White Plains, New York, roughly five years ago
The brightly colored sleeping bags covered the floor of the Mangan living room. Lights on the large Christmas tree twinkled merrily next to the silver tinsel, and the scent of fresh pine tree mingled with the warmth of pumpkin, coffee, spices and the lingering scent of Christmas Eve dinner. Packages of varying sizes and colors surrounded the tree and overflowed into the bay window. The mantle and brick fireplace was covered in stockings of the Belden-Duke Clan, each one different in size, color and fabric, but all with a name.
Twelve-year-olds Aralyn, Tiffany and Tim had claimed their spots first, around the tree, invoking their oldest children status. Their siblings and cousins were scattered around the room. Tim, Dana and Jesse didn’t want to go upstairs and sleep in their rooms and miss out on the fun with all the cousins around.
The adults occupied various spots throughout the room. Trixie was perched on Bo’s lap in the armchair, Honey and Luke had claimed the loveseat, and Peter and Helen Belden and Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler sat together on the sofa. A sleeping six-year-old Byron Frayne was in Matthew’s lap. His younger sister Valerra was upstairs asleep in Dana’s room, carried there by Jim earlier. Five-year-old Sean was snuggled securely in Helen’s lap. Daisy sat in Dan’s lap on an overstuffed beanbag chair.
Bill Regan sat on the floor near the fireplace, with eight-year-old Mabon and nine-year-old Dana. The girls listened raptly to the umpteenth telling of the story of the first time Trixie rode his old horse Jupiter and went flying headfirst. Enjoying the story was a smirking Mart, sitting with his arms around Di.
The only grandparents missing were Di’s parents, who rotated years with their five children. This year they were in Arizona, where one of Di’s younger sisters had settled with her family.
Bobby Belden, the youngest brother of Brian, Trixie and Mart had sent a collection of Incan idols for his nieces and nephews. He was on a large archeological dig in Peru, and as usual, unable to make it home for Christmas.
Hallie had fussed to leave early, and Jim finally told her to go, that he’d bring the kids later. She had stormed off moments later. Jim had tried to keep his voice low, but he knew everyone had overheard the argument. He refused to let Hallie ruin this holiday too.
Now he sat on the floor surrounded by his nieces and nephews. Leif and Logan were trying to keep him distracted, and he appreciated the clowning twins’ attempt. They had lured him into a mock wrestling match, which had turned into a full-scale free-for-all when Miles, Jace and Jesse decided it looked like fun. Dan and Bo had gotten into the mix as well, to even out the score when Jim yelled for help. With the rest of the family cheering them on, it was a bunch of red-faced, laughing males that finally stopped the game, the boys having pinned the adults down. Jim had temporarily forgotten about Hallie.
Regan Frayne was already asleep upstairs, and Dan had told Jim to stay the night along with everyone else. While the children sacked out downstairs, chaperoned by their uncles Brian and Regan, the other adults could hurry home for some quiet adult time. Regan and Brian would sleep downstairs once he was sure the children were asleep and not gorging themselves on leftover desserts. It never failed someone snuck into the kitchen, ate too much and ended up sick in the middle of the night. Brian always volunteered to stay and chaperone for that very reason.
Byron and Valerra were the only two who firmly believed in Santa Claus, and their oldest cousins were under strict orders to allow them to believe so. The younger sets of twins, Leif, Logan, Mabon and Miles, and Dana still waffled on Santa’s existence. Jace and Jesse had given up, as had the older twins, Riley and Rayma. Tim kept taunting them that Santa wasn’t real, but Leif was sure he had seen a tall man in a red suit a couple years before, when Christmas Eve had been at Manor House.
The four twins had drank multiple sodas at dinner after Tim insisted the drink would keep them awake to catch Santa. Aralyn and Tiffany snickered, knowing it would just make their younger cousins have to pee a lot. Since it was Christmas, they were allowed to indulge in sweets and soda. It would also help them sleep once they crashed from the sugar high.
The huge dinner included glazed ham and smoked turkey, mashed potatoes, potatoes au gratin, three types of rolls, green bean casserole, broccoli and cheese casserole, sweet potato casserole with pineapple and marshmallows, the Hazzard famous Duke crawdad bisque, potato pancakes, corn, collard greens that only Bo, Luke and Daisy would eat, and seasoned butternut squash with roasted red and gold peppers. Snacking had commenced throughout the day on deviled eggs, chips, dips and veggie and cheese platters. Pies included cherry, pumpkin chiffon, black raspberry, crabapple, and lemon meringue. There were also peanut butter fudge buckeyes, cranberry chocolate cake, lemon bars, pumpkin cheesecake bars and assorted candies.
Tim eyed the presents longingly, convinced that the video games he was eager for were in the pile of wrapped gifts. He had searched the house thoroughly in the preceding weeks, and decided the presents must be hidden at Brian’s house. He was sullen tonight, his best friend Dean hadn’t been allowed to spend the night, instead whisked off to his own grandparents house.
Eleven year old Riley Belden, the most studious of the clan, sat working through an advanced crossword puzzle book while his twin sister doodled on her ever-present sketchpad. Jesse Mangan was scribbling down ideas for a new story involving a dragon eating a knight who tried to slay him. Jace Duke was half asleep in his sleeping bag, used to the din that came with his cousins.
“Story time!” the four blonde twins shouted together.
The kids eagerly settled into their sleeping bags for the traditional telling. Every year one of the adults told a story of a previous Christmas, before all the kids had come along.
“Tell the story of the first Christmas! After you were married!” Tiffany said excitedly.
Tim rolled his green eyes. “We’ve heard it a hundred times!”
“But it’s so sweet!” Tiffany sighed happily, then stuck out her tongue at her cousin. “And it’s about helping people.”
Bo grinned. He liked telling this story. The edited version of course. The kids didn’t need to know about the sex in the kitchen, so he always skipped over that part.
Bo began the story for his audience, but Trixie remembered the day as clearly as if it was yesterday…
Trixie had gotten up at dawn, leaving the warm cocoon of her bed and Bo’s embrace. Throwing on her sweats, she had started the oven and pulled out the giant turkey. She knew Honey and Daisy would be up early as well, as it was going to take more than one turkey to feed the families. The Wheelers, Beldens, Lynches and Regan would be arriving later that morning, by way of the Wheeler jet.
It was her first Christmas as a married woman, and Trixie was nervous. Of course they had cooked for the families before, but they hadn’t been married. Marriage made it all different, in her mind.
Moms had given all three girls a copy of her recipes as wedding presents, lovingly written out with some tips and tricks she had picked up over the years.
The girls had split up the cooking this year. Each had a turkey going and various side dishes. Trixie had the desserts covered, with four kinds of pie, including one made from Daisy’s peach pie recipe. Daisy was making her Uncle Jesse’s Hazzard-famous crawdad bisque, collard greens, southern-style mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. Honey had the breads, creamed corn, and veggie, fruit and cheese platters.
Trixie turned on the radio, humming along to Waylon Jennings. She had been amazed to find out the Dukes knew him personally, and she hoped to meet him at some point.
She pulled out the turkey from the fridge, where last night she had carefully mixed the butter and herbs, and stuffed it under the skin. She had basted it with wine several times, and now did a fresh coating. Covering the large pan with foil, she slid it into the oven.
The pies were next. While she could have bought pre-made crusts, she was intent on doing it like Moms always did—from scratch.
An hour later she was regretting that decision as she attempted to roll out the pie crust. It didn’t look like Moms’ at all, it was too sticky. Adding more flour didn’t seem to help. Finally she tossed it away and started over.
The second batch came out better but she rolled it too thin and it tore as she lifted it to place it over the pie plate. She doubled it over and started again. By the time she rolled the fifth crust, she had gotten the knack of it. The crusts sat waiting patiently, two went into the oven to prebake.
Then she started on the fillings. Of course there was the traditional pumpkin, but the prebaked crusts were for a special pie recipe, pumpkin chiffon. Trixie stared at the recipe, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, and began gathering ingredients. Once she had everything ready and measured out, she began. Panic set in quickly as she realized she had to watch the mixture in the double boiler while beating the egg whites. Her arm began to ache quickly, and they weren’t fluffing. At all. In fact, they looked pretty much the same as they usually did-clear and goopy.
She left the egg whites to check the boiling mixture and separate some out to mix in the yolks. Trixie figured she could do the egg whites in a few minutes, while the mixture cooled.
Bo finally stumbled out of the room in his boxers, sniffing the air. He hugged Trixie from behind and planted a kiss on her neck.
“Smells good, sweetheart.”
She turned to him with tears in her eyes. Bo sensed a domestic crisis that he couldn’t fix was about to rear its ugly head. And he hadn’t even had his coffee yet.
“The egg whites!” she wailed. “Look at them!” She shoved the bowl at him and he stared sleepily at the clear, gooey contents. On the counter sat a boiler pan full of a brown mixture that looked awful but smelled heavenly.
“They look normal to me,” he said cautiously.
“That’s the problem! They won’t whip right!”
“What are they supposed to look like?” he asked. Bo Duke knew he wasn’t the smartest man alive but he had learned when to tread lightly with his temperamental wife.
“White and fluffy! That’s why they’re called egg whites, Bo!”
Bo pulled his near-hysterical wife into his arms.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m sure there’s an easier way to do it. What about the electric mixer?”
“Moms doesn’t use the electric mixer!” Trixie wasn’t about to admit she had forgotten about it.
“Well, Moms has been doing this a lot longer than you,” Bo said gently. “Why don’t you give it a whirl, and I bet they turn out just right.”
Trixie nodded, not wanting to leave her husband’s embrace. She pressed her cheek against his bare chest, remembering their lovemaking the night before. His hands rubbed her back and she found herself reaching up to kiss him. Bo lifted his petite wife easily and she wrapped her legs around him when the phone rang.
Bo swore as she laughed, but he carried her to the wall where the phone hung.
“Hello?” she was giggling.
“Trix, it’s Honey.”
“Hi Honey. What’s up?”
“I’m trying to make the stuffing but I forgot to get raisins!” she wailed.
“So make it without,” Trixie was in a hurry to get back to Bo, who was nuzzling her neck.
“But Moms always has raisins in the stuffing!” Honey’s voice was several octaves higher than usual.
“Well, my egg whites are looking so hot either.” Trixie sighed.
“Did you use the electric mixer? Moms has a note somewhere that making sure the bowl is bone dry will help.”
“I’m working on it,” Trixie said crossly.
“Do you think it will be okay without raisins? Luke, stop laughing at me!”
“I think it’ll be fine, Honey.” Trixie sighed, no longer in an amorous mood.
“Okay. I’ll see you later then!”
Trixie hung up dejectedly.
“Don’t look so upset, sweetheart. I’m sure it will be fine,” Bo said softly, caressing her back with one hand while he held her up with the other arm.
“I hope so. But you’d better put me down. I have four more pies to make.”
Bo did so reluctantly and moved to the coffeepot to pour his cup. “Is somethin’ burnin’?”
“Oh no!” Trixie grabbed the oven and yanked it open. The two pie crusts were a dark brown and had a bubbled center where the crust had puffed up. Trixie grabbed the oven mitt and removed them, dropping them on the range top, tears in her eyes.
“I forgot to poke the crusts!”
“I’m sure it will taste fine,” Bo hastily. “Look, we’ll just poke ‘em and flatten ‘em. Once the fillin’ is in it, no one will know.”
“I’ll know,” she said mournfully. Bo hid his smile and tipped her head up to kiss her.
“No one will care, sweetheart, I promise. Look, pop a couple of the others in, and start a new batch. I’ll even help.”
Trixie had to chuckle, despite her despair over the burned crusts. Bo was even more inept than her in the kitchen, but his offer made her smile. She wanted this dinner to be as good as Moms, and though it looked like it wouldn’t be, she could still turn out a decent meal.
“I bet you look sexy in that frilly apron of mine,” she teased. A slow smile spread over his lips as he pulled her close again.
“I think you should put it on with nothing under it,” he replied.
“I bet we can arrange that,” she breathed as his hands tugged at her t-shirt.
Thirty minutes and some fun later, Trixie was back to her pies, this time using the electric mixer. Bo was helping himself to some breakfast when the phone rang again.
“Hi, Princess, it’s Dad.”
“Hi, Dad! Are you guys ready for take off?” Trixie demanded eagerly.
“I’m afraid not, Trix. Bob can’t take off. A heavy storm moved in yesterday, and he hoped to wait it out but New York is covered in snow.”
Trixie’s mouth fell open. “But, Daddy, you have to come!”
“I wish we could, Princess, but it’s just not possible,” Peter said gently.
“But we have all this food, and we haven’t seen you guys since the wedding!”
“Trix, I promise as soon as Bob can take off, we’ll come in a few days or next week.”
Trixie’s heart plummeted and after a few more minutes, she hung up with her father. This time she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling. In a few days they could be after a fugitive and might not be able to see their family if they came. Justice didn’t take holidays, it was a small miracle in itself they had a couple days off.
Bo held her gently, sensing a full blown burst of crying from his wife.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispered repeatedly, rubbing her back gently. “I promise, we’ll figre somethin’ out.”
“All this food,” she said mournfully, “and Christmas without our family!”
“I have an idea,” Bo said slowly. She looked up at him as he wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Why don’t we take all this food to the homeless shelter over on Peachtree? We ain’t gonna eat it all, and it’d be a damn shame to let it go to waste. We’ll celebrate with the family in a couple days.”
Trixie’s blue eyes shone at her husband as she threw her arms around him.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Bo! I’m so very lucky to have you,” she murmured, kissing him soundly before reaching for the phone. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
“You can show me.” He smiled mischievously at her.
Trixie's memory ended as did Bo's story, and most of the children were asleep. Miles, Leif and Logan were desperately trying to stay awake but the three blond boys were quickly nodding off.
Quietly, the parents bundled up and hurried the five minute walk home for some alone adult time, grateful they had settled in the same neighborhood. Peter and Helen were staying in Tim’s room, Regan and Brian would bunk down stairs with the kids and sneak out the final presents “from Santa.” Matthew and Madeleine were staying in Jesse’s room so they wouldn’t have to drive back to Sleepyside and then back in the morning.
In the morning, there would be presents and brunch, followed by their annual tradition of heading to the shelter to serve Christmas dinner to those less fortunate.
Peace, happiness and sugar coated dreams reigned over the Belden-Duke Clan as the snow began to gently fall outside.
Meet the cast in full & see the family tree!
***
Author’s Notes
- A big yee-haa to my editors Dana and Jenn!
- A big yee-haa to the gals who contributed to the feast- Carrie Lynn, Donna, and Tonnie!
- The Dukes really did know Waylon Jennings. Not only was he the balladeer for the show, he made one appearance on the show in Season 7, “Welcome, Waylon Jennings,” and remained friends with John Schneider and Tom Wopat until his death in 2002.
- On more than one occasion I have forgotten to poke pie crusts. And the first time I whipped egg whites? Yeah, totally didn’t think about the electric mixer. D’oh!
- Word Count, 2,904
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