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This story takes place in my Portraits of the Past
Universe. Have you ever wondered why Jim is the most wonderful boy in the
world? Well, it’s because he had the most wonderful dad in the world, of course!
If you’d like to take a peek in the past, please join us at The Cameo for my
Win and Jim story, “Good Night, Little Man.” I don’t know if you’ll need a
hanky, but I will attach a sugar warning on this sapfest. J
A sultry evening in July… Win Frayne hurriedly
picked up his camera and snapped another picture of his wife after the latest
painful contraction ended. “If you take one more picture,
Winthrop James Frayne, you’ll be taking that camera home in a million tiny pieces!”
Katie warned, sweat streaming down her flushed face. Another contraction overcame her before she
could elaborate and tell Win exactly where he could store those pieces. Win grabbed his wife’s
hand. He brought over a cool washcloth and began wiping her sweaty forehead.
“I’m sorry, baby. The camera will not make another appearance until the baby
does.” Three long hours later, James
Winthrop Frayne the Second was born.
Katie held her son in her arms and cried with happiness. She lovingly
stroked his little head, covered with dark red fuzz. Win shed so many tears that he
couldn’t see to work his camera even if he’d been allowed. He was forced to
ask a nurse to take pictures of him, his wife, and his newborn son. Little
Jim gripped his father’s finger as he nuzzled his mother’s breast in search
of food. “The little guy has a strong grip
already,” Win said fondly. “Just like his mama.” He rubbed his hand, which
was sore from all of Katie’s squeezing during her final contractions. He had
a feeling the bruises she caused wouldn’t go away quickly. Katie giggled. “Sorry about that,
sweetie. I don’t know what came over me.” She undid her hospital robe and
drew her tiny son to her breast. “Are you hungry, Jimmy?” she cooed to her
son. “Before you know it, Jim will be
riding and fishing and hunting with me,” Win stated proudly, his chest
visibly puffing up with pride. “Well, let’s get him home from the
hospital first,” Katie teased. “Did you call Uncle James and Aunt Nell?” “Yeah, I slipped out while the
nurses were helping you into a new gown. They had taken Jim out to be weighed
and measured, so I took that opportunity to call Uncle James and Aunt
Nell. They were thrilled about the
news.” “What did Uncle James say when you
told him what we named the baby?” “He was over the moon! He gave the
phone to Aunt Nell so he could rush out and buy the baby an expensive gift.” “Uncle James is too good to us,”
Katie replied. “Naming our son after him was the least we could do after all
the generosity he’s shown us.” Little Jim finished
his meal, and Katie gently laid him against her shoulder and patted his back.
After a faint burp was heard, she looked at her husband. “Would you like to
hold your son, Daddy?” Win’s eyes glistened as he carefully
picked up the precious bundle. He had never in his life handled anything more
valuable. He securely held his son close to his heart. With one finger, he
gently stroked Jim’s cheek and wondered at the miracle he held in his arms. Katie wanted to rest, but she was
too captivated by the sight of her husband and son to fall asleep. Win walked
over to the window in the hospital room and softly talked to his son. She
watched as he gently rocked Jim in his strong arms and whispered adoring
words. Finally, the tiny baby drifted off to sleep, safe and secure in his
father’s embrace… The next month… The muffled cry of an
infant emitted from the baby monitor on the nightstand. Win jolted awake from
a sound sleep. He opened one bleary green eye and peeked at his wife. Katie,
exhausted from being up several nights in a row with the baby, miraculously
remained in a sound sleep. Win smiled as he
studied his beautiful wife. Her long, sandy lashes cast a shadow on her high
cheekbones. A wayward curl hung enticingly over her eyes. Win resisted the
temptation to brush it back, knowing that in doing so he would wake her. As quietly as possible, he reached
over and grabbed the monitor from the nightstand. After turning down the
volume, he tiptoed out of their bedroom and into the nursery, leaving Katie
to get some much needed rest. Initially, he reached for the switch
which would turn on the bright light overhead. Win caught himself before he
flipped it on, however, and wisely chose to instead turn on the tiny lamp
that sat on the dresser across the room from the crib. The faint glow from
the teddy bear light allowed him to see Jim fussing in his baby bed. As Win lowered the
front of the crib to pick up his son, he ran his hand across the beautiful
grain of the wood. He had fashioned Jim’s crib himself out of the finest oak
available. He worked several months on this project, lovingly carving
intricate designs on the head and foot of the crib. He had enjoyed every
minute of his task; it had been a labor of love. With a fond smile, Win
gazed down at his son. Though only a month old, the small baby had already
quite successfully mastered the art of throwing a fine Frayne temper tantrum.
Little Jim kicked his legs and waved his arms, as his cry intensified. His
chubby cheeks turned as red as the soft fuzz on his head. He tried his
hardest to squeeze a tear out of his bright green eyes. “Hey, Little Man,” Win murmured,
reaching for the tiny baby. For a moment, the child’s wails ceased as he
heard his father’s voice. Knowing help had come, Jim turned his wee head
toward his daddy. He stared at the comfortingly familiar face. However, the
quiet lull ended just as quickly as it had begun. Though he’d had a month of practice,
Win was still a bit unaccustomed to picking up an infant so small. He
awkwardly placed one hand under Jim’s back, while the other supported his
wobbly head. He carefully drew his son close to his broad chest and cradled
him next to his own beating heart, all the while whispering soothing words. Wisely assuming that his son needed
a clean diaper, Win laid Jim on the changing table he had made. The
handcrafted table matched the crib and was the perfect height for changing
diapers or dressing the baby. After carefully researching countless other
comparable pieces of furniture (much to Katie’s amusement), he designed what
he felt would be the best changing table in the history of changing tables.
Once the project was complete, he knew without a doubt that he had
accomplished his goal. It was crafted from the
same oak wood as the crib. A soft, waterproof pad cushioned the top, upon
which Jim could lay. Win had fashioned two small drawers along the top to
store creams and powders. He also included several shelves on which Katie
placed extra clothes, diapers, and baby wipes. Win was thankful for
those drawers as Jim continued to cry. He reached inside the one on the
right, and patted around until he found one of the pacifiers that Katie had
placed inside for such a situation as this. He placed it in the baby’s mouth
and wiggled it a bit an attempt to make it more enticing. He hoped it would
appease Jim’s cries, at least until he could change his diaper. Jim had most certainly
inherited the infamous Frayne temper. His distraught cries could be heard
from miles away. Fortunately, he was a good-natured child and smiled most of
the time. But when he did become
angry… Thankfully, the pacifier (or binky,
as Katie insisted upon calling it) did its job, and little Jim sucked quietly
as he lay watching his father. Ever prepared, Win laid out a fresh diaper,
powder, and a spare set of clothing, just in case of any sudden shooting of
liquids. In his month of fatherhood, he had learned the hard way that baby
boys were prone to play “Old Faithful” once the diaper came off. In an
afterthought, he carefully placed the extra clothes out of Jim’s range. A
spare set of pajamas were of little use, if they were “sprayed” by a certain
little boy. Win ruefully smiled as he pulled up the
baby’s pale green sack gown. That particular piece of clothing had been the
source of a heated debate between him and Katie. She had received several
similar objects from her family in Holland when she was pregnant. When she
received the large parcel in the mail, she had excitedly pulled out each gift
and showed them all to her husband. There were the usual
receiving blankets, booties, and onesies. Win dutifully “oohed and aahed”
over each one. Finally, she had pulled out five or six pastel objects. She
held them up, and waited for Win to declare them adorable, as he had all of
the other presents she had shown him. She waited anxiously, but soon her
smile melted into a frown as she studied the look of disgust on her husband’s
face. Win and Katie rarely
argued, but occasionally his stubbornness and her quick temper collided. And
when his anxiety over becoming a father mixed with her pregnancy hormones, it
made for quite an impact. And this was one of those times… “Win?” Katie prompted, slightly shaking the
garments she held, just in case he hadn’t seen them. “You’re not saying
anything. Aren’t these just the cutest things?” Win
attempted to swallow the lump that had wedged itself in his throat. His wife
had been extremely emotional the past few weeks, and he didn’t want to upset
her and risk being on the receiving end of her wrath. “Those are awfully long shirts,” he replied
hesitantly, deciding that would be the safest answer. “They’re
not shirts, silly!” Katie giggled, singling out a green and white gingham
garment and holding it up in front of her chest. “They’re sack gowns. Mom
told me on the phone that they were convenient when Betty and I were
newborns.” Once
again, Win wisely weighed his words. “But you and Betty are both girls. Your
mom didn’t have any sons.” Katie
nodded, not understanding his reaction. “So?” “Well,
those (here, Win scrunched up his face in repugnance) gowns would
be cute for baby girls, but what if it’s a boy?” “Boys
can wear them too, Win. They’re unisex.” Win
raised his ginger brows in disdain. “Unisex?” he snorted. “That
means that they can be worn by both boys
and girls,” Katie sighed, quite exasperated by his lack of understanding. Win
chuckled in disbelief. “Sweetheart, I beg to differ. Boys don’t wear (once
again he assumed a repulsed expression) gowns.” Katie
rolled her eyes, and began folding the garments neatly and placing them in a
pile. “They do so. And it’s not like they’re pink or have hearts or other
girlie things on them. See, this one has cute little duckies on it. Duckies
can be for a boy or a girl.” She held out the yellow gown as proof. “I
don’t care if it has dump trucks or motorcycles on it,” Win argued
stubbornly. “My son is NOT wearing a (this time the adverse expression was
more animated) gown.
Your mom can take them back and exchange them for something else.” “Why
would I want her to take them back? I like them. And furthermore, they’re
very practical. It will be so much easier to change the baby’s diaper in the
middle of the night when he’s wearing something you don’t have to unsnap.” “A
few buttons aren’t that big a deal,” Win snorted. “Heck, I’ll change his diaper at night if you’ll just keep the kid in a sleeper.” “Every
three hours, all night long?” Katie clarified with arched eyebrows. “His diaper will need to be changed that often?” “Yeeees,”
she answered slowly and deliberately, intending to show her husband how
stupid she thought he was at that precise moment. “According to the baby
magazines I’ve been reading, he’ll need to be changed frequently during the
night.” “Well, he’s still not wearing some sissy (yet
again, he scrunched his handsome face in abhorrence) gown,” Win sputtered. “Your mom’s taking them
back.” “She
is not!” Katie insisted, hurling the white gown with ABC blocks on it at her
husband. “You’re being ridiculous. There’s absolutely NO reason
that a boy can’t wear these.” “There
is too a reason!” Win’s green eyes flashed with
fire as he balled up the gown and hurled it across the room. “Your
reason’s probably stupid!” She flung the remaining once-neatly folded gowns
at her husband, one by one. “It
is not!” “Well,
what is it?” Katie countered, her voice rising slightly. She placed her hands
on her hips and tapped her foot, waiting for an answer. “MY
son isn’t going to wear some sissy gown!” he insisted. “Well,
MY son isn’t going to be insecure in his masculinity! He’ll grow up to be
honorable, and supple, and strong and the most wonderful boy in the world!” “He’ll
grow up to be a cross dresser, if we stick him in some girly nightgown!” Katie’s
blue eyes iced over as she stalked towards her husband, and began jabbing her
index finger against his chest. “It’s not a gown; it’s a sack. There’s a
difference.” Win
towered over her, his emerald eyes locking with her sapphire ones. “It’s a
gown.” Katie
stood on her tiptoes and glared up at him. “It’s a sack,” she growled. “It’s
a girly nightgown!” “It’s
a unisex sack!” “He’s not wearing it!” “He
is, too!” “She’s
taking it back!” “She
is not!” “She
is, too!” Out
of the blue, huge tears pooled in her eyes and began streaming down Katie’s
cheeks. “Why do you hate my mother?” she wailed, her pregnancy hormones
kicking in full gear. Her shoulders shook as she began crying in earnest. “I
don’t hate yo—” Win began. “You
do so!” Katie interrupted, choking on tears. “I
didn’t say an—” “No!
It’s too late!” She lumbered over to the couch and plopped down, her pregnant
form making sitting a challenge. She buried her face in her hands as she
wept. “But,
Katie…” Katie
looked up at her husband, her face frozen in horror. “You think I have a big
butt?” “That’s
not what I said,” Win told her patiently. “You don’t have a big butt,
sweetheart. Besides, you’re eight months pregnant an—” “You
think I’m as big as a barn!” Katie wailed as she wiped away a fresh torrent
of tears. Win
was afraid. He was very afraid. Should
he go to her? Or would that make him appear pushy? Should he leave her alone?
Or would that make him seem insensitive? Should he dig a foxhole, or should
he dig his own grave? In the end, he knew he couldn’t win whatever he
chose to do, so he decided he’d rather look pushy than insensitive. Carefully
sitting beside her, he murmured, “You’re beautiful, honey.” After
several moments, Katie’s sobs turned into soft whimpers. “Really?” she
sniffed. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Emboldened
by her seemingly conciliatory response, Win gently clasped her hand in his.
“Of course not, sweetheart! I think you’re more gorgeous now than you were when
we first met. Why, you’re positively glowing!” To
his surprise, her blue eyes blazed in fury. She snatched her hand away and
when he tried to reach out to her, she pushed him away. “I can’t believe you said my complexion was oily!”
she lamented. She buried her face in her hands once more, tears dripping to
the floor. Katie had him right where she wanted
him. The unmistakable stench of impending defeat lingered in the air, and Win
knew the pungent odor emanated from the direction of his camp. Bravely
girding his loins, he did what any man in his situation would do. He gave in. Now, as Win easily
pulled the gown down over the
baby’s newly changed diaper, he had
to admit that his wife was right. In
this instance. Several times when he had gotten up in the middle of the
night to help with the baby, Jim had been wearing a sleeper. And Win
misaligned the confounded snaps every single time, thereby losing several
precious seconds of sleep. Fortunately, he was a
big enough man to admit when he was wrong, so he presented his wife with
several more sack gowns in a larger size as a peace offering. He even had
some custom-made. His favorites were the ones made out of a manly camouflage
fabric. They’d be the perfect deer hunting ensemble. He picked up Jim and
laid him on his chest, hoping the pacifier would continue to appease the
baby’s cries. He tiptoed out of the nursery, carefully avoiding the creaky
steps on the staircase. He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator
door. Katie had always been
rather frail. Her obstetrician had been worried that her small frame may make
a conventional birth impossible. She was determined to give birth naturally,
rather than by Caesarian, and after several hours of pushing, she had
succeeded. Of course, the difficult
birth, as well as staying up several nights caring for a newborn, had taken a
toll upon her health. Win finally persuaded her to let him take one of the
nighttime feedings so she could rest. Knowing she needed to be well to care
for her son, she reluctantly agreed. She normally breastfed, but began
preparing a bottle of formula for Win to feed Jim in the middle of the night. After finding the
bottle in the refrigerator, he filled a small pot with water and placed it on
the stove. He turned on the burner underneath, and then walked around the
kitchen waiting for the water to boil. Once it did, he turned off the stove
and set the bottle in the pot so the hot water could warm the formula. Growing weary of the
milk-less pacifier, Jim began to fuss. His daddy patiently paced around the
kitchen, bouncing him slightly and whispering comforting words to him.
Finally, the formula was sufficiently heated, and Win carried the baby and
the bottle back upstairs to the nursery. When he got to Jim’s
room, he turned off the small lamp, and settled into the rocking chair by the
window. He laid his son in the crook of his arm, and couldn’t help but be
amused at the wee boy’s impatience. Jim bounced in excitement when he saw the
bottle his father held. He eagerly opened his mouth, waiting for the warm
milk to soothe his hungry belly. Win placed the
bottle’s nipple into Jim’s mouth. He gently rocked back and forth and softly
sang his alma mater’s old fight song, only slightly off-key: “Fight Fiercely, Harvard! Jim briefly stopped
his sucking, as if paying reverence to the anthem his father sang. His moment
of silence quickly ended, as once again he worked his tiny jaw muscles to
suck more formula out of the bottle. “I know, I know,” Win snorted quietly. “Inviting the whole team up for
tea is kind of lame. In my defense,
I didn’t write it. But you have to
admit, that’s a catchy tune.” Jim’s sucking halted briefly as he gave his father a brief toothless
smile, then resumed his late dinner. Win chuckled quietly.
“You like that song, don’t you, Little Man? Maybe someday that will be your fight song. Daddy will teach it
to you when you get older, and then we can sing it together at your college
Homecoming.” A sentimental smile
tugged at the corners of Win’s mouth as he gazed down at the infant he held
in his arms. Nothing ever could have prepared him for the swelling of pride
he felt as he looked at his child. Before Jim’s birth, he’d heard stories
about the various feelings associated with becoming a father; however, none
of them could accurately describe the torrents of emotion he felt as he
watched his son. The moonlight streamed
in from the window and cast its beams upon Jim. Win caught his breath he
studied his tiny form. Ten little fingers, ten little toes. The baby was
perfect in every way. Jim’s ginger lashes
fluttered as he sucked on his bottle. Every so often his eyes would open and
he would look up at his father. Two identical pairs of emerald eyes locked,
cementing a bond nothing on earth could break. As Win looked into the eyes of
his child, a tear came to his own. For the millionth time since Jim’s birth,
he was amazed at the miracle of life. As he cradled his son
close to his chest, he felt something he knew he could never verbalize. It
was almost as if he grasped a piece of immortality in his arms. The baby he
held was a continuing link in the Frayne line, allowing his name to live on
even after death had claimed him. Until Jim, Win and
James were the last two remaining Fraynes. Since Aunt Nell was unable to bear
children, it had been up to Win to provide a son who could carry on the proud
Frayne line. If he didn’t have a boy, their family would fade out of
existence, never again to be remembered. When Katie announced
she was pregnant, Win was ecstatic. He
insisted that he would be pleased with a boy or a girl, as long as the baby was healthy. However, in his
heart, he longed for a son who could be his heir. He felt desperation, an
urgency, which he could not explain. He feared if this child was not a boy,
the Frayne line would be lost forever. Though he knew his apprehension was
unfounded, it was very real to him. His mind tried to tell him that if this
child was a girl, he and Katie could have other children. But his heart refused
to believe it. When Katie finally
delivered Jim, Win had sunk to the ground in tears at the doctor’s jubilant,
“It’s a healthy boy!” It seemed as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his
shoulders at the doctor’s words. Now, as he rocked his son, he pondered the
awesome responsibility given to him. Win knew that when his life ended, this
child would carry forth his
principles, his ideals, his values. A new burden weighed on
his shoulders now— the burden to teach his son how to live a life of honor. After all, a man was
nothing if not honorable. Staring into Jim’s
green eyes, Win determined in his heart to guide his son in the paths of
integrity. This precious child was the most important thing he and Katie had.
If he lost his home, his car, his job, his land, he could recover. All would
not be lost because he would still have Katie and Jim. However, if he failed
to train his son in the paths of honor, he would lose everything. Death would be a far
better fate than losing Jim. “There’s so much I
want to teach you, Little Man,” Win whispered earnestly. “So many lessons you
need to learn. So much I need to prepare you for.” He smiled as the baby
stared at him attentively and wrapped his wee hand around Win’s index finger.
It was almost as if Jim could understand every word and was taking mental
notes. “When you’re a little
older, Daddy will buy a horse and teach you to ride. I’ll bet you’ll be able
to ride him by yourself before you’re even six-years old,” Win told him
quietly, as images of father and son horseback rides filled his mind. “And as soon as Mommy
says you’re old enough, we’re going to the pond to do some fishing. Your mama
worries a bit too much, as most mommies do. But I’ll tell you a secret. Daddy
has ways of talking her into things. Little Man, you’ll learn that an orchid
can go much farther than any amount of arguing.” Jim blinked his eyes,
and stopped sucking momentarily. He stared up at his father in wonder, and
then resumed his midnight snack. “When we go fishing
next spring, I’ll teach you what bait to use to catch certain kinds of fish,
and I’ll show you all my best angling spots. Of course, you have to promise
not to tell anyone, so I’ll need your word of honor. And remember, my boy, a
man is nothing if he has no honor.” Win gently rocked back
and forth, thoroughly enjoying this father-son moment. “And when you’re a bit
older, I’ll take you out to my shop and show you how to make things out of
wood.” He shifted uncomfortably in the old rocking chair. “Maybe we’ll start
with a new rocking chair for Mommy,” he murmured, trying to find a more
satisfactory position. “In a couple of
months, maybe we’ll get to try out something that Mommy bought for us,” Win
murmured conspiratorially, as he watched Jim’s eyes grow heavier with each
suck. “I teased your mama that I was going to stuff you in a backpack and
take you for a hike in the woods. Even though I promised to keep the top of
the backpack unzipped so you could peek out, she didn’t seem to like that
idea.” Win chuckled quietly
at the memory. “When Mommy went out last weekend, she bought a special thing
that Daddy can strap onto his back, and you can sit in. So in a couple of
months, we’ll take a hike in the woods, just you and me, Little Man. There’s
a lot I need to teach you about the forest. How to identify trees and plants,
recognizing different tracks, how to use a compass… “When you’re older,
we’ll go camping. I’ll teach you how to set up camp, start a fire, and lots
of other things that men should be able to do. You never know when you’ll be
in a situation where you’ll need to take care of yourself in the forest. “We can sleep under
the stars and catch fish for supper. Maybe we can even catch a rabbit to
roast over a spit,” he promised. “There’s nothing like catching your own
dinner and cooking it over an open campfire. “There’s so much for
you to learn, Little Man. I’m glad it’s a long time until you grow up,
because I don’t know if we could fit it all in if we had any less time. And
it’s not just lessons about nature that I need to teach you. There’s so much more...” As he thought about
all he wanted his son to learn, his heart began to race. Constantly, a
feeling of urgency niggled in the back of his mind. The need to positively
impact his son’s life pressed heavily upon him. Ignoring his worry, he
concentrated on the baby in his arms. The last of the formula had been
drained from the bottle, and Jim’s breathing had grown steady and slow. Win
picked up a cloth from the accent table by the chair and draped it over his
left side. He carefully moved his son to that shoulder, and softly patted his
back to burp him. Soon, a quiet “burp”
told Win that the air was out of Jim’s belly. He could tell by the baby’s
breathing that he was still asleep. Win knew he should lay him back down in
his crib and return to his own bed, but he could not. He leaned his cheek
against the baby’s downy head, letting Jim’s soft hair tickle him. He inhaled
deeply, taking in the special scent that could only be described as “baby.” He gently continued
his rocking while lovingly rubbing his son’s smooth back. It seemed like
yesterday that Jim was born, and now he was over a month old. Win had always
heard that time flew; however, he had never realized it to be true until now.
Usually, time marched on slowly, never increasing its pace for any reason. He caressed his son’s
perfect back, imagining how that tiny back would grow and change through the
years. Someday, that back may
sheath a pretend sword. Someday, that back
would carry a backpack laden with homework assignments and love notes. Someday, that back
would grow strong and muscled, as he grew from a boy to a man. Someday, that back may
ache from a hard day’s labor as he worked to provide for his own family. Someday, that back
would give piggyback rides to his own children, Win’s grandchildren. Someday that back… Win smiled wistfully,
pondering the many changes in store for his son. When he
was a little boy, and even a young man, time seemed to pass so slowly. However,
once Jim was born, time seemed to increase its speed and set a new cadence.
One minute, Win proudly held his newborn son. Then he blinked, and a month
passed. Soon a month would turn into a year, a year into a decade. What would
life be like ten years from now? Where would he be when Jim was ten-years old? Once again dismissing
his anxious thoughts, Win reveled in the pure joy of holding this piece of
heaven close to him. He had always been fond of children. In fact, he dreamed
of someday starting his own academy to help troubled orphans. But there was
something magical about holding your very own flesh and blood. The moment the
doctor handed Jim to him, all his dreams, all his hopes, all his goals
changed. James Winthrop Frayne the Second became his main priority. Win rubbed his cheek
against the baby’s hair. He listened to the baby’s even breathing, trying to
memorize its pattern. Every sigh, every gasp, every murmur was precious. He
held little Jim physically close to his heart, knowing the infant was already
a part of his soul. And he rocked. The moonlight steamed
through the window as an hour passed. The gentle tick, tick, tick from the grandfather clock down the hall could
be heard, until finally two chimes signaled that it was two o’clock in the
morning. Still unwilling to lay Jim in his bed, Win held the bundle close to
his breast, cherishing the extra time he had to spend with his precious son. And he rocked. Win knew time was his
enemy. In the blink of an eye, the little baby he cradled would grow to be a
man. And what kind of man Jim became depended upon what kind of father Win
was to him. Win set his jaw in
determination, vowing to be the best father he could possibly be to this
child. He would be there
through sleepless nights, learning to walk, belly aches, first crushes,
baseball games, scraped knees, multiplication tables, learning to drive,
football practice, quadratic equations, high school graduation, choosing a
college, marrying a special girl… He would be there. Suddenly, a peace
filled Win’s heart. He realized, that although death could separate him from
his son, a bond existed between them that the grave could not quench. If he
lived to be thirty, forty, or a hundred, he would always be a part of his
son, and his son would always be a part of him. And he rocked. The clock in the hall
signaled that it was now half past two. He covered his mouth in an attempt to
stifle a yawn. Knowing that his alarm clock would be beeping in a mere four
hours, Win reluctantly stood to his feet. He moved Jim from his shoulder to
the crook of his left arm. Quietly, he tiptoed to the crib across the room. During the short trip
to his bed, little Jim’s eyes fluttered open and looked up at Win. The wee
baby smiled at his daddy, his lopsided grin a mirror image of his father’s.
Win’s heart stopped as he stared at the small bundle he held in his arms.
That one tiny smile had a hold upon him like nothing else on earth. A single tear cascaded
down Win’s cheek as he lovingly beheld his son. A poem that he had learned in
his literature class his junior year of college came to mind. After
swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Win earnestly whispered to
his precious Jim: “To feel his little
hand in mine, So clinging and so
warm, To know he thinks me
strong enough To keep him safe from
harm; To see his simple
faith in all That I can say or do, It sort o’ shames a
fellow, But it makes him
better, too; And I’m trying hard to
be the man He fancies me to be, Because I have this
chap at home Who thinks the world
o’ me. I would not disappoint
his trust For anything on earth, Nor let him know how
little I Just naturally am
worth. But after all, it’s
easier That brighter road to
climb, With the little hands
behind me To push me all the
time. And I reckon I’m a
better man Than what I used to be Because I have this
chap at home Who thinks the world
of me.” Ever so gently, Win laid little Jim on
his stomach in his baby bed. He softly patted his back until he was positive
his son was asleep. Finally, he leaned over the rail and kissed the boy’s
red-covered head. After studying him for a final moment, he silently crossed
the room and stood in the doorway. His voice cracking
from unshed tears, he murmured, “Good night, Little Man; I love you. Daddy
will always be here for you.”
First of all, Happy Father’s Day to all you men out
there! Anyone can be a father; it takes someone truly special to be a
daddy. And a very special greeting to my husband, my
father, and my father-in-law… three special daddies, indeed. I have no idea why the baby at the top of the page
has one blue eye and one brown eye. I’m assuming that’s shadowing. *wink* I
know the eyes aren’t green, but this baby graphic was just too cute to pass
up. While writing my first story, “Keeping Up With the Joneses,” I became
intrigued with Win and Katie. They must have been very special parents to
have taught Jim so well. Even after the horror he experience with Jonesy, he
remained honorable. The lessons his parents taught him influenced him for the
rest of his life. I truly believe he learned from the wonderful example his
father set for him. Though Win died when Jim was only nine, he used his time
with his son wisely, and left an everlasting impression on him. “Little Man” is Win’s nickname for Jim in the
flashbacks from “Ain’t Too
Proud to Beg.” It is also Damon’s nickname for Sam, and it is was
given to Jim in tribute of that. There’s nothing sweeter than watching a
father with his children. And there is nothing more attractive than a father
with his children. You didn’t hear it from me, but the argument over
sack gowns might have been based
on a real-life experience. *whistling airily* Of course, it was greatly
exaggerated for story purposes. I didn’t act nearly as dramatic as Katie,
Damon gave in much sooner, and no gowns were hurled in the actual account.
And for the record, I heartily recommend them. They are wonderful for
late-night diaper changes. And yes, even Damon would recommend them now, too.
J Katie’s view of her grown up son was an OBVIOUS
reference to Trixie’s view of him later. I’m sad to say that those are the actual words to
the Harvard fight song. I’m not how inviting the whole team up for tea is
intimidating, but hey… Not my call. *wink* Once again, constant references to the books were
made throughout the story… Jim being able to ride the big, black horse by the
time he was six, the rabbit he cooked in Mansion, his knowledge woodsman
lore… And yes, some very ominous foreshadowing as well, such as where Win
will be when Jim is ten and the changes in Jim’s back. As we learned in
“Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” in my Future universe, Jim’s back bears the scars
from Jonesy’s studded belt. And by the way, Win did make that new rocking chair
for Katie. She mentions it in my story, “Keeping Up With the Joneses.” Jim’s lopsided grin was created by one of the best
fanfic writers out there, Cathy P. I’ve lovingly given that same grin to Win.
After all, the most wonderful dad in the world needs a lopsided grin, too. J I knew I was getting ultra-sappy by including the
poem at the end of the story, but it really drove home the message that I was
trying to convey--- Win strove his hardest to be a shining example for his
son. And succeeded, might I add. That poem was listed as “Selected” so I have
no idea who wrote it. But it was a very lovely poem. *happy sigh* Stay tuned for more past stories of the Fraynes. I
love them so much that I don’t think I’ll be able to stop at this one story. And last, but certainly not least, thank you to my
beautiful editors, Kathy and Kaye. You both have been tremendous help!
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