Author's Note: This short story was written as a part of the "Fall Memories" GWP that was started by Lori. The elements required were seeing a long-lost relative; a new sweater; the phrase "It's perfect football weather"; hot chocolate; jumping into a pile of leaves "Linus style"; and a large green, un-ripe pumpkin. Thanks to Lori for kicking my rear back into a writing mode and to Shana, who bravely took on the task of critiquing my first writing attempt in several years. Her suggestions made it so much better!

Oh, yeah, except for David Jancowsky, Jamie Frayne, and Martina Frayne, the characters in this story belong to Whitman, Golden Books and/or Random House (take your pick). I simply borrowed them for a short while and have returned them unharmed. In case your curious, the incident with David Jancowsky that's mentioned in this story took place in another Trixie fanfic I wrote called Taking Chances.

HOMECOMING

By Diann

Trixie felt the late-October sun softly kiss her upturned face with its warmth. Life was like all the elements that blended so perfectly to make this fabulous fall afternoon – a sizzle of excitement, a clean crispness that permeated the air, a blissfulness that floated on the gentle breeze, life bursting with the color of remembrances of the past, and the exhilaration of experiences yet to come. And the snoring coming from the man lying beside her, "resting his eyes" after their picnic lunch.

"Okay, okay, maybe not 'perfectly perfect'," Trixie grinned to herself as she poked her husband's leg with the toe of her brown leather loafer.

"Hmph…wha..uh?" was the response she got right before the snoring started again.

Her husband. Even after 10 years just the thought of it flooded her with a sense of joy and awe. Her eyes traveled the length of his six-foot-one frame, starting with the red hair, the ends of which curled toward his ears whenever he was past due for a haircut; the wide shoulders that had borne such burdens when he was young; the well-defined torso that narrowed to a 34" waist. Her eyes lingered on the two firm mounds on the backside of his jeans before licking her lips and moving her gaze down the long legs that ended with his well-worn chukka boots.

Trixie let out a sigh of contentment. Fall had always been her favorite time of year, and this one was shaping up to be just as brilliant.

"It's perfect football weather. Tonight will be just right for jeans, a turtleneck, and a cozy sweatshirt," Trixie thought. "I'm glad the rain the weatherman predicted held off." She and Jim would be meeting the rest of the BWGs that night for the Sleepyside Junior-Senior High Homecoming game to be followed by the alumni dance at the country club. The anticipation of the upcoming evening quickened her pulse. It had been almost two years since all of the BWGs had been together. With Diana living in Paris, Dan doing speaking engagements to various youth and civic groups all over the country, and Brian's rigorous schedule at the hospital, not to mention the hectic routines of daily living for all of them, being home at the same time had become a rare occasion. They would be meeting Diana's fiancé tonight and the girls, no doubt, would wind up discussing the wedding plans until the wee hours of the morning. Her mind drifted back to that glorious October afternoon 10 years ago as she and Jim, flanked by Honey and Brian, stood before Reverend Armstrong and their beloved family members and wonderful friends.

I, Trixie, take you, Jim, to be my lawfully wedded husband. . .

In November of the following year, together they hammered the first nail into what was to become the frame of their new house being built on Ten Acres. The next September brought Trixie and Jim unspeakable joy as she delivered their first child, all six pounds, 3 ounces of Miss Martina Madeleine Frayne. On the eve of their fourth anniversary, seven-pound James Peter Frayne made his entrance into the world.

Yes, most of Trixie's fall memories were as warm as the colors of autumn. Well, except for the time that Bobby and Katie Lynch attempted to make a pumpkin pie, not realizing that the large pumpkin they had bought was a green, unripe one, Trixie recalled with a shudder and a smile. And then the message Trixie had received a few nights ago from the Chief.

Trixie, I wanted to let you know that David Jancowsky, that psycho DJ who tried to kidnap Honey, has been released from prison. You remember that when we hauled his butt away after you caught him, he threatened to get even with you. Yesterday he was seen hanging out on Hawthorne Street. Well, I just wanted you to, well, I just thought you'd want to know.

Trixie shook that particular unpleasantness out of her mind, stretched out on the wedding ring quilt that her grandmother had made for Moms and Dad, and closed her eyes. She drifted into that drowsy state that made her feel as though she was floating just slightly above consciousness but not quite asleep, when the shrieking of children's voices roused her from her solitude. She rolled over on her stomach, feeling the dry leaves crackling beneath the quilt, and forced open her eyes. Trixie propped her chin on her crossed hands and saw her 8-year-old daughter and 6-year-old son running toward them.

She nudged her shoulder into Jim's. "Hey, wake up, Tonto. Screaming Eagle and Geronimo are on the warpath and they're heading straight at us."

"Uh? What? Oh." Jim blinked, yawned and blinked again, finally able to focus on his two fast-approaching offspring.

"Mommy! Mommy! Martina called me a noodlehead," tow-headed Jamie wailed as he skidded to a stop and plopped on his knees in front of Trixie and Jim.

Trixie reached up and plucked a few stray leaves and twigs off Jamie's new maroon sweater that Hallie had sent for his birthday. "Martina, did you call your brother a noodlehead?"

Trixie heard the distinct sound of a snort and chuckle coming from Jim. She wanted to give him The Eye but knew she couldn't look at him, otherwise she'd wind up bursting out in laughter herself. Instead she gave him a side kick to the shin.

"Ouch!"

"No, I didn't! Well," Martina sniffed and tossed her strawberry-blond curls, "if I did, he deserved it. He jumped in a pile of leaves with his sucker in his hands and got all kinds of horrible, disgusting trash all over it. Sooooo adolescent!" She rolled her eyes and stood there in an arms-crossed defiant stance.

Trixie stared at her daughter for a moment, then groaned and buried her face in her arms. "No, please, no," she moaned, rolling her head from side to side.

"Now, now, Trix, she is your brother's favorite niece," Jim said, patting Trixie on the head and trying his best not to snicker.

Trixie raised her head and looked toward Jim. She knit her eyebrows and curled her lip into a faux sneer. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean Mart should be feeding his dictionary to her for breakfast."

"Uncle Mart gives me jelly toast and pancakes for breakfast, not some icky book. So there!" Jamie cried triumphantly and then stuck his tongue out at his sister.

"Oh, please, grow up!" Martina shot back.

"Okay, kids, that's enough," Jim admonished them. He pushed himself up, straightened his shirt and smoothed his jeans. "Let's go back to the house and get ready to go to Nana's."

"Oh boy! Nana said we're gonna' bake cookies and have hot chocolate tonight!" Jamie squealed. "I'll race ya'!"

Leaving her grown-up attitude far behind, Martina took off running with her little brother. "Last one to the house is a rotten egg!"

"I'll get the kids cleaned up and take them over to your parents' house. While I'm gone, you can take a nice long bath and re-read your Lucy Radcliffe book for, what, the fiftieth time." Jim's emerald eyes twinkled as he kidded Trixie for still reading the same book series she did as a teenager.

Trixie rolled her eyes and tossed her head, doing her best imitation of her precocious daughter. "No, not fiftieth. Forty-fifth at the very most!" She held her snobby look for just a moment and then gave her handsome hubby a grin and an appreciative pat on his leg. "Thanks! That'll be great. I'll try to save you some hot water."

Trixie stood and watched her family scamper across the field and then into the woods that bordered the east side of their homeplace. As she bent over to pick up their wicker picnic basket, she caught the glint of the sun reflecting off something to her right. Maybe it's the six-point buck we've been seeing. She straightened and turned, shading her eyes with her hand to try to see what it was.

A flash, a loud crack in the air. A severe, white-hot pain ripped through Trixie's body. A second later, she collapsed on her grandmother's quilt, unconscious and bleeding profusely.

~ . ~ . ~

Trixie edged toward consciousness. Why is Jim whispering? Is that Moms crying? Is there something wrong with the kids? Trixie tried to raise her head, but it felt like it was filled with cement. She tried to speak but found there was a significant gap between her thoughts and her ability to push sound from her lips. The effort left her feeling helpless and exhausted.

I'm tired, so very tired. I just want to rest, just sleep, just forever.

Trixie could hear a loud, steady buzzing and could see the chaos as a stream of nurses stormed into her room, jerking aside chairs and the bedside table. She could see an orderly pulling a stainless steel cart run through the door, followed by a white-coated doctor who was shouting orders. I must be in the hospital but why? What happened? Why is that orderly dragging Jim out of the room when he's yelling he wants to stay? How odd. It's like I'm seeing them from behind. Then she slipped into the blackness.

~ . ~ . ~

Trixie shivered, feeling as cold as if she were lying on an ice floe in frigid Arctic waters. Yet, strangely enough, she also felt like she was in a wrapped in a heavy shroud inside of a dark cave. And so lonely. And scared and confused.

Where is Jim? Why isn't he here? Where is 'here' anyway? I want to see Martina and Jamie. Is no one coming to find me? Do they even care that I'm gone? But when did I leave--or did they leave me?

Trixie curled into a tight ball as a black wave of despair crashed over her. The agony was tearing her very soul to shreds. Then she felt them…a pair of warm, loving arms surrounding her, lifting her to her feet. Her spirits soared when she saw who was holding her.

"Grandma Belden!" Trixie squealed as she threw her arms around the kindly, white-haired woman and hugged her tightly. "I'm so happy to see you!"

"Trixie, child," Mrs. Belden said softly as she used her index finger to tilt Trixie's face upward, "you are as pretty as the blushing pink roses I used to grow in my garden. You look just like your mother. How is dear Helen?"

The thought of being abandoned by her mother, by everyone she loved it seemed, made Trixie's face fall. "Okay, I guess, Grandma. I thought she loved me. I thought they all loved me but it looks like I was wrong." Trixie hung her head in sorrow. "I've been so lonely and frightened. I think I’m lost, but no one’s come looking for me. Not Jim or Dad or Moms or anybody. They must not care. I guess no one does."

"No, Trixie, no. That's not true," Mrs. Belden crooned, holding Trixie close and stroking her hair. "They do love you, so very much! It's just that sometimes, well, they just can't go everywhere with you. Like here."

"Where are we, Grandma? I don't recognize anything about this place."

"Actually we're quite close to my home. It's just beyond there," she replied, pointing her finger at a pinprick of light at the end of the cave.

"Close to your home?" Excitement rose in Trixie's voice. "Can I please go home with you? I need to be with you, Grandma. I feel so peaceful being with you and I'm tired of struggling. I want you to take care of me." She tugged gently on her grandmother's arm, urging her towards the light.

Mrs. Belden slid her hands down Trixie's trembling arms, took her by the hands, and stepped back. "Sweetheart, it isn't possible for you to come live with me right now. It's not the right time. You still have so much to do at home. It's time for you to go back."

Trixie's face showed her dismay and puzzlement. "Go back? But Grandma …"

"Shhhhhh, sweet girl. You'll understand soon. I love you and I'll see you again." She was gone.

~ . ~ . ~

Trixie heard the sound of a steady, rhythmic beep-beep...beep-beep. Her eyes fluttered, seeing at first only watery images of those hovering over her.

"She's back! Dr. Holden, you did it!" she heard Brian cry out.

"Yes, she is, Dr. Belden!" boomed a voice that Trixie assumed belonged to Dr. Holden. "Nurse, disconnect the defibrillator and let's restore some order to this room." Then to Trixie, "Welcome back, young lady. You gave us quite a scare."

Trixie felt warmth flooding back into her body. The doctor patted her arm reassuringly and told her he would check back in an hour or so. The nurses re-arranged her room, adjusted her IV, and checked her monitors before they left. Brian, sweet Brian, placed the chart on which he had been making notes back into its holder, and walked toward the head of her bed. He caressed her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Brian, what happened? Why am I here? I had the weirdest dream about…"

"When you get some strength back, we'll tell you everything that's gone on. For now, though, there's someone who's paced a trench in the hallway that will want to see you, not to mention the two darling children who've been asking for their mommy."

Brian stepped out of her room and, as he opened the door, Trixie heard the voices of those she loved, some giving out shouts of thanks and praise, others happily laughing, and some weeping tears of happiness.

Trixie smiled through her own tears as she saw her family come through the door. Jim, joy radiating from every inch of his face; Martina, holding her Daddy's hand, sweeter than any angel in Heaven; and, in his father's arms, Jamie, her precious son, clutching his ever-faithful Mr. Bear. She knew the snapshot of this moment in time would always be first in the album of her best fall memories.

© DChitwood 2003