Donald Weaver hated Christmas, especially Christmas Eve, almost as much as he hated himself. It was supposed to be a time of joy and rejoicing. For the last two years it meant anger, frustration, supreme guilt and utter desolation. As he sat covered in the falling snow in front of the headstones of his family he took another swig from the rot-gut booze that was rapidly destroying his emaciated body. But on this horrid anniversary, even the booze couldn’t dull his pain. Two years... it seemed forever.

It's Christmas time, but at Seasons House, the mood is anything but merry. Jane has, after her very best efforts, determined that the redemption of Carl is beyond her considerable powers. The only reason he has not been sent home in disgrace is that holiday travelers made transporation reservations not to be had - even with Jane's contacts and resources. The darkness of failure casts a dark shadow over Seasons House, but then again, it is Christmas, and as Charles Dickens taught us all, wonderful things can still happen.
 

Seasons of Change Book 10 Seasons Greetings A Carol Christmas by Tigger Copyright © 2000,2012 Tigger All Rights Reserved.

Maggie was at the stove, not really paying attention to the pork chops in the frying pan, even though she was looking right at them. It was when her mother put on an oven mitt and grabbed the frying pan and moved it to a free burner, that she realized something had happened. “Hey, I was watching those.”

“Watch them do what? Burn?” Bernice asked and Maggie blushed when she saw she had burned the chops. Vance was in the kitchen as well, opening up the windows to clear the smoke out. In the living-room, her father was opening up a couple of windows, despite the cold weather. William was walking into the kitchen with a fan. He placed it in a window so it sucked the smoke out the window by the table.

Edits by Djkauf

Time to focus on the Patterson women.

Chapter 4
September 10, 2001
"You're not mad are you mom?" I cried as my mother wiped makeup off my face.

She held me close to her chest.

"Why would you ever think that?" she replied.

Author's Note: This story is similar to a story I read here called “A Fish Tale,” written by the user Amellie. I call this a fan fiction because there are enough differences where it could stand on its own but enough similarities that credit is due. I wanted to try something a bit less emotional so there isn't much in the way of character development. As always, thanks to djkauf for editing and comments are always appreciated.

Ellen always told me that I needed to manage my temper. Oh how I wish I had learned to listen to her.