Good
Night, Little Man
Author’s
notes:
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
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,
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 even see to work his camera. 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, a tired smile on her pretty face. “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 decided 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 expensive 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 “
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
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.
“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 we have 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 yelled.
“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.”
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 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!
Fight, Fight, fight!
Demonstrate to them our skill.
Albeit they possess the might,
Nonetheless we have the will.
How we shall celebrate our victory:
We shall invite the whole team
Up for tea! How jolly!
Hurl that spheroid down the field
And Fight! Fight! Fight!”
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 at the infant he held in his arms. Nothing could ever have prepared him
for the swelling of pride he felt as he looked at his child. Before Jim’s
birth, he 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.
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, then resumed his
“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 whispered 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
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
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 downy
red 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.”
Author’s notes:
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!
0r, go to
the stories set in the…
