Reparare: Joyeux Noel

by CamRose

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

He stood before the door, hand raised and poised to knock, but something held him back. If he did this, there was no going back. For a moment, his intellect warred with his need. Was he right to do this? Would he regret it? He studied his gloved hand; it shook, but not with the intensity of his emotions. His hand shook of its own accord.

His eyes widened at this new betrayal of his body, and in a flash, he made the decision for once and for all. Without hesitation, he knocked hard on the door—one, two, three times. Then he waited.

* * * * * * * *

Inside the room, Anna sat on the bed, reveling in the solitude. She felt clean from her hot water bath; now, dressed in her robe and nightgown, she concentrated on brushing out her hair. She held her horsehair brush firmly in her hand and slowly pulled it through her auburn hair, watching herself in the mirror that faced the side of the bed. Four….five….six……she paid attention so she wouldn’t lose track of the count. Her mama had always told her when she was a child to brush her hair for fifty strokes, to bring out its shine. After twenty-two years, she was still doing what her mother had told her to do all those years ago.

Forty-nine…fifty! Anna tossed her hair back over her shoulders, amazed at how long it had grown in six months. Rising from the bed, she replaced the brush on the worn white linen table-cloth draped on top of the dresser, then leaned forward to study her face in the mirror. She wondered yet again, why the good Lord had given her such a plain face. She didn’t really mind that her eyes were brown, instead of blue, but her nose just stopped shy of being pug. She supposed it really didn’t matter; after all, the clients were more interested in her body than how she looked. But a part of her knew that if she were prettier, she might not be there, or at the very least, she could receive a higher wage for her services.

A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie. She glanced at the clock on the wall opposite from her bed, and swore softly to herself. Twenty minutes after ten! Charlie knew better than to send clients up to her after ten o’clock at night. House rules forbade it for one thing; Mr. Jackson wanted his girls to look fresh for the men who frequented the saloon downstairs, even if they were drunk by the time they made it upstairs. Likely, the client had slipped Charlie an extra few dollars as a bribe, to allow him to come up. Charlie knew that Anna was sending money back to her family, which was probably why he had sent the guest up to her room instead of one of the other girls. With a sigh, she pushed away from the dresser and made her way over to the door, pulling her robe more tightly around her. Despite Charlie’s best intentions, she wasn’t going to risk losing her job and shelter. She would just tell the man on the other side of the door to go get his money back from Charlie and return tomorrow.

Putting on her most apologetic smile, she opened the door slightly, and then caught her breath. The man on the other side of the door was dressed in drab clothing and swayed in place alarmingly, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. She found herself staring into a pair of blue eyes, eyes that were so deep and dark in color that they reminded her of the ocean at midnight. The eyes blinked a little too rapidly, she thought, and then noticed that they were sizing her up as well.

Remembering her intent, she leaned against the doorway and addressed him matter-of-factly, all the while staring at his chest, away from the eyes that were mesmerizing in their intensity.

“Look, mister, I’m sorry, but it’s really late. Charlie shouldn’t have let you up here. Why don’t you come back tomorrow instead?” She looked up, then and smiled sweetly at him. “I promise you that I’ll make up for it and give you the time of your life.” She winked slyly at him for effect, and then waited for him to agree and leave.

The man didn’t budge. For a moment, he seemed to look past her and there was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher. Then he came back to himself and fixed his eyes on her once more.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but the man downstairs said it would be all right and I can’t come back tomorrow. May I come in please?” The tone in his voice held a hint of desperation and his swaying increased.

Anna sighed loudly then. She should have known that she couldn’t dissuade him; there was no use arguing with a man once drink had a hold of him. She might as well let him in and get it over with as quickly as possible; she could always take another bath. Besides, in his drunken state he probably wouldn’t last very long, and then she could go back to enjoying her night and getting some sleep. With resignation she opened the door and walked back towards the bed, expecting him to follow her in.

But the man still didn’t move. Exasperated, she turned back towards him. “Well, are you coming in or not? I haven’t got a lot of time, you know.” Again, she had that odd sense that he was staring past her. Suddenly impatient to get this tryst over with, she grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind them.

* * * * * * * *

Her visitor looked around at the room, taking in the shabby tan curtains and grey window shades, which were pulled down tightly to keep the cold February chill out and the warmth from the small fireplace in. There was a dresser against the opposite wall, its surface covered by a white linen cloth that had clearly seen better days. On top of the dresser lay an assortment of what he thought of as feminine items, similar to things he remembered seeing on his mother’s vanity table, although these were not of as fine a quality as hers.

As his eyes continued to move around the room, he noted the small night table with its clear-glass oil lamp, the light of which reflected off of the plain metal bed frame. He was surprised to find that the room was cleaner that he had expected it to be and found himself staring at the bed. With a start, he suddenly remembered why he was there and who else was in the room. Embarrassed to be caught staring, he turned around slowly to face the young woman who stood behind him, watching him with a bemused smile on her face.

“I take it the room meets with your approval, sir?” Her voice was slightly mocking, but he sensed no real anger in her reply so he smiled back politely.

“Yes, thank you. Is there a place where I may put my things?” He removed his hat and gloves as he spoke, glancing once again around the room.

Puzzled, Anna studied him. Despite his drunken and drab appearance, his speech was polished and she sensed a refinement in him that she had missed earlier. Was it possible that he wasn’t one of the locals or a lumberjack, but a gentleman instead? If so, it might work to her advantage, she decided. She pointed towards an armchair that he had missed seeing earlier. “There’s as good a place as any.”

As he crossed the room toward the chair, she noticed that he moved carefully, almost as if he was walking on eggshells. As he neared the chair he stumbled, and caught himself on the back of it, dropping his hat and gloves in the process. It was then that she noticed the shaking in his hand—she had seen it before, in the almshouse on the other side of town.

The man sensed the change in her before he turned around and found her staring at him with a horrified look on her face. He took a step towards her, but stopped when she backed away from him in fear.

“You have the palsy.” She barely breathed when she spoke, but the statement hung in the air between them.

* * * * * * * *

“I think it’d be best if you leave now, right away!” Anna sidled away from her unwanted visitor, moving behind the armchair so that it was placed between them. She pointed to his things on the floor. “Please pick those up and go!” Her voice rose slightly in pitch.

In desperation, her would-be client reached out towards her, entreatingly. Then realizing his actions might be taken as a threat, he brought his hands slowly back to his side.

“I mean you no harm, Miss….Anna, isn’t it?” Despite her lack of response to his question, he continued addressing her. “Please, hear me out.” He picked up his hat and gloves from the floor, with effort, and stepped back away from her, but not towards the door. Holding his breath, he waited for her reaction, unsure which he dreaded more—staying or leaving.

Anna stood there, uncertain how to handle the situation. She didn’t dare scream or yell; if she did, it would be sure to bring everyone to her room, maybe even Mr. Jackson himself. The owner of the bordello usually left by ten o’clock, but he had been known to stay later. He would be angry at both her and Charlie for breaking the house rules, but she would be the one who would be in trouble. It had happened once before—one of the girls had allowed a client upstairs after ten o’clock, but without Charlie knowing about it. The man had stayed the entire night and left early the next morning, but not before emptying the contents of the safe in Mr. Jackson’s office while everyone slept, and making off with the week’s profits. Furious, Mr. Jackson had turned the poor girl out onto the street.

That was when he hired Anna. His terms were simple; as long as she followed the rules and serviced the patrons, he would provide her with her own room and pay her every two weeks. Anna had needed the job desperately because her mother was depending on her to send money back home to help clothe and feed her younger siblings. She didn’t dare lose her job now. Perhaps if she let the man speak his piece, he would leave quietly without causing her any further trouble.

“All right, I’ll hear you out, but on one condition.” The man nodded his head, obviously relieved. “As soon as you’re done speaking, you promise to leave my room, without argument.” At her words, he looked taken aback, but after a moment, slowly nodded his head again. “You may start then,” Anna announced, and waited.

“First, may I sit down please? Also, I see a pitcher and glass over there. With your permission, I’d like a drink of water.” At her curt nod, he put his gloves into his hat, and for lack of any other place, dropped his hat onto the table next to the bed. He then carefully walked around the end of the bed over to the dresser and poured himself a small glass of water. He carried the glass back with him and, looking about the room for a place to sit, stared at her and the armchair. Crossing her arms, she moved away from the armchair, and then indicated that he could sit there, but she stayed standing near the door, ready to bolt if necessary.

With care, the man eased himself down into the chair. As he drank from the glass, she noticed that he held it with both hands. When it was empty, he placed it on the floor beside the chair, turned to face her and began to speak in a soft voice.

“I’m truly sorry that I alarmed you. I am aware that it appears as though I have ‘the palsy’, as you called it, but that is, in this case, not the fact. The truth is that the doctors don’t know what I have. They have assured me, however, that it is not contagious, as no one else around me has demonstrated the symptoms you see.” At her skeptical look, he added, “If you require further proof, I have a letter written by one of the doctors who examined me.” Anna merely shrugged her shoulders at this announcement, so he continued.

“As I mentioned, the doctors don’t know what is causing this disease, but they have told me what I can expect from it. I will eventually lose all control of my muscles and then die.”

Anna gasped and brought her hand to her throat, clutching at the neck of her robe. To the best of her knowledge, the palsy did not affect its victims in this way. The men she had seen in the almshouse moved stiffly, with small, shuffling steps, but they still moved. She tried to put herself in his place but couldn’t. What this man was describing was too horrible to contemplate. She studied him carefully, unsure of how to respond, for despite his apparently calm appearance, she could see that he was trying not to lose control of his emotions in front of her as he looked away from her.

After a moment of hesitation, Anna moved to sit down on her bed opposite him. His quiet dignity as he told her his story spoke volumes about him to her. She leaned towards him, but did not touch him for fear of breaking his tenuous control.

“How long?” She asked in a quiet voice.

“Until I pass?” She nodded her head, encouraging him to continue. “I’ve been told it could be as short as six months from now or as long as a year. But I will become debilitated long before then,” he finished. He went on, his voice steadier now, oblivious to her growing distress. “My family, of course, is aware of this, and have been supportive of my needs, but there is one thing they can’t provide.” He looked directly at her. “The physical—closeness— that occurs between a man and woman.”

“But I don’t understand—you wear a wedding band. What about your wife?”

His voice took on a tone of heartbreaking sadness. “I wear the ring in remembrance. My wife is dead—shot by someone who was trying to kill me instead.”

* * * * * * * *

Stunned, Anna sat as still as a statue. This time, it was she who had to look away, for the expression of despair on his face was almost too much to bear. As she absorbed what he had said, any and all thoughts of asking him to leave vanished. Finally, she looked back at him, meeting his gaze steadily.

“It seems so……….”

“Unfair.” He finished the sentence for her. “I know, but we aren’t guaranteed fairness in life, are we?”

She chose not to answer that, for it hit too close to her own situation. Instead, she asked her own question.

“So why come to a place like this?” At his puzzled look, she continued. “Surely you have women friends or acquaintances that care for you and would be willing to….,”she chose her words carefully, “meet your needs.”

“No,” He shook his head adamantly. “That would feel too much like pity, or worse, charity. Besides, how could I ask a woman friend to be….” He stopped suddenly, appalled at what he had been about to say.

Anna finished his sentence for him. “A prostitute.” She offered him a small reassuring smile to cover his embarrassment. “I don’t take offence at being called that—I’ve been called worse and it is only a word after all. Besides, that is why you’re here, aren’t you? To seek those…my services?’ She tried to lighten the moment. “This is my bedroom, you know,” she said, pointing towards the bed.

Her words had the desired effect. He relaxed immediately and smiled ruefully. “Obviously.”

Once again, Anna felt herself falling into that gaze of his, for this time he was looking not past her but directly at her, his eyes focused on her and watching her every move. With a start, she realized that if she wasn’t careful, she could develop feelings for him; it was a risk that went with being a prostitute. That would be harmful for them both, she decided, if she took him on as a client. Which brought her to her next question.

“You strike me as a man of some means, so why are you here? Why not go to San Francisco, for example, or someplace closer—say, Stockton?” There, they were back on safe ground, or so she thought, until he stood up unsteadily and started to walk towards the fireplace. He paused in front of the fireplace, and lifted his arm to rest his hand against the mantel, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. He stared at the fire and then at his hand, as if trying to come to a decision, before turning back to address her.

“As you say, I am a man of means. Consequently, my family and I are well known in those towns in both business and social circles. If it were to become known that I was involved with someone in your profession,” he bowed slightly towards her, “regardless of the reason, it might prove harmful for my family. The chances of that being found out in a town such as San Francisco or Stockton is far greater than if I seek those services in a small town such as this one. Hence, my being here.” His arm swept away from his side to emphasize his point. “Now, if there are no further questions, I will take my leave without argument, as you requested.”

Transfixed, she watched as he walked passed her to the table next to her bed, to retrieve his hat and gloves. He slipped his gloves on, eased his hat onto his head and purposefully moved towards the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he paused for a moment, and then turned back to look at her. Their eyes met, and she thought she could see regret in his…..or maybe it was apology. She wondered what he saw in hers. Then, without another word, he tipped his hat at her, opened the door and left her room, taking care to close the door behind him.

Before she knew what she was doing, she flew to the door to open it and call him back, only to find him leaning against the stair post. He smiled at her knowingly.

“I’ve met your condition, without argument, as promised. Now, let’s talk about my conditions.”

* * * * * * * *

Anna roused slowly from slumber, surprised to find that she had fallen asleep. Stretching as she turned, she reached her arm out to feel for him, only to find the bed empty. Lifting herself up on one arm, she looked around the room and saw him sitting in the armchair.

Anna studied her new patron in the fading light of the fire. His dark hair was tousled and his posture relaxed. I do good work, she thought smugly. As she continued to watch him, she saw that his hand was moving across his lap. He had produced pen and paper from somewhere and was writing…..what?

She eased back down on the pillow and tried to remember what they had talked about before they had gone to bed. He had produced the letter that the doctor had written but because she could not read, he read it to her, more for his own reassurance than for hers. She had already made the decision to allow him into her bed. She trusted him, knowing herself to be a good judge of character. He had informed her that he could pay for her services, starting that night, and they had finally agreed upon a somewhat generous price, which he produced immediately from his billfold, assuring her that he thought she was worth every cent. Anna had never slept with a kinder, gentler client, and both were pleased to discover that he could respond to her administrations. She had even felt comfortable enough to share some of her history with him, knowing instinctively that he would keep it in confidence.

However, as one of his conditions, he would not tell her his name. And they had also discussed the repercussions of might what happen if he got her with child. He didn’t know, for a fact, that he could get her pregnant—it was one of the things that the doctors couldn’t tell him. She pointed out tactfully to him that there was no guarantee that the child would be his if she did become pregnant, but for her part, she assured him that she would do everything in her power to see that it didn’t happen, as he didn’t want to risk passing on his terrible disease. But Anna knew that even with precautions, anything was possible. She was prepared to take that risk, even if he had reservations, for she knew that there were ways of terminating unwanted pregnancies, although she had never been in that situation.

But what was he doing? She pushed the blanket aside and swung her feet to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. In the light of the fading fire, she could just make out the time on the wall clock; half past twelve. Anna reached over and picked up her robe from where it hung on the bed frame at the bottom of the bed. Noiselessly, she slipped it on, and then stood up. She padded over to the chair, but he was so focused on his writing that he didn’t even hear her approach.

Her touch on his shoulder startled him and he dropped the pen onto the floor, cursing mildly when he couldn’t retrieve it. Without comment, she picked it up and handed it back to him, noting at the same time that he had gotten dressed and that the wedding ring was back on his finger.

“Thank you, I’ll be done soon,” was all he said, and went back to his writing.

She leaned against the armchair and studied him by the light of the fire, watching in fascination as his hand moved the pen across the piece of paper. The paper he was writing on rested on a stylus that he balanced carefully on his crossed leg. Curious, she wondered where he had gotten the writing materials. Along with reading, Anna had never learned how to write. Now, watching him, she felt envious. Despite the slight tremor in his hand, her gentleman handled the pen with grace. As she watched him, Anna reflected that she was intimately familiar with the skills of his hands and smiled softly to herself.

With a final flourish, he signed the paper. He carefully folded it, slipped it into the thick envelope and tucked the end flap in. Then he turned to her and surprised her by handing it to her.

“Now, what’s all this? I told you, I can’t read. And where did you get all this from?” She pointed to the pen and stylus. “I know that you didn’t have anything like this on you earlier when I undressed you.” She noted, with satisfaction, that the last statement drew a deep blush from him.

“I took the liberty of going downstairs while you were asleep to see if Charlie was still there.” Her eyes widened in fear, and he touched her hand to calm her. “Don’t worry; I was careful. Nobody saw me except Charlie. He was quite agreeable about getting me what I needed, after I paid him, of course. He also told me about the house rules; I should never have put you at risk like this.”

“It was my choice,” she reminded him gently, “and my pleasure, truth be told.” Again, she drew a blush from him. She waved the envelope at him. “Now, back to my question. What’s all this?”

“It’s…..insurance.”

“Insurance?” Anna was unfamiliar with the word.

“I’ll explain. In the event that…something happens that we didn’t anticipate, I want you to follow the instructions in the letter.” She started to object, but he put his hand out to forestall her. “I know you can’t read, but Charlie can. I’ve already made it clear to him that I’m counting on him to help you out should the need arise.” He would never tell her how much he paid Charlie to extract that promise from him. “Keep this letter safe, but don’t open it until or unless it’s absolutely necessary. I trust that you’ll know when that is. This letter will ensure that you’ll be taken care of. Trust me on this.” His gaze bore into hers.

Anna turned the letter over in her hand, unsure of how to respond to this offer—then decided that honesty was the best policy. So she asked him; “Why would you do all this,” she waved the envelope at him, “for me? After all, you barely even know me, and as we both know, I am a prostitute, a fallen woman to most. I’m hardly the person that someone goes out of their way to….protect,” she finished, for lack of a better word.

He smiled at her then. “Well, I know enough about you to know that you have an open mind as well as a kind heart, qualities which you mostly find one or the other of in people but rarely both. That, and I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. I see—possibilities in you, and if one day opportunity comes, in any form, I’d like for you to have a chance to take it.”

Anna realized that she had to be honest with him on everything. “If it comes to that, I can’t promise you that I’ll do what the letter says without knowing what you wrote.” He surprised her by nodding his head in agreement.

“I know. But I still want you to have choices, and help…………the way you helped me tonight.’’ His eyes twinkled as he added. “Well, maybe not exactly the way you helped me,” he added, earning a return smile from her. Then he grew serious again. “It’s time for me to leave.”

He stood up from the chair and placed the pen and stylus on the table beside the bed. He knew that he could trust her to return both items to Charlie. Wordlessly, she retrieved his coat, hat and gloves for him, helping him don the coat.

“Will I see you again?” Her sudden question caught him by surprise.

“Yes, I’ll come back as many times as I can—if you let me, that is.”

Anna reached up and ran her fingers gently through his hair, smoothing the tousled strands back down into place. She raised her face to his to steal a gentle kiss. He held his breath as her lips pressed against his and then moved to his ear, shivering as she spoke into it.

“Come whenever you like. I’ll be ready for you.”

* * * * * * * *

Anna entertained her gentleman caller four more times after that. She never asked how he got there or where he went after he left her, and the subject of the letter never came up again, by mutual agreement. Her responsibility was to meet his needs, to give him pleasure and take his mind off of the disease that was slowly taking away his control and independence. But it was becoming more difficult for her to treat him as just another customer. Each time he visited her, she could see that he was getting weaker. The last time he came, she and Charlie had to help him up the stairs to her room, and when he spoke, his speech was slurred. Those who saw him when he visited her assumed that he just one of her regulars who couldn’t hold his liquor. Anna saw no need to correct that impression. Once they were alone, she lavished attention on him, attention he desperately needed.

The last time she saw him, she asked him if he would be back, but he had no answer for her. That night, they made love once and then simply lay together, drawing comfort from the presence of each other. He stayed the entire night and left early the next morning.

Anna saw him three weeks later, his face staring at her from the front page of a newspaper that one of her customers had left in her room. She brought the paper to Charlie, to ask him to read it to her, and then made her way back up to her room, where she sat and cried.

Four weeks later, Anna missed her bleeding. She wasn’t worried, because she had never had regular monthlies. Another four weeks passed, and then the sickness started in the evening. She thought nothing of it, for there was a sickness going around that had infected the entire town and areas beyond it, and her illness had only lasted for a few weeks. But her bleeding still didn’t show. When she missed her bleeding for a third month, she decided to see the local doctor, who confirmed what she had feared.

Anna returned to her room, deep in thought. She brought out the envelope her gentleman had given her and sat and stared at it for a long time before opening it. To her surprise, there were twenty one hundred dollar bills in the envelope, as well as the note he had written the first time she met him. She took the note to Charlie and asked him to read it to her. Then she swore him to secrecy, giving him one of the hundred dollar bills to guarantee his silence. Over the next few days, she made plans to leave Jamestown and on an early spring day, gathered the few items that she owned, boarded the stage and left for parts unknown.

* * * * * * * *

December 24^th

Victoria said her goodnights to her children and gracefully made her way to the stairs, hoping she would be unhindered. However, just as she reached the first step, right on cue, she heard the heavy steps behind her.

She didn’t need to hear spurs to know it was Nick.

“Mother, are you sure you won’t change your mind? Eugene’s gonna show us a new parlor game that he learned in college. Something called bunko. He swea…claims it’s the most popular game they’re playing up in San Francisco.” Nick stared down at his mother, the concern in his eyes evident despite his anticipatory grin.

Victoria swung around and looked up at her second son. “No, thank you, dear. I’m really very tired, “she said, her tone firm but kind. She reached out her hand and touched his arm, reassuringly. “So far it’s been a wonderful Christmas, but now I’m exhausted.” As he started to protest, she squeezed his arm gently. “Don’t worry, Nick. All I need is a good night’s sleep. I promise I’ll be able to keep up with all of you tomorrow.”

Nick knew better than to push his mother when she had that look in her eyes. “All right, Duchess,” he grumbled good-naturedly, bowing towards her slightly in their own special routine. “But I’m gonna hold you to that promise.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She hugged and kissed him back, then turned to make her way up the grand staircase.

“Pleasant dreams.” Nick’s voice followed her up the staircase, and she turned to bestow a motherly smile on him before she entered the hallway that led to their rooms. “Thank you, sweetheart. Goodnight, and sweet dreams to you also.”

She watched him as he turned back towards the parlor to rejoin his siblings. She was warmed by the laughter and excited voices she heard coming from the parlor. It had been a good Christmas, she reflected, even if her heart wasn’t completely in it this year.

Victoria walked the rest of the way slowly to her room, her thoughts focused on the child of hers who wasn’t downstairs. This past winter she had lost her oldest son, Jarrod, to a disease that had struck him in his prime. The disease was so rare that the doctors in San Francisco knew of only a handful of people who had contracted it, and there had been no hope of a cure. Not even the vast Barkley wealth was able to help her son, except to enable his family make him as comfortable as they could in his final days.

Jarrod had faced his illness with great dignity. A private man by nature, he fought to maintain his independence for as long as he could, using any resources available. While he was able to walk, he would often leave for a few days, insisting that he could manage by himself and declining the company of his brothers. She knew that Heath, and especially Nick had been at least partly hurt by his actions, but her sons also recognized their brother’s need to be in control of his life and so silently supported him. Nick had even let Ciego accompany Jarrod a few times when he asked for him, never once asking their ranch hand where they went, out of respect for his older brother.

Victoria entered her room and quietly closed the doors behind her. A wave of grief washed over her, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. She leaned back against the wooden doors, grateful for their firm support. Ever since the start of the holiday season, she had been experiencing these spells off and on. Generally, stress or a memory would set it off, and each time, the realization that Jarrod was gone would hit her anew.

She remembered the strongest one thus far. She and Audra had been in the parlor decorating the great fir tree that Nick and Heath had brought down from the hills the day before. The annual party that Audra held for the orphans was planned for that afternoon, and they had just finished placing brightly colored bows of ribbon on the tree. Victoria eyed the tree critically and realized that all they needed to do was to put the last it hit her—it was Jarrod’s task to place the star on top of the tree. The tradition had started when he was four years old; Tom had to help him the first few years by holding him up and steadying the top of the tree for him. Every year after that, it had remained his special task as the oldest Barkley child. Victoria suddenly felt her knees go weak beneath her and had to sit down. Audra had rushed over to her in concern, but Victoria convinced her that it was just the unusually warm weather they were having this winter and asked Silas to fetch her some water. Audra had watched her carefully after that and had also asked Silas to get Eugene to put the star on the tree in Jarrod’s place.

Victoria waited a few minutes until her lightheadedness eased a bit, then made her way over to the windows on the far side of her room. Perhaps if she opened the window, some fresh air would help. She unlatched the windows and swung both open, inhaling deeply and taking in the scent of the pines. She loved this time of year. There would be no snow on the ground, but she didn’t really miss it all that much. Besides, if she really wanted to see snow, all they had to do was take a trip up to the lodge. She knew that what made Christmas really special to her was not what was under the tree, inside or outside, but what was in her heart, as well as the four remaining hearts that belonged to her downstairs.

Her head finally clearing, Victoria moved to close the windows when suddenly she heard a sound. It was faint, and at first she thought she imagined it, but then she heard it again. It was a little louder this time, and her eyes flew open in surprise when she realized what she was hearing. It couldn’t be!!!

Victoria hurried out of her room, careful not to trip on the heavy hem of her dress. Reaching the top of the stairs, she lifted the front of her skirt as she descended the stairs quickly, calling out to her children.

“Nick! Heath! Eugene! Audra! Come quickly!”

Nick reached her first at the bottom of the stairs as the rest of her children followed, with Heath bringing up the rear. “What is it, Mother?” He reached out to steady her as the family gathered around them.

“Nick, we need to check outside. I—I heard something while I was upstairs.”

Nick started to ask what she had heard, but there was no need to, for from the other side of the doorway, they all heard the sound. Looking at his mother in disbelief, Nick opened the door and they all crowded around, peering outside.

There, on the stoop was a basket with an infant inside.

* * * * * * * *

The Barkleys stood there, staring at the basket and infant inside of it, who was working up to a healthy wail. When nobody moved to pick up the basket, Heath deftly squeezed between Eugene and Nick to reach down and grab the basket handle.

“Boy howdy, what’re you’all just standing around for? Excuse me, brothers,” he quipped, “but I think I’m more qualified to do this than you are.” With ease, he lifted the basket and brought it into the house, confident that his family would follow. He placed the basket on the table in the hallway, and reached with both hands to take the baby out, but was stopped by the pressure of a small but strong hand on his wrist.

“Excuse me, Heath, but I’m more qualified than both you and Nick together, and that’s including Eugene and Audra as well.” His mother’s voice held a hint of humor as well as a tone that brooked no disobedience.

Heath couldn’t dispute that. “Yes, Mother” He grinned at her and stepped aside.

With care, Victoria lifted the infant out of the basket, being careful to support its head, and brought the precious bundle up to her shoulder with the ease of long practice. The infant instantly quieted. As far as she could tell, the baby was no more than a few weeks old. Moreover, whoever had placed the basket there had taken special care to wrap the baby in two blankets, and line the basket with a third, making sure that the baby was warm and that the make-shift cradle was well padded. Victoria pulled the blanket away from the infant’s face and cradled its head in her hand. Rocking gently, she carried it over to the settee and carefully laid the bundle down. Who had left the baby there? And, more importantly, why? She started to remove the blanket, to free the baby’s limbs.

“I’ll check the basket out,’ Eugene said to no one in particular and moved back towards the table in the hallway. His other siblings were crowded around the settee, watching their mother as she eased one of the tiny arms out from the blanket and then the other, pulling up the sleeve of the bunting the baby wore in the process

“There’s something else in here!” Eugene’s voice rang out with excitement. Nick and Heath looked up immediately, but Audra kept watching her mother with the baby. Victoria glanced over as Eugene pulled something out of the basket, then looked back down at the baby to pull the sleeve down on the tiny arm,…. and froze. On the baby’s left wrist was a familiar berry-colored birthmark. Her heart started to race, and she looked closer at the baby’s arm. It couldn’t be!! She heard the sound of a rattle and looked up to see Eugene holding a tin baby rattle in one hand and a crumpled envelope in the other. He looked back at her with confusion and a little apprehension.

“Mother, it’s a letter…” He paused, took a breath and then continued, “…addressed to you, from Jarrod.” The room fell silent, except for the mewling of the baby, followed by a low whistle from Heath.

* * * * * * * *

Nick spoke first. “That’s impossible! There’s no way that could be from Jarrod, Eugene, and you know that!” He stomped away from the settee, towards Eugene, completely missing the expression on Victoria’s face.

Eugene was unfazed. He moved to meet his older brother halfway and thrust the envelope in his face. “All right, Nick, you look at this and tell me that’s not Jarrod’s handwriting!” Heath stood silently off to the side, watching them both, ready to step between them if need be.

Nick grabbed the envelope and studied it closely, then muttered to himself. “It can’t be!” He was brought up short by the sound of his mother’s voice behind him.

“Nick,” she said softly, “I believe that Eugene said it was addressed to me. I’d like to see it now, please.”

Nick turned around sharply; his mother sat there with her hand outstretched, waiting. Suddenly afraid of what was in the envelope and of what it might do to his mother, Nick pleaded with her. “But, Mother!”

“Give it to me, Nicholas.” Nick opened his mouth to protest further, but at the look in his mother’s eyes, he realized that he had no choice. He could not keep the envelope and its contents away from his mother any more than he could keep the sun from rising in the morning. Without further comment, he handed it to her and stepped back.

Victoria turned to Audra, who was now sitting down on the settee on the other side. “Audra, please take the baby out to the kitchen and check to see if it needs to be changed. Then ask Silas if he has any milk left. The baby may be hungry.” She lifted the tiny bundle and carefully passed it over to her daughter.

“Mother…,” Audra began uncertainly. She, too, had seen the birthmark, although she wasn’t sure her brothers had, and realized what it implied.

“It’s all right, Audra. We’ll discuss it later, I promise. Please do as I ask for now.”

Audra gently lifted the baby to her shoulder, and rose gracefully from the settee. With a last look at her mother and brothers, she left the room, conscious of the eyes that followed her. Victoria then turned to her sons.

“Boys, please leave the room. I need a private moment, right now. I promise I will call you all back in a few minutes.” Nick looked at Eugene, and then at Heath, who nodded his head at both of his brothers. A silent agreement passed between all three and they slowly filed out of the parlor, leaving their mother alone with the letter.

* * * * * * * *

Victoria sat quietly, staring at the envelope in her hand, her thoughts whirling. Like Eugene, she had recognized her oldest son’s handwriting right off. Moreover, she realized that the handwriting was clear and legible, which meant that Jarrod had written the letter prior to the severe debilitation that the disease had plagued him with. But a baby!?! Somehow, she couldn’t believe that Jarrod wouldn’t have told her about it. But then, how to explain the envelope with his handwriting, addressed to her and left in the basket? Suddenly, she had to see what was inside it.

With shaking fingers, Victoria opened the envelope and withdrew not one, but two letters. The first letter was written in Jarrod’s distinctive handwriting, but the second was written in an uneven, almost crude script. She weighed which one to read first and chose Jarrod’s.

Dearest Mother,

I write this letter to you, not knowing under what circumstances it will reach you. I know it’s possible that it may never reach your eyes, God willing. But if it does, I ask you to look kindly upon the bearer of the letter, who should be a young woman named Anna, and who may, or may not be with child.

Shortly after I was told of the nature of my disease, I sought Anna out for comfort of a physical nature that my family and friends could not provide. Forgive me, Lovely Lady, for it was not something that I could discuss with you, especially after what my father had done to you and Heath. It’s ironic in a way, for now I see Father in a different light, not that it makes what he did right. But I understand now, on some terrifying level, why he sought out comfort and companionship when he didn’t know who he was or what the future held for him.

I, of course, do know what the future holds. I also know what the past has denied me. I miss Beth terribly, and of all my family, I know that you alone understand how that feels.

I shall always be grateful for the solace and understanding you provided, Mother, in my time of mourning. I still grieve for Beth, much as I’m sure you still grieve for Father, although you hide it well. My arrangement with Anna is my poor attempt to have what I never could.

Despite her circumstance, I believe that Anna is a good person. She has been willing to help me as I have asked her to, despite her initial fear of me and the disease I carry within me. God forgive me if a child is born that carries it also, although I do not personally believe that that will be the case. I pray that God isn’t that cruel. Anna, on the other hand, knows no such thing, so I have left her sufficient cash and this letter directing her to go to you, Mother, in the event that she needs additional help. Only Anna will know what help that may be or if she will even follow these instructions.

I only ask of you, Mother, that if she comes to you, you will help her in anyway you can, for my sake or for the child’s, if there is one.

Your loving son,

Jarrod

Victoria read the letter one more time, and then slowly lowered it to her lap. Jarrod’s child—a part of the child she had lost— had been given to her, on of all nights, Christmas Eve. But what of the mother?

With reverence, Victoria unfolded the second letter and read on.

Dear Mrs. Barkley,

By the time you read this letter, I’ll be far away from your ranch, so please don’t look for me. Also, I didn’t write this letter. It was written for me by someone else, so I can only hope that they put down what I ask.

If you’re reading this, you probably know by now that the baby in the basket is a girl and is also your son’s. To be honest, I wasn’t sure who the father was, until she was born and I saw the birthmark on her arm.

Jarrod was very good to me. He hardly even knew me, but right off he treated me with kindness and as if I was a lady, with his polite ways and all. What’s more, he cared for me, even if I didn’t understand it, and in my own way I came to care for him.

When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t sure if the baby was his or not. You should also know that Jarrod never told me who he was. I only found out after he died and before I knew I was with child. In my profession there are ways to lose babies. Your son knew this, but never told me what to do if I became pregnant. Instead, he gave me the other letter to give to you, and some money, and left that up to me to decide, if the situation arose.

For a while, I wasn’t sure if I was going to have this child, may God forgive me, for as Jarrod once told me, no one is guaranteed fairness in life. But I was also raised to respect life, no matter where it comes from or how it gets started, so in the end, there was really only one decision to make.

I have no interest in asking for any money or favors from you. Jarrod left me more than enough money to cover my needs. I only ask that you care for the child and raise her to know who her father was. If it seems cruel of me to just leave her like this, please understand that it’s because I can’t offer her the life that you and your family can, and I won’t have a daughter of mine, or his, living the life I do now.

As for her name, you can call her whatever you like, for she hasn’t been baptized yet, but I call her Joy.

Anna

Victoria sat still, absorbing the contents of both letters. Joy….the baby was a girl and her name was Joy. She had Jarrod’s daughter in her home, her first grandchild, and it was Christmas Eve. Her oldest son had given her the most precious Christmas gift he could ever have given her. And she started to cry with her own joy, for now another heart belonged to her.

All at once, she had to see her granddaughter. “Boys!” She shouted loudly for her sons, who came running, expecting the worse. But instead, she hugged them all.

“Nick, Eugene, Heath! The baby is Jarrod’s!!! And her name is Joy! Eugene, go see what’s keeping Audra and have her bring the baby back. I want to see my first granddaughter and all of you have to be introduced to your niece!”

* * * * * * * *

Outside of the home, back in the pines, Anna stood quietly, listening to the happy celebration that had erupted inside of the stately home. The house had been quiet for a long time after the basket had been brought inside; she was beginning to think that maybe it had been a mistake to leave the baby. But she knew now that her gentleman—Jarrod, she corrected herself—and the townspeople hadn’t lied. The Barkleys were good folks. Her daughter would be accepted and loved, growing up in security and a happy home. With peace in her heart, she turned and left.