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“Happy Christmas, Miss Mills.” Ichabod placed a small red bag down in front of Abbie’s face with a small thud. Her head snapped up. She’d been so engrossed by the writing in Grace Dixon’s journal; she hadn’t even registered Crane’s entrance into the archives. Raising a questionable brow at him, she arched her neck to peak into the bag.
“You do realize that Christmas is tomorrow right?” Ichabod nodded solemnly. She hadn’t seen him crack a smile in weeks. Ever since his break with Katrina, he’d been in an even pricklier mood. It was only exacerbated by the fact that with nowhere to go in this century; Katrina was staying with Crane in the cabin.
It had gotten to the point where Abbie would go to the archives early in the day and find Crane sleeping in one of the chairs with a spare blanket thrown over him. She’d quietly cover him and leave, not wanting to startle him or make him feel bad. “While I appreciated yours and Miss Jenny’s invitation to celebrate the holiday with you, I fear that I would be poor company. However, I wanted to assure you’d get your present prior to the day itself.”
“Crane…”
Ichabod held up one of his ridiculously long fingers to silence her protest. “Please, lieutenant, allow me this small boon. I may not be in a festive mood, but that shouldn’t stop you and your sister from enjoying the holiday as best you can.” Abbie sighed deeply. She knew she wouldn’t be able to force the issue but she really wished he’d join them. It pained her knowing just how unhappy he was.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he inquired. Abbie eyed him dubiously and reached for the bag. Unless Jenny had loaned him some money, he didn’t have the funds to buy her anything. She reached into the bad and pulled out a small wooden nightingale. Words left her as her mouth hung slightly agape in awe of the detail.
“One of the nights I fell asleep here in the archives, I heard you come in. You were singing softly to yourself. I confess I feigned my slumber so as not to interrupt your voice. There’s no sound that has even fallen on my ears to match your voice however, I thought a nightingale was as close a representative as I could fathom.” Ichabod stopped talking. He watched as Abbie gingerly caressed the wooden creature. He couldn’t see her face as it was hidden behind a curtain of hair.
“Lieutenant? Do you not like it? I thought…”
“It’s beautiful, Crane.” Abbie raised her eyes to his. Hers shimmered with unshed tears. This simple, hand carved gift was the most intimate and beautiful gift she’d ever received. “It’s absolutely perfect.” While he did smile at her enjoyment of his gift, it didn’t reach his eyes. Abbie could still see so much pain and loss written on his features. She had wanted to hold off on giving him his Christmas gift but she thought now might be just the time.
“Since I can’t convince you to join Jenny and me tomorrow, I guess I should give you your gift too.” Abbie leaned over and pulled a small rectangular box from under the desk and handed it to him. Flourishing his coat behind him, he perched himself on the stool across from her. Lifting the lid off of the box, he pulled back the red tissue paper to reveal a worn brown leather book with a small window in the middle of it. It held a black and white picture of the Lower Hudson Valley.
“This is lovely, lieutenant. Thank you.” He went to place the book back into the box when Abbie stopped him. “You have to open it Crane.” He flipped the cover back to reveal a picture of him and Miss Mills laughing over Szechuan chicken. He recalled that Miss Jenny had taken the picture with her phone. He turned the next page and was greeted by a picture of himself in skinny jeans and there was even a patch of the material on the page as well. He scoffed and winced at the memory.
“I guess we were both in the creative mood this season. This is a scrap book. I put some of my – our – favorite memories in here. Skinny jeans, your first milkshake; I even made a playlist of all of the new songs you like and put it on a CD for you. You can take it out and play it whenever you want and then just slide it back in here. Do you like it?”
It was Ichabod’s turn to be at a loss for words. He’d felt so helplessly lost and alone since breaking his marriage to Katrina that he forgot that he hadn’t been alone for more than two years now. This beautiful and warm woman in front of him had been at his side every step of the way. She’d laughed with and at him. She’d cried with him and comforted him. She’d guided him through darkness so deep even the stars ran from it.
No, he didn’t like this scrapbook. He loved it. It was a representation of the strongest relationship he’d ever been a part of. Where Abbie was able to keep her tears at bay, Ichabod let his flow freely. It was the first time in weeks that he’d felt anything beyond despair. Now he felt hope and light and it was all thanks to the woman who stood before him.
“You have given me a gift lieutenant that I will never be able to repay.” His eyes met hers as he reached for her hand. Abbie clung to him, hoping to anchor him in the here and now instead of in the pain of the past. “You don’t need to repay me. Just come back to me and all will be right in the world.” She squeezed his hand and began to gather her things. She wanted to give him some time to himself. Grabbing her coat, she went to make for the door but his outstretched arm encircled her wrist and stopped her.
“I’d be honored to join you and your sister for Christmas dinner tomorrow Lieutenant, if it isn’t too much of a burden at the last moment.” Abbie smiled at him and for the first time in weeks, he truly returned her smile.
“Nothing would make me happier.”