Mom picks up the stack of Christmas cards from the doormat.

She quickly flips through the stack as she walks back to the kitchen.

Most of the envelopes don’t have a return address.

She opens them with her pinky and takes the cards out one by one.

“Look at this,” she says, “Grandpa Broderick sent us a card.”

“Well, that’s a first,” says Grandma, who is peeling potatoes at the kitchen table.

Dad looks up from his newspaper.

“Let me see,” he says, holding out his hand.

Mom hands him the card.

Robbie is sitting at the table, drawing a picture for Grandma.

He jumps up from his chair and stands next to Dad to read the card with him.

“Blessed Christmas,” Robbie reads aloud, “I hereby invite you to Christmas dinner at the castle.”

Dad turns the card over and examines the winter landscape on the front.

“Are we going?” Robbie asks excitedly when no one else says anything.

He looks from one to the other, waiting for an answer.

“That old grouch never liked that you married his son,” Grandma says to Mom, “why would he suddenly change his mind? I think there’s something fishy about this.”

Dad and Mom look at each other.

“I don’t know if we should go,” Mom says uncertainly, “I can’t imagine he would accept me now as his daughter-in-law. Let’s just stay here,” she says to Dad, “Christmas dinner just for the four of us at home sounds much cozier, and at least it wouldn’t cause any tension. But,” she adds, “you should decide. After all, he’s your father.”

Dad looks at the card again and turns it over once more.

“I think you’re right,” he says, “I’m glad I finally have a few days off work, and I don’t want any tension.”

He stands up and places the stack of cards on the sideboard.

Robbie goes back to the table.

He picks up a new crayon and continues his drawing for Grandma.

Cinnamon sits on a chair next to him.

She tilts her little head as if she’s reviewing the drawing.

“Woof,” she says.

“I’m glad you like it,” Robbie says.

He colors a holly leaf green and a berry red, then stands up and walks over to Grandma to give her the drawing.

Quickly, Grandma wipes her hands on her apron and takes the paper from Robbie.

“Beautiful,” she says.

She reads aloud: “Blessed Christmas. Thank you, Robbie,” she says. “Wishing you a blessed Christmas, too.”

She wraps her arms around Robbie and kisses him on the top of his head.

Cinnamon, who has followed her little human closely, happily wags her tiny tail.

“Woof,” she says, “my little master is a great artist, huh?”

Come on, Cinnamon,” Robbie says, “let’s make another drawing.”

He sits back at the table, and Cinnamon jumps onto the chair next to him.

Robbie grabs a new sheet of paper and soon gets busy with a new Christmas drawing.

“This one’s for Grandpa,” Robbie says softly to Cinnamon.

“Woof,” she says, “good idea.”

Mom and Grandma are talking busily, and Dad is absorbed in his newspaper.

They don’t hear what Robbie says.

When the drawing is finished, he folds it neatly and walks into the hall to put it in his coat pocket.

“Mom,” he calls from the hall, “I’m going to take Cinnamon for a walk.”

“Make sure you’re dressed warmly,” Mom calls back, “don’t forget your scarf, and dress Cinnamon warmly too. She’s too small to be out in the cold for long. Come back soon.”

“Okay, Mom, bye,” Robbie calls.

Grandma comes quickly into the hall to check if they’re both dressed warm enough.

She pulls Robbie’s hat down over his ears and lets him go outside into the snow.

“Come back soon,” she too warns him, “it’s already getting dark.”

The wind blows snowflakes into Robbie’s face as he steps outside.

Cinnamon sinks into the snow up to her belly.

She can hardly move forward.

Robbie picks her up.

“Oh, boy, you’re shivering so much. The snow must be terribly cold for you,” Robbie says.

He opens his coat a little, tucks the little animal against his warm stomach, and zips up his jacket, leaving only her snout sticking out.

Then Robbie picks up the pace.

His feet make deep prints in the snow, which are slowly filling up with new snowflakes.

“We’re going to Grandpa’s, to the castle,” Robbie says to Cinnamon, who responds with a soft bark.

Robbie’s hands are cold, so he puts his mittens in his coat pockets.

This way, he can hold Cinnamon at the same time so she doesn’t slip out from the bottom of his jacket.

His toes already hurt from the cold, and he’s only just started.

“Keep moving,” he says out loud.

He pulls his scarf higher so only his eyes are visible.

He squints, and the lights from the street lamps and Christmas decorations on the houses turn into little stars.

Soon, he reaches the edge of the village.

There are only a few houses left here.

The streetlights are spaced far apart.

It’s very dark here.

He has to be careful not to stray from the road and fall into the ditch beside it.

A car drives slowly past, leaving tread marks on the snowy road.

Its headlights shine on a swirl of snowflakes falling densely to the ground.

Robbie waits by the side of the road until the car passes.

Grandpa’s castle is just outside the village.

In the distance, he sees the light of the chandeliers shining through the tall windows.

The trees in front of the castle seem to play a game with Robbie.

They keep standing in front of the light, and Robbie wonders if the castle is still there.

The road is now empty.

Robbie tries to keep up a good pace.

He can no longer feel his toes from the cold.

The wind tugs at his coat, and the snowflakes sting his eyes.

He blinks desperately, barely able to see.

The front of his coat has turned completely white.

The inviting lights of the castle in the distance still aren’t getting any closer.

The thick snow prevents him from moving faster.

It’s so cold and so dark.

***

Mr. Broderick is sitting in his armchair by the fireplace, where a large fire is burning.

Arthur, the butler, has placed his cup of coffee on the mahogany table beside the armchair.

On a glass plate lies a Christmas cookie that Annie, Arthur’s wife, baked this afternoon.

Mr. Broderick reads the newspaper while taking a sip of coffee and a bite of the cookie.

Suddenly, he folds the newspaper, stands up, and walks to the tall window.

Outside, it’s dark, even though it’s only five o’clock.

He can only see his own reflection in the glass.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Arthur asks, entering the room.

“Have the guests arrived?” Mr. Broderick asks.

“No, sir, I haven’t seen anyone,” Arthur replies.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have sent the invitation,” Mr. Broderick says, “Maybe it’s better that they live their own lives and I live mine. Our worlds are very different. Is there anything that could ever bridge the gap between our worlds?”

Arthur stands there, awkwardly.

“I don’t know, sir, but I still think it was worth a try.”

“I should never have been so stubborn,” Mr. Broderick mutters. “I wish my wife were still here. She would have known what to do. She would never have let it come to this.”

Then Arthur says, “Annie and I are going to the village for the midnight Christmas service tonight. If you’d like, you can come with us.”

Mr. Broderick shakes his head.

“I haven’t been to that service in years, and if my son and his family aren’t coming for dinner, I see no reason to go tonight.”

Mr. Broderick sits back down in his armchair.

Christmas Eve is always a difficult evening for him, but tonight he feels tense and uneasy.

Maybe he’ll be completely alone in the castle when Arthur and Annie go to the Christmas service.

He stares into the fire, lost in thought.

Why did his wife have to die so young?

Why did his son have to choose a wife who contributed nothing to the family’s wealth?

He picks up his newspaper again from the table beside him.

The rustling of the newspaper irritates him.

He wishes Christmas Eve would just pass quickly.

An evening like this is not pleasant.

Soon, he will be all alone in the large castle, alone with his thoughts of the past.

The past haunts him.

Why were he and his son both so stubborn?

***

Arthur walks into the kitchen, where his wife is putting the finishing touches on an apple pie.

“It’s so sad, isn’t it, that that man spends Christmas alone every year?” she says to Arthur. “I’m afraid no one will respond to the invitation, and all this food has been prepared for nothing. There’s nothing festive at the castle since Mrs. Broderick and John are gone. Do you remember when we always had guests to care for?”

“Those were good times,” Arthur muses before decisively saying, “But enough talking about the past. I’m going to take a walk around the castle and make sure everything is in order for the night.”

Arthur leaves the kitchen and steps outside through the staff entrance into the icy cold and snow.

He quickly returns inside and grabs a hat and scarf from the coat rack.

As quickly as he can, he walks through the snow, checking to make sure all the doors are closed for the night.

He walks to the stable and closes the door after making sure the two horses, the last ones the castle still has, have enough hay and water for the night.

Pepper, the German shepherd, who had been with the horses in the stable, follows him.

Arthur hurries to the front of the castle.

Suddenly, Pepper starts barking and takes a few steps toward the driveway.

“Quiet,” Arthur says. “Stay still. Your barking will make me deaf.”

Arthur peers down the driveway.

Something is moving there.

Is it an animal?

Is it a person?

Pepper knows he’s not allowed to run off, but it’s clear he’s struggling not to sprint and race down the driveway.

With Pepper on high alert beside him, Arthur walks down the driveway toward the road.

The snow crunches under his feet.

Then, he sees in the light of the chandeliers shining through the windows that a small figure is walking up the driveway.

Arthur picks up his pace.

Pepper walks faster too.

Snowflakes continue to fall gently.

The child is completely covered in snow.

When Arthur gets close, the child falls.

A little dog starts barking.

Now Pepper can’t be held back anymore, and with two big jumps, he reaches the child.

He dances impatiently around the child.

Arthur kneels down next to the child.

The child tries to get up, but can’t.

The butler picks up the child, and as fast as his old legs can carry him, he hurries back to the castle.

Pepper sprints ahead, always returning to check where Arthur is.

“Woof, hurry up!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Arthur pants.

He hurries to the back of the castle, flings the door open, and without taking off his shoes, runs with the bundle into the warm kitchen.

Pepper follows close behind.

“Look what I’ve found!” Arthur calls out to Annie, his wife.

She rushes over, startled when she sees what her husband is holding in his arms.

She pulls a chair next to the warm stove.

“Place the child here,” she says.

Immediately, her hands start working diligently.

She zips open the child’s jacket and is greeted by frantic yapping.

Cinnamon jumps to the floor and barks furiously.

Pepper moves closer to see what kind of grasshopper just landed on the floor.

Annie ignores the little dog and takes off the child’s hat and scarf.

Then she and Arthur exchange a glance.

They recognize this child.

Not only does this little boy always come to the same church as they do, but this child is…

“What’s all this noise?” grumbles Mr. Broderick, who enters the kitchen.

“Sir,” Arthur says quickly, “this child came walking up the driveway. He looks terribly cold. He needs to warm up before we call his parents.”

Robbie is shivering terribly.

He wraps his hands around a cup of hot chocolate that Annie quickly made for him.

His teeth are chattering against the rim.

Annie drapes a warm quilt over his shoulders and puts large slippers, Arthur’s, on his little feet.

Gradually, the shivering subsides.

“Now, boy,” Mr. Broderick, who has remained standing next to the big table in the center of the kitchen, says, “tell me how you ended up on the driveway of my castle.”

Robbie looks up at the lord of the castle, who towers high above him, a little frightened.

“Go on,” says Annie, starting to understand what’s going on. “Tell us,” she encourages him.

Robbie looks into her friendly face, one he knows from church.

“I,” he says, still trembling, a little, “I wanted to bring you a Christmas drawing.”

Meanwhile, Cinnamon has jumped onto Robbie’s lap and is sniffing at the warm cup of hot chocolate.

“A Christmas drawing?” Mr. Broderick says, “Why would you want to bring me a Christmas drawing?”

It’s clear he doesn’t recognize the child sitting in the chair by the stove.

“Where is the drawing?” Annie asks Robbie.

“In my pocket,” Robbie says, his voice still quivering.

Annie grabs his jacket, which she had hung near the stove, and feels in the pockets.

She pulls out a piece of paper and asks, “Is this it?”

Robbie nods.

Annie hands Robbie the paper and takes the cup from him.

“Give it to him yourself,” she says with a smile.

Robbie stands up, and Mr. Broderick takes a step forward.

“Merry Christmas,” says Robbie, handing the drawing to the lord of the castle.

Mr. Broderick takes it and opens the paper.

He stares at the drawing and reads aloud: “For Grandpa, Merry Christmas.”

Then there is a moment of silence in the kitchen.

Arthur and Annie look at Mr. Broderick, waiting for his reaction.

“Grandpa,” he repeats slowly, “am I your grandpa? Are you my grandson?”

Robbie nods vigorously.

Then something happens that no one expected to happen that night.

The lord of the castle leans forward and wraps his arms around Robbie.

“Welcome to my house. And a Merry Christmas to you too.”

Robbie wraps his arms around his grandpa’s neck and gives him a big kiss on his cheek.

Annie wipes her eyes with the corner of her apron.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” Arthur asks Robbie.

Robbie shakes his head.

“I went to walk Cinnamon, but he could hardly walk in the snow. I put him in my jacket so I could walk faster. Mom and Dad and Grandma didn’t want to come to the Christmas dinner. That’s why I wanted to bring Grandpa a drawing.”

Arthur walks to the door.

“I’ll call his parents,” he says.

“No,” says Mr. Broderick, “go harness the horses to the sleigh. We’re going to take the two runaways home.”

“Are we going by horse-drawn sleigh?” Robbie suddenly forgets the cold, and although his nose and hands are still red, a big smile spreads across his face.

Annie dresses Robbie warmly and drapes a quilt over his shoulders.

She dresses warmly also and grabs a few extra blankets for the sleigh.

She hands Mr. Broderick a large bowl with pieces of fruit. He looks at her in surprise.

“We certainly can’t arrive empty-handed,” she defends herself.

A smile appears on Mr. Broderick’s face.

Quickly, she takes the apple pie from the fridge and wraps it in a dish towel.

She places the rest of the prepared food back in the fridge.

“We’ll eat that tomorrow,” she says.

“Come on, let’s go,” she commands as if she were the one in charge of the castle.

With the pie in one hand and Robbie’s little hand in the other, she steps outside into the freezing cold.

The sleigh is already waiting with the two horses hitched to it.

Annie helps Robbie into the sleigh.

Cinnamon is safe and warm in Robbie’s jacket again.

Annie covers herself and Robbie with an extra quilt, and Grandpa sits across from them.

Arthur jumps onto the driver’s seat and cracks the whip.

The horses, also covered with warm blankets, start pulling, and the sleigh slowly glides forward.

The snowfall has ended, except for a single snowflake that still drifts down.

The brisk wind has quieted.

Robbie snuggles up close to Annie.

He secretly glances at Grandpa across from him.

Tonight is the first time he has seen his grandpa.

“I don’t think he’s a grump,” he whispers in Annie’s ear.

Luckily, Grandpa doesn’t hear him.

The sleigh turns off the driveway, onto the road, and at a faster pace, heads toward the village.

***

“Where on earth is that boy?” says Mom, looking at the clock.

“He should’ve been back by now.”

“I’ll go have a look,” says Dad.

He puts down his newspaper and starts putting on his coat in the hallway.

“I’m going too,” says Mom to Grandma.

She puts on her winter coat and pulls a warm hat over her ears.

They step outside into the icy cold weather.

The snow has stopped falling.

They walk to the street and look around for Robbie.

“Robbie, Cinnamon!” Dad calls out in his deep voice.

There’s no answer.

Everything is white and still, no cars are driving by.

No one is out in this harsh weather without a reason.

Then, Mom notices Robbie’s nearly snow-covered footprints.

“John, John,” she says anxiously, “here are footprints, and they’re going that way.”

She points to the road leading out of the village.

They both immediately quicken their pace.

“Oh, Robbie,” Mom says anxiously when they reach the end of the village and the footprints continue on.

“Do you think he…?” Dad asks, and his question hangs in the icy, dark evening air.

Mom doesn’t answer.

She suddenly stops.

“Do you hear that? It sounds like Christmas bells.”

Then, they see a sleigh with two horses coming around the bend in the road.

“That’s Dad and Mom,” Robbie calls from the sleigh.

Arthur has seen them too and stops the sleigh next to the two people walking along the country road.

“Come,” Grandpa says to Mom, “I’ve got a spot next to me,” and points to the place beside him on the bench. “That is if you want to sit next to me?” he adds tentatively.

Mom looks at Robbie, but he doesn’t say anything.

Annie nods encouragingly at her and says, “It’s all fine.”

“You can stand at the back of the sleigh,” says Grandpa to Dad, “just like we used to when we went for a ride.”

Dad helps Mom into the sleigh and jumps up on the back to ride along for the last stretch of their journey.

At their house, Arthur stops the horses, and they all get out.

Grandma comes outside and wraps Robbie in her arms.

“Where have you been?” she says. “I was so worried.”

“I brought a drawing to Grandpa,” says Robbie.

“Silly boy,” she says.

That’s what she always says when she’s been worried and is happy to see him again.

Everyone goes into the little house, and Grandma and Annie head to the kitchen to make coffee and slice the apple pie that Annie brought.

Arthur comes in after giving the horses an extra blanket.

***

Soon, it’s time to go to the Christmas Eve service.

“Are you coming with us tonight, Dad?” John asks his father.

“Of course, son. I haven’t been there in so long. It’s time to change that.”

Arthur and Annie exchange a glance and smile.

Robbie gets to sit between Grandpa and Grandma, who have moved over in the pew to make room.

The choir at the front of the church sings about the shepherds in the fields who heard a new song.

Whether it’s the dimmed lights, the warmth in the church, or all the excitement of the evening, the fact is that Robbie can no longer keep his eyes open and slowly leans his head against Grandpa’s arm.

Grandpa and Grandma look down fondly at their little boy, and when their eyes meet, a joyful smile spreads across their faces.

“Will you come to the Christmas dinner at the castle tomorrow?” Grandpa asks softly to Grandma.

“Of course,” she nods.

Arthur and Annie are sitting in their usual spot in the church.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Annie whispers to Arthur. “To see the true meaning of Christmas reflected in our restored relationships?”

Arthur raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“Our Heavenly Father sent the Lord Jesus to earth because He desires nothing more than to be reunited with His lost children,” Annie explains. “That’s what Christmas is about.”

“Amen, glory to God!” the choir sings.

***