by
Nzie
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.
They all thought
they knew better. It was always that way with the grown ones. Somehow they
thought that it all just happened, just came together. Untrue, but they didn’t
have to know; it was almost better they not. That way there was no hint of
angelic devilry, nothing to seem tainted, though it wasn’t tainted, of course.
He looked around again at the five sleepers. They’d all nodded off on the
various chairs and sofas near the dwindling flames. His strong hand took up a
bronze poker and stoked the fire. Time was growing short, yet as often was he
could not bear to part so swiftly, his kind eyes surveying the room again.
Ah, there was that one in the corner, huddled some against the cold. He could
remember that one a child often threatened with a stick for his antics. That’d
amused him much, to think of such a man receiving such a gift, for as much as
he blustered and flustered so much he cared and gave wholeheartedly. That
nature so troublesome was also so precious, and not a stick was ever found in
his stocking come Christ’s birth. Though he had not seen it, he was certain
there must have been a part of the Christ child himself much like this one,
willing to love faithfully.
Not far away was another. He had slipped low in the chair, and might have a
sore back by morning, but would still visit one who needed his aid bright and
early. He smiled to think of the man before him, who made a child’s affinity
for fairness into an abiding love for justice. Slow to anger, compassionate and
passionate, that one saw past the handicap of wealth to feel the pain of
others, a beautiful gift both had fostered within themselves, and which the
onlooker was most proud of.
His eyes traveled closer to the heart of the home, and stopped at the two cozy
on the sofa. Her head was laid into soft, practiced chest, brother’s arm easily
around her shoulder. The visitor thought back to the man’s childhood; they were
not as free then as now, but he’d watched discreetly, and had seen the joy, and
helped it along where he could. The man kept perhaps the brightest spark of
olden jubilations, for hardship breeds sinewy resilience and strong hold on
those things dear. Maybe that is why they slept in each other’s company, for
she too held fast. Such love was a more precious gift than those found under
any tree anywhere.
His eyes traveled again to the old woman asleep by the fire. She leaned into
the wing of the chair and breathed softly. She loved the season. She had her whole
life, a long and happy life. Tempered, yes, with sorrow but never hopeless,
never ungrateful for the many gifts, despite hardship and grief. She had taught
her children well. A few years hence she would enjoy Christmas with the Christ
child himself, but it was not time yet. Till then she would enjoy the happy
feast and relish the love which was most precious gift.
He had given this household his most precious gift, love, and now had to go.
St. Nicholas sighed softly, looked towards the Heavens, and with a prayer, was
gone.
THE END