December 1944

The sound of jingling bells mixed with Douglas's laughter in the frigid air, and Jonathon jogged faster, pulling the sled Douglas was riding in alongside Farmer Lindstrom's draft horse.

"I think he thinks you look like a horse!" Helen said, hurrying to keep close to the sled. "Does Daddy look funny?" she asked Douglas.

Jonathon exaggerated his steps to match the horse's gait, throwing up snow, and Douglas laughed even louder. He didn't care if old Mr. Lindstrom and James were watching. It was worth it so he could hear his son's belly laughs.

He was glad he'd taken the day off work. Ever since he could remember, the family had paid the Lindstrom's to cut and deliver a Christmas tree to the house. But this year, Helen had suggested Douglas might enjoy going along so he could watch the big draft horse pull the tree home. It had turned out to be a lot more fun than Jonathon expected.

Mr. Lindstrom stopped the horse near the front steps of the house. James helped him untie the tree while Helen released the strap holding Douglas in his sled.

"Horse!" he said as she lifted him out.

"Do you want to pet the horse again?" she asked, but he was already reaching in its direction as she placed him on her hip.

"Pe' horse!" he demanded.

She brought him close to the horse's neck and pulled off his mittens. "He's soft, isn't he?" she asked while Douglas stroked the horse's dark fur.

"Sof'," Doulas repeated.

"Do you remember his name?"

Jonathon could see Douglas thinking as he patted the horse, and then he looked at his mother. "'Mokey."

"That's right, it's Smokey!" She smiled at Jonathon with pride. "I can't believe he remembered."

"He's always been a bright boy," Jonathon said, putting his hand on Douglas's head.

James and Mr. Lindstrom pulled the large fir tree upright, and Douglas turned to watch. "Twee!" he said, pointing for his mother to look while the two men shook the branches to knock snow off.

"They're getting it ready to take in the house," Helen said. "Do you remember what kind of tree it is?"

"Kiss-miss twee," Douglas said.

"Yes, a Christmas tree. What will we put under it?"

"Pwesents."

"Presents for who?"

Douglas grinned as he pointed at himself. "Me!"

"And who else?"

"Mommy."

"And..." Helen prompted.

"Daddy!"

"That's right, presents for mommy and daddy and Douglas."

"An' Sanna!" Douglas insisted. "Pwesents for Sanna."

Helen laughed. "We don't give presents to Santa. Santa brings presents for Douglas."

"I see you've been teaching him about Christmas," Jonathon said.

"Of course I have," Helen said, her eyes twinkling. "We want him to be excited, don't we? That's part of the magic of Christmas. Although, he hasn't quite worked out all the details yet."

"Let's go inside and get warm while they're finishing up," Jonathon said, noticing how red both of their cheeks were from the cold.

When they stepped inside the foyer, Annie appeared from the grand parlor.

"Annie! Kiss-miss twee!" Douglas said excitedly, and all the adults laughed.

"I know! I saw it from the window." Helen set Douglas down, and Annie helped take off his winter outerwear. "I made a pot of tea and warmed up some milk for Douglas. I set it out in the dining room with a molasses c-a-k-e," she said, spelling the last word so Douglas wouldn't know what she was saying.

"That sounds wonderful," Helen said, straightening so she could take off her coat.

"Hopefully, it'll keep him busy while James and Mr. Lindstrom set up the you-know-what."

Helen laughed. "Oh, goodness. He'll insist on helping. I better take him upstairs to wash his hands first. He was petting the horse."

"Why don't you let me take him," Annie said. "You two can help yourself to the tea while it's still hot."

She led Douglas up the stairs, holding his hand while he spoke to her. To Jonathon the words were all garbled except for the word 'horse'.

"Yes, you got to pet the horse, and now we have to wash our hands."

Helen smiled at Jonathon. "He's so funny, isn't he?"

"Yes, he certainly is," Jonathon said, even though he wasn't sure exactly what she was referring to.

At two years old, Douglas was talking all the time, and even though Helen and Annie seemed to have no trouble understanding him, Jonathon often didn't know what his son was saying. It was another sign he wasn't spending enough time with him. With his heart heavier, he slipped his arm around Helen's waist as they headed down the hallway.

He'd expected Billy would be home by Christmas, which was now a few days away. But after the invasion of France, the fighting across the continent had taken too long. Billy's unit had only made it as far as Belgium before winter set in. While they were stalled, the Germans had fought hard enough to push through the allied lines. The papers said it was their last gasp before they were finally defeated, but Jonathon didn't know if he could believe them. They'd said the war would be over by now back in June.

Helen leaned into him, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm looking forward to that tea," she said. "My fingers are frozen."

"Yeah, me too," he said with a sigh.

~~

That evening, Helen was snuggled close to Jonathon on the couch in the grand parlor, her legs tucked under her chenille robe. They were watching the Christmas ornaments and tinsel sparkling on the tree, the only sounds in the room, a fire crackling in the fireplace and Christmas songs playing on the radio. Jonathon was thinking about getting a second whiskey when the telephone in the hallway rung.

"I wonder who that could be?" Helen said with a yawn, straightening so Jonathon could get up.

"I don't know," he said, keeping his concern to himself. If someone was calling this late, it wasn't good news. "Hello?" he said into the receiver with trepidation.

"Jonathon, it is Victor."

Jonathon recognized the accented voice, and was immediately alarmed. "What is it?  What happened?" he asked loudly. If the head engineer at the mine was calling, it must be very bad.

Helen came into the hallway with a worried expression.  "What?" she asked quietly.

"It is not about the mine I am calling," Victor said hurriedly. "It is Kitty. Her mother has taken her to the hospital. The doctor say the baby will be here soon."

Jonathon slumped as Helen looked at him questioningly. "Oh."

"When I have more to tell, I will call again."

"Yes – thank you, Victor."

"Good bye."

"Was it Kitty's father?" Helen asked while he hung up the phone.

"Kitty's at the hospital," he said simply.

Helen's face brightened. "The baby?"

He nodded, and then went to retrieve his glass from where he'd left it.

"I guess the baby isn't going to wait until Christmas," Helen said behind him. "Gee, I hope it's a boy. I know that's what Kitty wants."

Jonathon took his glass to the bar cabinet.

"I hope everything goes smoothly for her. She still seems like a kid in some ways."

Jonathon returned to the couch with his freshened drink. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he muttered, not looking at her as he sat. "The doctors know what to do."

"I know they do, but she's so little." She picked up a cloth bag that was beside the couch while Jonathon swirled the whiskey in the glass. "I wish Billy was here so she wouldn't have to go through this alone," she said quietly. "It would have been so scary if I hadn't had you with me when I had Douglas."

As she gave him a grateful smile, Jonathon imagined how differently things might have turned out for her if he hadn't married her. He put his arm over her shoulders. "I'm glad I was with you too," he said, and kissed her.

Helen turned her attention to the knitted blanket on her lap. "I know it's not the same, but at least Kitty has her parents with her. I'm sure that will give her some comfort."

Jonathon watched as she sewed a yellow satin border to the blanket with careful stitches. When she reached the corner, she lifted it up to inspect her work, and he realized he'd seen it before. It was the blanket she'd been knitting for their baby, the one they'd lost.

"Is that a Christmas present for Douglas?" he asked. "It's a bit small for him, don't you think?"

Helen set the blanket back on her lap and rubbed her hand over the cream wool with her head down. "I guess I didn't mention it to you. I decided to finish it for Kitty. Since it's winter, she could use a warm blanket for the baby."

He took a sip from his glass, as a faint pain pierced him, and decided not to reply. It was so rare he got to enjoy a quiet evening with Helen. He didn't want it ruined by dwelling on the past.

"I know what you're thinking," she said quietly, setting aside the blanket. "You can talk about it, Johnny.  It's okay."

He shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to say that hasn't already been said."

"While I had my appointment with Dr. Williams the other day, he brought up something I hadn't thought about before," she said, leaning into him. "When my mom had my little brother, she was almost forty years old."

"I – didn't realize she was that old."

"She was, and I'm only twenty-three. There's a lot of years ahead of us to have a baby – to have lots of babies. And Dr. Williams said something else – when a woman wants a baby too much, she won't have one. But if something happens to take away the pressure to have one, then it'll happen, just like that," she said, snapping her fingers.

Jonathon looked at her incredulously.  "Really?"

"Yeah, he said it happens all the time. So we have to let go of the pressure as much as we can."

"Easier said than done," Jonathon muttered.

"I thought about it on the ride home," Helen continued as if she hadn't heard him, her eyes on the tree. "And in my mind, I could see you at the mine, you were working, and Douglas was grown up and working alongside you. Billy was there too, and more young men, all of them Blackwell men, the sons of you and Billy. It was as clear as that Christmas tree."

"You think it was a vision?" he asked skeptically.

"No, definitely not," she said, smiling as she shook her head. "I think it was more like my mind putting things in perspective. We're so caught up in what's happening now, or what isn't happening, we forget all the possibilities the future holds for us. I bet when we reach that point years down the road, we'll look back and wonder why we were so worried."

"I hope it's not wishful thinking."

"We have to have faith things will get better, Johnny, especially now."

He sighed. "You're right," he said, pulling her closer. Laying his head against hers, he wished he could be as optimistic as she was.

~~

Jonathon had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his wool coat, using them to pull the coat tighter around him against the bitter night air. In the dim light from the nearby street lamp, his and Helen's breaths swirled around them like a cloud. Helen clutched the wrapped parcel she was holding tighter, and smiled up at him. He hoped she was warmer than he was in her new fur coat.

The door in front of them flew open, blinding them with the sudden light from inside the house while a booming voice, said, "Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year, Mr. Nestroff," Helen said, as she walked inside.

"Please, please! You call me Victor!" he said, shaking her hand vigorously. "She never believe me," he said, shaking Jonathon's hand just as vigorously.

"Old habits," Helen explained with a smile.

"I will take your coats," Victor said, closing the door. "My wife is upstairs helping Kitty and the baby get ready. It is only a few hours since she come home."

"I can't believe they kept her in the hospital for so long," Helen said as she undid the hooks on her coat.

"Ach! Modern doctors with their new ideas about germs," Victor said, waving his hand dismissively. "In the old country, we did things differently. Babies born at home and everyone hold them, but what did we know?" Once their coats were put away, he stepped through a doorway, leading them into a small parlor. "We can wait in here," he said, holding his arm out to indicate the couch for them.

Helen sat, holding the parcel on her lap, and Jonathon joined her. Victor settled into a well worn chair next to the fireplace. A pipe stand was on the table next to him, and he chose one.

"I can't wait to see the baby," Helen said.

"She look like her mother, and just as small," Victor said, pushing tobacco into his pipe. "It seem only yesterday she was born, and now she has a baby herself." He shook his head, while lighting a match. He was about to put the flame to the pipe bowl when his wife walked in the room and he shook the match out.

"Hello," she said as they stood. "It's a Happy New Year with a brand new baby in our house."

Then Kitty appeared in the doorway. Her face was pale and she had dark circles under her eyes, but she was smiling with the baby bundled tightly in a blanket in her arms. "Hello, Helen, Johnny."

"Kitty!" Helen said, going to her, but Jonathon remained where he was standing. "How are you?" she asked, kissing Kitty on the cheek.

"I'm good, tired, thanks to this little one."

"What a sweet face," Helen said, gazing at the baby with a mixture of longing and delight.

"Would you like to hold her?" Kitty offered.

"Can I?"

"Sure."

After the transfer was completed, Helen turned to Jonathon, her face glowing. "I forgot how little babies are," she said with wonder. "She doesn't weigh hardly anything at all." She crossed the short space between them. "Look, Johnny. Isn't she pretty?"

"Yes," he said, but instead of looking at the baby, he was looking at Helen. She looked radiantly happy, but how much happier would she be if it was their child she was holding.

"I think I can see a little of Billy in her face," she said.

"Yes, I saw it too," Kitty said, joining her.

For the first time, Jonathon focused on the sleeping baby's face. She was indeed small, smaller than he remembered Douglas being.

"Don't you see it?" Helen prodded. "It's in the chin. I think she has Billy's chin."

He studied the baby more closely. He should see some resemblance. This was his brother's child after all.

A blood child, not like Douglas, a cruel voice whispered in his head, and he quickly forced the thought out. Douglas was every bit as much his son as this baby was Billy's daughter. If it wasn't for the stupid trust, blood wouldn't matter.

Realizing Helen was waiting for him to reply, he spoke up. "Yes, I see it. Why don't you sit on the couch with Kitty," he suggested, moving towards a second chair on the other side of the fireplace.

"Do you want her back?" Helen asked Kitty.

"That's okay. You can hold her."

"You should open your present," Helen said, nodding to the parcel on the couch.

They got settled on the couch, with Kitty's mother joining them. Jonathon and Victor took their places, and while Kitty untied the string holding the paper together, Victor struck a new match to light his pipe.

"It's lovely, thank you," Kitty said, holding it up.

"Did you make it?" her mother asked.

"Yes, but Annie had to help me a with the sewing. She has a present for you too, but she wanted to wait until she could see you and the baby. So?" she said with a grin. "I can't wait to hear what you named her."

Kitty's expression became sad, but she smiled in an attempt to hide it. "Billy said if it was a girl, he wanted her to be called Jessica."

"That's a beautiful name," Helen said more gently, sensing the change in her emotions. "Did you choose a middle name?"

"I had a hard time deciding, but on our wedding day, Billy bought me roses, so I thought Jessica Rose."

"Jessica Rose Blackwell. That's really pretty."

Instead of replying, Kitty's face crumpled, and she turned to her mother, who immediately wrapped her arms around her as she started crying.

"Oh, honey," Helen said with concern, rubbing her back.

"Jonathon, let us leave the women to talk," Victor said, standing, and Jonathon gratefully got up and followed him out of the room. "Come," he said as they walked down a short hallway. "I will get us a drink."

In the equally small kitchen, Victor opened the ice box door and pulled out two bottles of beer. "Is alright?" he asked, holding them up.

"Yes, it's fine."

He opened the bottles with the bottle opener on the side of the cabinet, and then brought them and two tall glasses to the kitchen table. "Kitty tries, but I think the baby make her more sad about Billy," he said, pouring a glass for Jonathon.

"It's the damn war," Jonathon said bitterly.

"Yes, it is – a damn war," Victor said soberly, and then took a long drink from his own glass.

****

Jessica is here!  And for the first time, her middle name has been revealed.  You also got a glimpse of an older Douglas.  I really hope you enjoyed this chapter.  I'll admit it was the hardest one I've written for this story since it's the beginning of not just her life, but her relationship with her Uncle Jonathon.  I probably deleted as much as I ended up keeping.  Let me know what you think!

I'll strive to get the next one completed as quickly as I can.  I have high hopes since it's one that's been in my head for a very long time.  I'll let you guess what it's going to be about.  ;)

Until I see you again, happy reading!

Katherine