And there near an old looking glass
There was a trunk from Christmas past
That she had somehow missed before
But now decides she will explore

-The Ghosts of Christmas Eve

Lindsey Metcalfe searched the room with her eyes. The fire popped and crackled as the flames consumed and danced along the wooden logs in the fire place. Family stockings hung from simple bronze hooks that her husband had screwed into the mantle the year before. To the left of the fire place a two liter bottle of water gurgled as the Douglas fir tree that Keith brought home a week ago drank the water down. The first year after moving north, Lindsey could not understand what her husband's obsession with having a real tree was all about (especially after having to clean up all the needles that were still buried in the carpet four months later). That was nearly ten years ago and now she could not see Christmas any other way.

Her eyes rested on the tree that they decorated as a family the day before. Traditions from two families merged into a new one. Keith's family were very religious and hers, well her family did not really have any tradition they particularly followed. She brought with her more of a mixture of what she and her mom made time for and things that she had picked up from the gang at the crime lab. Nearest the trunk Keith put the large spike that represented the reason for the season, subtle and strikingly elegant. Multi-colored lights twinkled in random order surrounded by ornaments and ribbons. There was something both alien and familiar with the tree and how the three of them decorated it. Morgan had sat on Keith's shoulders and reached to top the tree with the only ornament they had that once belonged to her grandfather, Eddie Willows.

Lindsey picked up a pillow from the couch, sighed, and hugged it tightly. Christmas Eve was hard for her, but she had to be strong. At least until Keith came home and could occupy their six-year-old daughter. Looking past the decorated tree and through the frost covered panes of glass she noticed a fine dusting of snow had started to cover the frozen ground. She set the pillow back in place and whispered to the stars above, "Merry Christmas, Mom."

Morgan Catherine Metcalfe stood at the top of the attic stairs clutching her teddy bear, Gilbert, in one hand and the knob of the attic door with the other. She knew that she shouldn't be up in the attic alone, but Mommy was sad and she remembered seeing something that made her smile. She turned the knob and the door slowly creaked open.

In the dark of the early evening the attic lost the warm and cheery atmosphere that she remembered when she and her mom were in the room to bring down the christmas decorations. Among the shadows a full length mirror was highlighted by street lights that shined through the stained glass window of the attic. In the reflection there was an old wooden chest that she had not seen before. Careful to not shut the door completely, Morgan crept over to the chest and reached out a hand to touch it.

The rich walnut wood was worn smooth with age. Black leather bands with dull grey buckles held the trunk closed. She lowered her head and took in the smell that she always associated with her dad after he had been out in his wood shop- tongue oil and saw dust. There was also a faint hint of cedar and lavender mixed in with the musty scent of age.

Morgan set Gilbert down at the base of the trunk and gently manipulated the buckles of the trunk, humming tunelessly to herself. Slowly she lifted the lid and looked inside. Underneath a layer of soft fabric lay an old wreath of silk flowers and leaves with cherry red berries and a shoe box that when opened contained photographs. Surrounded by the wreath were a couple of figurines lovingly encased in bubble wrap, each one tied closed with a forest green ribbon. Under the wreath and shoe box two stacks of letters yellowed with age had been carefully laid to rest. Each stack was held together brown string. One stack was tagged in calligraphy: To Catherine, protector of Gilbert's heart. A tear stained tag was attached to the other stack also in the same handwriting: To Gilbert, the guardian of Catherine's soul.

Catherine and Gilbert. She remembered her mother taking her to the desert last summer to visit her mother's friends. During that stay her mother introduced her to a set of charcoal grey stones. Morgan remembered that her mother's voice was barely over a whisper as she told her that the head stones were only a physical reminder of loved ones taken away long before their time. This was where her mother's family was buried.

Morgan placed the two stacks of letters in front of her on the hard wood floor and settled down with her back leaning against the trunk. The lights outside were just enough for her to read by. She untied both stacks, unfolded a letter from the top of the stack to Catherine and began to read the thin sheets of paper.

To be continued....