When Dr. Sarah April, first CMO of the Enterprise, played Ferry, Cross the Mersey, by Gerry and the Pacemakers, on repeat while working on her never-ending stack of paperwork, Captain Robert April knew that his wife was suffering from homesickness.
It was easy to lose track of time in space. With only artificial light and dark periods to differentiate the days, it was easy to forget what the stately swing of the changing seasons felt like. When every day in deep space was like every other day, it was hard to remember that back on the corner of Earth she and Robert called Home, their families were making preparations for Christmas.
Sarah’s sister Emily messaged that she had been in rehearsals for the Andorian version of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, and that opening night on Andor would be Earth Date December 5, 2245, and if Sarah found herself in the sector, it would mean a lot to have her sister cheering for her in the audience. Nephew Timmy had written to his Uncle Robert and Auntie Sarah that he and his Scout Troop were making wreaths to decorate the memorials to those who lost their lives in WWIII. Brother William, of course, did not write; but Sister Mary Anne sent a communique recording of herself playing Drive the Cold Winter Away and Lo How A Rose E’er Blooming on her cello. She was serving on the hospital ship Elizabeth Blackwell as a frontier midwife, and it had been many years since she had been Home on Earth for Christmas. And Daughter Lark Rise wired in that she was keeping Hanukkah with her fiancé Daniel and his family in Boston, and then traveling to the frontier to perform a series of Christmas concerts for the settlers, and that she would see them after Christmas.
But onboard the Starship Enterprise, there had been too much to do to occupy the Captain and the chief medical officer, and the first day of Advent, a day they had in the past joyously and ceremoniously marked together, slipped away unnoticed.
It was their very first Christmas as a married couple. Sarah had dreamed of strolling together, hand in hand, through Gardens Aglow in Kensington; of singing together in the choir at the Coventry Cathedral; of running together into the softly falling snow on the moors; of being Home and making love under the lighted Christmas tree. But they were too far out into deep space to be home for the holidays.
Robert had spent many lonely Christmases in space, she knew. Once or twice he had been close enough to Earth to be invited to spend the day with his friend George Kirk and his godsons, Sam and Jim, but those holidays had often been cut short by a call to duty. He had encouraged his daughter, Lark, to keep the holiday with her mother’s people on the Isle of Wight; but the wounds had never fully healed between him and his first wife’s family, and he was never included in those gatherings. His brother William had been likewise embittered toward him for his choice to join Starfleet, and his only other living family member had been his sister Mary Anne, likewise serving in deep space and not able to return Home for the holidays.
But Sarah had for many years been firmly rooted in her Yorkshire hills and dales, and as Christmas time came around again, the longing for Home that was never far from her consciousness threatened to overwhelm her.
She threw herself into work; deep space was challenging and stretching her to learn and grow as a physician in ways she never could have imagined when she had first agreed to join Robert on the Enterprise. But much as she was growing to love her work and to win the trust and confidence of the crew, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious to her was missing. And so she played Ferry, Cross the Mersey, on repeat, to bring back the feeling of coming Home for the Holidays.
“Sarah? Remember me? I’m your husband.”
Dr. Sarah April lifted her head from the stack of reports on her desk. They had to be filed, no matter how lonely and desolate she was feeling.
She and Robert hadn’t seen each other for more than just a snatched kiss or a quick check-in for over a week. Tensions were rising between the Federation and the Klingon Empire again, and, dedicated man of peace that he was, he was committed to easing those tensions. That did not mean it was the easy thing to do.
“‘Ow do, ‘usband.” Sarah let herself slip into broad Yorkshire and put up her hand to rub the back of her neck.
“Here. Let me.”
He was behind her, his warm hands gentle but firm on her shoulders. The tension melted away under his ministrations. She sighed deeply, and leaned back to rest her head on his chest.
There was something different about him tonight. The weary patience he had worn like a second cardigan had vanished; his eyes were bright as Christmas candles and his cheeks joyously flushed to the colour of holly berries. He kissed the top of her head and then bent down so that their lips could meet in a very long, very sweet kiss.
“Has tha’ had thy tea?” The stronger Sarah’s dialect was, the more homesick she was, and her husband knew it.
“No, I wanted to invite my wife to tea.” Robert couldn’t stop smiling. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Yorkshire puddings? Robert, the synthesizer doesn’t know how to make—“
“It does now.” Delighted in his wife’s amazement, Robert reached out his hand across the mess hall table to hold hers. “And it’s a proper Yorkshire pud, too, that’s a meal in itself, just the way your Aunt Joanna makes them.”
Sarah looked up from her plate to meet her husband’s eyes, and there were tears in her own. He had taken great pains to recreate the traditional Christmas Eve dinner her Aunt Joanna had always made, replacing the roast beef with rich mushrooms but retaining the sweet peas, mash, cranberries, and wine sauce. Food from the synthesizer could never replace homemade from scratch cooking, but this came very close.
“Oh, ta—“
“You get that down you, my love. We must keep up our strength for what I have planned for us.”
She was utterly absorbed in the squidgy pudding, but she just caught his wink at her. And the warm glow filling her up inside spread to her face.
Finally, with a satisfied sigh, she looked up from her plate. He was watching her with loving amusement.
“Was it alright?” he asked. He had seen his fair share of botched synthesizer meals, and had cultivated indifference to the forms of nutrition he ingested over the years.
“It tasted like home.”
The puds had transported them both back in time in their memories. Somehow, Home didn’t feel so far away.
“Then, if you’ve had all you can eat, I have another surprise for you.”
“Robert? The swimming pool? But I haven’t got my—“
“You won’t need it,” he assured her, with an air of cheerful mystery.
A blast of cold air met them as the doors slid open to the swimming pool deck, and it was like stepping out into a frosty Yorkshire morning. Sarah could see their breath in great frosty clouds.
“The environmental controls!” she said in alarm, but Robert lovingly laughed at her.
“Are working just fine. Come and see. It’s not quite the old farm pond where we used to skate growing up, but it’s better than nothing, eh?”
He had adjusted the environmental controls days ago. He had closed down the swimming pool, and let it freeze solid. And so had created a skating rink, just for the two of them.
“Robert, it’s— it’s wonderful,” she finally exclaimed, “but I left my skates back at—“
“No, you didn’t. I packed them for you. Last time we were at Headquarters and I told you I had a command briefing?” Seeing the look on her face, he told her, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
“But— I haven’t skated in—“
“Neither have I. We can be wobbly together.”
He knelt to help her lace up her white figure skates. She felt the light, sure touch of his hand on her foot, and reached out her hand and placed it against his cheek. He turned his head and gently kissed her caressing fingers.
“A bit parky, isn’t it?” he noted, seeing her shivering. From the box which had held her skates, he withdrew a handmade woolen jumper of rose colored homespun, and Sarah gratefully slipped it over her head. It was her favorite barn jumper and she had thought she’d left it behind back on earth. It smelled of sun sweet hay and heather. Home.
Once his own black figure skates were laced to his satisfaction, he reached out a hand to help her wobble onto the ice. They were shaky as baby lambs at first, and laughing like children, they held hands as they made their first cautious foray onto the ice. Then the muscle memory kicked in and they were gliding across the frozen rink, and it was just like the old days, and they were teenaged best friends again, skating on the old farm pond behind the monastery. Their skates rang against the ice as they circled, and warm hand held warm hand. Finally, Robert gently eased her to a gradual stop, and gathering her into his arms, kissed her open, laughing mouth.
“Could you make do with one more surprise?” he whispered against her chilly cheek.
“Oh Robert,” she whispered back, overcome, “you love me— you do so much for me—“
“I know how hard it’s been for you, Dearest,” he said more seriously. “I want you to know that. I know how hard it is on you, and I’m so moved that you have chosen to be out here in deep space, with me. And I just want to do things that will make you happy.”
Sarah considered, pushing off again and gesturing for him to skate slowly next to her. “I’m not unhappy,” she said slowly. “I love my work. I love our crew, and I think they’re coming to love me, too. I love that I’m challenging myself in ways I never dreamed I would. And I love living with you. I’d not have it any other way.”
“But my darling, you have been mardy lately. I’ve thought, I’d like to send you on shore leave to go see your sister dance the Nutcracker ballet—“
“And I’d love to go. But only if you can come with me. You’re working as hard as I am. No. The truth is, Robert, I’m just…”
“You’re homesick,” he said gently. “I see it in your eyes. In the way you’re reading All Creatures Great And Small for the umpteenth time.”
Sarah’s cheeks grew a little pinker, stung not only by the cold of the swimming pool/skating rink, but at the way her husband saw straight to the core of her feelings and needs. “I— I just keep thinking about what we are missing, back on earth!” she blurted out.
“I know.” By mutual agreement, they made their way back to the bench to begin unlacing their skates. It was their first time on the ice after several years, and they had used muscles they had forgotten about, and were both feeling sore. “But here’s the thing, Sarah. We’re neither of us as young as we were once.”
Sarah made a wry face. “Speak for yourself. Although I know I’ll be feeling this tomorrow—“
He went on as though she had not spoken. “And we won’t always have the opportunity we have now, to travel in space. And we always have Earth to go Home to.”
Sarah accepted his help in slipping out of her skates. Knowing that her feet would be sore, he gently rubbed them before helping her slip back into her work boots.
She slowly acquiesced. “Right you are, then. What’s this other surprise you have for me?”
“Close your eyes… keep them closed until I say you may open…”
Sarah permitted her husband to lead her by the hand, but she had no idea where they had got to.
“And… open!”
Sarah April slowly opened her eyes to a wonderland.
She was standing in the door of the arboretum that Robert had designed and prepared for her, as a wedding gift. But her familiar arboretum had been transformed. Strings upon strings of colored lights were wrapped around every pot, every tree, every raised bed. The main lights were turned off, and there were only Christmas lights, yellows, greens, blues, and reds, shining in her tiny arboretum in space.
At her side, Robert was apologetic. “It isn’t quite up to the standard of the Gardens Aglow at Kensington, but it’s the best we could manage—“
“It’s beautiful as a dream!” she cried out, clapping her hands together like a delighted child.
Robert, watching her, felt his insides fill with warm glowing light. All the work he had put in, badgering the quartermaster for the replacement parts for the ships console buttons to serve as Christmas lights, fiddling with the lights to set them on cords provided by engineering, wrapping them around the plant pots— it was all more than worth it, to see the beauty he had created out of love for his wife.
Sarah ran from potted plant to potted plant, drinking in the colors of each string of lights, touching with wondering fingers, her face filled with awe and joy. Finally she ran back to his side and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
“There’s one more thing.” He didn’t ever want to end the kiss, could have stood there in the Christmas wonderland with his wife in his arms and his lips drinking in hers forever, but he didn’t want her to miss—
In the center of the arboretum, on its own tall stand, rested the Advent wreath he had created for her. A simple wreath of carefully nurtured evergreen boughs, holly berries, and pine cones. Four unlit taper candles stood in a circle in the greenery, and a larger white candle in the center.
Sarah hardly dared to breathe. It was so beautiful. Memories of past Christmases flooded her as she stared at the Advent wreath and its four candles.
Robert had slipped his arm around her shoulders and was gently leading her to the wreath.
“They are hand dipped candles my sister and I made the last time we were planetside together,” he explained. “Three purple and one pink, is that right? We made the dyes from her garden flowers, and the wax is from Cousin Ellen’s apiary. The white pillar candle in the middle was the unity candle at our wedding. Sarah, don’t you like it? My darling—“
The tears had not been far from Sarah’s eyes all evening. But this, the most loving gift of all, made her full heart overflow. She put her head against his chest and cried.
“I love it,” she finally said when she could speak, “I love it so much. It’s home you’ve given me, and you didn’t need to. Because Robert, you’re my home.”
“And you, mine. But the land that shaped and formed us, and the traditions that made us who we are, those are precious, too. We don’t want to lose sight of who we are as we venture outward. And now, would you like to light the candles?”
The candle of Peace. Then the candle of Love. The candle of Hope. And finally, the candle of Joy. All four of those candles were burning brightly in the lovers’ hearts that night.
“Perhaps we should sing,” Sarah suggested huskily. And standing in the arboretum with their arms around each other, the two lifted up their voices in the carols they had been singing together for so many years.
Perhaps Christmas after all was not about where you were, but who you were with, and about all the love in your heart.
It was easy to lose track of time in space. With only artificial light and dark periods to differentiate the days, it was easy to forget what the stately swing of the changing seasons felt like. When every day in deep space was like every other day, it was hard to remember that back on the corner of Earth she and Robert called Home, their families were making preparations for Christmas.
Sarah’s sister Emily messaged that she had been in rehearsals for the Andorian version of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, and that opening night on Andor would be Earth Date December 5, 2245, and if Sarah found herself in the sector, it would mean a lot to have her sister cheering for her in the audience. Nephew Timmy had written to his Uncle Robert and Auntie Sarah that he and his Scout Troop were making wreaths to decorate the memorials to those who lost their lives in WWIII. Brother William, of course, did not write; but Sister Mary Anne sent a communique recording of herself playing Drive the Cold Winter Away and Lo How A Rose E’er Blooming on her cello. She was serving on the hospital ship Elizabeth Blackwell as a frontier midwife, and it had been many years since she had been Home on Earth for Christmas. And Daughter Lark Rise wired in that she was keeping Hanukkah with her fiancé Daniel and his family in Boston, and then traveling to the frontier to perform a series of Christmas concerts for the settlers, and that she would see them after Christmas.
But onboard the Starship Enterprise, there had been too much to do to occupy the Captain and the chief medical officer, and the first day of Advent, a day they had in the past joyously and ceremoniously marked together, slipped away unnoticed.
It was their very first Christmas as a married couple. Sarah had dreamed of strolling together, hand in hand, through Gardens Aglow in Kensington; of singing together in the choir at the Coventry Cathedral; of running together into the softly falling snow on the moors; of being Home and making love under the lighted Christmas tree. But they were too far out into deep space to be home for the holidays.
Robert had spent many lonely Christmases in space, she knew. Once or twice he had been close enough to Earth to be invited to spend the day with his friend George Kirk and his godsons, Sam and Jim, but those holidays had often been cut short by a call to duty. He had encouraged his daughter, Lark, to keep the holiday with her mother’s people on the Isle of Wight; but the wounds had never fully healed between him and his first wife’s family, and he was never included in those gatherings. His brother William had been likewise embittered toward him for his choice to join Starfleet, and his only other living family member had been his sister Mary Anne, likewise serving in deep space and not able to return Home for the holidays.
But Sarah had for many years been firmly rooted in her Yorkshire hills and dales, and as Christmas time came around again, the longing for Home that was never far from her consciousness threatened to overwhelm her.
She threw herself into work; deep space was challenging and stretching her to learn and grow as a physician in ways she never could have imagined when she had first agreed to join Robert on the Enterprise. But much as she was growing to love her work and to win the trust and confidence of the crew, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious to her was missing. And so she played Ferry, Cross the Mersey, on repeat, to bring back the feeling of coming Home for the Holidays.
“Sarah? Remember me? I’m your husband.”
Dr. Sarah April lifted her head from the stack of reports on her desk. They had to be filed, no matter how lonely and desolate she was feeling.
She and Robert hadn’t seen each other for more than just a snatched kiss or a quick check-in for over a week. Tensions were rising between the Federation and the Klingon Empire again, and, dedicated man of peace that he was, he was committed to easing those tensions. That did not mean it was the easy thing to do.
“‘Ow do, ‘usband.” Sarah let herself slip into broad Yorkshire and put up her hand to rub the back of her neck.
“Here. Let me.”
He was behind her, his warm hands gentle but firm on her shoulders. The tension melted away under his ministrations. She sighed deeply, and leaned back to rest her head on his chest.
There was something different about him tonight. The weary patience he had worn like a second cardigan had vanished; his eyes were bright as Christmas candles and his cheeks joyously flushed to the colour of holly berries. He kissed the top of her head and then bent down so that their lips could meet in a very long, very sweet kiss.
“Has tha’ had thy tea?” The stronger Sarah’s dialect was, the more homesick she was, and her husband knew it.
“No, I wanted to invite my wife to tea.” Robert couldn’t stop smiling. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Yorkshire puddings? Robert, the synthesizer doesn’t know how to make—“
“It does now.” Delighted in his wife’s amazement, Robert reached out his hand across the mess hall table to hold hers. “And it’s a proper Yorkshire pud, too, that’s a meal in itself, just the way your Aunt Joanna makes them.”
Sarah looked up from her plate to meet her husband’s eyes, and there were tears in her own. He had taken great pains to recreate the traditional Christmas Eve dinner her Aunt Joanna had always made, replacing the roast beef with rich mushrooms but retaining the sweet peas, mash, cranberries, and wine sauce. Food from the synthesizer could never replace homemade from scratch cooking, but this came very close.
“Oh, ta—“
“You get that down you, my love. We must keep up our strength for what I have planned for us.”
She was utterly absorbed in the squidgy pudding, but she just caught his wink at her. And the warm glow filling her up inside spread to her face.
Finally, with a satisfied sigh, she looked up from her plate. He was watching her with loving amusement.
“Was it alright?” he asked. He had seen his fair share of botched synthesizer meals, and had cultivated indifference to the forms of nutrition he ingested over the years.
“It tasted like home.”
The puds had transported them both back in time in their memories. Somehow, Home didn’t feel so far away.
“Then, if you’ve had all you can eat, I have another surprise for you.”
“Robert? The swimming pool? But I haven’t got my—“
“You won’t need it,” he assured her, with an air of cheerful mystery.
A blast of cold air met them as the doors slid open to the swimming pool deck, and it was like stepping out into a frosty Yorkshire morning. Sarah could see their breath in great frosty clouds.
“The environmental controls!” she said in alarm, but Robert lovingly laughed at her.
“Are working just fine. Come and see. It’s not quite the old farm pond where we used to skate growing up, but it’s better than nothing, eh?”
He had adjusted the environmental controls days ago. He had closed down the swimming pool, and let it freeze solid. And so had created a skating rink, just for the two of them.
“Robert, it’s— it’s wonderful,” she finally exclaimed, “but I left my skates back at—“
“No, you didn’t. I packed them for you. Last time we were at Headquarters and I told you I had a command briefing?” Seeing the look on her face, he told her, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
“But— I haven’t skated in—“
“Neither have I. We can be wobbly together.”
He knelt to help her lace up her white figure skates. She felt the light, sure touch of his hand on her foot, and reached out her hand and placed it against his cheek. He turned his head and gently kissed her caressing fingers.
“A bit parky, isn’t it?” he noted, seeing her shivering. From the box which had held her skates, he withdrew a handmade woolen jumper of rose colored homespun, and Sarah gratefully slipped it over her head. It was her favorite barn jumper and she had thought she’d left it behind back on earth. It smelled of sun sweet hay and heather. Home.
Once his own black figure skates were laced to his satisfaction, he reached out a hand to help her wobble onto the ice. They were shaky as baby lambs at first, and laughing like children, they held hands as they made their first cautious foray onto the ice. Then the muscle memory kicked in and they were gliding across the frozen rink, and it was just like the old days, and they were teenaged best friends again, skating on the old farm pond behind the monastery. Their skates rang against the ice as they circled, and warm hand held warm hand. Finally, Robert gently eased her to a gradual stop, and gathering her into his arms, kissed her open, laughing mouth.
“Could you make do with one more surprise?” he whispered against her chilly cheek.
“Oh Robert,” she whispered back, overcome, “you love me— you do so much for me—“
“I know how hard it’s been for you, Dearest,” he said more seriously. “I want you to know that. I know how hard it is on you, and I’m so moved that you have chosen to be out here in deep space, with me. And I just want to do things that will make you happy.”
Sarah considered, pushing off again and gesturing for him to skate slowly next to her. “I’m not unhappy,” she said slowly. “I love my work. I love our crew, and I think they’re coming to love me, too. I love that I’m challenging myself in ways I never dreamed I would. And I love living with you. I’d not have it any other way.”
“But my darling, you have been mardy lately. I’ve thought, I’d like to send you on shore leave to go see your sister dance the Nutcracker ballet—“
“And I’d love to go. But only if you can come with me. You’re working as hard as I am. No. The truth is, Robert, I’m just…”
“You’re homesick,” he said gently. “I see it in your eyes. In the way you’re reading All Creatures Great And Small for the umpteenth time.”
Sarah’s cheeks grew a little pinker, stung not only by the cold of the swimming pool/skating rink, but at the way her husband saw straight to the core of her feelings and needs. “I— I just keep thinking about what we are missing, back on earth!” she blurted out.
“I know.” By mutual agreement, they made their way back to the bench to begin unlacing their skates. It was their first time on the ice after several years, and they had used muscles they had forgotten about, and were both feeling sore. “But here’s the thing, Sarah. We’re neither of us as young as we were once.”
Sarah made a wry face. “Speak for yourself. Although I know I’ll be feeling this tomorrow—“
He went on as though she had not spoken. “And we won’t always have the opportunity we have now, to travel in space. And we always have Earth to go Home to.”
Sarah accepted his help in slipping out of her skates. Knowing that her feet would be sore, he gently rubbed them before helping her slip back into her work boots.
She slowly acquiesced. “Right you are, then. What’s this other surprise you have for me?”
“Close your eyes… keep them closed until I say you may open…”
Sarah permitted her husband to lead her by the hand, but she had no idea where they had got to.
“And… open!”
Sarah April slowly opened her eyes to a wonderland.
She was standing in the door of the arboretum that Robert had designed and prepared for her, as a wedding gift. But her familiar arboretum had been transformed. Strings upon strings of colored lights were wrapped around every pot, every tree, every raised bed. The main lights were turned off, and there were only Christmas lights, yellows, greens, blues, and reds, shining in her tiny arboretum in space.
At her side, Robert was apologetic. “It isn’t quite up to the standard of the Gardens Aglow at Kensington, but it’s the best we could manage—“
“It’s beautiful as a dream!” she cried out, clapping her hands together like a delighted child.
Robert, watching her, felt his insides fill with warm glowing light. All the work he had put in, badgering the quartermaster for the replacement parts for the ships console buttons to serve as Christmas lights, fiddling with the lights to set them on cords provided by engineering, wrapping them around the plant pots— it was all more than worth it, to see the beauty he had created out of love for his wife.
Sarah ran from potted plant to potted plant, drinking in the colors of each string of lights, touching with wondering fingers, her face filled with awe and joy. Finally she ran back to his side and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
“There’s one more thing.” He didn’t ever want to end the kiss, could have stood there in the Christmas wonderland with his wife in his arms and his lips drinking in hers forever, but he didn’t want her to miss—
In the center of the arboretum, on its own tall stand, rested the Advent wreath he had created for her. A simple wreath of carefully nurtured evergreen boughs, holly berries, and pine cones. Four unlit taper candles stood in a circle in the greenery, and a larger white candle in the center.
Sarah hardly dared to breathe. It was so beautiful. Memories of past Christmases flooded her as she stared at the Advent wreath and its four candles.
Robert had slipped his arm around her shoulders and was gently leading her to the wreath.
“They are hand dipped candles my sister and I made the last time we were planetside together,” he explained. “Three purple and one pink, is that right? We made the dyes from her garden flowers, and the wax is from Cousin Ellen’s apiary. The white pillar candle in the middle was the unity candle at our wedding. Sarah, don’t you like it? My darling—“
The tears had not been far from Sarah’s eyes all evening. But this, the most loving gift of all, made her full heart overflow. She put her head against his chest and cried.
“I love it,” she finally said when she could speak, “I love it so much. It’s home you’ve given me, and you didn’t need to. Because Robert, you’re my home.”
“And you, mine. But the land that shaped and formed us, and the traditions that made us who we are, those are precious, too. We don’t want to lose sight of who we are as we venture outward. And now, would you like to light the candles?”
The candle of Peace. Then the candle of Love. The candle of Hope. And finally, the candle of Joy. All four of those candles were burning brightly in the lovers’ hearts that night.
“Perhaps we should sing,” Sarah suggested huskily. And standing in the arboretum with their arms around each other, the two lifted up their voices in the carols they had been singing together for so many years.
Perhaps Christmas after all was not about where you were, but who you were with, and about all the love in your heart.
