Some emotional moments but suitable for all ages

Twenty-year old Honey Wheeler pulled her cream knitted beret down over her ears and wound the matching scarf more tightly around her slender throat. A slight frown furrowed her brow as she trod the snow covered, but well-worn path to the clubhouse. It was Christmas Eve and she should have been in a wonderful mood. Since moving to Sleepyside over seven years earlier, Christmas was her favourite holiday.

It was no longer a glittering, exquisite extravaganza, peopled with well-heeled strangers. She had family and friends who loved her, and she loved them. So what was her problem? Even Brian, her beloved but often absent boyfriend, was home already, somehow managing to get time off from his medical studies. She should be over the moon. 

She reached the clubhouse and opened the door and stepped inside. She’d been expecting it to be cold in the small building, but the old gatehouse was surprisingly comfortable. As promised, one of her fellow Bob-Whites had already set the fire in the wood burning stove and there was a stack of logs beside it. 
What she hadn’t been expecting was to find the fire already lit. That had been her job. Maybe Dan hadn’t trusted her to do it; she was guessing that this was his handy work. He’d gone to spend the night with Mr. Maypenny to catch up and reminisce and would have virtually come past the clubhouse on his way to meet Mart. It had been her idea to have a small get together in their old clubhouse before her family’s planned celebration, but somehow she’d ended up with very little to do. She cast her mind back a few days.

“I just thought it might be nice to have an afternoon tea at the clubhouse. There are lots of people coming to the Manor House tonight and it might be hard for us to spend any real time together.”
“That sounds like fun.” Trixie had not surprisingly been the first to respond. “So long as I don’t have to get dressed up for your party as well.”
       Jim chuckled and slid his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “Mother made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t care what you wear as long as you come.”
      “Right,” Trixie snorted. “Can you see me turning up in boots, jeans and a sweater?”
      “Yes!” the others chorused and they all smiled, including Trixie.
       “I can definitely see it,” Jim added. “Especially if you’re talking about those tight dark blue jeans that hug your butt, and the black heeled boots—” He broke off when Mart jabbed him in the back.
      “Please,” Mart said, “do not regale us with your infinite appreciation of our co-president’s questionable assets.”
      “Just for that, I know exactly what I’m wearing to our clubhouse celebration.” Trixie wrinkled her nose at her middle brother.
      “So, everyone’s happy to come?” Honey said, determined to get things back on track. “I can go down early and set the fire.”
      “Oh, one of us can do that,” Mart said. “You’re bound to be wearing something that might get dirty. Dan or I can take care of it, can’t we?”
      “Sure, I still have my wood-chopping skills, I’ll make sure there’s plenty for our get together.”
      “Great,” Honey said. “Now, about food.”
      “I’ll make a chocolate cake and some oatmeal cookies, maybe some fudge.” Diana said immediately.
      “Wonderful.” Honey smiled at her friend. “I can do something savory.”
      “You don’t have a chance of getting anywhere near our kitchen,” Jim interjected. “Not with all the prep going on for the party.”
      “Oh, let me,” Trixie said. “It has to be my turn.”
      “About three years ago,” Mart agreed with a grin.
     Trixie poked her tongue out but grinned herself. “I’ll make sandwiches and maybe some of those mini quiches you like, Honey.”
     “That would be lovely,” Honey said slowly. “I guess I can go to the market and pick up some sodas.”
     “Brian can do that,” Trixie said. “He hates it when he, his words ‘waltzes in,’ when we’ve done all the work. Personally, I think that’s a weird thing to complain about. I’ll send him a text.”
    “Okay.” Honey was mentally reviewing all the things she’d thought of.
    “I’ll bring thermoses of hot chocolate,” Jim offered.
    “I’ll bring marshmallows for said beverage and I will go down first thing and sweep and tidy the place,” Mart added.
    Honey looked from one to the other of her friends. “What will I do?”
    “Nothing,” Trixie said. “Sounds like we’ve got it covered.”
    Di nodded. “Trixie’s right and you’ve had a really busy time lately, getting over that virus, school and your internship and helping your mother with that charity event.”
    “We’ve all been busy,” Honey said.
    “Well, if you insist, I might not get back here until late in the afternoon,” Dan said. “You can come and check to make sure the fire’s lit.”
    “Yeah, and re-tidy my tidying.” Mart grinned. “I might not meet your standards.”
    “I don’t have standards.” Honey frowned.
    “Whatever.” Mart had reached over and ruffled his friend’s golden hair.
    “Honestly, sis, we don’t need your help,” Jim put in and Trixie nodded.
    “We’re completely capable of managing without you,” Diana added with a smile.
    “Didn’t we do a great job at Thanksgiving?” Trixie asked.
    “Exactly.” Dan nodded his dark head. “Even Brian said it proved we could organize everything without relying on you.”
    Honey nodded her own head, but somewhere deep inside a knot twisted in her stomach and began to gnaw at her psyche.


“Miss Trask said she’d thought you had headed down here,” Brian said, hugging his girlfriend. “You must have been here a while, it’s already nice and warm.” He shrugged out of his heavy coat and dropped it and his scarf on the arm of the sofa.
“Actually, I just got here. Dan must have made it back from town earlier than he thought. The fire was already going.”
“Good,” Brian said. “I’ve left the drinks down at the farm. I figured there was no point bringing them here yet and even less chance of them fitting in the refrigerators at your place, given the party tonight.” He glanced around and nodded his dark head. “The place is looking great. I can see you’ve been down here.”
Not only had the clubhouse been swept, but Mart had also brought down new cushions and throws and draped them very effectively—too effectively? An extra lamp had been added and there was a new, familiar looking rug on the floor.
“No,” Honey said. “Mart said he’d take care of that, but unless I miss my guess Di’s been here with him. I’m pretty sure that’s the old rug from her dad’s study.”
“Looks nice,” Brian said.
“But she was making a cake and cookies and fudge. She didn’t have time. I’m the one who had nothing to do.” Honey heard the slightly plaintive note in her voice and wrinkled her nose.
“So? Brian raised his dark brows. “The rest of us are perfectly capable of putting a party or a meal together without you having to do all of the work.”
“Apparently, you’re perfectly capable without me altogether,” Honey snapped. 
Brian drew back, his expression puzzled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Honey shrugged. “I didn’t mean to sound so cranky, but it seems as if no one needs me at all anymore.”
“I think you know that’s not true,” he chided. “Especially where I’m concerned.” He reached out and pulled her toward him a teasing smile playing on his handsome face.
“You want me, you don’t need me. There’s a difference.”
“Of course I need you.” Brian frowned at his girlfriend. “How can you think I don’t?”
Honey rolled her eyes. “Please. I know you care about me, but you don’t need me in your life. I mean I don’t make any real difference.”
“Now, you’re talking nonsense,” Brian said. “You make a huge difference in my life and you know it.”
Honey shook her head. “Look, I know I sound like I’m being melodramatic and I don’t mean to be. I know how lucky I am to have you, all of my friends and family in my life. I guess I’ve been thinking about my place in the world and I don’t feel as if I’ve made much of an impact.”
“Anyone of us could say that, Honey. If we’re talking about the Bob-Whites, we’re all still pretty young. We haven’t had that much time to make an impact on the world.”
“I’m not talking about big, important things.” Honey was frustrated that he didn’t seem to understand where she was coming from. “All I’m saying is that me being here in Sleepyside hasn’t really changed anything. Everyone would be just fine if I’d never come here.”
“Now, you’re making me mad.” Brian couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “That’s a crazy thing to say.”
“Then I guess I’m crazy.” Honey folded her arms across her chest.
Brian took a deep breath. “Look, you told me yourself that with everything you’ve had going on that you haven’t been sleeping well.  Maybe you’re just tired. Because I know you can’t really mean what you’re saying.”
“Fine,” Honey said, hating the tone of her own voice. “Why don’t you go away and let me get some rest then? We’ll see if I meet your sanity requirements when I wake up.”
“If that’s what you want.” Brian was confused. He and Honey almost never argued, and his girlfriend was unfailingly sweet and easy going. He guessed that should mean she had the right to the occasional irrational, bad mood. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. “My cell’s on; call if you want or need me.” He grabbed his things, pulled on his coat, walked out and closed the door behind him, and Honey sank down onto the sofa trying to work out why she was behaving the way she was.

She liked to think she wasn’t a selfish, egotistical person—who didn’t? But lately she’d begun to feel as if her place in the world wasn’t secure; that the identity she’d formed or created was under threat. It had started a few weeks earlier when she’d come down with a pretty nasty flu. She’d barely managed to keep up with her studies and had been forced to miss several classes and her shifts at her part-time job. Frustrated, as well as sick, she’d then had to bow out of the charity function she’d been working on with her mother and hand over planning of the Bob-White Thanksgiving party.

Of course, her friends and family had all stepped up. Trixie had recorded lectures, taken notes in tutorials and finished off her part of a group assignment. Diana had happily assisted Madeleine Wheeler and the function had gone off without a hitch and Mart and Dan had assigned tasks for the Thanksgiving get together with everything turning out perfectly. Even Jim and Brian, both under more pressure time wise than the rest of them, had managed to help out. Jim had taken her place on the night of the charity event, giving a welcome speech and Brian had actually cooked their turkey dinner at the clubhouse, installing a reconditioned wood-burning stove, with oven, to replace the old one. Everyone had assured her that they didn’t mind and her mother had raved about Diana’s ideas and work and even asked for the lovely dark-haired young woman’s help with the next event.

It should have made her happy, and indeed, at first she was so relieved that nothing had fallen through the cracks, she’d simply concentrated on getting better. But in the weeks that followed, she started to wonder if she was needed at all. It seemed to her that whenever they were planning anything since, she was the one left with little to do. And now…

Moving to Sleepyside had changed Honey’s life. Had made her life. She’d found friends and formed bonds with her parents and begun that slow journey to adulthood with new-found confidence. She was the tactful, sweet one; thoughtful and intuitive, a good student, a good organizer— the one who remembered things and planned celebrations and…
Honey shook her head and expelled her breath. Had it all been an illusion? Her friends and family indulging her need to be needed? After all, the Beldens had been a happy, capable family unit before she turned up in Sleepsyside. And the rest of the Bob-Whites were talented and smart and strong. She was the one who’d needed help; needed to be believed in. 

Desperate to feel useful, she scanned the room noting, with a vague sense of satisfaction that one of the prints on the opposite wall was crooked. She strode across, righted the print and stepped back to check. As she did so, the heel of her boot caught on the mat and she stumbled, falling against the doorjamb.
“Ow!” She rubbed her temple. The day was just getting worse and worse. Moving around the small room, she shivered, in spite of the cosily burning fire, and reached for one of the pretty throws that Diana had draped over the back of the sofa. She curled up, placing her head on the soft olive green cushion and draped the throw over her slender frame. Brian was right about one thing she was tired. She closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe a nap was just what she needed.

Honey opened her eyes and frowned. What was she doing here? She glanced around her. She was in Wimpy’s Diner, which made no sense whatsoever.
“Mike?” she said uncertainly to the man behind the counter. 
Mike looked up, but didn’t reply.
There was a man next to her at the counter and he smiled. “Doubt he can hear you,” he said easily. He was probably in his early thirties, ordinary looking with shaggy light brown hair and pale brown eyes.
“Why not?” Honey asked.
“You’re not exactly noticeable,” the man returned.
“Thanks!” Honey glared. It was one thing for her to feel the way she did and another altogether for some complete stranger to make that sort of remark.
“It’s your head.”
Honey shifted her gaze to meet the stranger’s. He smiled and nodded to the mirror behind the counter. She turned her head and drew her breath in sharply. She wasn’t there, nor was her companion.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
“You should know,” the man said. “This was your idea.”
“I must be dreaming,” Honey muttered, pinching her arm as hard as she could. “Ow,” she said as her soft flesh responded to the gesture.
“I’m Clyde,” the man said holding out his hand. “I’ll be your tour guide this afternoon.”  
        “I don’t understand,” Honey said slowly.

         “Don’t you? Well, you were the one who seemed so sure you didn’t matter. That you coming here had no impact on those around you; we’re just going to test your theory.”

         Honey rolled her eyes. “Please, I didn’t mean what if I’d never been born. That is way too dramatic. All I was saying was that coming here when I did didn’t really change anything.” 

        “Fine, then that’s what we’ll explore.”

        “Here? In Wimpy’s? Sorry, even if I was buying any of this, which I’m not, why would we be here?”

        Clyde merely glanced at the oversized watch on his wrist. “Five, four, three, two, one.”

        The door jingled and Honey looked up, her hazel eyes widening. “What are they doing here?”

        Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler certainly looked out of place in the quaint diner. Honey watched as her father motioned her mother into a booth. Clyde took Honey’s hand and led her to the adjacent booth.

        “The limousine had to break down here? In this godforsaken town?” Madeleine hissed at her husband.

        Honey stared at her mother in surprise. The woman who looked back at her, or to be more accurate straight through her, was both familiar and foreign. Madeleine Wheeler was always elegant, but just as moving to Sleepyside had changed Honey, it had also seen her mother adopt a more casual, relaxed way of dressing and behaving. Apparently, she’d decided to abandon that trend.

        A coat, that Honey was almost certain was real mink, was shrugged from the older woman’s slender shoulders. A severely tailored cream suit, obviously expensive, seemed hard and wildly impractical. A pure silk, pale gold blouse, should have brought out the gold in her mother’s hazel eyes, but instead seemed to drain all colour from her exquisitely made-up face.

        Her hair, never quite as a deep a gold as her daughter’s, was scraped back into a chignon, making her cheekbones more prominent than ever. She was thinner even than Honey remembered and Honey felt the sense of incredulity she’d been experiencing slowly morph into apprehension.

        “I know you hold me responsible for most of what goes awry in the universe, Madeleine, but you can hardly think I’d deliberately sabotage the car when I have an important meeting in New York tonight.” Her father’s tone was cool and clipped and Honey flinched.

        “You’ve never forgiven me for refusing to move here, all those years ago.”

        Behind the cold sharpness of her mother’s words, Honey heard a hint of something else.

        “Well, I happen to believe that our lives might have been different if we’d come here.”

        “On that point, we are in complete agreement,” Madeleine sniffed as she glanced around the simple diner. “You really think we’d have been better off raising Honey here?”

        At the mention of her name, Honey leaned forward.

        “I think she might have been better off,” Matthew Wheeler said, consulting the menu without looking at his wife.

        “She’s perfectly fine. Paris is good for her.”

        “She hates it. Just like she’s hated every other elitist institution we’ve ever forced her to attend.”

        “She has family obligations, Matthew and you know it. The idea of sending her to public school, like that woman suggested was absurd.”

        “Margery Trask was a damned sight better educator than the stream of sycophants we’d endured before and after.”

        Miss Trask— her beloved Miss Trask— Honey felt her heart beat faster.

        “I’ve no doubt she was a good woman and well-intentioned, but as mother pointed out, it’s not a servant’s place, especially one so recently hired, to dictate to her employers.”

        “We took her away from gainful employment and then dismissed her when her ideas differed from our own. It’s not a moment I’m proud of.”

        “I’m sure she found another job, Matthew. I don’t understand why you’re even bringing her name up—I suppose it’s because we’re here! She was certainly a fan of our moving here.”

        “Honey mentioned her when we spoke this morning.”

        “I didn’t know you’d spoken.”

        “She wanted to say merry Christmas and she knew we’d be busy with our party tonight.”

        “Don’t adopt that tone. It was silly for her to fly back from Paris for a couple of days when we’re both so busy. You’re the one who set up meetings for tonight and tomorrow and it’s your business partners we’re hosting a party for.”

        Honey felt her eyes prickling with tears. It was Christmas and she was apparently stuck in Paris while her parents were in New York. Old wounds flared.

        “You’re right, of course,” Matt Wheeler admitted. “It’s just when I hear her voice I know how much we’ve disappointed our only child.”

        Honey frowned at this, then met Clyde’s knowing gaze. It made sense. Of course, her family couldn’t have adopted Jim if they’d never moved to Sleepyside. She gave her head a shake: Jim would be fine. The Beldens had probably adopted him or Mr. Rainsford or the Smiths—everyone had wanted him.

        “She’s had an excellent education and opportunities most people would kill to give their offspring. She needs a man to settle her down.”

        “She’s twenty years old; she’s far too young to settle down,” Matt snapped. “She’s not you. I just wished she believed in herself a little more.”

        “No difference there, then,” Honey said to her companion.

        “You might be surprised,” he returned.

        “Honestly, Matthew, you should hear yourself. Playing the concerned father. If Honey’s happiness was so important to you, perhaps you should have spent more time with her, instead of constantly amassing more money.”

        “Money you’re perfectly happy spending.”

        “I don’t need your money.”

        Honey looked from one parent to the other and put her hands over her ears. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear anymore. That is not my parents. They always loved one another, even when they weren’t paying attention to me. This is nonsense.”

        “Is it?” Clyde raised his brows. “I think you underestimate the difference your health crisis made in all of your lives. You still got sick; they still took you out of that boarding school and hired Miss Trask. The big difference was your mother, urged by her mother, refused to move here—setting a whole lot of things in motion, including angering your father.”

        “This is just my mind playing tricks on me. It has to be,” Honey insisted. “My mother was always travelling with my father. He said she was a real asset to him.”

        “You were away at camps and boarding schools. How do you know what their relationship was like?”

        “Well...” Honey frowned again. “I remember them giving dinner parties and going to benefits when I was at home. And when I was away…” she trailed off.

        “Exactly,” Clyde said smugly. “She started accompanying him on trips regularly after the decision to move here. I think at first, it was so she wouldn’t be stuck out here all the time, but they soon found they loved being together. It brought them much closer and helped remove your mother from her mother’s influence. You see, instead of turning to your father and working this out together, in this world, where you didn’t move to Sleepyside, your grandmother took control—you were moved from one school to another, and you learned to keep your unhappiness to yourself.”

        Honey listened without comment. Could he be right? Her memory of her early childhood was fragmented at best. It was true that while she was away she didn’t know much about the day to day lives of her mother and father.

        She sat and watched as her father ordered coffee for two and a burger for himself. Her mother shook her head at the offer of food, her expression clearly indicating she thought it unwise to eat in such an establishment. It was hard to look into her mother’s face and see none of the softness and warmth she was accustomed to.

        Even before their move to Sleepyside, Madeleine Wheeler had been gentle and kind, distant and awkward certainly, but not cruelly cold like she seemed now.

        “Ready for your next viewing?” Clyde asked.

        “I’m ready to wake up now,” Honey said, crossing her arms over her chest.

        “Don’t know what you mean. Let’s go,” Clyde reached for her arm and when Honey tried to pull free she found herself dizzy and disoriented.

        When she regained her balance, they were standing inside Crimper’s department store.
        “Great, another bizarre location,” she said.
        Clyde pressed her arm gently turning her to face in the opposite direction. Honey saw a familiar figure and opened her mouth to greet her friend. She closed it again when she realized she still couldn’t be seen or heard. She took a couple of steps towards the other young woman and her frown deepened.

    Diana Lynch was every bit as beautiful as the last time Honey had seen her. Her blue-black hair was perfectly styled and shone as it swung around her slim shoulders. But this Diana was rather more heavily made up that the one Honey was used to. She was wearing what looked to be a designer skirt—very short, a tight, low cut sweater and high-heeled boots that came just above her knees. It was a sexy, fashionable outfit, but it looked nothing like Di—there wasn’t a hint of purple in sight.

        “I don’t even know why we came here,” Di said with another toss of her hair. “This place is so last century.”
        “Absolutely, DiDi. It was rotten luck that we couldn’t go into New York with your father and shop there.”
        The girl who spoke was unfamiliar to Honey. She was dressed in a similar way to Diana, but was nowhere near as attractive.
        “He’s still in a state about my grades at college and that thing last week. I told him everyone goes to parties—it’s a right of passage. But he’s so boring.”
        Both young women laughed, while Honey merely stared, open-mouthed. 
        “The police aren’t going to charge you are they?” The other girl said.
        “No, Daddy managed to talk them round, but he’s restricting my moves and cancelling my allowance. It’s so unfair.”

        “That is not Diana. She would never talk about her father like that. They adore one another.” Honey frowned. 
        “They did, when you knew her,” Clyde agreed. “But this Diana never met you, never found a way to make peace with her father’s wealth. Never found her way into a group of loving supportive friends. Her parents pulled her out of Sleepyside High and sent her to a boarding school. That’s where she met Stacey. And learned to appreciate being rich.”
        “That is just plain crazy,” Honey said. “Di already knew Trixie and Brian and Mart, they would never have let that happen.”
        Clyde shook his head. “You’re not paying attention. You were the one who noticed how unhappy she was. You were the one who held out the hand of friendship. I’m guessing that if someone had pointed it out to them, the way you did, the Beldens would have befriended Diana, but they didn’t. 
        “I don’t believe it,” Honey said. “Even if you were right about that, Di is one of the kindest, funniest people you could ever meet. Why would she end up like this?”
         “People need to feel as if they belong, Honey. Di was miserable here in Sleepyside and her mother, without your mother to help her to see there other ways to handle things or Trixie’s mother to talk to, thought sending her away was the best option. Especially after the Lynches were taken for a ride by that Tilney Britten character. It left them full of distrust. And because you didn’t pull her into your circle, Trixie wasn’t around to expose Britten as an impostor or reunite the Lynches with he real Uncle Monty. Diana felt as if she had no one she could turn to. And she was even more unhappy at boarding school and when someone offered their friendship she was desperate enough to do anything to fit in.”
        Honey looked as if she’d like to continue arguing, but her attention was caught by Stacey who was sniggering and nodding toward the escalators. She followed the gaze and a half-smile crossed her face at the sight of Mart Belden.

        Mart looked up but he didn’t smile. 
        “Excuse me, do you have any quality items at this establishment?” Stacey demanded haughtily.
        “Probably not,” Mart said.
        “Well, why are we here then?” Stacey continued.
        “Beats me.” Mart simply turned and walked in the opposite direction. Honey watched him go before turning back to face Di.
        “I can’t believe you once had a crush on that guy. It’s hilarious,” Stacey said.
        “It was a long time ago,” Diana returned stiffly. “Before I came to school.”
        “I know that,” Stacey said. “But honestly, DiDi, him? The older brother makes some sense—I remember seeing him once. He is sort of dishy.”
        “I was young. What else can I say?” Diana gave her shoulders a shrug but as she swung around to finger a sweater on a nearby table, Honey was sure she could see tears glistening in her violet eyes.

        “This is horrible,” Honey said. “Mart wouldn’t just slink off like that, he’d have made some remark about quality being an attribute as opposed to a definition of superiority, or something like that. And I do not believe that’s Di. She hasn’t a mean bone in her body.”
        “That’s true,” Clyde admitted. “But she’s learned to hide those parts of herself. If she keeps going this way, she’ll lose them altogether. And Mart thinks a lot, but doesn’t talk so much.”
        “Have you got more of the same to show me with the rest of my friends?” Honey demanded. “Because if you’re going to tell me that the rest of the Beldens are all as miserable as Di and my folks I will know this is a scam. They were always a loving, happy family.” She could just about buy her mother and father and Di being unhappy, after all, some of what Clyde said did make sense, but there was no reason for the Beldens to have been affected—and Mart was probably just having a bad day.
        “You’re probably right,” Clyde agreed. “I never said the world was a terrible place without your influence here in Sleepyside, I just said you had made a difference. You really need to pay closer attention.”
        “Fine. Lead on, Clarence.”
        “It’s Clyde, but nice reference.” He grabbed her arm and Crimper’s faded away.


        Crabapple Farm kitchen would always be a place that filled Honey with a sense of warmth and security. It was the room that had offered her acceptance and sanctuary all those years ago. A space filled with love and understanding. Once she’d got her bearings,         Honey’s lips curved in a smile as Trixie and her mother walked into the room, this might be some kind of bizarre dream or an out of body experience, but here she should at least get to enjoy herself.
        “I’m just glad you got Christmas off after all,” Helen Belden said, hugging her daughter before opening the pantry and gathering ingredients for cookies.
        Trixie nodded. “Me too, Moms.”
        Honey turned to face Clyde, lifting her brows and smiling. “This is terrible. I can totally see how awful my absence from Sleepyside has made things for the Beldens.”
        Clyde shrugged. “Why don’t we wait and see?”
        “I hope the store doesn’t keep you too late on Christmas Eve,” Helen Belden said.
        “I’m sure it will be fine, Moms. They just want to make sure they’re set up for the big after Christmas sale. Mart and I should both be back in time to help set things up.” Trixie dropped into one of the chairs that flanked the well-worn kitchen table.
        “And you don’t have too much homework for college?” 
        Trixie shrugged. “Not really. Community College is not that demanding, even for me.”
        Community college? Honey shot Clyde a look and he offered her that now familiar and very irritating half-smile.
        “I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself that way, Trixie. Just because you don’t have your brothers’ academic leanings doesn’t mean you’re not very bright when you put your mind to a subject.”
        “Guess it’s a pity I never found a subject to put my mind to.” Trixie gave a laugh.
        To Honey’s ears it rang false.
        “You’re young. There’s still plenty of time for you to find something you’re interested in.”


        Honey grabbed Clyde’s arm. “What is this?” she hissed. “Trixie is a natural born detective. How can you expect me to believe that she’s just abandoned that? It doesn’t make any sense!”
        Clyde looked into her eyes and sighed. “You really don’t seem to be putting the pieces together. It’s all about connections, Honey. About a catalyst. What really set Trixie on the road to being a detective?”
        Honey’s brow furrowed. “I guess it was when we went looking for Jim. But those instincts were already there.”
        “Sure they were.”

        “I just wish your brother was coming home.” Helen Belden sounded sad.
        “I miss Brian, too, Moms.”
        Honey’s expression altered—Brian, her Brian.
        "Of course, he can’t get time off work, Christmas is especially busy.”
        Honey shot Clyde a look, but his face gave nothing away.
        Trixie slid an arm around her mother and gave her a hug. “He did say they’d try to get here in early January.”
        They?
        “You and I both know Elyssa doesn’t really care for Sleepyside, but I hope they do come. My grandson is going to grow up before I have a chance to spend any time with him.”
        Grandson? Brian had a child? Honey felt a knot twisting in her stomach—not that she begrudged him a life without her, but it sounded as if he didn’t spend much time with his family.
        “Don’t worry, Moms. I’m sure things will get better.” Trixie kissed her mother’s cheek and headed out of the kitchen.


        Clyde grabbed Honey’s arm and the room span. When they stopped she stumbled and he steadied her. Honey blinked.
        She didn’t recognize the room she was in. It was an open plan kitchen-diner-living-room combination. A glance out of the window on the other side of the room, suggested they were in an elevated position and the furnishings and size of the place said apartment.         A door in one wall opened and her breath caught—Brian.
        In his arms was a small child—probably around eighteen months, two-years of age, Brian didn’t look any older to her, but it was hard to tell. Honey’s face softened as she took in the boy’s dark hair and dark eyes. The shrilling of a phone interrupted the moment. Brian grabbed it and his expression shifted from affectionate to annoyed.
        “Where are you?” he asked. “My shift starts in fifteen minutes.”
        He listened for a moment. “Shopping is the word you’re looking for,” he said and he didn’t sound happy. He listened again. “Sorry. I know you’re finding it difficult, but there’s nothing I can do. In order to get a few days off in the New Year I had to work tonight.” He crossed the room, so close to them that Honey could feel the air stir around her. “I’ll try, but she might be busy. Fine. I’ll see you when I get home.” He put the phone down with a little more force than was necessary, but cuddled his son and smiled down at the boy. “Maybe you can spend a couple of hours with Mrs. Sugmar? What do you say to that?”
        “Sugar, sugar.” The boy grinned up at his father.
        “Yeah, she loves you too, thank god.” He picked up the phone and dialled. “I hate to ask,” he began.

        Clyde grabbed Honey’s arm and the now familiar feeling overtook her.
        “What did you do that for?” She demanded when they came to a stop.
        “Time’s a ticking,” Clyde said.
        “What was Brian wearing?” Honey asked, realizing that her man had been clad in some sort of a uniform.
        “His paramedic uniform,” Clyde returned.
        “Brian’s a doctor, or he’s still in med-school,” Honey corrected.
        “Not in this universe,” her guide said. “Brian dropped out of med school. He didn’t really date anyone special without you around. He was busy and women were more of a …casual thing in his life.”
        “That doesn’t sound like Brian,” Honey said suspiciously.
        Clyde laughed. “Oh, I don’t mean he was overly promiscuous or used women. You’re right—Brian isn’t like that. But he wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment and he didn’t meet anyone who connected with him the way you do.”
        In spite of the absurdity of the situation, this pleased Honey. She realized she’d allowed him to distract her. “That doesn’t explain why he’s wearing a paramedic uniform.”
        “Elyssa, a woman he was briefly involved with, became pregnant and Brian wanted to do the right thing.”
        “Now, that does sound like him.”
        “He was fond of her and neither one of them wanted an abortion so there weren’t a lot of choices left in their minds. Elyssa didn’t want to work after having the baby, so Brian felt the best thing he could do was transfer his credits and become a paramedic. That way they had a good, steady income.”
        “Well, that doesn’t sound ideal, but it isn’t terrible, is it? I mean if I happened to fall pregnant, which I hope I don’t anytime soon—after all Brian and I are pretty careful—Brian would want to do the same kind of thing.”
        “You’re right. Brian doesn’t have a horrible life, just one he didn’t want. Elyssa and he are not close and she finds motherhood and a limited income…trying. She loves the city, so regular visits to Sleepyside aren’t high on her priority list. She’s not a bad person, but she doesn’t love Brian and he doesn’t love her. They’re two very different people trying to make a life based on that little boy.”
        “There are worse reasons,” Honey said. But she knew she sounded unsure. Brian seemed to love his child, but not his life—what did that mean for his future?
        “But it isn’t working. Within a year, she’ll meet someone else—someone wealthy and capable of giving her and the child a good life. Brian will lose the one thing he does value in this universe and become an occasional dad.”
        “He’d never go along with that.”
        “Some things even Brian Belden can’t control. Come on, we have places to be.”


        Closing her eyes was an involuntary reaction. Honey had been determined to stay alert for her next trip, but here she was opening her eyes again, swaying slightly on her feet and in a place that was in no way familiar—which was probably a good thing.
They were standing in a room, if it could be called that, concrete walls and floor, a mesh screened window high up, allowing only limited light. There was a narrow bunk bed, attached to the wall, a small desk/table with a chair pulled up to it and…Honey’s eyes widened at the sight of the toilet bowl and tiny basin.
        “No,” she said slowly. “This, I don’t accept. There is no way you’ll get me to believe…” she trailed off as several men came into view, though her gaze fixed firmly on one in particular.
        His shoulders were hunched, his expression sullen and the look in his dark eyes was chilling.
        One of the other men took a swing at him and Honey started towards them, Clyde gently pulled her back and she watched in horror as the blow connected. 
        Dan stumbled but, in the blink of an eye, he righted himself and delivered a well-aimed kick to his attacker. The other men whooped and yelled, obviously entertained. Two guards began charging down the corridor and, as the fighting escalated, Honey turned away. 
        “Please, I don’t want to see this.”
        Clyde smiled sympathetically and with a wave of his hand, Dan and the other men were gone and they were alone in the empty cell.
        “This is…this is not Dan,” Honey cried. “He’s a good person. Even before he came to Sleepyside, a part of him wanted to get away from that gang. And Regan would have found him, with or without me, us, whatever.”
        "Sure he did,” Clyde conceded. “But he didn’t have a job where he had a home and a support structure and flexible hours and it was close to the city. Dan couldn’t really cut his ties with the gang. There was no sweet girl, willing to give him a chance, no BWGs to see the potential good in him—no Bobby to save, no right choice to make. And this is the result.”
        “That isn’t, that doesn’t, I wasn’t that important, he…” Honey fumbled for words and Clyde shook his head.
        “You know they told me you were smart, but you seem kind of slow on the uptake to me.”
        “Thanks a heap!” Honey glared at her guide.
        Clyde grinned. “You need to get the picture—it’s not always what you do. Sometimes it’s what you allow to happen, the opportunities your presence creates.”
        “You might have a point,” she said grudgingly. “A small one.”
        “Let’s check out one more thing, shall we?” He held out his arm and Honey took it. What else could she do?




        This trip ended even more abruptly— as if she’d been ripped from one place and thrown into another.
        “What are we doing here? I don’t understand.” Honey shivered and wrapped her arms around her slender body. She was cold, but this wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real—so how could she be cold?
        “Just follow me,” Clyde said, leading the way along the winding stone paths.
        Honey stood where she was. “No! I know this scene. You drag me along and show me my own gravestone. Not interested.”
        Clyde rolled his eyes. “Wrong story, Honey-girl. Besides, as your folks pointed out, you’re in Paris. We can drop by, if you like, but this is more about your impact on the lives of others than it is about your life— if you get the subtle difference.”
        Sighing, Honey followed him down the path, through the shadows of the overhanging trees. In a grove surrounded by small birch trees he came to a stop and nodded toward the simple gravestone. Honey followed his pointing finger and slowly read the inscription.
        “What is this?” she said, her eyes bright, her voice strangled.
        “This,” Clyde said softly, “is what happened when you didn’t come to Sleepyside.”
        “That’s crazy. It doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t do anything. It was Trixie. I was just…there.” Tears filled Honey’s eyes and she turned angrily on the man at her side. Clyde merely patted her shoulder. 
        Honey forced her gaze back to the unyielding headstone.


        James Winthrop Frayne II
        July 17th 1984- July 3rd 1999
        Taken young.


        Tears spilled and slid down her cheeks. “Jim can’t be dead. He can’t be. Why would he be? You’ve got this all wrong.” 
        Clyde shook his head. “No, you’ve got it wrong, Honey. Jim died in that fire at the mansion because there was no late night ride, no you and Trixie on hand to help, no friends he could turn to. You and Trixie never went up to Ten Acres.”
        “That’s not right,” Honey said, shaking her head vehemently. “I know Trixie and even if I hadn’t been there to catch a glimpse of Jim when I was out with my father, her curiosity would have gotten the best of her. She would have gone up there. She would have found him. You can’t make me believe otherwise.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
        “I’m not trying to. You’re quite right. But the thing you are overlooking is that both Jim and Trixie have quick tempers—especially as teenagers. They met and argued, much as they did when you were there, but there was no Honey to smooth things over. Trixie stormed off and Jim stayed mad. I guess they’d have worked it out, but there wasn’t time. Without you there were no constant trips to Ten Acres with food, so Jim was tired and hungry and when the fire broke out, he went in to try to salvage something and…”
        “But even if she were mad, Trixie would have gone to help when the fire started.” Honey was desperate now. Even if this wasn’t real, it was horrible and she wanted to prove the man wrong.
        “You’re right about that, of course. But without you to stay over with her, her parents took her along with them. By the time they came home it was all over and young Trixie never quite forgave herself for not going back to see Jim. Blamed herself, I suppose.”
        That at least explained Trixie’s mood at the farm.

        “But it doesn’t seem possible,” Honey said slowly. “I mean I’m not the centre of any of this. I’m just sort of there in the background.”
        “You’d be surprised what a difference that can make,” Clyde smiled at her. “Or maybe after all of this you’re not quite as surprised?”
        “My parents hate one another, Di’s miserable pretending to be someone she isn’t, Mart doesn’t trust people and keeps to himself, Trixie has no real confidence in her abilities and isn’t even in a good college and Brian’s...married to someone he doesn’t love and not in med school. And Dan…Dan can’t end up in that place. And Jim is not dead!” she shouted this last.
        “Don’t forget Miss Trask and Regan and there’s more if you need convincing.”
        “I don’t want to see any more,” Honey said decisively. “I guess lately I’ve felt the way I have because nobody relies on me. I felt as if I’d made a place for myself and then other people were filling it. I felt replaceable.”
        “I hope you can see that’s not true. Maybe Diana can make cakes and fix up the clubhouse, and Dan can keep it cozy and warm, and he and Mart can make lists and ensure everything on them gets done. Trixie can stay on top of studies and bake a quiche, Jim can represent the family at important events and Brian can cook a Thanksgiving turkey—”
        “Is this supposed to be making me feel necessary?” Honey asked, cutting him off.
        "What I’m trying to say is that they did those things for you, Honey; because they love you and value you. Those things were important to you and when you couldn’t handle them all, they took them on, so that you wouldn’t be worried or disappointed. I know how you see yourself, how you see your friends, but you’re the glue, Honey; the substance that holds the group together. You don’t run the show or call the shots—most of the time. You’re not the smartest or the prettiest or the funniest or the bravest—“
        “Please, keep going,” Honey said when he paused. “I want to hear all the other things I’m not.”
        Clyde laughed. “You love the most, Honey. You love each and every person who is close to you, and almost every day you make those people feel important and special and understood. You might never win awards or literally save lives, but you matter.”  
        “Maybe. I guess.” Honey worried at her bottom lip. “I just hate not doing my share and I really hate feeling as if no one needs me.”
        “So tell them how you feel or accept that we all feel that way sometimes, but don’t dismiss the life you’ve lived too often. It’s a gift and those bestowing gifts like them to be valued.”
        “I do value it. Of course I do.” Honey wrinkled her nose. “I imagine I’ve been behaving like a sulky brat.”
        “I’ve seen worse,” Clyde said. “A lot worse.”
        “Still, you’d think I’d just be grateful to have such generous friends and family.”
        “They might like taking care of stuff. People do, you know.”
        Honey laughed. “Touché.”  
        “So, what will it be? A trip to Paris or are you ready to go back?”
        “Very ready, thanks.”
        Clyde reached for her hand and this time there was no dizziness. “Merry Christmas, Honey,” he whispered.
        “Merry Christmas, Clyde,” she mumbled.

        “Clyde? Who’s Clyde?”
        “Oh, something’s really wrong.”
        Honey knew those voices, turned her head in that direction, and opened her eyes. Mart and Diana stood a short distance away. They were arm in arm and their expressions were troubled.
        “Hey.”
        She shifted her gaze and looked up into tender dark eyes.
        Brian’s long, gentle fingers touched lightly upon her temple, fingering the minor graze. “Sweetheart, I want you to follow my finger with your eyes, okay?”
        Honey gave her head a slight shake. “I’m fine.  I didn’t knock myself out.”
        “Humour me.”
        Seeing the concern in his face, Honey obeyed and sat up when Brian indicated he was satisfied that she was indeed, fine.
        “Are you sure she’s okay?” Diana asked as she and Mart moved closer to their friend. “She looks a little pale. Maybe I should make her a hot drink.”
        “She seems to be alright,” Brian said, perching on the edge of the sofa, his gaze fixed on the woman he loved.
        Honey looked from one to the other and offered a tremulous smile. “I’m just so glad to see you all. I love you all so much. And thank you for caring about me, Di—that’s so like you, and it’s just lovely to see you and Mart, together. You’re a wonderful couple.” 
        “Err, thanks.” Diana’s dark brows lifted.
        “Are you certain you didn’t temporarily lose consciousness, Honey?” Mart asked. Your observation, whilst both valid and immutable, could be interpreted as cognizantly impaired, if you don’t mind my saying so.” 
        “Even if she did mind, it’s hard to know how she could stop you.” Brian shot his brother a look that was somewhere between annoyed and amused.
        “I don’t mind one little bit,” Honey smiled affectionately at Mart. “Mart can use as many of his words as he likes whenever he talks to me.”
        The clubhouse door flew open and Dan hurried in. “Gosh, it’s cold out there, I’m glad I lit the stove earlier because…” He trailed off, taking in the scene before him. “Has something happened?”
        “Honey hit her head,” Mart said swiftly. “She says she’s fine and doc, here seems to agree, but—”
        “Dan, dear, dear, Dan.” Honey held out her hands and Dan went to his friend.
        “Hi, Honey. Did you hurt yourself?” He crouched down next to the sofa.
        “No, no, you guys should stop fussing, because I’m fine, better than fine. And it was sweet of you to get the fire going earlier. We appreciate it. Don’t we?”
        “Sure,” Mart said answering for the three of them.
        “But then Dan is always responsible,” Honey continued. “That’s why he’s going to do so well at the police department.”
        “Not sure Molinson completely agrees with you, but we’ll see.” Dan grinned.
        “What’s everyone doing standing around?” Trixie barged into the clubhouse her blue gaze going from one person to the next. “What’s happened to Honey?”
        Honey turned her own gaze on her best friend in the whole wide world. “Nothing, nothing important, but of course you’d see right away that I’m here on the sofa and that the others are looking at me—because you’re so observant, such a brilliant detective.”
        Trixie moved closer. “Did you hit your head?” she demanded.
        “See!” Honey exclaimed. “See how smart she is?”
        “Can’t argue with that.” Jim followed his girlfriend into the clubhouse, a grin on his freckled face.
        “Oh, Jim!” Honey’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m just so glad to see you.”
        Jim looked from one Bob-White to another. “I missed something, didn’t I?”
        Trixie linked her arm through his. “I think we all did.”

        “So, you feel okay then?” Brian wrapped his arm around Honey’s shoulders and held her against him.
        “I feel good, really good. It was a perfectly perfect Christmas Eve.” 
        “So, are you going to tell me what happened this afternoon?”
        Honey smiled up at him. “One day, maybe. Let’s just say that someone reminded me not to take things for granted.” 
        “You don’t do that—ever.” Brian hesitated a moment before adding, “I do need you, you know, Honey—we all do.”
        “I do know that,” she returned, brushing his lips with a light kiss. 
        “You’re a special, amazing, wonderful person,” he said. “My life would not be the same without you.”
        Honey’s lips curved in a smile. “You know, I think you have a point. Life is full of wonderful things and people. We all have a lot to be thankful for.”
        Brian tightened his hold on her. “Yes, we do, and I’m especially glad that my life is full of you.”

HOLIDAYS WITH THE BWGs

Word Count: 8610

AUTHOR's NOTES: Huge thanks go out to Julie (Jstar8) who edited this holiday tale for me. Not only did she take it on at a very busy time of the year, but she found and fixed my errors and inconsistencies and improved things along the way. Any and all remaining wrong stuff is my fault alone. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me (though if they were looking to hand out Christmas Gifts...) No profit is being made from these scribblings.