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“Where are we this time, Doctor?” Asked Zoë as she stood by the Doctor, looking over his shoulder at the readouts.
“Earth, according to this … North America, somewhere in New England … in the 20th century. I can’t get a more accurate time than that, unfortunately. Let’s look at the view screen, shall we?”
The little screen flickered to life. They seemed to be in the middle of a pine forest blanketed in snow.
“Oh! Is that … snow?” Zoë gasped in delight.
“Yes it is.”
“I’ve never seen snow in real life before, only in pictures! I’d love to go outside and explore!”
“Of course. Just make sure to bundle up, snow is very cold, you know.”
“Right.”
“And rouse Jamie while you’re at it. He’s napped long enough, I think.”
…..
“Snow? Why d’ye want tae go out in the snow? It’s cold.”
“Oh, come on, Jamie, it will be fun! The Doctor told me you can sculpt men of snow and throw balls of snow. It looks beautiful!”
Jamie burrowed deeper into his blanket. “Where I come from we were tae busy trying to survive it to play in it. No thanks.” He rolled over away from her.
Zoë blew at her fringe in frustration. “Fine. Be that way.”
Jamie listened to her small boots walk away.
Daft lassie.
Jamie had begun to drift back to sleep when he was rudely awakened by a sharp cold shock on the back of his head and neck. He sputtered and sat up.
There was Zoë standing in the middle of his room with a snowball. She made two just in case she missed the first time.
“Why ye cheeky wee sassenach harpy!” Jamie exclaimed as he attempted to disentangle himself from his mound of blankets—a comical sight that set Zoë, who was already giggling, into peals of hearty laughter, which, of course, further enraged the proud Scot. “Jist-jist ye wait ‘til I get ma hands on ye! I’ll gie ye sich a larrupin’ ye won’t be able tae sit fer a week!”
“You’ll have to catch me first!” Zoë stuck out her tongue then took off out the door. Just as Jamie made to follow Zoë called back: “Don’t forget to put on your boots!”
Jamie stopped, and, letting off a stream of black Gaelic mutterings, sat down to put on his boots.
……
When Jamie came out tearing out of the TARDIS a few minutes later he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the snowy clearing they had landed in. Tall, encircling pine trees were decked with tufts of snow, large downy flakes of snow were drifting down. It was beautiful. Jamie felt his temper cooling.
The Doctor was in the middle of the clearing making a snowman. He was decked out in a knee length camel colored coat and sported a long, multicolored scarf that was wound multiple times about his neck.
“Ah, Jamie! There you are at last!” the Doctor said, pausing in his work. “Would you like to make a snowman?”
“Where’s Zoë?”
The Doctor’s lips twitched. “Hiding.”
“Hiding where?”
“If I tell you that rather defeats the purpose of seeking, doesn’t it?”
“Och, fer heaven’s sake.”
“And while you’re at it, you can seek out some sticks for me. My snowman needs arms.”
Jamie sighed and tramped off into the tree line. He quickly spotted some broken branches on the ground and bent to pick them up. The moment he did he felt something hit his backside and ice slide down his bare legs. He whipped around to see Zoë poking out from behind a nearby tree.
“Got you again!”
Jamie threw down the sticks. “Ach, reeght! Now I really am goin’ tae larrup ye!”
Zoë shrieked with delight and ran. She dodged Jamie among the trees then sprinted toward the clearing and the Doctor.
“Where’s my sticks?” The Doctor demanded as Zoë ducked around the snowman and Jamie came jogging towards him.
Zoë deftly avoided Jamie, always keeping the snowman between them. “Be careful of my snowman! Jamie! Zoë! Oh!”
“Reeght, this calls fer long range artillery!” Jamie announced. He scooped up some snow, quickly formed it into a ball and lobbed it at Zoë, but ended up smacking the snowman in the face, knocking off its pine cone nose.
“Jamie!” The Doctor complained and received friendly fire in his back from Zoë as he stepped in the way.
“Right!” The Doctor huffed, “if you can’t beat them …”
A merry volley of snowballs went back and forth for ten minutes, resulting in a heavily shelled snowman. The battle then moved into the trees.
At one moment Zoë got into what turned into a private skirmish with the Doctor and forgot about keeping an eye on Jamie. The Highlander skillfully crept up from behind and, just as Zoë sensed him too late and turned, he grabbed her around the waist.
“Gotcha!”
Zoë’s back was against the tree and her wide blue eyes studied him as he stared down at her, smiling in triumph.
“Well?” Zoë prompted after a moment of inaction from Jamie. “You’ve got me now, Jamie. What are you going to do?” She cocked a challenging eyebrow. “‘Larrup’ me like you said?” A teasing smirk lifted the edges of her Cupid bow lips.
Jamie blinked and his cheeks, already red from the cold, became even redder.
He had been going to do something, but as he stared down at Zoë’s elfin face, her cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, her blue eyes sparkling with humor, his mind went blank.
“Weel … I, uh …”
Suddenly a snowball came sailing through the air and clipped the side of his head. The moment was broken and the pair leapt apart.
“You know better than to turn your back on your opponent, Jamie!” The Doctor said with a chortle.
A devious smile came on Jamie’s face as he brushed the snow off. “Zoë, howabout two on one? Us against th’ Doctor?”
Zoë smiled an equally devious smile.
Suddenly a strain of music came to their ears, floating on the chill wind. The Doctor held up a hand.
“Wait! Do you hear what I hear?” He looked up. “It’s a song … a song high above the trees …”
“Yes …” Zoë said. “I can hear trumpets and voices … oh, it’s lovely .”
The Doctor squinted and tilted his head. “The tune is familiar …”
The trio followed the sound out through the trees and very shortly the trees ended and a valley opened up before them. At the bottom of the valley was a small town bathed in the golden light of an afternoon sun peeking through the snow clouds. The music seemed to be emanating from the village.
“I do believe … yes! That’s a Christmas carol! Mmm-mmm-mmm Glo-o-o-o-o-o-r-i-a in excelsis deooo … Let’s go down into the town and see the goings on.”
……
In the small town square a brass band and carolers were the source of the music.
“We appear to be in the mid-twentieth century, judging from the clothes and automobiles. 1940’s perhaps …” the Doctor mused. “I beg your pardon,” he then said, tapping a young onlooker on the shoulder. “What day is it?”
The boy looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Where are you from, outer space? It’s Christmas Eve!”
“Tommy, mind your manners,” an older girl standing next to him, scolded.
“Sir,” Tommy added sullenly.
“Sorry,” the girl said with an apologetic look. “He’s at that trying age.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright.” The Doctor patted him briefly on the head. “Thank you, my lad,” the Doctor pulled out a paper bag from his coat. “Jellybaby?”
“My folks said to never take candy from strangers.”
The Doctor hastily put the bag back in his coat with a serious face. “And they’re quite right.”
The Doctor herded Jamie and Zoë a bit away from the crowd to talk to them more privately. “So, we’ve arrived on Christmas Eve. How serendipitous,” he said, then a wide smile spread across his face. “Or rather I should say ‘providential’.”
“Christmas!” Jamie exclaimed, beaming. “The only time of year I’d get oranges! Ma father always managed to find someone sellin’ them. He’d even trek all the’ way tae Inverness jist tae get them for us.”
“I’ve spent quite a few Christmases on Earth at many different times,” commented the Doctor.
“Wha’ aboot you, Zoë? What’s Christmas like in yer time?”
Zoë looked uncomfortable. “It was just another day for me …” she even looked a little sad as if she only just realized that this had been another normal thing that she had missed out on in her life on the Wheel. “I remember the crew decorating a small Christmas tree in the recreation unit and items were exchanged … but I never received any …”
“Oh, Zoë …” the Doctor intoned sympathetically.
“I didn’t say that for you to feel sorry for me,” Zoë said briskly, “it was just a statement of facts in answer to Jamie’s question.”
Jamie put his hand on her shoulder. “Weel, then, let’s make some new Christmas memories, eh?” Zoë looked up at Jamie with a small look of uncertainty. He squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and she gave him a smile.
“Yes, let’s. Where do we start?”
“Two of the traditions of the holiday are the giving of gifts and decorating the home. I brought a bit of American money with me …” the Doctor opened his wallet and pulled out a few paper bills. “Oh. No, that’s Confederate currency. I guess when I say ‘American money,’ I should be more specific. Let me see …” he pulled out a large change purse “Ah! Here we are, 1936 issued currency, that will do.” He took out fifteen dollars in a mixture of bills and silver dollars and divided them between himself, Jamie and Zoë.
“Five dollars each should be plenty in this time period, especially for that five-and-dime over there. Let’s meet back by the pavilion in an hour.”
Jamie and Zoë agreed then eagerly took off to wander about the town in search of gifts.
An hour later they returned furtively holding packages and looking pleased with themselves.
“Now what, Doctor?” Asked Zoë.
“Now, back to the TARDIS to decorate! Good thing we landed in that pine forest, plenty of trees to choose from.”
“A tree? Wha’ do we need a tree for?” Jamie asked, looking perplexed.
“Ah, I forgot, you don’t have that tradition yet,” the Doctor said as they began their trek back up the hill. “Well, it all started in Germany. Many peoples had winter traditions of bringing evergreen boughs and such inside as a symbol of eternal life, but it was Martin Luther, the 16th century reformer who, when walking home one winter’s night, composing a sermon, he was awed by the beauty of the starlight sparkling amidst the boughs of an evergreen tree. He wanted to replicate the scene for his family so he cut down a tree, brought it inside and tied candles to the branches.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’m nae surprised …”
“What do you mean?”
“Only a Protestant would come up wi’ sich a daft idea.”
“Oh, Jamie, don’t be such a sourpuss. It was lovely. I helped him wire the candles to the branches.”
…..
Zoë paused in her wrapping of a garland around the TARDIS console to watch the men drag their prize inside. With a ‘heave-ho’ the Doctor and Jamie raised the tree upright.
“Hold on to that, Jamie, I have a tree stand somewhere …”
“Och! Doctor!” Jamie cried as he took the whole weight of the very tall tree.
“Need some help?” Zoe asked, tentatively approaching.
“Nae, I’ve got it,” Jamie grunted.
The Doctor came back with the stand and, after some struggle, the tree was free-standing.
Jamie stood back and surveyed the tall tree in the space. “Will ye look at the size o’ tha’ …” he murmured.
“Yes, Jamie, it is a big one,” the Doctor agreed.
Zoë eagerly pushed a large box along the ground toward the tree. “Are we ready to decorate?”
“Lights first,” the Doctor said. He opened a box and in it were small white candles with wire fitted to the bottom. “Nowadays people wind strings of electric lights on their tree, but, what can I say? I’m rather old fashioned when it comes to these things.”
Jamie and the Doctor got up on ladders and painstakingly wired the candles to the branches while Zoë began decorating.
“Oh, this is lovely!” Zoë xclaimed on unwrapping a large enamel cameo attached to a silk ribbon, on it was a portrait of a beautiful young woman in elaborate 18th century attire.
“Do be careful with that, Zoë, that was a gift from Marie Antoinette.”
“Oh,” said Zoë a small, overawed voice. Even she with her limited knowledge of history had heard of Marie Antoinette.
A multitude of curios that had been repurposed as decorations continued to come out of the box—a visual record of the Doctor’s many travels.
“Ah, and that bauble was from the Tsarina Alexandria … oh, and that little rocket is in commemoration of the first moon landing by humans … the miniature Chinese opera mask is from Sun Yat Sen … Oh, and that wooden bell is carved from olive wood. I picked it up in Nazareth from a local carpenter.”
Jamie looked down from his perch on the ladder candle, his eyes wide. “Eh?!”
“Oh, no, it was after His time. It was His half-brother James who made this one.”
Jamie dropped his candle and the Doctor, standing beneath, caught it.
“Careful, Jamie!” He admonished.
Zoë pulled out from the box a piece of red construction paper cut out in the shape of a ball ornament, with a yarn loop for the hook; written in cursive with glitter across it was the name “Susan”.
“Doctor, who’s ‘Susan’? Another famous person?” Zoë asked, holding it up.
“Oh!” The Doctor, who had begun to re-ascend the ladder, scrambled back down. “Here, give that to me …” He gingerly took the unremarkable ornament from her and tenderly placed it on the tree.
“No one famous, Zoë, just … someone very dear to me.” Christmas was Susan’s favorite Earth holiday …
Zoë wanted to ask more, but as she observed the Doctor’s wistful expression as he looked at the ornament she decided not to pry. The Doctor then shook himself and scuttled away to get something to light the candles.
“I use a lamplighter’s wick that I picked up in Victorian England.”
Jamie climbed off the ladder and announced he was going to pop outside to gather holly and a log.
“What for?” Zoë asked, giving him a quizzical look, but he was out the TARDIS door without explaining.
Zoë sighed and shrugged her shoulders. The Doctor was back with the wick and a set of long matches for Zoë to do the bottom candles.
“Where’s Jamie?”
“He went outside to get holly and a log, don’t ask me why. I don’t understand half the things he says or does most of the time, I’m not going to try and understand now.”
The Doctor grinned to himself. “He might say the same about you …” he murmured.
“Hm?”
“Nothing. Start lighting. Oh … Jamie going outside to gather holly reminds me … there’s some greenery I need to grab as well.”
“Oh. Alright.”
Zoë had just finished the bottom half of the tree when Jamie and the Doctor came back in. The Highlander had a small log tucked under one arm and was gingerly holding holly sprigs in the other.
“We’d deck our cottage wi’ boughs of holly, to bring green inside the home on those cold, bleak days,” Jamie explained, catching Zoë’s stare.
“And the log?”
“I’m goin’ tae carve the likeness of an auld beezum, the Cailleach , on it and then burn it!”
Zoë stared at the Scot as if he’d grown a second head. “ What ?”
“It’s tradition,” Jamie insisted, looking offended.
“Oh! Speaking of traditions,” the Doctor exclaimed looking at his watch, “what time is it? Ah, we still have an hour and a half …”
“An hour and a half for what?” Zoë asked.
“Until church. I noted the Christmas service times for the church up on this hill just beyond the trees.”
“Och, weel we’d better get cleaned up then. After a snow fight an’ runnin’ aroond town, we look like a trio o’ Mclartys.”
…..
On the Doctor’s advice that the season’s festive colors were red and green, she found a red dress overlaid with black lined plaid; with a sweet-heart collar and short sleeves, the bodice nipped in at the waist, belted with a thin black cord and the skirt belled out, ending just below her knees. She also found a lovely fur tippet to put around her shoulders and small, green bell earrings that tinkled when she moved her head.
When she stepped back into the control room Jamie and the Doctor were waiting.
“Och, finally! I know lassies take a wee bittie longer tae dress, but …” The complaint died on Jamie’s lips as he took in Zoë. “Ye look … bonny.”
Zoë smiled with pleasure. “Thank you. And you look very handsome, I must say.”
Jamie waved off her compliment but was clearly pleased. “Ach, go on wi’ ye.”
“No, I mean it.” Zoë said as she approached. Jamie was wearing one of his kilts (he had purchased a new McCrimmon tartan from a shop in London when last they were there) but his upper half was in a bright white button down shirt encased in a brown tweed waistcoat, coat of the same material and a red silk tie.
Zoë lightly brushed the necktie with her finger, admiring the soft, cool fabric. She glanced up at Jamie to see that his cheeks had nearly become the color of his tie.
How curious.
“Well, ready to go?” The Doctor asked. The Doctor was more or less dressed as he always was, but better, and with the addition of a gray felt fedora.
“Doctor,” Zoë asked, “what is that bushy thing hanging over the corridor entryway?”
“That is a sprig of phoradendron leucarpum, the American version of the European viscum album. It is an obligate hemiparasitic plant, the common name of which is—”
“Mistletoe,” Jamie finished for him impatiently.
“I was getting to that, Jamie.”
“By the time ye ‘get tae tha’’ the kirk service will be over, now come on!”
……
Jamie read on the sign outside the church and froze in his tracks.
“Th’ Good Shepherd Presbyterian Church,” He wrinkled his nose. “Presbyterian! I’m nae goin’ in!”
“Oh, come now, Jamie …” the Doctor sighed.
“It’s because of the Protestants tha’ my people weren’t allowed tae openly celebrate Christmas in our own way for over twenty years, an’ still tae this day!”
“Ah … well, yes, especially in your time,” the Doctor said, “what with the conflict between the Protestant English king and Catholic Jacobites backing Bonnie Prince Charlie … the ban faded with time, but indeed the damage was done. Christmas didn't become an officially recognized public holiday in Scotland until 1958. That’s why Hogmany , or New Years to the rest of the world, became so big in Scotland. They just moved their celebrations over to that.”
Lovely, soft organ music was filtering out of the church doors and tugging at Zoë. “I would really like to go in …” she pleaded, but she did not want to go in alone or, if accompanied by the Doctor, leave Jamie’s stubborn-self outside. She finally had friends to share this holiday with, and she wanted to share all of it with them.
“Jamie, it wasn’t the Protestants who tried to take Christmas from you, but the king.”
“An’ who’s the heid of the Protestant Kirk, eh? The king.”
“No, Jamie. He’s not. Not really.” The Doctor pointed to the small building behind him. “The people in that church are the spiritual descendants of a group who said that the King wasn’t the head of the church, but Christ, according to Colossians 1:18. The same Bible you read, Jamie; the same Christ whose birth we celebrate tonight.”
Jamie was silent for a long moment. He looked up at the night sky spangled with stars. Zoë noticed there was a sheen to his eyes that he quickly blinked away.
“Och …” he said after one more pause, “let’s go in.”
The trio slipped into a back pew. The congregation was in the middle of a hymn. The Doctor looked at the bulletin he had picked up on a table in the narthex. “Ah, according to this we’ve only missed the “Call to Worship” and the first hymn. Now we’re on … hymn 200 …” The Doctor pulled out the hymnal from the slot in the back of the pew in front of them. He fumbled with it a moment, found the proper page, then passed it to Jamie, who shared it with Zoë; then he opened the only other copy in the row for himself.
“While shepherds watched their flocks by night all seated on the ground, the angel from the Lord came down and glory shone around …”
“Och, I ken this one! It’s nae Scottish, but I know it!” Jamie hissed excitedly to Zoë before jumping back into the song. Zoë glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she did her best to follow the music. Jamie’s face glowed with delight as he sang and Zoë could not help but smile at the sight.
“… All glory be to God on high and on the earth peace, goodwill from henceforth from heaven to men begin and never cease …”
The hymn done, an older man stepped up into the pulpit to read a portion of the Old Testament, Isaiah 9:2-7. “If you would all please stand for the reading of God’s Word.”
“Tha’s interesting,” Jamie murmured. Jamie then smiled as the familiar words were read and warmed his heart. How long had it been since he had sat in a Kirk and heard Scripture recited?
“The Word of the Lord,” the man announced at the finish.
“Thanks be to God,” the congregation responded and sat down.
Then they sang a hymn that Jamie did not know but it clearly moved him as they went through the verses.
“Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace, hail the Son of Righteousness, light and life to all He brings, risen with healing in his wings. Mild He lays His glory by, born that men no more may die, born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth, hark the herald angels sing: glory to the newborn King!”
Then another person, a woman this time stepped up to the pulpit, which made Jamie’s eyebrows raise. She read the New Testament passage on Christ’s birth from the book of Luke. Again, they stood and again the hearing the scripture read caused a little wellspring of joy to bubble up in Jamie’s chest. He took a deep breath as a sense of peace washed over him.
“The Word of the Lord.”
“Thanks be to God.”
Zoë had been continuing to glance at him throughout the service, wondering how he would react to things, still not completely understanding what the problem was in the first place. She was glad to see that he was still smiling and happy.
Zoë gave into a sudden impulse to take his hand and give it a squeeze. Jamie started slightly and looked at her, surprised. Zoë leaned in and whispered, “Are you happy you came in after all?”
Jamie smiled warmly. “Aye,” he said softly, squeezing her hand in return. “Verra happy.”
The pastor then stepped up to the pulpit situated at the center of the altar above and behind the communion table and not off to the side, which Jamie found curious.
“I know this is not the Christmas any of us expected. The smoke is still rising from Pearl Harbor and America is forever changed.”
“Good heavens! This is 1941!” The Doctor hissed. Zoë frowned for a moment in thought, sifting through her neglected mental databanks regarding history. Then her brow cleared. “Oh!”
“Eh? What’s ‘Pearl Harbor’?”
The Doctor hastily shushed him as a boy in the pew in front of them turned to regard them as if they had lobsters crawling out of their ears. It was the boy from the marketplace, Tommy.
“I’m really startin’ to think you folks are from outer space …”
The girl, also from before, and presumably his sister, grabbed his ear. “Shush and turn around! It’s rude to stare!”
“Ow!”
“Quiet, both of you, or you’ll get coal in your stockings!” An older woman at the end of the row hissed, probably their mother.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She mouthed “sorry” to the Doctor, Zoë, and Jamie then turned back around.
Coal in stockings? Zoë wondered. Is that some form of mid-twentieth century punishment?
“2,000 years ago there was another single event that changed the world, but for the better ...
“Our Lord came to this earth in the midst of troubled times as well, when an oppressive superpower was occupying his home, as so many of our brothers and sisters in Europe are experiencing now. But he came to free us not from a human oppressor, but the oppression of sin and death itself …
“Our Lord Jesus is King, all authority in heaven and on earth was given to Him and His everlasting kingdom, of which we are all citizens, can never be occupied by evil, will never be invaded or conquered …
For many of the young men in our congregation this may be your last Christmas at home for some time, though we will still be praying for it to, indeed, be over by next Christmas …. so remember that, young men, as you go out to fight to set the captives free. Remember that the ultimate war, the war between good and evil has already been won by Jesus Christ whose birth we celebrate this day, and everyday His life of obedience lived in our place, the price of our disobedience paid for in his death, and victory over sin and death in His resurrection. Joy to the World!”
“Joy to the World!” The congregation spontaneously replied. The sermon continued on for about twenty minutes more.
“I thought he said all he needed tae say twenty minutes ago,” Jamie murmured to the Doctor. This is mich longer than our priest’s homilies back home!”
The Doctor chuckled. “That’s Protestants for you.”
“Before I close, I’d like to take a moment to remember our sister church in Scotland …”
Zoë could almost see Jamie’s ears perk up.
“… South Kirk of Elgin in Moray. They sent us a very kind letter expressing their gratitude for all the hundreds of knitted and quilted items made by our congregation and sent to them for the influx of refugees from London and their own children in need—they also warmly thank us for our continued prayers and letters of encouragement and wish us all a very happy and blessed Christmas.”
Jamie blinked back a sudden prickling of tears. “Weel … tha’ was reeght kind of them …”
“Next we will sing hymn 202, ‘Joy to the World’.”
The congregation launched into the hymn, most not needing their hymnals, knowing it by heart.
“Och! I ken this one, too!” Jamie said excitedly. “It’s English, but I know it!”
“And with that,” announced the pastor after the hymn, we will close with hymn 207, Silent Night, and the lighting of the candles.
“I dinnae know tha’ one …”
Baskets full of small white candles rimmed by paper circles to catch the wax, were passed up and down the pews. Then ushers lit the candle of each person on the aisle side, who in turn lit the candle of the person beside them, and so on, down each pew until every candle was lit. The lights were dimmed leaving the sanctuary lit only by the soft, warm glow of a hundred candles.
“Oh!” Jamie heard Zoë breathe with delight and smiled.
“If you could give us the starting note, Mrs. West?” The associate pastor directed his question to the choir loft at the back of the sanctuary and a single piano note came floating down in reply. The congregation began to sing in a cappella.
“ … Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright … ‘round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace … sleep in heavenly peace …”
When the last verse was sung the pastor passed his candle to the associate pastor then lifted his hands.
“‘The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace’. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” the congregation and the trio answered back. Candles were blown out and the electric lights were turned back on. The sanctuary buzzed as people turned to their neighbor and wished them a merry Christmas.
“Excuse me,” the lady who had been sitting in front of them shyly began, “but you’re new in town aren’t you?”
“Uh, yes,” the Doctor answered. “Just passing through.”
The older woman’s eyebrows raised as she heard the accent and noticed Jamie’s kilt now that he was standing. “You’re from Britain! Bless you, the trip must’ve been hard, what with the Germans harassing the island.”
“Yes, it was.”
“What brings you to the United States?”
“Well, erm—”
The pastor, who had been coming down the aisle, intending to take his place by the door to greet congregants on the way out, stopped by their pew.
“Ah, hello, hello, welcome! Welcome! Thank you for visiting our humble church. I’m Pastor Rex MacGregor …”
Jamie’s eyebrows raised slightly, pleased to hear a Highland name.
“… I see my wife, Grace, has already introduced herself.”
“Ah, and these are your children?” The Doctor said. “I believe we have already met Tommy and his sister.”
“Yes, we did,” said the sister, holding out her hand to the Doctor. “My name is Jane.”
“A pleasure to meet you, my dear, and you, Tommy,” the Doctor said with his usual charming smile, but Tommy still eyed him with suspicion. “This is Jamie and Zoë, my companions.”
“Hello.”
“Pleased tae meet ye.”
“And that is our eldest son, Jimmy,” the pastor said, indicating a handsome young man with blonde hair chatting nearby with a young lady.
“Where are you all staying?” Asked Grace.
“Ah … well, we’re at the local inn …” The Doctor inwardly winced and prayed that this small town had a local hotel or something.
“Oh, the Liberty Bell Inn?”
“Aye!” Jamie broke in, feeling like the Doctor was carrying the whole conversation by himself and needed help.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas dinner?”
“No, we don’t!” Jamie answered for them, sensing an invitation.
“Jamie …” the Doctor warned under his breath.
“Well, we’d be happy to have you.”
Jamie gave a small bow. “Thank ye, madam, tha’ is most kind.”
…..
Most everything in the town was within reasonable walking distance, including the pastor’s house, which also saved the Doctor and his companions from explaining why they had no car.
The reverend’s house was a small but cozy Cape Cod style cottage. Electric candles were placed in the windows and an evergreen wreath decorated with dried oranges was on the door. The warm glow reflected off the crystalline drifts of snow on the ground.
“Beautiful!” Exclaimed Zoë breathed.
“Aye,” said Jamie beside her, equally enchanted.
The warm domesticity continued inside. The furnishings were simple, early Americana, which was in vogue at the time and easy to come by in New England.
“Your house is lovely,” Zoë again enthused.
“Well, thank you!” Grace said, flattered. “We like it. Jane, take our guest’s coats, please.”
Mrs. MacGregor led the group through the foyer into the parlor and settled all three of them on a long Duncan-Phyfe sofa.
“Make yourselves comfortable, I will warm some mulled wine to take off the chill.”
Jamie rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Och, I’d enjoy tha’! I haven’t had mulled wine in a verra long time!”
“Oh, look, Doctor,” Zoë said, pointing to the archway that led back into the foyer. “Isn’t that the same plant you hung in the TARDIS?”
“Oh. Yes it is.”
“You still haven’t explained the significance of it.”
The Rev. MacGregor came in through the front door stamping his cold feet and divesting himself of the many layers of wool: coat, gloves, hat and scarf. He and the associate pastor had to stay behind to bid a merry Christmas to every last service attendee and then lock up.
“Grace, I’m home!”
“Welcome home!” His wife called from the kitchen.
Zoë suddenly felt an inexplicable, wistful tug in her chest.
Mr. MacGregor stepped into the foyer and settled in a wingback chair beside the sofa.
“So, what brings you all here from across the pond?”
The Doctor had been mulling over their cover story the whole walk to the house and spoke up immediately.
“Well, it’s rather a funny story actually … we’re journalists and we all happened to be on the same steamer, you see … Miss Heriot here is from the Evening Standard , Mr. MacCrimmon, the Scotsman , and I’m from the Daily Telegraph . We volunteered to cover how our American cousins are handling the war on the home front, the average American citizen, especially around Christmas-time—what the mood is … since we all apparently were traveling on the same assignment …”
“We thought, ‘why not’?” Finished Zoë for the Doctor with a smile, warming to the story. In her time, she had enjoyed reading the newspaper, after she read the Karkas comic strip, of course.
“Wha’s a ‘steamer’?” Jamie whispered to Zoë as the Doctor continued to talk. “An’ why would we sit on one? I’ve heard of people takin’ steam baths but …”
“A steamer is a ship that runs on steam power, it doesn’t need wind and sails to propel it forward. Like the Titanic.”
“Wha’s the Titanic?”
“Nevermind, Jamie,” Zoë said, discreetly elbowing him in the side once she noticed the Reverend glancing curiously at their whispering as he continued to talk with the Doctor.
“Here we are,” Mrs. MacGregor cheerfully announced as she moved through the foyer, bearing a tray of five full claret glasses.
“Let me help you with that, my dear,” Mr. MacGregor said, quickly getting up and meeting her just as she stepped across the threshold. He took hold of the other side of the tray with both hands, then, to Zoë’s surprise, leaned down and kissed her soundly on the lips.
Grace blushed. “Rex! Company!”
The Reverend grinned and moved his hands to her waist. “You were under the mistletoe and looking so lovely, my dear, I just couldn’t help myself.”
Grace blushed again and smiled. “Later …” she softly promised, then wriggled out of his grip to serve her guests.
“ That’s what it’s for, Zoë,” the Doctor murmured with an amused smile.
“Aye, an’ it’s considered bad luck no’ tae kiss once ye’ve met under th’ mistletoe,” Jamie said with a grin and a waggle of the eyebrows.
“I don’t believe in luck,” Zoë said archly as she felt an unusual heat rising in her cheeks. She took a sip of wine and gave a soft exclamation at the burning sensation that went down her throat then warmed her stomach; the mulling spices teased her tastebuds.
“You know, we weren’t allowed alcohol on the Wheel.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” the Doctor said. “It hadn’t occurred to me that this would be your first taste of fermented spirits.”
“It’s very good,” Zoë said and took another, larger, sip.
The Doctor cocked an eyebrow and looked over the petite scientist’s head at the Highlander. “Best keep an eye on her …”
“Aye.”
“‘The Wheel’ …?”
The trio looked a bit startled at their host, they had momentarily forgotten his presence.
“… That was the … the name of … the academy … where I trained to be a journalist … I just graduated …”
“Ah,” the Reverend seemed to be content with that explanation, maybe it was a British thing, and let it go.
The Doctor gave Zoë a quick smile of approval and Zoë smiled back, pleased with herself.
Jane suddenly popped into the room. “Mommy needs you to carve the turkey.”
Mr. MacGregor excused himself. Jane took this opportunity to stay behind out of curiosity. She approached Zoë. “I like your dress,” she said shyly.
“Thank you. I like yours.”
Jane then moved over to the tree and pretended to touch it up.
Jamie and Zoë suddenly became aware of a small pair of blue eyes boring into them. Tommy had come into the room and was staring at them; a candy cane protruding from his mouth.
“Didnae yer mither teach ye nae tae stare?”
“And didn’t yours teach you not to wear girls’ clothes?”
Zoë nearly choked on her wine with laughter.
“Tommy!” Jane exclaimed, poking her head around the tree.
Jamie, more upset that Zoë was laughing at him, leaned forward and wagged a stern finger at Tommy. “Lookie here, laddie, where I come from impertinent wee lads like ye would get a box on the ears.”
Tommy looked slightly nervous, but stubbornly held his ground and continued to suck on his candy.
“Tommy, you know very well what a kilt is,” Jane said. “Daddy wears it every now and then, isn’t that right, Daddy?”
Mr. MacGregor had then stepped back into the room to continue his conversation with the Doctor. Tommy shuffled over to his father’s chair and leaned haughtily against it.
“How do we know you’re not German spies?” He asked.
“Tommy!” Mr. MacGregor remonstrated. “I’m sorry,” he said to the trio then turned back to Tommy. “They’re clearly not German.”
“German spies wouldn’t act German, that’d give ‘em away.”
Revered MacGregor raised his eyes to heaven and gave his guests an apologetic look. “Don’t mind him. Ever since the story broke about German U-Boats being sighted off the coast of Massachusetts he’s become a bit obsessed.”
“I understand,” the Doctor said with an indulgent smile and a nod.
Reverend MacGregor suddenly rose from his chair with a sigh and pulled a large book from the inbuilt shelves flanking the fireplace.
“Here,” he said to Tommy, “I’ll have them swear on the Bible that they’re not spies, will that satisfy you?”
Tommy considered for a moment and then nodded his head.
MacGregor held out the Bible to the trio. “Would you mind?” He asked. For a brief moment there seemed to be a flicker of doubt in his face as he regarded them.
“Of course we don’t mind,” said the Doctor. “Actually, Tommy, you’re very wise to be cautious in these times.”
And so The Doctor, Zoë and Jamie found themselves putting their hands on a Bible and swearing they were not German spies.
“Dinner is served,” called Mrs. MacGregor.
When they sat down to dinner, they all just fit, Mrs. MacGregor having added the extra
leaf to the table and pulled three chairs from the kitchen table.
“Where’s Jim?” Mr. MacGregor asked his wife, noticing his chair empty.
“Oh, he must still be on the phone with Elizabeth down the street.”
“I’ll get him,” volunteered Jane, who then walked over to the bottom of the stairs and screamed at the top of her lungs, “ JIMMYYYY! DINNERRR! ”
“Thank you, Jane …” said her mother weakly as her daughter sat back down. She gave her guests an embarrassed look.
Jane beamed. “You’re welcome, Mommy.”
……
Dinner was excellent. Zoë had had the opportunity in their travels to eat real food that was not preserved or freeze-dried and rehydrated, but this was her first experience of turkey with all the trimmings. Every bite was heavenly and satisfying. She could now see why normal Earth people tended to overindulge and gain weight with real food like this. Food that could be eaten for pleasure and not just sufficient calories required for optimal mental and physical performance.
“Ye keep a fine table Mistress MacGregor,” Jamie said as he partook of a whole turkey leg.
“Why, thank you, Mr. MacCrimmon.”
Reverend MacGregor then asked Jamie about his clan’s history, a subject Jamie was very happy to wax on. He answered the Reverend’s questions about his own daily life in Scotland much more slowly and with smaller answers.
A few more glasses of wine and a chocolate Yule log cake and the meal, at last, was over.
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” sighed Zoë, eyeing her piece of unfinished cake with regret.
“Aye! Tha’ was a feast fit for a laird!”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Macgregor replied, looking very pleased.
Mr. MacGregor took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “You’ve outdone yourself this year, my dear.”
Jane and Tommy yawned.
“I think it’s about time for you children to get ready for bed,” said Mrs. MacGregor. “If you’re not in bed on time Santa might have to skip this house this year.”
Tommy and Jane leapt from their chairs and scrambled up the stairs.
“Santa?” Zoë asked, tilting her head. Jamie mirrored her puzzled look.
“You know,” the Doctor said, looking pointedly at them both, “Father Christmas.”
While Jamie and Zoë still did not know, they understood from the Doctor’s intense look that now wasn’t the time to question but to play along.
“Oh, aye, o’ course, Father Christmas …” Jamie said slowly, exchanging glances at Zoë.
“Father, may I be excused?” Asked Jim. “I’d like to pop by Elizabeth’s and wish her and her family Merry Christmas.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“Is he sweet on her, this Elizabeth?” Jamie asked after Jim left.
“Yes. They've known each other since they were kids—best friends really,” said Mrs. Macgregor. “It’s going to be hard once Jim leaves for Fort Belvoir, Virginia come January.”
The Doctor’s expression became gravely sympathetic. “Oh … he signed up, did he?”
“The minute he heard the news about Pearl Harbor he was out the door—straight to the recruiting office,” Mr. MacGregor answered. He covered his wife’s hand with his own. “We’re proud of him … but at the same time … wished he weren’t so brave.”
“So he’s going tae fight in a war?” Jamie murmured softly to himself, getting a faraway look of understanding in his eyes. “Brave lad.”
Puir lad.
Zoë noticed the sobering of Jamie’s expression.
“Well,” the Doctor said, rising, “it is getting late and we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough.”
The MacGregors heartily thanked them for coming and helped them with their coats.
“A happy Christmas to you all,” the Doctor wished them on the doorstep. “Yes, Merry Christmas!” Echoed Jamie and Zoë.
The walk back to the TARDIS was chilly, but was hardly felt by the trio, still being warmed by the food and wine. Zoë was glad they left when they did—she had been getting too comfortable and a mite sleepy. The bracing cold air had given her the second wind she needed.
As the TARDIS came in sight through the trees the Doctor dropped discreetly behind Jamie and Zoë. To the embarrassment of his warrior’s instinct, the Highlander had not noticed until a snowball hit him squarely in the back.
“Hey!” He whirled around. Zoë laughed until another snowball knocked her wool cap off.
“Right!” Zoë bent down to make a snowball. “Let’s get him, Jamie!”
They chased the Doctor all the way back to the TARDIS.
…..
The Doctor, Jamie and Zoë lit the tree. As they did the Doctor finally explained about St. Nicholas of Myra and how his story evolved into Santa Claus/Father Christmas. Once they finished the tree each retreated to their rooms to wrap their gifts and then place them under the tree to be opened tomorrow. Zoë made a pot of chamomile tea and they each enjoyed a cup as they admired the tree. The warm glow filled the control room. Zoë sighed contentedly at the sight.
When the Doctor drained his cup he stretched and yawned. “Well, I guess I’ll turn in. Would you two be so kind as to put out the tree for me?”
“Aye.”
“Mm.”
Zoë blew out what she could reach and Jamie used a long handled candle-snuffer and the ladder to reach the rest.
The TARDIS was not plunged into complete darkness as the console controls and the walls normally emitted its own soft glow from the power pulsing through it. Usually it was a green glow, but for some reason, tonight, it seemed to imitate the late candlelight.
“Weel, Merry Christmas, Zoë,” Jamie said brightly.
“Merry Christmas, Jamie,” she replied happily.
Zoë and Jamie then simultaneously stepped through the archway, intending to walk to their rooms but when they realized where they were and what was above their heads, they froze and looked at each other, wide-eyed.
Zoë recovered first. Perhaps it was the wine and the pleasure of the evening that was making her feel so bold in this awkward situation. She straightened and lifted her chin. “Well, even though I don’t believe in luck …” she reasoned, “it is tradition …”
Jamie looked slightly taken aback but then his expression softened and he smiled.
“Aye, ‘tis.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. When he straightened and looked back down at her he was surprised to see Zoë frowning.
Jamie felt his heart jump in slight panic. “Wha’? Wha’s wrong?”
“That’s not how the MacGregor’s did it,” she said simply.
Jamie’s jaw dropped, his face flushed, and his eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. He blinked. Zoë was looking up at him expectantly.
A slow, lopsided smile spread across Jamie’s face and his hazel eyes lit up.
“Oh ...”
Jamie took a breath for courage then, cradling her elfin face in his hands, he bent down and kissed her. Zoë made a soft noise and leaned into him.
Jamie’s heart pounded in his ears and realized he had wanted to do this ever since he first laid eyes on the petite scientist in the Wheel’s parapsychology library.
The TARDIS seemed to hum louder, as if it approved.
When Jamie at last reluctantly broke the kiss Zoë swayed. He quickly put his hands on her hips to steady her.
“Are ye alright?”
Zoë blushed and touched her lips. “That was … nice,” she murmured, flashing him a shy smile.
“Aye,” Jamie said hoarsely. “ Verra nice …” The Highlander slid his hands to the small of her back, fully intending to pull her in for another kiss when a stern “Ahem,” from the corridor caused them to jump apart.
The Doctor was leaning out of his door, a knowing grin on his face and a raised eyebrow. “You two better turn in soon or Father Christmas will skip this spaceship.”
“Oh, y-yes.”
“A-aye.”
Jamie and Zoë scuttled off to their separate rooms, which faced each other in the corridor.
“Merry Christmas, Jamie,” Zoë said sweetly from her doorway.
Jamie blushed and smiled. “Merry Christmas, Zoë.”
The Doctor kept an eye on the pair through his cracked open door, to make sure they both closed their respective doors. Once they had the Doctor wandered out back into the hall, hands casually in his pockets, and approached the mistletoe. He looked up at it and gave a soft conspiratorial chuckle. “Well done.”
The TARDIS hummed.
“And you, too.” The Doctor said with a grin then blew a kiss in the direction of the control room. “Merry Christmas, old girl.”
The End