A Festive Drabble

 

As the Mass drew to a close, Scott breathed a sigh of relief.  He liked to come with Johnny to this particular service.  He’d made it a tradition on each Christmas Eve since they’d both come home to Lancer.  But he still found the service too long and sombre. 

They left the small adobe mission and walked to where the horses stood patiently waiting, tethered by the small gate.  The air was crisp and the clear night sky was a black canvas painted with brilliant, glittering stars.  He mounted his horse quickly, looking forward to a warming whisky back at the ranch.  But when he got ready to turn and go, Johnny was still standing by his horse.  He looked across at Johnny, seemingly lost in thought.

“I’m freezing my nuts off here, Johnny, let’s get moving before it gets even colder.”

Johnny scuffed the ground with his boot, before looking up at Scott.  “You go on without me, Scott.  There’s something I gotta do.”   

“At this time of night?”  What on earth could Johnny need to do at this hour?

“Yeah.”  Johnny’s voice was very soft.  “Yeah, something I got to do.  I’ll be back by morning, no one will even know I ain’t there.  Sorry, Scott.”  And Johnny swung himself up into the saddle and spurred his horse off towards town.

True to his word, Johnny appeared at Christmas morning breakfast and joined the family.  At least in body.  In mind, he seemed somewhere else, as though he’d slipped out of reach. He remained that way, remote and distracted amidst all the festivities, for the rest of the day.   

Scott stood warming himself in front of the fire blazing in the grate.  The temperature was dropping as the sun sank lower, promising another freezing night.  Teresa was curled up in a big chair working at some embroidery, Murdoch was puffing on a pipe, engrossed in the new book Scott had given him.  And Charlotte was laughing as she dangled the baby on her knee.  There was just one member of the family missing. 

Looking  through the window, Scott could just make Johnny out, apparently gazing up at the night sky.  He felt a stab of concern.  Johnny hated the cold and nothing would normally induce him to stay in it for a second longer than necessary.  What the hell was eating at him?

Making a decision, he poured a shot of tequila and took it out to his brother, pulling his coat on before he left the warmth of the hacienda.   Silently, he proffered it to Johnny, who swirled it around in the glass.  As he did so a shooting star blazed across the sky in a fiery trail before fading and dying. 

“A shooting star.  Do people wish on those in Mexico, too?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess.”

Sometimes, it seemed like getting information from his brother was like getting blood from a stone.  Johnny just continued to stare at the sky, his drink untouched.

“Come on Johnny, you’ve got to make a wish.”

Johnny gave an exasperated sigh.  “I already did, OK?”

“What did you wish for?  Sunshine?  An unending bottle of tequila?  Come on, what?”

“You don’t ever quit, do you, Boston?”

“Oh, come on, Johnny, it’s Christmas.  What did you wish for?”

“Same thing I wanted for Christmas, OK?  But don’t look like that’s gonna happen.”

“What, for heaven’s sake?”  There were times when he could cheerfully throttle Johnny.

Johnny sighed, swirling his drink around the glass again.  “I dunno.  That I wouldn’t be alone, I guess.”

Scott tried to read Johnny’s expression, wondering how to play things.  He couldn’t figure his brother’s mood at all.  “Alone?” He gave Johnny a friendly punch.  “You’re not alone, or you wouldn’t be if you came back inside with the sane people, who don’t want to stand out here freezing to death.”

Johnny grinned.  “No offense, but I was thinking more about in my bed.  And you ain’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone, Johnny.”

“That’s just it.  I already have.  All I wanted for Christmas.  Maybe the star will work better.”