James woke twelve hours later from his drunken slumber. He stripped as he made his way to the shower, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. He stood under the hot water, letting it warm his soul. He shook his head as the water splashed into his face. He finally grabbed the soap and took a proper shower. Getting out he stood in front of the mirror and shaved. He picked his shed clothes up as he went back to the bedroom to dress, tossing them into the hamper. Once dressed in clean clothes he walked to the living room, he knew the mess he would find. His heart sank as he looked at the ravaged Christmas tree, Joyce’s tree.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he spoke aloud, to Joyce.

He got a couple of garbage bags and started to clean up the drunken disaster. He saved the bows from the tree and what lights he could, but the tree itself was gone. He picked up the glass from the broken bottle, and the Winchester went back to its proper place in the gun rack of the pickup. Then started in the kitchen, washing dishes, carrying out bags of trash. He even caught himself humming some Christmas songs. Six hours later the house looked as if nothing had happened, as if Joyce had been there all the time.

He called Elinor and Beth, wishing them both a Merry Christmas, also lying to them, telling them he was fine, just busy with all the work around the ranch. There were times that one or the other had called, sometimes he answered and other times he was out working.

The days slipped into weeks and the weeks into months. Spring was in the air, although snow was still heavy on the ground. James hadn’t touched a drink since Christmas Eve nor did he have the desire. His attitude was much like the land around him, filled with anticipation and wonder of the coming spring. It would soon be calving season, one of the busiest times on the ranch. He’d have to hire some extra help. Probably the same men he’d hired for the last few years.

As the days went by the air warmed perceptively, and he caught sight of the Canadian geese flying back north to their summer nesting ground. He’d stand and watch them as they flew overhead, knowing a new generation would be born before long, the geese, the calves. He smiled to himself at the thought, A new generation, a new life, it was much the way he felt also. He was going to have a new grandbaby soon also. That thought brought an even bigger smile to his face.

He was standing in the kitchen preparing supper when the phone rang.

“Hello? James. It's Rigby. I need to come home.”

James could hear the distress in her voice, and knew something was wrong. Not alarm or immediacy, but he knew her so well he could hear the underlying stress, the inflections in her voice. He didn’t hesitate with his response.

“Of course Rigby, certainly you can come home,” he replied. “Just let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll pick you up.”

The conversation was short, she could tell him what was wrong when she got there. When he hung up the phone, it struck him that she had said ‘home’. California had been home for years, but she wanted to come ‘home’ now. The old cliché, “Home is where the heart is,” crossed his mind.

Maybe she can stay longer this time, he thought.

As he threw the steak in the fry pan, he thought of all kinds of reasons for her to stay, she could do the bookkeeping, she was better at that than he was. Joyce had always done it before, and besides, the old house needed a woman in it. It had been Elinor’s home before his anyway, if only by a couple years.

She belongs here, he thought absolutely.

He caught himself whistling as he flipped the steak in the fry pan.

“Besides, she cooks better than I do,” he said to himself.