The steam venting from beneath the hood of Jim's classic Ford truck did not bode well for the men as they drove through the snowy back roads of central Oregon on their way back home to Cascade from a police conference in Boise, Idaho. When the engine finally sputtered and died, Jim steered the truck to the side of the road.
"Where the heck are we?" Blair wanted to know. "And what got into you, anyway, taking the back roads instead of the highway?"
Jim squinted through the blowing snow at a sign about a half mile up the road. "Sign says we're near a town called Christmas Valley. And we're on this road because I thought it would be quicker. I thought you wanted to be home by Christmas."
"Which is tomorrow," Blair grumbled. "Doesn't look too likely now."
Opening the pickup's door, Jim slipped out to stand on the road. "You'd better come with me, Chief," he said. "Doesn't look like the walk is too far. We'll find a mechanic and we'll be out of here."
"A mechanic on Christmas Eve? In Christmas Valley? I don't think so, Jim," came the muttered reply as Blair climbed out of the truck, pulling his coat more tightly around him. With his furry Fargo hat and a wool scarf to help keep him warm, he began to follow his partner up the road to the town.
True to Blair's gloomy forecast, the only gas station was closed tight for the holiday.
"So, now what?" Blair asked, teeth chattering as he fought to stay warm.
Jim looked up and down the main street of the town, but couldn't spot so much as a rustic motel. His eyes finally landed on a small wooden structure. The tiny church was painted white, its steeple standing tall against the leaden sky. Stained glass windows glowed softly from the light within, and music drifted out to them on the wind. Next to the church stood a tall blue spruce, branches heavy with snow, and decked in colorful lights and ornaments--a living testimony to the season.
Clapping his gloved hands together, and blowing into them to warm his face, even Jim had to admit this appeared to be their only refuge. He guided Blair up the street, and pushed him through the doors into the small chapel.
The town was celebrating a Christmas Eve candlelight service. The ushers handed Jim and Blair each a small candle, and they seated themselves in the back pew.
When the service had finally ended, and the church had cleared out, the two men continued to sit, unwilling to brave the cold again.
A soft voice greeted them from behind. "Welcome to Christmas Valley."
They turned to see the church pastor standing near the door.
"Our truck broke down about a half mile east of town," Jim began to explain. "We need to get a tow into town and find a mechanic."
"And something hot to eat, and a place to stay," Blair added.
"Well," the pastor said, "I can provide you with the latter, but the former will have to wait until after Christmas. Please, come with me."
Jim and Blair rose to follow the minister to his cottage behind the church. The home was warmed by a crackling fire, and the minister's wife had hearty beef and vegetable soup prepared, along with fresh-baked bread. After introductions all around, they settled in to eat.
Warmed by the food and the fire, and lulled by the quiet graciousness of their hosts, Blair found his eyelids drooping. He rested his head on Jim's shoulder, snuggling down as he felt a strong arm wrap around him.
Maggie, the preacher's wife, looked up from her Bible reading. "We have a guest room, but there's only a single bed," she confessed. "I could make up the couch, too, if you like."
"That won't be necessary," Jim answered. "We don't mind sharing. That is," he amended, realizing with whom he was speaking, "if it doesn't bother you."
The petite woman smiled, and rose to guide them to the room. "Not at all," she answered, watching as Jim gathered his sleepy companion into his arms, supporting him as they followed her. "Does that surprise you?"
"Yeah, a little," Jim confessed, sitting Blair on the bed and beginning to peel off the heavy layers of clothing.
"I don't believe it's my place to condemn," she explained. "We're all God's children. So long as we love and are loved, so long as we live our lives to the highest standard, I believe that God loves and accepts us all. Good-night, gentlemen."
"Good-night," Jim called after her as she closed the door on her way out. He finished tucking his partner into the bed, then stripped down to his boxers and spooned up next to him. "Sorry I couldn't get you home for Christmas," he said, showering kisses lightly over Blair's neck and shoulder.
The younger man turned over in the crowded bed so that he could see his lover's face, and smiled. "Home is wherever you are, Jim. Merry Christmas." He leaned in to seal his sentiment with a kiss.
Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.
Notes: This story also appears in the My Mongoose ezine The Many Holiday Greetings of The Sentinel.
Acknowledgments: As always, many thanks to all who beta for me.
A special thanks to Amy for the beautiful art.
I'd also like to add my thanks to Lisa for the HTMLing of the story, which I have borrowed for my website. Her hard work on the My Mongoose ezines makes them the wonderful things that they are.
RETURN to my fiction page.