It was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground. The boy had bid 'farewell' and 'Merry Christmas' to his classmates as they boarded horses and farmer's carts to return to their homes.

As he waited excitedly for his carriage to arrive, he thought about the days ahead. He was so looking forward to spending the most magical Christmas holiday at home with his family.

Outside his yellow house, there would be boughs of fragrant pine garland festooned across the front porch and spiraling down the columns which would be punctuated every two feet by a luxe red velvet bow.

In the great room, the tree would be magnificent. It would stand 12 feet tall and would be topped with a sparkling gold star. Shiny silver garland would wind 'round its body which would be merrily punctuated with glittering glass balls and festive candy canes.

Mother would be in the kitchen baking cranberry pie and steaming the Christmas pudding, while Father would be getting the fire going with wood he had chopped down with the help of the neighbour's boy.

Christmas was always his favourite time of year and he so looked forward to going home. He missed Mother and Father, he missed his friends, Jack and Nancy, but most of all, he missed his sister. She was such a dear sweet lass, and she was the only one in his family who always made him feel special and loved.

There was not an echo to be heard in the decaying old house, for most of the other boys had departed hours ago, and the boy with the golden locks wondered if he should wait outside for the carriage. No, he decided not to; for if it were late, he should practically freeze to death.

As he waited alone in his chilly, bare dormitory room, the lonely boy sat by the feeble fire and imagined how wonderful the decorations at home must be, how warm and welcoming the fire in the great room, and how delightful the scents wafting from the kitchen. The snowdrifts would be nestled comfortably against the house, softly blanketing the colored lights on the foliage, making the snow seem to magically glow from within.

Then a knock on the door woke him from his reverie, and a telegram was handed to him. It informed him that he would not be going home for Christmas after all. Father said it was for the best, as he could get ahead of the other boys by spending the break alone at school, catching up on his studying.

The boy put his head in his hands and cried.

"Did you call his folks?" asked Starsky.

"Yes, for all the good it did," answered Dobey.

"Why, what did they say?"

"They said they couldn't fly down here because there's some social event that Mrs. Hutchinson is hosting this week; something to do with her Woman's Club and an annual Thanksgiving gala."

"Well, what about his dad?"

"Another excuse."

"Are you kiddin' me? And his sister? An excuse from her, too?"

"She's the only one who sounded like she cared; but she's got the twins and apparently they're both sick with the flu. And they're predicting a blizzard for southern Indiana this weekend, so she's not sure if she'll be able to make it here at all."

"I just can't believe his parents aren't coming! Cap'n, their only son might be dyin' of the plague and they have to stay in Duluth to attend a woman's club meeting?"

"I don't understand it either, Starsky. I feel sorry for that boy. I can only imagine what his childhood must have been like."

Starsky punched his fist against the air, wishing there was something solid he could hit. He was livid that Hutch's parents couldn't be bothered to come to Bay City to see their son while he was still well enough to open his eyes briefly and gesture towards the observation window.

And what were they planning to do if he died? Send a telegram?

Starsky watched through the window as Hutch shivered in his bed, buried his head in the pillow, and grasped the blanket tightly to his chest. It seemed to Starsky that his partner was having troubled dreams.

The fair-haired boy walked slowly around the deserted school grounds towards the headmaster's office, wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck, and hugging his body to fend off the biting cold.

At home, there would be children ice skating on the lake, and sledding down the great hill, and on Christmas Eve there would be great merry crowds of them going door to door, singing carols and greeting people they passed along the way, shouting "Hallo! How are you! Merry Christmas!"

Dinner would be a wondrous feast with all manner of delights. There would be roasted goose with sage and onion dressing, great joints of meat, and oysters, apple-sauce and mashed potatoes. And for dessert: luscious oranges, mince-pie, and of course, the pudding!

But this year, it was not to be.

The headmaster felt sorry for the boy and invited him to Christmas dinner at his house, where his wife cooked up a marvelous meal and tried to make the boy feel at home. But it wasn't the same.

Even if the headmaster's wife was warmer and kinder to him than his own mother had ever been.

Hutch woke up sweating and weak; the symptoms of the deadly disease had begun. He turned his head towards the observation window and saw the familiar name written in red lipstick.

STARSK

He tried to get up and make his way towards the window, but the weakness overcame him and he fell back into bed. As he lay there shaking from the chills, he looked again at his partner's name and felt comforted.

"It's okay, babe, I'm here."

"Starsk….."

"It's gonna be okay, Hutch." Starsky held his partner's hands tightly to try to ease the pain in his chest.

"Get outta here, will ya," Hutch begged him.

"What's the rush? Tired of lookin' at my pretty face?"

"No more fun and games, huh? This ain't no fun, and the game is 'Hutch is dying.'"

"No, I'm gonna find Callendar," Starsky promised through a veil of tears.

He stood outside the gate to Roper's compound, a "GUARD DOG ON DUTY" sign hanging next to his head. The metaphor was appropriate; Starsky was determined to find Callendar and save Hutch, no matter what it took.

"Hang on Hutch, hang on babe; Callendar's on his way." Starsky raced past Hutch's room towards the elevators. Callendar would be here soon and Starsky would meet him at the back entrance to the hospital. Then the doctors would be able to produce the antidote that would save his partner's life. They had less than 8 hours. And they still had to contend with Roper showing up and ruining everything.

Starsky watched as the doctors descended on Callendar, trying to stem the bleeding from the bullet wound. He was stunned, yet touched, to see Mrs. Yeager reach out and take Callendar's hand. She knew who he was and what he'd done. But that was not her concern. He had come here to save her son.

Why did Callendar feel such affection towards this family whom he only barely knew? Perhaps they had shown him a kindness no one had ever shown him before.

Starsky stood next to Hutch's bed, wearing the face mask and gloves that would protect him from exposure to the deadly virus. His blond partner lay sleeping inside the oxygen tent, tossing and turning from the pain and gasping for breath.

Judith and Dr. Meredith were in the lab, frantically trying to create the antidote that would save the lives of Hutch, Richie Yeager, and countless others. So many had died already these past few weeks, and Hutch was quickly running out of time.

He gently reached inside the oxygen tent and grasped Hutch's hand. Sin and redemption. The words suddenly popped into Starsky's head as he thought about Mrs. Yeager holding Callendar's hand and comforting him in the emergency room.

Callendar was alive. He had survived not only a bout with the deadly plague virus, but a near-fatal bullet wound as well.

Roper was dead. He had refused to help Starsky find Callendar, even when he knew that thousands of lives were at stake.

Thomas Callendar was a hit man, an international mercenary with dozens, perhaps hundreds of kills under his belt, and yet somehow he was still alive. As if he had his own personal guardian angel looking out for him.

He had risked his life coming here to the hospital, knowing Roper would be waiting for him. He risked everything to save the boy.

After a while, Starsky left Hutch's room and sat down exhaustedly on a couch in the hallway. As he began to doze off, he became troubled by thoughts of sin. He had parked in the white zone at the airport, the day he and Hutch picked up Jake Donner. The Torino had been towed and Jake had ended up dead a few days later.

And when he and Hutch had returned to the airport a second time, to question the head of security, Starsky had parked in the forbidden white zone again, and was admonished with a parking ticket. It was shortly after that when Hutch was given his grim diagnosis and placed in the isolation ward.

Starsky slept uneasily on the couch, dreaming of good and evil, sickness and health, and sin and redemption.

"How soon will we know, Judith?"

"These things take time, Dave; it might be a few days before he starts to show visible improvement."

Starsky stood outside the observation window, watching Hutch sleep. Judith told him to have faith that the antidote would work.

Hutch woke up briefly and was surprised to see his mother sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Mother," he managed to say weakly, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at her, "you came." He smiled and reached out to touch her as she gently stroked his hair.

Starsky watched Hutch through the window as his partner opened his eyes wide in a look of surprise. Then he saw him smile just before he fell back asleep.

Just then, Huggy arrived. "How's our patient?"

"A little better today. He's been openin' his eyes and looking around. He even smiled, although I don't exactly know what he was smilin' about."

"You did good, Starsky. Not only did you save Hutch's life, but you saved the lives of who knows how many other people, including that little boy in there." Huggy pointed towards the room on the other side of the hallway where Mrs. Yeager was visiting with Richie. She was sitting on his bed, holding his hand and reading a book to him.

"You know, when Hutch was dyin' the other day, I called his mother and practically begged her to fly down here and see him before it was too late."

"And what was her response? I noticed she hasn't been here."

"Let's just say she's nothing like Mrs. Yeager," Starsky said mournfully.

He sat in a chair beside his partner, listening to the sound of Hutch's labored breathing as he slept.

Periodically, Hutch would wake from his slumber and Starsky would talk to him; but most of what Hutch said was nonsense that Starsky couldn't make sense of.

"Dobey spoke to your parents again. They said they couldn't come out here to see you, but suggested that you visit them in Duluth next month for Christmas."

"They don't mean it. They left me at school alone; wouldn't let me come home for the break. Said I should stay and get ahead of the other boys by studying."

"What school? You mean college?"

"No, the boarding school, when I was a kid."

"Hutch, what are you talkin' about? You didn't go to boarding school when you were a kid. Did you?"

"Father was supposed to send a carriage, but instead, he sent a telegram." Hutch drifted back to sleep, his slumber punctuated by fits and starts.

The next day, the doctors removed the oxygen tent. Hutch still needed oxygen through the mask, but he was getting better. His white cell count was up and Starsky no longer had to wear the protective mask or gloves. He was able to stay with Hutch for as long as he wanted.

"What did you mean when you said your parents left you at boarding school for Christmas"?

"Huh?"

"You said something about it when I was here yesterday."

"Oh, did I? It was a dream I kept having when I first got sick. They sent me away to school and wouldn't let me come home. It was so cold there, Starsk. There was never enough fuel for the fire, and I was all alone in my room, shivering and lonely."

"Sounds like your hospital stay in the isolation room."

"Yeah, I guess it does."

Hutch's white cell count was improving, and the doctors removed the oxygen mask. But he was still weak and slept most of the time. Starsky visited him every day.

"What were you dreamin' about this time?"

"Huh?"

"You were dreamin' about somethin' earlier today, and every once in a while you would mumble something in your sleep."

"What did I say?"

"I don't know; something about a cottage and a snowman. Like I said, you were mumbling."

"A cottage….oh, I dreamed I went home for Christmas."

"You mean, next month?"

"No, from boarding school. When I was a kid."

"I thought you dreamed about being left at school when you were a kid? Either I'm confused, or you are."

"This time my dream was different, Starsk. It was wonderful! I went home to a Christmas cottage all covered in snow and lit up with brightly-colored lights. And there was a snowman in the front yard. I don't know who would have built it, 'cause my father sure wouldn't have, but…."

"Wait, your parent's house in Duluth is a little cottage? I've always pictured somethin' much bigger."

"It is bigger. My parents' house is a Georgian Revival with 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, a parlor, and a great room. There's a butler's pantry off the kitchen and a formal dining room that seats 12 comfortably. So, not exactly a cottage. But in my dream, that's what it was. A cozy little cottage."

"Like the place you used to have on the canal?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"What's a Georgian Revival?" asked Starsky.

"It's an early 1900s style of American architecture that employs symmetry and classical details. Our front door is framed by a curved portico with Ionic Greek columns."

Starsky considered that for a moment, and then asked, "Are all the houses on your street like that?"

"No, most have different architectural styles. Ours was a big yellow mansion, but Nancy Blake and her mother lived in a much more modest house; a ranch, two houses down. But across the street from them was a sprawling Tudor mansion. Third Street is like that."

"Tudor. Those are the houses with the brown stripes on the white walls, right? I've seen houses like that in Queens."

"It's called half-timbering, but yeah."

"I'll bet with a house as big as yours, you could put lots of decorations up and have a huge tree in the great room!" Starsky exclaimed.

"You could, but my mother was always stingy with decorations: a wreath on the front door, a few poinsettias and candles in the house. But we did have a large tree in the great room; until I was 12, anyway."

"What happened when you were 12?" asked Starsky.

Hutch looked down, suddenly pensive and sad. "That's the year my mother decided to get a cat. But it kept climbing up the tree and knocking down the decorations. Father wanted her to get rid of it or lock him in the basement until after Christmas, but Mother refused. So, instead, she got rid of the tree."

"That's terrible, Hutch! You couldn't have a tree when you were a kid?" Starsky tried to think of something to cheer his partner up, or perhaps to cheer himself up. "Well, what about outside. Did you put up lights?"

"White lights only. My sister and I begged our father to put up colored lights, but our mother insisted on white ones. She said colored ones were lurid."

"Lurid? What about Christmas dinner? I'll bet that was nice!"

"I guess it was. Most years, anyway. After my grandfather died, it was just the four of us. It was also one of the few days in the year that my mother allowed us to eat in the formal dining room on her best china."

"See, that's nice!" Starsky tried to sound encouraging.

Hutch continued. "Except for the year when she decided she didn't want to cook or clean up and insisted we get Chinese takeout instead. Which my sister and I didn't mind, really, until Mother insisted we all had to eat on paper plates in the kitchen. My sister and I offered to help by hand-washing the china, but our mother said we would just break it."

"Jesus, Hutch, your family Christmas sounds like a real barrel of laughs." Starsky tried a different angle. "But I'm surprised your mother didn't want to put up decorations everywhere. I mean, she's an artist, isn't she?"

"She likes to paint on canvas, yeah. But the house is a show house for her. It's decorated with overpriced furniture and objet d'art."

"Objay what?"

"Expensive knickknacks. She's never liked Christmas decorations because she thinks they're gaudy."

"Hey, I'm sorry, Hutch, that stinks!"

The conversation was getting more depressing by the minute and Starsky was desperate to change the topic.

"Hey blondie, tell me more about that little cottage you dreamed about."

To Starsky's relief, Hutch's eyes lit up at the lingering memory of it. "It was cozy and warm and comforting. And my mother let my sister and I drink big mugs of hot chocolate near the tree in the sitting room, in front of the fire."

"She didn't let you do that in real life? Wait, lemme guess; of course she didn't."

Just what kind of childhood did Hutch have, anyway? wondered Starsky.

"I spoke to my parents today."

"They called?"

"Yeah. They asked me to fly to Duluth for Christmas."

"I thought Judith said you can't fly for at least two months? That the pressure would be too much for your lungs."

"Yeah, I told them that. They said it snowed there yesterday, almost a foot. I don't remember how long it's been since I've seen snow."

"Hey, maybe you could convince them to come here."

"There's no point; they won't come, Starsk." Hutch shook his head and looked vaguely sad. "Out with Christmas! Besides, what good has it ever done for me?" he lamented.

Hutch was improving every day and Judith said he could soon be released from the hospital. Starsky was visiting with him one day when Hutch noticed that he seemed lost in thought.

"Something bothering you, buddy?"

"I don't know, maybe. Hey, what does 'grace' mean?" Starsky asked.

"Um, elegance of beauty or form; something like that."

"No, not that kind of grace. The other kind. Like God's grace. You took catechism classes, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Grace is the condition of being in God's favor. Why do you want to know?"

"It's nothin'. Just something Roper said."

"Roper?"

"Yeah, when you were first in here, and I was lookin' for Callendar, I went to see Roper at his house to ask for his help. He said 'you cops got no grace.' But you know what, Hutch?"

"What?"

Starsky placed his hand on Hutch's arm.

"He was wrong."

Hutch returned to work two weeks before Christmas. One day, Starsky followed Dobey into the interrogation room to speak to him privately.

"Cap'n, I spoke to Hutch's sister again last night."

"And? What did she say?"

"She made the arrangements. I'm gonna drive up there with Hutch the day after tomorrow. We'll be stayin' through the 26th. You don't mind if we take those days off?"

"Of course I don't, Starsky, but are you sure your partner is okay to travel?"

"Yeah, I checked with Judith; I mean, Dr. Kaufman. It's only a couple hours drive. It's up in the mountains, but not too far up. Not like being 30,000 feet up in a plane."

"You did good, Starsky. Take as much time as you need; we'll manage here without you."

"Thanks, Cap'n."

"Pack your bags, buddy boy; we're goin' on a trip!"

"A trip? Don't tell me you bought plane tickets to Minnesota? You know I can't fly, Starsk!"

"I didn't buy plane tickets and we're not goin' to Minnesota. We're drivin' and we're goin' to California."

"Starsk, we live in California."

"I know, but the place we're goin' is a world away from Bay City and the Pacific Ocean, and it's less than a three-hour drive from here."

Hutch looked at Starsky suspiciously. "Are you taking me to Disneyland?"

"Disneyland? No. But that's a great idea! We should go sometime!"

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Well then, are we going up to Dobey's cabin to fish? I think Pine Lake might be frozen, though. Unless you were planning on us doing some ice fishing. But I don't think it's the kind of lake where you can…"

"Will you be quiet for a minute? We're not goin' to Dobey's cabin. There is a lake involved, but we're not goin' fishin'. And I ain't gonna tell you any more than that. Just pack some warm sweaters and mittens, okay?"

An hour later, they were on the road, duffel bags stowed in the backseat of the Torino. Starsky drove out of Bay City and headed east. After a while, he turned the car north before finally turning east once more.

"Starsk, why are we turning onto Route 210? That goes up into the San Bernardino Mountains, doesn't it?"

"Yup."

"Why are we going all the way up there?"

"Ya know blondie, you ask way too many questions. Just relax will ya? You'll see when we …."

"Hey, watch out for that….."

In less than a second, the animal had run down a steep hill and across the road in front of the Torino. Starsky slammed on the brakes just in time as it crossed in front of the car and continued into the woods, unharmed.

"….deer!"

"Hutch, you okay?" Starsky worried his partner might have gotten hurt from the sudden stop. He gripped Hutch's arm tightly.

"It's okay, I'm fine," Hutch reassured him. "Are you okay? We sure got lucky that time. God must have been looking out for us and that deer."

Starsky looked at his partner, puzzled, a half-formed thought nagging at the back of his mind. Then he floored the gas and they continued on their way up the mountain.

As they approached nearer their destination, they began to see snow in the distance. It covered the tops of the mountains and blanketed the pines in thick white clumps. The sky glowed with bright pink and orange streaks, casting shadows on the peaks, as darkness began to descend around them.

"Starsk, what are we doing all the way up here? Are we going skiing? Because my equipment is back home in Duluth. And you've never gone skiing in your life."

"Nope, not skiing. Just wait. You'll see it soon. Patience, my friend; weren't you the one telling me to have patience a while back?"

"Starsk, that was before I spent how many weeks in the hospital? Waiting to get sick and then being sick. Waiting to be cured and then waiting to get well enough to go home. I've about had it with patience."

"I promise you, Hutch, it will be well worth your wait. See! What'd I tell you? There it is!"

Hutch read the sign. "Santa's Village, 5 miles. Starsk, we came all the way up here so you could play with the other kids in Santa's Village?" Hutch shook his head and laughed.

"That's not where we're goin'. Not today, anyway. Look over there, dummy." Starsky pointed towards another sign.

Hutch looked at the sign. "Is this where you're taking me?"

"It is," Starsky confirmed. "And we have almost reached our destination."

"Hmm, Lake Arrowhead Village, why does that sound familiar? Hey Starsk, is that the town where all the houses have to be the same type of architecture? English Tudors and Normandy French, I think?"

"I hadn't heard about that," said Starsky, "but frankly, it sounds kinda boring, having all the houses look alike."

"Not necessarily," said Hutch. "Look at those two houses over there. They're pretty different from each other."

"I guess. Hard to see much, now that it's gettin' dark. Maybe they should put up some Christmas lights or somethin'."

They drove another few miles as fresh snow began to fall. "This must be the place!" Starsky announced, turning into a long snow-covered driveway and parking the car.

They had arrived at a little English Tudor, all dressed up for the holidays, and draped in a warm blanket of snow.

They exited the Torino and stood in the driveway, surveying the scene before them, as the lightly falling snow kissed their heads softly and melted from the warmth.

Through the thin cold air, Hutch thought he could hear the distant sounds of children singing "The Sussex Carol."

On Christmas night all Christians sing

To hear the news the angels bring

On Christmas night all Christians sing

To hear the news the angels bring

"Do you hear that?" he asked Starsky.

"Hear what?"

When sin departs before His grace,

Then life and health come in its place

When sin departs before His grace,

Then life and health come in its place

"I thought I heard something," said Hutch. "Must have been the wind."

Angels and men with joy may sing

All for to see the newborn King

"You okay, Hutch?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hutch smiled at his partner.

All out of darkness we have light

Which made the angels sing this night

All out of darkness we have light

Which made the angels sing this night

Hutch gazed wondrously at the little cottage, which was bedecked with warm glowing lights that lit up the darkness all around them. "Starsk, this house…..what is it?"

Glory to God and peace to men

Now and forever more. Amen!

"Amen," Starsky answered softly into the frosty air.

"What?"

"Nothin'. It looks like an English Tudor. It's got the brown stripes and everything."

"I meant, what are we doing here?"

"We'll be staying here for Christmas. It's a bed and breakfast. I got us adjoining rooms."

They both looked towards the house. A brightly colored Christmas tree, with a fireplace beyond, was visible in the front window, and all the rooms were glowing from within with warm yellow light, which looked to Starsky like the color of his partner's hair.

He looked over at Hutch, who was still gazing at the house. "Well, what do you think?" He was suddenly nervous that Hutch didn't want to be here, that it wasn't the same as being home in Duluth.

"It's wonderful, Starsk! It looks like the cottage I dreamed about. But how…..?"

"It's a gift from your sister and her husband. His aunt's cousin lives in town and told them about it."

"My sister?"

"I spoke to her a lot when you were sick. When we thought you were gonna…." He couldn't bring himself to say the word. "She really wanted to come out to see you, but she couldn't get away. The twins were sick and then her husband was out of town on a business trip. She really loves you, Hutch. I could hear it in her voice."

Hutch looked at the little house in awe. It really was just like the one in his dream. There was even a picket fence and a friendly snowman out front. Multi-colored lights lit up the trees, while snow draped softly over the eaves and icicles hung in spiky formations.

A small stream ran in front of the house, over which traversed a stone footbridge. It reminded Hutch of the Currier & Ives paintings he had seen as a child.

Starsky put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Merry Christmas, ya big blond beauty."

Hutch's eyes filled with tears as he turned towards his partner. "I don't know what to say, Starsk."

"Ken Hutchinson, at a loss for words? How 'bout that!"

Hutch leaned in and pulled Starsky close, hugging him tightly. "Thanks, partner. Merry Christmas. So how about we visit Santa's Village tomorrow?"

Starsky beamed. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Then side-by-side, the two best friends walked together towards the footbridge and the cottage beyond.