Once Upon a Blissful Christmas – Extended Epilogue

Buffalo Ridge, Washington State

Three years later

Sarah grinned toothily at her mother and then spat out the mouthful of food Beatrice had just spooned into her mouth. Yes, Sarah was old enough now, being a whole two years old, to spoon her food into her mouth. However, that always ended in mush all over the kitchen table and nothing in Sarah’s stomach. 

“Come on, darling,” her mother pleaded. “It’s yummy squash.” 

“Yuck!” Sarah said. 

Since beginning to talk, she had developed a full vocabulary of words that expressed her dislike of things, and “Yuck” was by far her favorite. Beatrice blamed Leo for teaching her the word. 

“Sarah, we don’t have time for this today,” Beatrice said. “It’s the Christmas Play, and this year your cousin Ross is in the starring role. We can’t be late. Please eat your squash.” 

The little girl shook her head. “No!” 

Beatrice drew in a calming breath, counting to ten before she lost her temper. Then resorting to the tactics she had sworn she would never use again after Ross, she distracted her daughter with a brightly colored lollipop and shoved the spoon in. 

Then before the child could spit, she held her nose and mouth closed. Sarah swallowed, frowned, and then took the spoon from her mother as though to say that she could do this herself and didn’t need to be treated that way. 

Just as Sarah finished with her food, the back door burst open, and Leo came in, stamping the snow off his boots. He took them and his coat and hat off at the door and walked in his stockinged feet toward them. 

“Hello, my two favorite ladies in the whole world,” he said, first kissing Sarah on the top of her head and then treating Beatrice to a much longer kiss. 

That man could still make her toes curl. She returned his kiss lovingly and felt his hand slipping down her back. She pulled it back up and smiled ruefully at him. 

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” he said, shrugging. 

“You’d better hurry,” Beatrice said. “We’re going to be late, and you still have to change.” 

“So, do you or are you going to the play in that?” he asked. 

Beatrice shook her head and took her apron off. Beneath it, she had on a smart jacket and skirt. “I just have to change Sarah, and then we’re ready.” 

“I’ll be two minutes,” Leo said. 

As the town sheriff, he went to work in comfortable, hard-wearing clothing. After all, Leo never knew if he was going to have to go on a search for missing livestock, break up a fight in the local saloon or track some ruffian through the snow-covered hills. He had to be ready for anything. 

She had laid out his suit on the bed. It was getting a little threadbare, and she would have to get him a new one soon, but for now, he would have to make do. With Sarah growing like a weed and needing new clothes all the time, Beatrice was swamped. 

It wasn’t as though Beatrice had all day to dote on her family and make them clothes. She was a qualified nurse and spent her days stitching wounds, setting bones, and birthing babies. There was little time to keep the house tidy and everyone in clothing, but she loved it. She wouldn’t give up her work for anything. Well almost. 

If push came to shove and she had to stay home with Sarah and only go out for the births, she might do that. For now, however, help came in the form of Mrs. Campbell, who came in to clean three times a week. 

She was changing Sarah into a pretty green dress that brought out her eyes when the sound of a man swearing reached her ears, followed by what could only be described as fabric ripping. 

Beatrice finished pulling the dress over Sarah’s head, and then, with the child on her hip, went to inspect the damage. 

Leo sat on the bed, red-faced, his jacket on the floor in front of him. “The darn sleeve just came off in my hand.” He held up the offending thing. 

“Here, take your daughter. I’ll perform emergency surgery,” Beatrice said. 

Leo kissed her on the cheek and cooing to Sarah, they left the room. Sarah was only too delighted to pull her daddy’s nose and beard as they left. 

Beatrice had been saving up for a Singer sewing machine. They were all the rage, and she thought that if she had one, then she might be able to keep up with her wifely duties. Alas, it was still out of her budget, but one of these days, she’d have one, and sewing a sleeve back onto something wouldn’t be the better work of half an hour. 

Sitting on the bed, she threaded her needle and began to stitch. There was a time when she had to imagine each item of clothing she sewed as a person needing stitches, or her work would be sloppy and erratic. Those days were thankfully gone. Now her hand was steady, and her work even, no matter what. 

The sound of wheels on the drive and horse’s hooves reached her ears. Oh, drat, she thought. Maggie and Joe were here. Well, they would have to wait. But they were going to be late. This was a disaster. Beatrice’s hand began to shake a little while she worked with her nerves starting to twang. She hated to be late. It went against everything she was as a nurse. 

“Beatrice?” Maggie asked, coming into the room. She was six months pregnant and beginning to bulge nicely. Beatrice had told her to wear loose clothing since everything made her have heartburn. She looked radiant and happy. Her other child, little Noah, was on her hip. He was a year old. 

“Hi, Maggie,” Beatrice said, greeting Leo’s sister warmly. “I’m so sorry. I’m nearly done.” 

“What happened?” Maggie asked, eyeing the jacket. 

“The sleeve came right off,” Beatrice said, her hands still working quickly. “I’m not sure how.”

“Oh, would it help if I sew it too? We have to hurry,” Maggie said. “Noah threw up twice before we left, so I’ve brought two changes of clothes. You just never know when this child is going to blow. So we’re running against the clock.” 

“Have you been giving him the mint tea I suggested?” Beatrice asked. 

“He spits it out,” Maggie replied. 

“Ah, another spitter. Sarah does it too,” she said. With a final stitch, she finished sewing the sleeve back on to jacket. Finishing it off, she cut the thread and rose. “Okay, we can go.” 

“Great, the curtain is up in ten minutes, and Ross will be so disappointed if we’re not there,” Maggie said. 

“I know. We’ll make it,” Beatrice said, sounding more confident than she felt. She donned her coat and was glad to see that Leo had Sarah in her coat already. She greeted her brother Joe, noting that he was sporting a cut lip. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, pushing her hand away as she reached out to inspect the wound. “I was working, and things got a little out of hand.” 

Joe was a Pinkerton-trained detective who, after helping Leo bring down a gang that was terrorizing the area, had started his own firm. He was surprisingly busy for a man working in such a small town. 

Getting out and into the carriage was easy from there. They managed it with practiced ease and soon were racing through Buffalo Ridge. 

It always struck Beatrice as amazing how places could grow and thrive. When she had arrived three years earlier, Buffalo Ridge had been smaller, more compact, and had held far fewer businesses and houses. There were grand projects on the go now, with buildings popping up like daisies all over. 

The newest and possibly the flashiest of these was the new theatre. It stood proudly just off the town square with a columned front entrance that Beatrice felt was out of place. This wasn’t ancient Greece, after all. It was a small town in Washington State. The grand façade seemed to her to be overdone. 

Joe dropped them off at the entrance, so that Beatrice and Maggie could hurry in with the children. It was a bitterly cold night, and their breath was pluming in front of them in little clouds that disappeared quickly in the breeze. 

The stars were out, and it was a full moon bathing the town square in light. Not that it needed it. The Christmas Market, the town’s winter highlight, was in full swing. There were more stalls than ever selling a great variety of things, and in the center of the square stood a tall tree decorated in red velvet ribbons and shiny glass balls. The organizers had learned from the year before when they lit candles in the tree itself and almost set the whole place on fire. This year they had hung small lanterns from the branches. 

“Wanna go there!” Sarah said, pointing to where the noise and lights were. “Wanna go there!” 

“Later, honey,” Beatrice said, “We have to listen to cousin Ross sing first.” 

Sarah did not like that idea at all and began to wail. As she began, little Noah joined in, and Maggie and Beatrice were left trying to soothe them. In the end, they went in through the doors of the theatre to the foyer, where there was another Christmas tree. This one was a good deal smaller than the one outside but beautifully decorated. 

The whole foyer had been decked out in red, green, and white bunting, and there was a large paper-mache Santa Clause dressed all in red. This was a relatively new development. Beatrice could recall that when she was little, he had worn green. Well, even Santa was allowed to change his wardrobe from time to time, she guessed. 

Joe and Leo joined them, and they then found their seats. These were so soft and comfortable that Beatrice thought she might well fall asleep. She felt herself getting drowsy as Leo and Joe tried to keep the little ones entertained, and Maggie was speaking to a friend in the row in front of them. And so it was that she jumped when Mrs. Munroe, the schoolteacher came up beside her. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “We have a little issue I hope you can help us with backstage.” 

Rising, Beatrice said, “Of course, is someone ill?” 

“Oh, nothing like that. It’s just nerves, I suspect,” she said, leading Beatrice out of the auditorium and around to the door backstage. 

They walked down a long corridor which opened up to the back end of the stage. Beatrice followed Mrs. Munroe, who was still spritely despite her gathering years, around the stage and into a room at the back of the theatre. There were six boys in the room, all sitting in front of mirrors lit by lanterns, having makeup applied to turn them into mice. 

 Having been one of the costume creators, Beatrice was proud to see how well the little outfits fit them. Even their tails, which had a length of wire in them to make them stand up at fetching angles, were looking good. But two mice were missing, and Ross was one of them. 

“We seem to be short two mice,” Beatrice said. 

Mrs. Munroe nodded. “Robbie and Ross are in the closet. Well, Robbie locked himself in there, and Ross went to try and get him out. Instead, Robbie locked him in with him. Now I have two mice missing, one of whom becomes the mouse king and saves Christmas, and I’m not certain how to fix this.” 

Sighing, she turned to Beatrice. “Is there anything you can do?” 

The closet was at the far end, and the door looked solid. Beatrice wondered why there was a key left in the lock in the first place. In a theatre where nerves were raw, and people were permanently on edge, she thought it unwise to have any sharp implements or keys at all. 

“I will try,” she said and went to the door. Raising her hand, she rapped her knuckles on it. “Hello in there! Are you all right?” 

“Aunt Bea?” came Ross’s voice. 

“Yes, Ross. It’s me. We’re all here to hear you sing. Do you think that is going to happen today?” 

“Hard to say,” Ross said. “Robbie is curled into a ball. I think he either has terrible stomach pains or he is afraid to go on stage. This is the first year he’s not singing in the choir and has a part with speaking and everything.” 

Another voice groaned. 

“Well, Robbie,” Beatrice said. “I am a nurse. You know this. You came to see me last week when you had the sniffles, remember? And didn’t Roger and Dr. Mortimer and I fix you right up?” 

Another groan. 

“I am here to help you,” Beatrice said. “Why don’t you open the door and come out? Then we can see what we can do about what is ailing you.” 

“I can’t come out!” Robbie snapped from inside the closet. “I am terrible. I will ruin the whole show. Mrs. Munroe must be losing her marbles to have let me be in it at all.” 

Beatrice drew in a breath. So it was just stage fright. There was nothing for it. She would have to talk the boy out of the closet. 

“Robbie,” she said. “I think I know what is wrong, and I can help you. But to do that, you have to open the door. So be the good boy I know you are and let Ross unlock the door, and both of you can come out. You don’t have to go on stage unless you want to. All right?” 

Mrs. Munroe regarded her as though she was a type of talking cockroach. Beatrice waved to her not to listen. Part one of this mission was to get the boys out, and part two would be to get them on stage. 

There was the sound of whispered voices behind the door, then the scraping of a key in a lock, and the door swung open. The two boys emerged, Ross looking relieved, Robbie not too much. 

Ross rushed over to her and threw his arms around her. “I knew you would be able to help,” he said. 

Beatrice tried not to get the face paint on her skirt, but she might as well have tried to blot out the sun. Instead, she hugged her nephew, whom she had raised from a baby. He would always hold a special place in her heart. 

Robbie stood with Mrs. Munroe, looking disgruntled. Beatrice reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag of boiled butterscotch sweets. She handed them to Mrs. Munroe to distribute after taking three herself. Then she put an arm around Robbie’s shoulders, and they went for a walk to the stage. 

Speaking in a kind voice, she took the eleven-year-old boy to the stage and, despite the manager’s protestations, took him onto the boards. There they spoke about how it wasn’t so scary, how the people sitting in the audience loved him. A large number of them were friends and family. There was nothing to be afraid of, and so on. 

By the time she was done, Robbie had eaten all three sweets and was excited to perform. 

As the curtain rose and the play began with both Robbie and Ross on stage, Mrs. Munroe threw her arms around Beatrice. She didn’t usually go in for such displays of affection. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Beatrice hugged her back and then went back to her seat. 

It was a wonderful performance, and Beatrice couldn’t have been more proud. She loved every minute of it. Sarah slept on Leo’s shoulder, and she could curl up in the seat and hold his hand.

After the performance, which received loud, raucous applause, the two families went for a walk through the market. They had been there already a couple of times since it started a week ago, but there was always more to see. 

Beatrice bought Christmas cookies, all with delicately designed Christmas scenes on them in frosting. How they got things so precise with such a runny medium was beyond her. They bought roasted chestnuts and ate them as they inspected the stalls. 

“Do you remember how I bought that mustard yellow hat here the one year?” Leo asked. “You really hated that hat. What happened to it?” 

Beatrice smiled. “I do recall, and I seem to think it was donated to the church for those in need.” 

“Ah, but I needed that hat,” Leo said. 

Beatrice shrugged. “I replaced it, if you recall, with a better one. And no, you didn’t need it. You only wanted it because looking at it set my teeth on edge.” 

Leo nodded sagely. “Yes, my love, you are correct. The sole appeal of that hat was that you hated it and pulled funny faces whenever I would wear it.” 

“Well, it was truly awful,” Beatrice said. Then spying a bench, she said, “Should we have a seat?” 

It was right in front of the large Christmas tree, which was rather spectacular. They sat and let Sarah run around in front of them, playing with little Noah, who was none too steady on his podgy baby legs. He kept toppling over in the snow and then laughing, then Sarah would help him up. 

“I wish I had a camera,” Beatrice said. “Then we could immortalize these moments for them.” 

“Yes,” Maggie agreed. “But considering the gear and the setup.” She pulled a face. “That’s better left to the likes of Roger, who can afford to lug it all around.” 

“I heard they are working on more compact versions,” Joe said. “I think a company, Kodak, released one this year. Perhaps we could look into getting one, Sheriff. It would certainly help with investigations. I mean, think of it, crime scenes immortalized.” He shot an impish look at his sister. 

Beatrice sighed. “Just what the world needs, crime scenes immortalized.” 

“Listen, since you’ve started doing autopsies on those found dead under odd circumstances, you are becoming as much a part of the investigation as any of us,” Joe said. 

“He’s right,” Leo said. “Your insights into weapons and the wounds they make and the causes of death have been instrumental in solving some of the trickier murders in these parts.” 

“This is hardly a suitable conversation,” Maggie said abruptly. “Hardly suitable at all.” She eyed the children who weren’t listening to the adults but playing happily near the tree. 

“Perhaps we should buy a Kodak camera,” Beatrice said. “It could be put to all manner of uses.” 

Maggie seemed happy with that, and she smiled. They left soon after, taking a soaked little Noah home. 

Beatrice, Leo, and Sarah stayed a while longer talking, walking along the rows of stalls hand in hand. 

It was the happiest Beatrice had ever been in her life. Living in this little growing town with her brother and his family right close by was a dream come true. She loved her job and her family and was happy and contented. Well, almost contented. Sarah needed a little brother or sister. Perhaps she and Leo could do something about that later. Yes, they could, and for Beatrice, the world was bright and full of promise, and it was shaping up to be a very merry Christmas. 

THE END

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