About fifty miles due west of Bobstown, halfway to Mount Olive, is a town called Uledi. At the eastern edge, high on Dunbar's Knob, there is an open field that overlooks the mountains. Some swear that when the clouds are right, and when you concentrate real hard, it's possible to see the past as well as the future. Not that the same vision isn't revealed in other places, it's just that the magic of a place is where you are. If you happen to choose to lift your eyes toward the heavens, you'll find the best view in the Shenandoah Valley is up.

☆☆☆☆☆

Mountains are mountains, and towns are towns. They abound with people who love the earth, and have a kinship for it. Uledi is a place for dreamers, unassuming folk humbled by a spine tingling understanding of their place in the universe. They embrace the things they know so well; the land, the trees, dirt, plants, and of course each other. These modest people are the foundation of man's purpose.

On one of the ridges, an old farmer-philosopher, Omar Redstone, lives and works while waxing lyrical about all things in heaven and on earth—especially around Christmas, or when he has had a sip of the good stuff. Not always, but on rare occasions he'll relieve his poetic mind. His favorite spot is the open field, and often in the company of the sheriff, Business Smith. Biz and Omar have been best friends for over forty years.

☆☆☆☆☆

Christmas was twelve hours away, and Omar was trying hard to keep his store-bought teeth from clattering as he surveyed the view. Omar was well known in the Shenandoah Valley. The locals stood in awe of him and his small cadre of buddies.

Biz was staring off into space, doing his best to listen while his old friend voiced his opinion on the way of things. Christmas Eve was approaching and it had an additional meaning to Biz.

Omar's teeth stopped rattling and he felt inclined to talk. "I tell you, Sheriff, splendor, that's the word. Suck in the air and open your mind, the sight of beauty replaces all of your physical senses."

"Mighty cold, Omar. Why don't you put down that bottle of Bourbon and let's get down to the diner."

"That would be like pulling the plug on the Christmas tree lights, Biz."

"Then pass me the whiskey."

Omar handed over a nearly full bottle and Biz wiped the top with a gloved hand. He raised the container and nodded in a silent tribute.

"Say hello for me too, Biz. I know you're toasting Madeline. She always loved this time of the year. Tell her I miss her too."

"Good memories, Omar, of bad times. I can take the bad because it‟ always coming. What humbles me is that I've lost my enthusiasm. On some days, I can't separate the reminiscences from reality."

"We are the consequences of our history, Biz, living in the split second that becomes the past. Just like ancient stars, we quickly become nothing more than a recollection. The future—the future exists only in the mind."

Business Smith, never one to speak unless he found something important to say, found his voice.

"Omar, if you believe in a celestial purpose, doesn't the starlight of your life continue to travel through the universe, an open book for eternity?"

"Hand me back that bottle. You have a job to do tonight. It wouldn't be right to have the town‟ lawman under the influence."

Biz returned the bottle with a smile. Neither man drank more than an ounce of liquor a year, and tonight was usually the night.

"To answer your question, Sheriff, I believe we are minute bursts of forever. If you choose not to ascribe a divine function to your existence, you are neither right nor wrong. We all are a memory in a universal anecdote."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed it is, Biz, in our singularity we are not alone; the lives of billions and billions of life forms blend into our story, our legend. From the mundane to the magnificent, lives are lived, and then become the past."

Like always, Omar never finished his oratory, usually getting halfway before falling into a contemplative trance.

Biz almost whispered. "Speaking of duty, I've got to go. I'm meeting the Hunter family for a little reconciliation at one o'clock. I hope my day goes by slowly. I am in no hurry to get to Delilah's. Are you going to be okay?"

"Just fine--just fine. I suppose you'll be stopping by the diner at the usual time?"

"I'm nothing if not predictable."

As Biz walked back to his car, Omar thought of the heartbreaking loss his friend had suffered. Three months ago, Biz, lost Madeline to cancer. They were high school sweethearts and best friends. It was well known in Uledi that they were the perfect couple, and so deeply in love that their devotion to each other was epic. This Christmas without Madeline was sure to break Biz's heart. Omar raised the bottle to his lips, paused, and thought better of it. He had things to do as well.

☆☆☆☆☆

Just past the municipal golf course on Kansas road is a familiar and welcome stop for the people of Uledi, a place that serves the best cheeseburger in town. Of course, part of that reputation is tarnished by the fact it is the only place serving burgers. Notwithstanding, they are a treat for the senses. Delilah makes them herself, combining ingredients that she swears she learned from a gypsy woman passing through with the circus. On other days, she claims that she honed her skill as a short order cook on the Pullman cars out of Chicago. Shorty Porter claims there weren't any women cooks on the Pullman's, but, since Delilah is all of eighty years old, no one doubts her stories.

The brick and frame place has been there so long that it's hard to tell if the diner was built or just grew brick by brick. Occasionally, a traveler on the way to Mount Olive will be drawn to the hominess of the diner like a bee is attracted to a pollen-laden flower. The weary are rewarded with a clean and warm rest stop. Some leave swearing to stop again, proclaiming the food as the finest this side of the Ohio River.

For the past fifty years, the same crowd has gathered. They wander in like dust blown in a dry summer. In less than an hour, the diner is full of people laughing and talking while they eat. The smell from the griddle permeates the room. The crackling of bacon and the sizzle of frying beef is a symphony of odors and sounds. The church ladies all order gravy laden plates called open-faced hot roast beef sandwiches. The men mostly dig into the meatloaf platter, and up the calorie count with a generous portion of crispy deep brown French fries. At the end of the meal, there are very few who couldn't be persuaded to have a slice of Delilah's buttermilk pie.

For the last two months, there has been an uncommon empty feeling in the diner. The back booth has been unoccupied. No one had the heart to sit where Biz and Madeline had their Sunday dinners. Now, Sherriff Smith would sit alone, silent as the graveyard behind the Catholic Church. In fifteen years, Biz Smith's tastes never wavered. A cheeseburger, buttermilk pie, and a cup of coffee would be his answer to the, "What do you want?"question.

Delilah would sashay—or as close to sashaying as an eighty year old can get, toward the booth, plate in hand. "How are you doing tonight, Biz?"

At that remark, the diner patrons would edge forward on their chairs. There was no response and they leaned back, shaking their heads and silently clucking their tongues in sympathy. Healing Biz was going to take a miracle.

Tonight, the common folk of Uledi planned their own brand of divine intervention.

☆☆☆☆☆

Over at Gaskins Mortuary, one of the planners of Biz's revival, Bert Gaskins, bent over the ashen body of Noma Skiles. He took a sponge and lovingly washed any remaining clotted blood from her head. On the table next to him was a container of Noma's blood that he'd carefully drained. He would dispose of it reverently. On this unhappy Christmas Eve, he had work to finish. No evidence of this woman's demise would be visible when he was done. Every mourner would pass by and marvel at the quiet dignified repose of Mrs. Skiles. He would not cut corners. Noma wouldn't like it. Bert glanced at the clock. He'd be done soon.

As he often did, he talked to the bodies he worked on.

"Noma, I'm sure sorry you couldn't wait for your grandson to change that light bulb in the bathroom. More people are killed in bathrooms than you realize. I know you never regretted anything in your seventy-six years, but I bet you'd want to be at Delilah's tonight. I'll make sure the folks all know you did your best to be there. Life just doesn't give you all that you want. I know—I know—you didn't miss much. Do you remember the time right after your husband died, when you were all befuddled about losing your home? That salesman from the East Coast convinced you to pay an outrageous sum for mortgage protection. A week later, when you come to your senses you called the Sheriff. Somehow, and we don't know the particulars, Biz, returned your check. If I'm not mistaken, that was one of the happiest days of your life. I know you were going to hunt the rascal down, but thought better of it. If there was a feistier woman in the Valley, I'd be surprised. I'd also be surprised if anyone in this town hadn't at one time or another been helped by Business Smith."

Bert took a moment and admired his work. He was done. He looked out of the window in the basement and saw snowflakes. It was going to be a real Christmas after all. The Shenandoah was putting on its best coat for Noma.

☆☆☆☆☆

Five miles down the road from the overlook, Biz stopped at the filling-station, and while he was there, Pike Chatsworth, told him there was a message from the police station. "Melvin says to turn on your radio, he has a call." He listened to Melvin, the part-time radio dispatcher and janitor cackle on about Mr. Buddy and Mr. Hank tearing into one another. Hank's wife had called all frantic. The drive to the Buddy's place was five miles of bad road.

It was a grateful, Mrs. Buddy who met him at the door.

"Things are fine now, Biz, he's asleep and it's all over. Hank's gone home." She promised earnestly that her man would never lay hands on another bottle of rum. It took all of fifteen minutes to get away from the place. Mrs. Buddy wanted to feed him. He declined, but did ask her to put a cork in her still out behind the garage, at least until after New Year.

"I promise, Biz. I'll tell Mrs. Hank to do the same."

It was nearly two o'lock when Biz finally reached the Hunters. It always took awhile to get to their home. The back ridge was hard to navigate. He hated being late.

After sitting down with the Hunter family and listening to their tale of woe, it was an hour and a half later before he was back on the main road. He successfully negotiated a truce between two warring people. Even though they fought, he was envious that they still had each other. Strange as it might seem, he wondered why he'd been called. They'd hardly been each other's throats and had almost seemed cheery.

The snow was beginning to flutter a little heavier when he reached the highway. The big flakes had given way to the smaller more determined ones. It made him think about Madeline, of course everything made him think of her. The other day, Bailey's dog let loose with a vulgar vapor, and it made him remember their old Golden Retriever. Madeline laughed and laughed at Dandie's frequent flatulence. The dog would eat anything. Things that were once funny were now fuel for melancholy.

The radio crackled in the car. A thin reedy voice, filled with obvious excitement, breathed out the message. "Sheriff, I just got a call from Bert Gaskins. He said someone was peeking into the basement of the mortuary. He thinks the kids from the high school from Coal Center are up to their old tricks. He wants to know if you'll drive by and check things out."

"I'll be there, Melvin. You call and let Bert Gaskins know I'm just passing the ridge to the east."

"I'll tell him, Sheriff. He says not to hurry. Since you're coming up on Route 672, would you mind stopping at the IGA and getting me a gallon of milk. My cats always get fresh milk for Christmas morning, and with me having to work late on Christmas Eve…well, I'd appreciate it."

Biz looked at his watch. It was almost four and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was possible that he was going to be late for dinner at Delilah's. The memory of Christmas Eve meals with Madeline cascaded through his mind. He could see her smile. It was as bright as a summer's day, and her eyes twinkled when she looked at him. It was the spark that lit their marriage.

Even at the end, she was smiling and worried that he wouldn't know how to take care of himself.

☆☆☆☆☆

The snow was flurrying when he reached the IGA. There were two people in the store, a stock boy and Millie Perkins, who'd worked there forever.

"Hey Millie, Melvin asked me to pick up a gallon of milk for his cats. Do you still have any milk left?"

"I have plenty, Biz, but I don't know what's in old Melvin's head. He bought a gallon of milk this morning."

"It must've slipped his mind. Things like that happen."

"I know the feeling. Is there anything else you'd like? I guess Christmas dinner will be from the microwave this year. Oh, sorry, that didn't sound right. I'm as sorry as anyone about Madeline. She was a bright, fresh breath of air."

"I know what you mean, Millie. I do miss her. I don't need anything, at least not something that I can buy in the IGA."

"Well, Merry Christmas, and God bless. I'll see you next year."

Biz thought about calling Melvin and reminding him that going on wild goose chases was his least favorite thing. But Melvin worked part-time, and had cheerfully volunteered to work Christmas Eve. There wasn't a negative bone in the old man's body.

☆☆☆☆☆

After a quick uneventful stop at the funeral parlor, he decided he would make it to Delilah's after all.

The snow covered the windshield and began to cover the grass along the highway. Biz looked at his wristwatch. Once again, he was reminded of Madeline. Five Christmases ago, she'd gotten tired of complaints about cheap watches. He would buy a Wal-Mart special for $20, and then get flustered when it couldn't stand up to the rigors of his job. Unbeknownst to him, she'd read in the papers that an estate sale was being held for some robber baron who had a mansion two counties west.

The ladies of the church were all abuzz about the death of the robber baron. Millie Perkins claimed that he stopped in the IGA once a year on his way to the city, and bought a case of baked beans. When she finally had the nerve to ask him why he bought that particular brand of beans, he smiled and told her that her prices were the best around. She'd heard from reliable sources that he had a large collection of fine watches.

That Christmas, he had opened his special gift from Madeline, and shook his head in amazement. He remembered asking. "What is a Luminor Submersible, and who is the maker?"

Hed never heard of Paneri. She told him it was a yard sale purchase she'd picked up while in Bobstown, and to wear it until he broke it. "I think the man at the yard sale said it was made by Timex."

A few months later, on a trip to Mount Olive, he stopped at a jeweler to get the watch cleaned. The man offered him $1000 on the spot for it. He learned later, that Madeline had paid $300 for a watch that you can buy new for thousands. Somehow, in his world, what she spent would buy fifteen years worth of watches. The best part of the whole thing was her reaction, and how proud she was of her bargain.

He loved the watch, not for its price, but because its face reminded him of her.

☆☆☆☆☆

It was nearly six o'lock and the turn toward Delilah's loomed ominously ahead. Just past State Route 140, he saw a car on the side of the road. A man was waving furiously. He stepped out of his car into a full-blown snow storm. He could see that the young man was almost frantic. The car had run off the road, probably took a turn to fast, and slid into a gully. It looked like it was a goner.

"What can I do for you, young fella? Do you want me to put this old horse out of its misery?" He usually tried to joke with someone this upset.

"Thank God you came along. My wife…"trying to get her… hit an icy patch—baby."

"Slow down. Take a deep breath. This kind of weather can make this old road dangerous. Did you say baby?"

The boy's panic seemed to grow in the dimming light and the falling snow. At that point, Biz heard a whimper from the backseat. The truth of the situation flashed through his mind. In one intuitive leap. He knew. This kid's wife was having a baby.

"You have a young woman in the car? Is she having a baby?"

"Sheriff, my wife and I live about 25 miles from here. We thought we'd have time to get to Bobstown and the hospital before the baby was born. Something must've happened."

"Let me take a look. I've had some experience with this. My wife... I was in the delivery room for the birth of my daughter. I've had some training, and to tell the truth, there are three people in Uledi that I helped deliver. It's funny how it always happens on a snowy night."

He opened the door and did what he always did. He introduced himself. "I'm Sheriff Smith, ma'am. You're going to be fine. We'll get to the hospital in Bobstown, and they'll deliver this baby."

She screamed. "Can't wait, the baby is on the way. I waited too long to tell Billy to come home. He was clearing a patch of evergreens…

She groaned.

"Just relax, ma'am. Your baby is going to see the light of day on Christmas Eve. Some say that's a blessing. The baby won't like it much, something about birthday and Christmas presents. We can't naturally choose the day we are born. What's your name?

She gritted her teeth and forced out the words. "I'm Rebecca."

"Pretty name—my daughter is Rebecca. It's my wife's favorite name."

She winced. "I wish your wife was here."

"She is—trust me. She's a big one for Christmas surprises. Now, since this baby is so eager to see the light of day—make that the night, that's a sure sign everything is okay. Oh, wait, is the baby on time?"

"Yes, thirty-nine weeks. One week early."

"Good, I'm going to get your husband to help me move you into my car. Do you think you can make it?"

For the next half-hour Biz did what he knew best. He calmed Rebecca and ordered the boy to call the hospital. In special times, special people have an inborn sense of what to do. Biz was one of those people.

"Now start to breathe like you've been taught. When you feel a contraction, just push gently. I'll be right back. I've got to get a few things for my emergency kit."

He could see the baby's head. He gently glided the infant out, and swiped downward on the nose to help expel the mucus and amniotic fluid. He placed the child, a little girl, on the mother's stomach and covered them both with his emergency blanket. He made sure that the newborn's head was lower than the rest of its body. He did not cut the umbilical cord.

Minutes later, he instructed the husband to get into the car and steady his wife. He explained that if she were to give birth to the placenta, he must place it next to the baby. And be careful not to separate the cord.

With as much care as he could muster, he pulled his car out on the highway and began his journey toward Bobstown. He listened carefully to the sweet comforting words that the young boy whispered to his wife. It made him smile. He remembered the same conversation he'd had with Madeline when their daughter was born. He knew that this boy would grow into a caring and loving father.

Five miles from the hospital, Rebecca seemed to gain strength.

"What time was the baby born, Sheriff?"

"I'd say seven-o-two, and my watch is pretty accurate, a Christmas Eve baby."

"Sheriff, would you mind telling me your name?"

"Sure, they call me Business, Biz for short. It's an old nick-name. It seems I was a reticent young man. Whenever someone asked me a question, I always replied, none of your business. The name stuck."

"That's not your real name?"

"Well, it's been so long since I used my real name, and only one person ever called me by my name—that was my wife."

"I can hear it in your voice, you love her very much."

"I do, and I always will."

"Please tell me your real name, Sheriff. I'd like to put it on the short list of names for us to consider for our baby."

"You wouldn't want to do that, Rebecca. My given name is Achilles. My father loved ancient Greek history. I don't see how it can be made into a fitting name for a baby girl."

"Then, tell me your wife's name."

☆☆☆☆☆

Biz took his time, the roads were easily passable and he could see the lights of the snow plough ahead. The snow had faded to a whisper. They reached Bobstown Memorial General just a few minutes before nine. Rebecca was whisked into the hospital and Biz was left standing in an empty hallway. He stood there for a while thinking about the life that he just touched, and the life that stood before the young couple. He glanced at his watch one more time. It was past nine and the diner would close at nine-thirty. He sighed. It would be the first time that he would not sit in his booth at Delilah's on Christmas Eve. This was a night for firsts. It would be the first time that he would spend Christmas alone. Somehow, the thought of being without Madeline made him feel hollow. He knew that his trip to the diner was a fool's errand. He could never recapture the warmth of her smile, and the look on her face as she dug into her traditional plate of pancakes.

All of those years, he had joined her in relishing the experience. She loved pancakes, all kinds of pancakes, small ones, big ones, banana filled, blueberry, strawberry, chocolate chip, you name it pancakes. She only disliked one kind of pancake. He never told her that the one she detested was his favorite.

"Excuse me, are you Sheriff Smith?" A tall young nurse approached him and placed her hand on his arm.

"I am."

"I'm glad I caught you before you left. The young woman that you just brought in wanted me to tell you something.

☆☆☆☆☆

Biz walked out of the hospital with a smile on his face.

Christmas Eve was fast approaching its end. In another hour and 15 minutes, Christmas would be here. It was time to go home. Tomorrow he would call his daughter, and wish her and his grandson Merry Christmas. It would be good to hear her voice, but he knew that she was also feeling the loss, and the conversation would dance around their emotions. He felt enormously tired. It ran through his mind that he would drive straight home, but, he knew there was one more thing to do. Every night he drove past Delilah's and checked to see if she was okay. One thing he could never do was forget an obligation for a friend. It was eleven when he pulled into the parking lot.

He saw something strange, something out of place. Parked in front of the diner was Omar's red pick-up. There appeared to be a small light on in the back. He hoped nothing had happened to Delilah. At this time of night, snow muffled all of the sounds that he normally heard. It was eerie, strange, but somehow inviting. He walked up the steps to see if the door was locked. The handle turned and he opened the door. When he stepped inside, the lights came up. What he saw amazed him.

Sitting in the booths were people from the town. His eyes were drawn immediately to Bert Gaskins, Shorty Porter, Mr. and Mrs. Buddy, Mr. and Mrs. Hank, Melvin, and Millie Perkins. In his initial shock, he missed the Hunters and several others. Standing by the back booth was Omar. No one spoke. He could see that his regular spot was empty. He only knew one thing to do. He silently walked toward the back.

He nodded, but did not speak as he walked by. Omar smiled, and with a sweeping gesture indicated that he was to take his seat. From the kitchen, Delilah sauntered in. She approached him, as she had done for many, many years.

"Good evening, Sheriff. Can I get you a coffee?"

Again, everyone turned toward the back and scooted forward on their seats.

"I'll have the usual, Delilah."

There were smiles on many of their faces. Business Smith was talking. Omar held up his hand.

"Not tonight, Biz. We have something special for you. Your order was placed months ago, and for especially for tonight."

"Omar, what's going on?"

"We're here, and might I say we've been here since six o'lock, to say hello to an old friend, and make another old friend's wish come true . Two weeks before Madeline passed away, she called me and asked if I would stop by. She wanted to see me before you came home. I have to tell you old-friend, at the end of that hour. I was a blubbering mess. And Madeline tried her best to console me. As you well know, she was the rock that held us all together.

"She knew what was coming. She asked me to help you through what would be a difficult time. She asked us all to be here tonight to support and love a man that makes the town of Uledi special. As for myself, I'd like to add that you make our journey in this universal question mark bearable. You and Madeline will always be with us, so we had to be with you tonight."

Biz stood. "Omar…I…think."

"Madeline knew what was coming next. She told me to tell you to sit back down, because she has a few words to say to you.

"I'm going to ask Bert to read this. I couldn't bear to say the words one more time. Each time I try, I wind up sobbing like a little girl—no offense ladies."

Millie stood—"None taken, Omar."

Bert walked officiously toward the booth and unfolded a sheet of paper. "First, I'd like to say that tomorrow Noma's family requests that you all enjoy Christmas with your loved ones. The viewing will begin the day after. Oh, Noma would want to say that she's as mad as a wet hen that she missed tonight's do."

Shorty Porter hollered. "Get to it, Bert."

"Hold your horses." He began to read.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Dear Achilles, I want you to know that I'm fine. My pain is gone and your memory will be with me in eternity. When Millie giggles, remind her that we are all bound by what Omar calls the eternal glue. I call it God. He calls it whatever he calls it. You know Omar.

There will be a surprise for you on Christmas. I realize you'll be embarrassed by what you hear tonight, but on Christmas Eve I wanted to leave one more present. I can't be there in person to express my love, but I can show you that everyone in the diner respects and cherishes you. You have tried to hide your light under a basket for too long. We all know how wonderful you are. Most say you're the kindest, gentlest, caring human in the Valley. I'd say east of the Mississippi, as you know, I've never traveled to the west coast.

You have never let us down. Bert tells me that when you were kids in school, he used to stand next to you in the playground, and you'd keep the bullies from dragging him back into the building and stuffing him in a locker. I can't imagine Bert in a tiny locker, but it proves that you had a kind spirit early on.

Everyone in this room will want to reminisce about our time together. I want them to tell you why you mean so much to them. It will do everyone good to unbutton their shirts and let their hearts come forward. In a few hours, Christmas will come and the feeling of celebration will create a warm glow. For one day the barriers drop, love is freely given. I hope that tonight is the beginning of a new chapter in Uledi's history. I dream that we can be known as the town that cares.

My big strong man, I'll wait for you in the star dust that Omar talks about. When the folks are done tonight, I'll have one more gift for you.

Eternally,

Madeline"

☆☆☆☆☆

No one spoke. Omar cleared his throat and tried to talk but failed. Millie Perkins was the first to speak.

"I want to tell everyone about my best Christmas present. You gave me a new life the day you took care of my abusive ex-husband. He bullied everyone, and he kept me like a dog. Somehow you found out about it and paid him a visit when I was at work. The next day he packed up his belongings and headed west. I didn't shed a tear of regret, but I cried when I knew that someone in this town cared enough to stand up for me. A week later, Christmas came and I felt as if the world was born anew. Of course, I always knew it would be you to play Santa Claus."

Shorty piped up. "Dang, Millie, I wondered why that cur took off running."

"I'm next." Delilah dominated the room with her commanding voice.

"One Christmas Eve, a stranger happened to pass by when I was closing the diner. Just like I always do. He must have seen an old lady that would be an easy mark. When he approached me, I could sense that he was bad from the beginning. You know what I mean. It's like a dog growling when wickedness comes. In an instant, he'd pushed me up against the wall and demanded all my money. Of course, I would have given it to him if he was in trouble and asked real nice, but he was just pure evil.

I handed him my cash and I could see in his eyes he was not done. I covered my face, praying, waiting for the end to come. I'd forgotten that you were as regular as my aunt on prune juice. You must have seen the door open and came up behind him and snatched him away. Then you beat the tar out of him. I'm ashamed to say I watched the beating with glee. The following day, I found a Salvation Army pot ringer and gave him all of my earnings on that Christmas Eve. It was a fair price to pay for the show you put on."

Delilah took a breath and Hank chimed in. It seemed that everyone wanted to have their say. "Don‟ forget about Biz finding Mrs. Buddy's son when he wandered off toward behind the west ridge."

There was almost a spontaneous explosion of remarks from the rest of the people. Each one made it to the back booth and sat down across from an astonished man. There were "God bless you's"enough for a Sunday sermon. Time stood still in Delilah's Diner.

Finally, when all were done, Delilah stood up. "What will you have tonight, Sheriff?"

"I've had more than any man deserves, Delilah; a beautiful wife and wonderful friends. But since you know how habitual I can be, I'll have pancakes on Christmas…look at the clock, it's Christmas everyone—Merry Christmas."

Delilah interrupted the gaggle of well wishes. "Wait—one more thing. Madeline called me a month before she passed, and I promised I'd make something different for Biz tonight. She told me the story of their special meeting here in this diner. She told me she'd had her eye on him for months.

"It was Christmas Eve when she'd approached Biz, full of holiday bravado and a little apprehension. Biz had been as nervous as puppy meeting a Rottweiler when they bumped into each other in school. So the diner became a special place. They celebrated their connection every December twenty-fourth.

Madeline had a pure love for pancakes, and Biz would always order what she did because she'd wind up taking the last cake on his plate. For all those years, Biz never mentioned how much he loved buckwheat cakes because Madeline couldn't tolerate the foul smelling, sour tasting things. But, she remembered that he was eating buckwheats when she said hello to him that Christmas Eve. Each year she'd ask if he wanted something else, but Biz would order the usual—whatever Madeline ordered.

Tonight, this plate of buckwheat cakes is for you, Biz, with a message from Madeline—do not be afraid to try something you like, because when you get to heaven, you'll be back on pancakes with syrup, or molasses, or covered in strawberries with whipped cream."

There was a small buzz from everyone when Biz forked his first buckwheat cake. He smiled and Bert Gaskins swore later there was a tear in his eye. Just as Biz poked his fork into another bite, Melvin squeaked.

"Look, it is snowing like sixty out there. The lot has dang near got a foot of snow. We might be here all night."

There was a spontaneous cheer, and Delilah put on another pot of coffee.

Of course, later on, Tom Holland called to let everyone know that he was coming with his plow, and would clear the road and parking lot. No one seemed to mind the wait.

If there was a heaven, Madeline was looking down at the tiny spot called Delilah's Diner with affection. Nestled in at the eastern edge of Dunbar's Knob, the town of Uledi was a beacon to the heavens. In that place, on that night, it was clear that you could see forever. It was also true that you could see the past as well as the future. The last thing that Biz Smith did before he left that night was to look up at the stars. He had a present for his Madeline.

"Thank you for your Christmas gift, my love. You know, it wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't give you something. I want you to know, that last night, a baby girl was born and her name will be Madeline. Nothing in this universe can compare to you. But, it's nice to know that there will be a child to carry your name.

☆☆☆☆☆

That Christmas it was true , if you lifted your eyes toward the heavens, you found the best view in the Valley.