Winter’s Child – Part 4

*note: I changed the wife’s name from Janice to Margaret because there were already too many “J” names in the story.*


Despite the fact that his hip was only fractured and not broken, Joseph did not bounce back from his injury the way he expected to. He did his rehab exercises only reluctantly and when his assessment came it was determined that it was inadvisable for him to live alone.

James was a little taken aback at how long the waiting lists for a spot in a nursing home were. After many discussions and much cajoling, Margaret reluctantly agreed that Joseph could stay with them, but only until a place in a nursing home came up. James put his father’s name down on every waiting list in the area.

“Thank you,” he told his wife the night before he brought his father home.

“Joseph and I might not see eye to eye,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s the right thing to do. He’s family. And it’s only going to be for a few weeks, right?”

But not a week later she was already regretting her easy agreement. They’d moved his favorite armchair into their living room, near the fireplace, and he sat there day in and day out like he was the king. Despite the fact he was supposed to keep mobile, if he needed anything he had Margaret fetch it for him, or sometimes his grandson, James Joseph Preston III, better known as Joey.

“I tried to suggest he was perfectly capable of coming to the table and having lunch with Joey and I today, and he just about took my head off,” Margaret told James as they were getting ready for bed one night. “You’d think I suggesting he go on a ten mile hike.”

“The problem is, you’re too nice,” James told her, kissing her on the head. “You need to be tougher with him.”

“I know, I know. But it’s not like I can threaten him with a swat on the behind like I do with Joey.”

They shared a laugh.

“How’s Joey taking to sharing the attention with his grandpa?”

Margaret snorted. “No worries there. They’re like peas in a pod, those two. Joseph likes to talk, and Joey likes to listen to his stories. I just wish the pair of them wouldn’t take them so seriously.”

“I know,” James said with a sigh. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“Which one?” Margaret asked with a crooked smile. “No, don’t bother. It won’t be for much longer, right?”

“Right,” James agreed, mentally crossing his fingers.

Another week went by. Margaret tried to be a little firmer when it came to getting Joseph up and moving around, and though he grumbled a great deal, he was now eating lunch at the table with her and Joey. And if he wanted something and she was busy, she would tell him he was perfectly capable of getting it himself. Often, if it was something simple, he’d get Joey to do it instead, but Joey didn’t seem to mind so she’d let it go.

But the stories he told over and over again were beginning to grate on her nerves.

“Beware the children of Winter,” Joseph said in a sonorous voice. “They'll lure you away through the snow and steal your soul.”

“That’s enough!” Margaret snapped. “You keep filling his head with that nonsense and he won’t sleep a wink tonight.”

“Nonsense! Nonsense?” Joseph’s voice rose and he rapped his cane on the floor. “And what would you be knowin’ about it, you being city-bred and all?”

Margaret sighed. She should have known better. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “But Joey’s only four, and he’s very impressionable.”

“He’s old enough to understand what’s what,” Joseph insisted.

“Whatever,” she said with a sigh. “Just please tone it down a bit. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

Joseph waited until she left the room. “Our ancestors was the first to settle this here mountain, and was the first to set eyes on the others.”

“The others?” Joey asked. He sat at his grandfather's feet, enraptured as always by his tales.

“Winter's children,” the old man said. He spat and made a sign against evil.

With his mother safely out of the room, Joey did his best to imitate him.

“Lord knows where they come from, or how long they've been on this mountain, but one thing fer sure — they ain't human.”

Joey climbed up onto his grandfather's lap. “What do they look like?”

“They look like little devils, 'cept they's white. And they's ice if they touch you.”

“Like Jack Frost,” Joey prompted.

“Aye. And they lure men to their deaths in the snow.”

“But not us, right Grandpa? We’re too smart for ‘em.”

“Aye, that’s right, boy.”

Joey snuggled closer. “When I’m bigger, I’m gonna help you hunt ‘em.”

“When you’re bigger,” Joseph agreed.

“An’ when we catch one, we’ll be famous.”

“Aye, that we will.”