A Montauk Christmas

There is no sex in this story.

Merry Christmas, and thank you for reading.

A Montauk Christmas

I laid on the floor near the tall opening, light streaming through the window, bathing me in delicious warmth. Drowsy, I rested. I dreamt of the Old Time in the First Place. Running with my brothers and sisters, I tugged the fur of their neck, tumbled with them and scrambled up, running again.

Always running.

I dreamt of when I was first given the cloth with His smells. Him, so strong of Him. A little of her. Faint, but there. They intertwined, and I knew they were together, a part of one another. They were giving me My Human and I knew His smell.

Traveling in a box, all who came showed me due respect. They didn't know my True Name, so they gave me small names. I was Boy and sometimes Good Boy. I let them touch my head and run their paw along my sides. They were good humans, but they weren't My Human.

She came for me. The one whose smell was with His. She had another with her and they both smelled of Him. They brought gifts, as was proper. Water and cookies. They displayed proper courtesy and I allowed them to touch my head and run their paws along my back. I was out of the box, with them, and we travelled faster than I could run.

We arrived, and His smells were everywhere. Joyously, I yelled. They were startled and made the odd sounds they often uttered. I could smell their fear before it faded. They needn't fear, I was grateful. They had brought me to my Human.

He had all the smells, and He was tall and good. He was a Good Boy and we would become a pack. We lived together, and I protected Him. He had an extended pack that came to see us often. The one whose smell intertwined with his. A female litter-mate. Their sire and dam. Others. They all called me my small names. They were part of the pack and I would protect them. I was Good Boy. I was Buddy.

Not capable of true speech, they had their own primitive language. I learned their yelping for Food, Water, Here, Snack, Cookie and Dinner. I learned His name. It had the same magic in it that I was made of. I would hear it, always, no matter how faint, and I would look. Was He there? Was He safe? Did I need to protect Him? It was an Eternal Name, strong and true. He was Finn, and He belonged to me.

Finn revealed my Eternal Name. I was Dink and this was my pack. May your ancestors protect and forgive you if you threatened my pack, because I wouldn't. There would be enmity between me and any that wished my pack harm, and none would stand before Dink. They would fall, and I would protect my pack.

Almost all were Good Boys. I had to warn a few. Finn was my Good Boy. Don't growl at Finn. Primitive speech towards Finn. Touch Finn. Be Good Boys. But I watched. Always watched. If they weren't Good Boys, I told them "Back! No!"

She came. She smelled like the other, the one whose smell intertwined with his. She was a Very Good Boy. She had a True Name: Jennifer. Soon, I heard her name whenever it was spoken, too. I'd lift my head and look. Jennifer here? Jennifer safe? She was close pack.

The old one left. The one whose smell I first found with His. She was Very Good Boy. I felt what He felt. I lay at His side and shared His pain. I took it from Him and carried it. She was gone, but Jennifer was here.

Dink grew large. Time passed. I was confused-happy. A small-tiny-weak pup joined our pack. Finn was mine. He was my human, but I knew, deep in me I knew that this pup was Best Good Boy. He was mine too. His Eternal Name was William, and He was mine.

A Bad Boy came. He hurt my pack. He entered the home. He hunted my William. I didn't say, "No!" I didn't say, "Bad!". No talk. Kill. Protect. I attacked. Pushed him from home. Kept him from my William. I bit, I pulled, and its hot blood bathed my jaws. It bit me with the tooth in its hand. Again, and again. My jaws sunk into its neck. I yanked, I shook it. It pulled free and ran to the water, trailing blood. I followed, slowly, my blood mingling with his.

Lying on the ground, I wondered about my Finn. Where was Finn? Where was my pack? There was other blood. Inside home, outside home, so much blood. My Jennifer was beside me. Stroking me, she said "Good Boy. Good Boy, Dink. William safe," she said. "William safe." He reached his paw to me and I smelled him. I licked his hand. My William was safe. I slept.

My Finn hurt. Others of pack gone. Finn's litter-mate gone but came back. I felt Finn's feelings and I lay next to him and shared his pain, my head on his flank. There was too much pain to carry. I lifted some.

Finn grew strong and none threatened pack. William grew. My Jennifer left. Returned sick. I lay at her side, let her run her hand along my back, scratch my ear. I licked her hand, pushed my head into her arm. Jennifer lay still for too long. Jennifer sick, but Dink here. Rest, Jennifer. Dink protect.

A new pup. Small-tiny-weak. Female. The pup smelled of William, Jennifer and Finn. She was Good Boy. She was of the pack. She was my Cynthia. I protected Cynthia. I laid on the ground in front of her, feeling the warmth from the window, drowsy. Voices. Jennifer and Finn's litter-mate. Little yips and barks trying to speak. They stood in the tall opening.

I lifted my head. Cynthia safe? Yes, Cynthia safe. I slept in the delicious warmth.

Jen and Shiv stood at the doorway looking down at Dink and then at the crib. Shiv smiled, "She's getting too big for that thing."

Jennifer leaned against the door jamb and enunciated carefully, ensuring she didn't slur her words. "Yeah, we're going to have to get her out of that hideous crib and into her own bed. Thirty months is too old. She's climbing out like she's Houdini."

"Heh. Hideous. The most beautiful hideous crib around. You're going to bawl your eyes out when she moves to a bed."

The crib had been built by their husbands, Finn and Tommy. While neither was handy with tools, each was excited to create something for Finn's daughter. Both of their fathers came by to help, and Finn's security personnel lent a hand and drank some beer when their shifts were over. It was a labor of love that took weeks and countless hours from men with more passion than skill. YouTube was a tremendous resource.

The crib was solid. That was the best that could be said for it. Solid, and crafted with love. Jen would run her stiff right hand over the wood, look into her daughter's eyes that were so like Finn's, and have to hold back her tears.

The remnants of the stroke were still there, but she wouldn't trade the life she led for anything. It was a price she had paid willingly and would do so again to save her family. William and Cynthia were the center of her being, and her love for Finn and his for her were akin to what was found in fairy tales.

"You know I'm taking it, right? As soon as my niece is in a bed, I'm grabbing the crib."

"The heck you are. What if Finn and I have another... Oh my God! Are you..."

"No, no, definitely not. But soon. Within two years. But I'm grabbing the crib."

"Go ahead. It's hideous." With a sad smile, she looked at her growing daughter and ran her hand over the crib that was made with little more than love. "Hideous."

She blinked away a few tears, crouched down and scratched Dink behind his ear. His leg involuntarily pumped at the scratching and his tail softly thumped on the ground.

"Who's a good boy, Dink? Who's a good boy?"

It had taken them four hours to drive to the adorable home in Connecticut. Jennifer clutched Finn's hand so tightly he felt pain.

"Finn, I changed my mind. I can't do this."

"Honey, if you want, Pete can turn us around and we can head home. The ferry leaves every half-hour. But don't tell me you can't do this. You're the strongest woman I know. Don't you think it's time?"

"It's been fifty years! Fifty. What am I going to say to these people? What are they going to say seeing me?"

Finn put his other hand over hers, now clutching it in both of his. "You're going to introduce yourself. You're going to introduce me and you're going to introduce our son. We went over this. If they don't want to see you, no harm, no foul. If we turn around and go home now, what are you going to think about this whole trip tomorrow?"

Looking out the window, William piped up. "Hey! They've got a dog!"

She let go of Finn's hand. "Okay. Let's do this. Rock Em, Sock Em."

"That's, uhhh, not actually a thing. It's not a phrase. It was a toy in the 70's or 80's."

"Oh. Well, it's my thing," she said with so much determination that Finn almost laughed aloud. "I'm making it a thing."

"Good enough." He opened the door and they got out and headed towards the door. Finn always felt weird on occasions like this when Pete acted strictly as the driver instead of the friend he had become, and stayed with the car. Should they invite him along? Not this time, but it was something he'd have to figure out one day.

Jen took William's hand, but he gently slipped free three steps later. He had to be pulled away from the friendly little dog that was following them up the stairs and to the ornate door at the front of the home. She reached out to knock and put her hand down again. She repeated the process until Finn eventually reached past her and knocked.

A lovely woman who seemed to be in her seventies opened the door. The woman had long, gray hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked at the three Corrigans and her hand flew to her mouth. Her voice was oddly raspy as she turned back into the house and called, "Fred! Fred! It's Jennifer. She's here!"

She and Jennifer stood there staring at each other for what seemed to be ages before Finn spoke. "Uhhmm, hi. You seem to recognize my wife. My name is Finn, and this is our son William."

"Of course I recognize her. She's the spitting image of her grandmother."

Jen remained standing there, silent, staring at this woman.

Filling the silence, he spoke again. "Yes, her grandmother. Of course. Ah, I believe your husband was Jen's grandmother's brother? Her great uncle?"

Due to a military experiment, Jennifer had been involuntarily thrust from 1968 to 2018, where she found Finn and fell in love. The natural assumption for anyone from that time would be that she was a new Jennifer, the granddaughter of the Jennifer they knew.

Jen's voice quavered. "Annabelle?"

The woman's face lit up. "Yes! Your grandmother mentioned me?"

"I... she loved you. She loved you like a sister. She felt so bad after that night, after the concert when she disappeared on you." Jennifer was shaking and didn't peel her eyes from the woman's face.

Annabelle had a sad little smile and spoke softly, clearly remembering a terrible time from long ago. "Honey, that was a long, long time ago. We were so scared for her that..."

A large, energetic white-haired man strode into the room and to the door. "Anna, let them in! We're so happy to see you." His wife stepped to the side and he opened the screen door, ushering them into his living room. "You must be Finn. We were planning on coming down to Long Island to visit."

Finn was confused and remained silent.

As the man moved to shake Finn's hand, Jen stepped between them and pulled the man into a hug, sobbing into his chest. It was an awkward moment for the rest of them. William shuffled closer to his father.

Finn spoke up. "Ah, she gets emotional."

Fred patted her awkwardly on the back. "It's quite all right."

Annabelle lightly grasped Finn's bicep and led him to a nearby chair. "Finn, if you don't mind me asking, what's with the cane? Are you able... Is everything okay with your oyster farm?"

These people clearly knew a lot more about the Corrigans than anticipated. "It's slowed down a bit. I was in an... an incident I guess. Spinal injury. I rarely need the cane anymore. How did you know about the farm?"

Fred had gotten Jen to sit next to him on the couch and had William sit on his other side. He spoke as he leaned over, picked up the excitable dog and put him in William's lap. "We saw you on that PBS documentary about Long Island clamming and the oyster industry. The one Billy Joel narrated. They used your backyard for a minute or so while interviewing you and Jennifer was in the background, walking around. I almost had a heart attack."

They had wanted a much larger segment on Finn for the documentary, playing up the "blue-collar billionaire" angle. Finn out clamming, Dink standing on the boat, fur streaming behind him. Finn didn't want to be in it at all. He wanted the spotlight to be on the men and women who worked the waters to put food on their table and a roof over their head. They compromised and kept Finn's money out of it but helped them get cooperation from his colleagues and any permits needed and he appeared in about a minute and a half of the documentary.

It turned out that Annabelle had been Jennifer's best friend growing up and always had a bit of a crush on Fred. Jen played the role of her own granddaughter and they chatted amiably while William stole their hearts. A gregarious child, he told them about Dink and about his sister.

Finn and Jen explained how their Jennifer, who was Aunt Cynthia to Finn and Jen, spent time in a mental institution, changed her name to Cynthia and forged a life for herself on Long Island, never going back to her family in Connecticut. Annabelle cried when she found out they named the baby after her friend.

Finn and Jennifer didn't enjoy lying or obfuscating, but the situation being what it was, they couldn't tell the whole truth. Time travel was tricky and confusing.

Both Fred and Annabelle kept glancing over at Finn's legs and cane. He didn't mind. There was no malice in their interest. He could feel their concern.

Jennifer reached up to touch Fred's shoulder and ran her hand down his arm. "Fred, how about Morgan and Sam?"

"Well, both of my brothers are still with us." He leaned forward and rapped his knuckles on the coffee table. "Knock on wood. Sam lives in New Mexico. He's doing great. Morgan, well, Morgan's not doing so well. His, well, his husband past on a year ago and Morgan hasn't been the same since. He'll likely be in hospice in a week or so. That's one of the reasons we were going to come down to visit you and Finn. We thought that maybe, well, maybe you could see him before... He doesn't have too much time left."

Jen started to tear up and asked where the bathroom was. Finn, William and the elderly couple sat patiently waiting. "Hey, Dad, I bet it would take ten of these dogs to make one of Dink." He turned to Fred and Anna. "Dink's my dog. He's really big."

After running some water over her face, Jen sat back down and took Fred's hand in both of hers. "It would be wonderful to see Morgan. I'd love that."

After listening to her speak and seeing her limp, Anna spoke up. "Jen, I don't want to sound indelicate, but are you okay?"

"I, uhhh, I had a stroke a few years ago. I'm much better now, but there's... residual effects."

Fred and Anna's home screamed of long years of comfort. It had that lived-in feel, with pictures on the walls of their children and grandchildren. Like Jen, the house was almost a place out of time. The thick, smoky brown ash-tray spoke of the 70's. The watercolor prints with the golden, gilded frames spoke of the 80's. This was a home that had held a lot of love. Finn was comfortable thinking that if he looked hard enough he would find where they had the marks on the wall where the children stood to be measured, marking time in the life of a family.

A family that had been robbed of a sister and aunt.

Fred stood up. "Anna, can you give me a hand? Let's get some chips and dip."

The elderly couple stepped out of the room. They were gone for a few minutes. Jen reached over to the coffee table, grabbed a photo album and started perusing. Finn shook his head at her vigorously, trying to encourage her to put it back. She waved her hand at him in dismissal and kept going through the photos. She found one from the couple's wedding and started crying again.

It struck him how difficult it must be for Jen to be a woman out of time, without friends and family until she had forged new ones. She gently swayed to the old, soft-rock coming from the radio as she studied the pictures. Bands from her youth and some early 70's hits acted as a backdrop to her musing. Mesmerized by the haphazard pictorial history presented by the photo album, she didn't hear Annabelle enter.

"Would you like any copies? We have most of the old photos scanned."

Jen looked up, pulled from her reverie. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Please, dear, look as much as you'd like. I'll get out some more albums. Losing your grandmother was like having a sister die unexpectedly. My heart is, I don't know, just bursting having you here."

Fred rejoined them a few minutes later, an envelope in hand. He sat down and took Jen's hand.

"Anna and I talked about it and, well, we don't want any arguments about this, okay?" He continued, not waiting for a response. "When my parents passed, your grandmother never received anything from their estate. We're doing pretty well. We want you to have this. It's $67,000. Anna and I own a small dairy farm and an ice-cream chain with six locations." There was an honest pride in his voice. "We'll be fine. I wish it was more. Maybe in a few months."

Finn sat there, flabbergasted. How do you tell someone who just made such an insanely generous gesture that you're wealthy?

Fred continued. "With Finn's injury, we want to make sure you're okay until he's better." He turned to Jen. "Maybe you can go back to college? Do you have a degree? Or, just help pay some bills? Maybe hire help for the clamming and oyster farm?"

Anna leaned forward in her chair, looking at Jen, and then over at Finn. "Please take it. We'd feel like we were doing something for our Jennifer. It, her disappearance, it really... Just, please, take the money."

Jen started crying again. She got up and rushed out the door. William started after her and Finn scooped him up as he went by his chair. "Mom just needs a minute, buddy. Everything's okay."

Jen and Finn thanked them profusely, more touched than they could know, but explained that they were financially set. Fred and Annabelle thought they were just being proud until Finn showed them some photos on his phone of their jet. Then he had Pete come inside and confirm their story.

One of the photos was a few years old, but it was Finn's favorite. Finn and William on their yacht, Dink pushing his head between them, always wanting to be petted. It was the first time he had taken his son out on the water after his injury. It was a tremendously important day for Finn, one that signaled healing, both physical and emotional.

Hours were spent in Fred and Anna's living room and before the Corrigans left, Fred had an employee come by with a cooler and a huge array of their ice-cream flavors that went in the trunk. Amid many more tears, they said their goodbyes and vowed to stay in touch, Anna and Jennifer making plans for a family meal to get everyone together in the new year.