed to be recovering far more than they once had. He also became an Uncle to Joshua and Donald, treating them as if they were his own children. Annette became his sister once again and Jane was the daughter he had never had. They celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and other special occasions together. To the town, he had become a wonderful friend and confidant. He even allowed Mrs. Merriwether to keep her home.

"He certainly has changed," Michaela remarked to Bob and Margaret Gates as the watched Preston and Melissa dance. Her husband stood behind her, his arms around her waist.

"Sure has, became like a second father to Billy. They get along real well," Bob replied.

"Indeed, he's even become an uncle to our children," Michaela said shaking her head. "I must admit it has caught us all by surprise."

The continued to chat as the song ended. Little Vicky ran over to Preston and asked, "Uncle Preston, will you dance with me?"

Lifting her into his arms, he replied, "I would be honored." He danced with the child in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder and tears running down his cheek. She had lived, as did Billy Gates, and he thanked the Lord for every day he had with these precious children.

From the corner of the café, three spirits watched as Preston danced with Vicky.

"He's learned," Blake remarked to the other two. "He learned enough to spare himself from this fate."

"Indeed he did," Marjorie replied, a bright smile on her face. "You did a wonderful job, both of you."

"Wasn't nothin'," Becky added.

"He sees every day as Christmas day," Blake chuckled. "In his heart he is happy and doesn't care what other's say."

"It's about time," Marjorie replied. "Our job is complete."

They all nodded in agreement. As Preston handed out Christmas gifts to the children he said, "I wish you all a Merry Christmas."

Simultaneously, Vicky and Billy replied, "And God bless us, everyone!"

The room uttered a loud, "Amen," as the children tore into their gifts. Preston held his wife close and whispered his own prayer of thanksgiving and blessings on his very extended family. He was finally happy and he had the Lord to thank. As the party continued, the three spirits disappeared and snow began to fall. Preston A. Lodge III had become a man of honor and dignity, no longer the avaricious scoundrel he once was. It was thanks to four wonderful spirits and the magic of Christmas.

[Merry Christmas To All and a Happy New Year too!]

The Magic of Christmas - Copyright © 1999 - All Rights Reserved - Janine D. Disclaimer:
This story in is in no way meant to infringe upon the rights belonging to Beth Sullivan, CBS, or any entity thereof. All rights to Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman and any related content, including characters used, belong to "Sullivan and Company" and "CBS Entertainment Productions."

This story is the property of the author. Copyright 1999. Nothing may be reprinted in whole or in part without the written permission of the author.