*Every ancient tale has truth at its heart. But after years of retelling, the shape of those old stories changes. What may once have been simple and easily recognized becomes strange, wondrous and magical. Those are but trappings of the story. The truth lies beneath those fantastic garments. ― Juliet Marillier*

![victorian-house.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmTCywFSGrw2kP1qxLEC7rcbixe3dRpYT3PZdzD9UtqeHT/victorian-house.jpg) *Stickley House*

Christmas fills me with longing—a melancholy desire for something undefined—something that can’t be packaged, purchased or put on a tree. Something so unique and personal, it fulfills only me. And sometimes I think that yearning for something undefined may be a longing for someone to love. I know one particular beauty I could easily fall for—her name is Beth Browning. Beth has long honey hair and a lovely smile, but we’re from different worlds.

Beth’s parents are well off and live in a mansion, and frankly, they make me feel quite uncomfortable. I’m a Bay Street bond salesman, not earning enough to keep head above water, especially in exclusive resorts where the Browning’s are likely to be found. So, all things considered, my dates with Beth are becoming more an obligation than a joy and I’m beginning to envy my unattached friends.

I’d suggest to Beth we go separate ways, but the problem is, it’s just before Christmas—Christmas Eve in fact, and although I’ve been planning to break up for months, there never seems to be a good time. And of course, there’s the little matter of the gift I’ve already bought—a set of sterling silver Tower Earrings from Tiffany’s Ziegfeld Collection, already ensconced in an expensive blue box. It seems an expensive lesson to learn, and my apprenticeship is ongoing it seems—a case in point, our date tonight.

Beth volunteers at Stickley House, a country museum, where she busies herself in the way rich heiresses do in order to justify their lives. I’ve offered to drive out in a snowstorm order to chaufer her to her family ‘at home’—whatever that is. But, since I can’t break up at Christmas, or on New Year’s Eve, it seems Beth Browning’s name will be the first to be crossed off my list in the year ahead.

I’m fuming as I drive to Stickley House. The snow’s coming down heavily now and the roads are nearly impassable. I’m angry that I’m risking getting marooned simply because Beth allowed a co-worker to go home early. The girl claimed to be ill and since they both car-pooled, Beth had no ride—but, why not close early? Why not? Well, that’s Beth—she has this strange loyalty to duty.

Surely with the bad weather there couldn’t be that many visitors to the museum, but Beth said they planned all year for a Victorian Christmas, and the show must go on, stiff upper lip and all that rot. I’m so annoyed I’m distracted and miss my turn and have to back up on a snowy road. Of course, I end up getting stuck in a drift and begin to panic, worrying I’ll be snowbound. My cell phone’s not receiving signals, so I can’t call a tow truck. Must be a power outage or a relay tower down. *Great—just great!*

I redouble my efforts, rocking the car, until finally the wheels spin and I fishtail off the shoulder, managing to stay on the road. I can’t see lane markings let alone the edges of the road, but I’m able to spot my turnoff and am relieved to see someone’s been down the lane with a sled. All I have to do is stay in the runner tracks and pray the driver followed the road.

It’s past four and already getting dark, but I can see a faint glow ahead. Beth mentioned they were having a candle-lit feast and she must have left a few lanterns lit on the porch or candles in the window. *Lucky me.* Why am I always putting others first and me last? There’s a lesson to be learned in this seasonal aberration, if I can only get past the tinsel to see what it is.

To be continued…
© 2023, John J Geddes. All rights reserved
[Photo](https://www.liessmit.nl/fantasyhouse/966-fantasyhouse-Victorian-house)

RE: SPLINTERLANDS - TALES FROM SILVER - GEM METEOR EDITION