Author's Note: The following story is a submission for Group Writing Project #12: Happy Holidays VI at the Trixie Belden Homepage. This short story includes the following elements: a gift (material or not) a holiday song, a food associated with the holiday season, a holiday decoration, a family tradition and an animal associated with the holidays.

Thank you to my intrepid editor, Bonnie, for proofreading and continued support.

Secret Morning

Friday, January 1, 1993

	The sun had barely risen above the horizon when her alarm clock
radio began playing Auld Lang Syne.  Automatically, she reached to hit the
snooze button, then curled back up under the warm covers.  She had never
been a morning person and everyone knew it.  If she did not show up for
breakfast on time, someone would come knock on her door.
	Most days she easily fell back asleep but today her mind tossed
and turned.  The oldest bobwhites had returned to Sleepyside for their
semester break and it had been wonderful spending time with them in the
week the Junior-Senior High School had also been closed.  But her vacation
was drawing to an end; classes resumed on Monday.
	She loved having the entire club back together again and she had
missed her brother a lot.  But there was also someone else who she thought
of often while he was away.  Technically they had spent the week together,
but unlike the past summer, they had not found a moment to themselves.  
There had always been at least two other people around.
	It would have been easier if they were dating.  Their friends
would have completely understood and stepped aside.  But it was difficult
enough for them to figure out their own nebulous more-than-friendship.  
It was next to impossible to explain it to even their closest friends;  
the past semester had already involved much confusion.
	Before she could further pursue those thoughts, a knock sounded on
her door.  "I'm awake," she called, as she tried to convince her body to
get out from under the warm covers.  The internal battle had taken so much
of her reserve, she did not realize who had entered the room until the
person was only a few feet away.  "Mother!" she exclaimed.
	"Good morning."  Mrs. Wheeler could not have been awake for long,
but as always, she was dressed immaculately and her hair looked as if she
had just stepped out of a salon.  The pleated blouse and matching slacks
she wore even matched with her opal jewelry and diamond engagement ring.  
"The guests, including some bobwhites, are drifting in," she said.
	Over the past couple of years, it had become tradition for the
bobwhites, their families and close friends to meet up for holiday meals.  
This year, the New Year's Day brunch was taking place at the Manor House.  
Visiting extended family, such as the Lynch family's Arizona relatives,
were always invited to join the feast.
	Although the events were casual, the house was still decorated
with colorful balloons and crafts the bobwhites had made during the week
off from school.  This year they had made doves out of construction paper.  
There were birds scattered all over the main floor, including a few that
would be used as centerpieces for the buffet tables.
	Honey immediately glanced at her alarm clock, blinking twice at
the digits.  Either she had fallen back asleep or what had registered as
the first time she had hit the snooze button was the second or third time.  
"I'll be downstairs to join them as soon as possible," she promised, as
she got out of bed and headed towards her walk-in closet.
	She was surprised, upon emerging, that her mother was still there.
Mrs. Wheeler had been browsing the bookcase that was in her daughter's
room but turned when she heard footsteps.  "Did we get the correct books
for your collection?" she asked.  If it had not been for her upbringing,
there would have been more than a hint of anxiety in her voice.
	"Yes, of course," Honey replied.  She stopped by her dresser and
picked up the chain that laid atop it.  The ring rested in her hand a bit
longer than usual before she slipped the chain over her head.
	Mrs. Wheeler had been silent for several moments, but now she
spoke again.  "Is something wrong?" she asked.
	"No," Honey said automatically, but then regretted it.  Since last
spring, both of her parents had made time at least once a month to spend
with their two children, but somehow it still could not compare to what
other families seemed to have.  Honey was trying to confide in her mother
more, but it was not something she did instinctively.  "Well, maybe."
	Mrs. Wheeler took a few steps towards her daughter.  "Does it have
something to do with Brian?" she asked.
	Honey was momentarily startled at her mother's correct guess when
she realized she was still holding Brian's class ring even as it hung on
the chain around her neck.  "Yes," she admitted, as she dropped the ring.  
She was more transparent than she realized.
	"It's been nice having him around for the past couple of weeks, 
hasn't it?" Mrs. Wheeler asked gently.
	Honey nodded.  "Jim, too," she hastily added.
	"Of course," Mrs. Wheeler said.
	Honey dared to look at her mother and was relieved at the older
woman's understanding smile.  She did miss her brother, but in some ways,
it almost seemed as if she missed Brian more.  Perhaps it was only because
she could not openly admit to missing him, not without earning more than a
few curious glances that she did not want thrown her way.
	"You'll have another two weeks with them," Mrs. Wheeler said.  
"That's three weekends, plus perhaps some evenings."
	"I know," Honey replied.  "But I'll have homework.  And midterms
are also around the corner.  As much as I'd like to spend time with Brian,
Jim and the other bobwhites, I can't ignore my schoolwork."
	Mrs. Wheeler shook her head ruefully.  "If only the other Harts
had such sensible heads on their shoulders," she said.
	Honey was surprised.  "What do you mean?" she asked, as she went
over to her vanity and picked up a hairbrush.
	Mrs. Wheeler gestured for her daughter to sit down in front of the
vanity and when she did, the older woman pulled up the desk chair and sat
down by her daughter.  "Once upon a time, there was a young girl, who was
very much in love with the man of her dreams," she said.  "She spent days
thinking of him and nights out with him."
	Honey smiled wistfully.  "How romantic," she said.
	Mrs. Wheeler also smiled.  "They'd go dancing at least weekly,"  
she said.  "Everyone knew them.  They were the golden couple, and nobody
thought anything could keep them apart.  But what nobody else realized was
how much the girl was neglecting her studies, until she failed a class."
	Honey sat up straighter.  "What happened then?" she asked.
	"She went to summer school, of course," Mrs. Wheeler said.  "She
had to graduate.  The man was very devoted," she added.  "He stayed around
campus that summer and got a job, just so he could be with her."
	"How sweet," Honey said.  Then she hesitated.  "Was it Aunt Jo and
Uncle Howard?" she asked timidly.
	"No," Mrs. Wheeler said, shaking her head.  "It was me and your
father.  He blamed himself, of course.  He said he should have realized he
was taking so much time away from me.  He called himself every name in the
book."  She chuckled.  "That man sure has a temper."
	Honey was shocked.  "You?" she asked.  "But you went to college."
	"Yes, I did," Mrs. Wheeler said.  She managed a smile.  "You have
never seen a teenager work so hard as I did that summer.  It's one lesson
I've never forgotten.  But I'm glad you won't even make that mistake."
	"No, I won't," Honey promised.  She turned to put her hairbrush
down and caught a glimpse of the clock.  "Oh, no, we're really late now,"
she said.  She turned back towards her mother.  "I'm glad it was you who
came to wake me this morning," she said shyly.
	Mrs. Wheeler seemed to hesitate, but then got up and went over to 
hug her daughter.  "I'm sorry it's taken me this long."
	"Don't worry about that," Honey reassured her mother.
	Mrs. Wheeler patted her daughter's shoulder.  "And don't you worry
about the guests," she said.  "Take your time.  I'll handle the crowds."
	Honey watched as her mother left the room and then turned around
to look into her mirror.  She browsed through her collection of hair
ornaments and had just settled on a headband when someone knocked on the
door.  "Come in," she called, as she slipped the headband on.
	The door opened completely.  "Hi," a male voice said nervously.
	Honey spun around in surprise.  "Brian!" she exclaimed.
	"Your mother can be quite devious," he said. "She asked me to help
Cook get something from a high shelf in the kitchen, then sent me upstairs
with this."  He hefted a large picnic basket.
	Honey stood and went over to him.  She peeked beneath the blanket.  
"There's enough breakfast here to feed an army!"
	"I don't think she expects us to finish it," Brian said wryly.  
"But she did say it should keep us before anyone can find us."
	Honey blinked.  "You mean..." she began, but dared not hope.
	"It's not warm enough outside for a true picnic," Brian said.  
"But if we walk fast, we might make it out to the clubhouse before the
food gets cold."  His eyes twinkled.  "Are you up for the challenge?"
	Honey laughed.  "Of course," she said.  She shook her head in
bewilderment.  "I can't believe..." she trailed off.  Then she smiled.  
"I think I'm the luckiest girl in the world."
	They hurried downstairs, put on their coats, hats and scarves,
then scurried outside.  The fresh breeze whipped past them, pulling clouds
across the sky as if they were racing against time.  "I heard Mr. Maypenny 
say the almanac is predicting snow," Brian said.
	"I'm not surprised," Honey said.  She was breathless by the time 
they arrived at the clubhouse; walking had felt more like running against 
the wind.  She took the basket from Brian so he could unlock the door.  As 
soon as they were both inside, he closed it.  "Whew," Honey said.  Then 
she smiled.  "If it snows, maybe they can't find us."
	Brian chuckled.  "Your father said he's sending people down here
in less than an hour," he said.  "I think that was my warning."
	Honey looked around the clubhouse, noting with surprise that the
heat had already been switched on.  She briefly wondered how her mother
had managed that as she unpacked bagels, muffins, a small jar of
strawberry jam, several bottles of water and some silverware and plates.  
"What's this?" she asked, holding up something wrapped in a cloth napkin.
	"My contribution," Brian said.  "One donut."
	Honey laughed.  It was a tradition in the Belden family to have
donuts on New Year's Day.  Sometime in the past decade, the Lynch family
had also picked up the originally Dutch tradition.  "I'm sure you'll
convert Cook one of these years," she said.
	"I hope so," Brian said.  "You have no idea how difficult it was
to get one donut away without Mart noticing."
	"I can imagine," Honey said, as she took out a paper dove and an
insulated container.  She opened the latter to find two bacon omelets.  
"I think I just found our first course," she said.  Both removed their
coats, hats and gloves and set them aside.
	They chatted about nothing in particular as they ate.  Once they
had their fill of food, they repacked the picnic basket and moved it under
the table.  They had been sitting across from one another, but now Brian
moved over to sit next to Honey.  "Not that I don't love our siblings, but
I'm really glad we have some time to ourselves," he said.
	"So am I," Honey said.  "I'm glad Mother arranged it."
	"Would you believe I'd been racking my brain to figure out how to
pull something off all week?" Brian said ruefully.  "I've become so used
to college where everyone can do anything and nobody asks any questions,
I've forgotten what it's like to have bobwhite ears everywhere."
	Honey was surprised.  "You've been trying to figure out a way to
sneak around?"  As the oldest of the bobwhites, he had always been the one
expected to play by the rules.  "What would the others say?"
	"I don't know.  What do you think they would say if we told them
your mother set this up?" Brian asked.
	"You're right," Honey replied thoughtfully.  "I'm not sure which
they would be less likely to believe."
	They shared a laugh.
	The paper dove had been set aside earlier, but Honey now put it in
the middle of the table.  "You know what's strange?" she asked.
	"What?" Brian asked.
	"I've seen you every day for the past week, and most days the week 
before that," Honey said.  "Yet I feel like we haven't talked."
	"We haven't, really," Brian said.
	"I suppose not," Honey admitted.  It was not the same when all the
bobwhites were together.  The extroverted members, Jim, Trixie and Mart
tended to dominate the conversations.  She did not usually mind that
nobody else expected her to talk, but she was left curious about what
Brian had been up to while away at college.
	But before she could ask, he asked her first.  "I've heard plenty
about what Mart and Trixie have been doing," Brian said.  "But what about
you?  What's new and different in your life?"
	"Nothing much, really," Honey said.  "I'm still singing with the
ensemble.  We performed three songs at the winter choral concert."
	"I'm sorry my finals didn't end a few days earlier," Brian said.  
"I'd love to have come to the concert.  Did you get a tape?"
	"Yes," Honey replied.  The choral teacher had every concert taped
and would dub a copy for any student who brought in a blank cassette.  
"But I don't know when we'd be able to listen to it."
	"Would you mind if the others heard it?" Brian asked.
	"Not at all," Honey replied.  "But I wouldn't want to bore them
and somehow I doubt anyone else would suggest listening to it."
	"Why not?" Brian asked.
	Honey hesitated.  She did not want to speak poorly of their other
friends.  "None of the other bobwhites are in the ensemble," she said.
	"No, they're not," Brian agreed.  "But the bobwhites have never
done every single school activity together.  If nothing else, we could
never all be in the same classes, not even gym."
	"I suppose not," Honey conceded.
	Brian reached over and put his hand on hers.  "You know you can
always talk with me," he said quietly.  "What is it?"
	Honey swallowed.  "I've always wanted to be in a club," she said.  
"Ever since my days of boarding school.  The bobwhites mean more to me
than... than almost anything," she said.  "You know that, right?"
	"Of course," Brian said. "They mean a lot to me, too.  And to
everyone else in the club.  We wouldn't have it any other way."
	Honey nodded.  "I'd probably never have tried out for ensemble if
all the bobwhites hadn't encouraged me," she said.
	"Any regrets?" Brian asked softly.
	"No," Honey said.  "Except that I have no regrets."  She looked up
to find such a deer-in-headlights look on his face that it took all of her
tact not to giggle.  "I don't make any sense, do I?" she asked.  "It's a
wonder anyone can understand what I say."
	"We have experience with Trixie," Brian said.
	Honey looked up to see the twinkle in his eyes.
	"Let me see if I understand," Brian said.  "You feel bad because
you think you should have regrets when you don't?"
	Honey breathed a sigh of relief.  "Yes," she said.
	"Why?" Brian asked.
	Honey stared at the white dove on the table.  "I've made some new
friends," she said.  "And I know the bobwhites have made tons of friends,
but it's always been together.  Now I'm friends with classmates who are in
the ensemble, some of them the same classmates Trixie said always forgot
those of us in the outskirts of town existed over summer vacation."
	"I'll admit I also felt isolated as a kid," Brian said.  "But once
I had my driver's license, it wasn't quite so extreme."
	"No, it wasn't," Honey said.  "And come to think of it, we have
made friends at school, as a group.  But it doesn't change that now I have
new friends who aren't bobwhites.  Shouldn't I feel guilty for alienating
the bobwhites?  Especially when without them, I wouldn't even be the
person I am today, the one who can make new friends?"
	Brian gave her hand a squeeze.  "I don't think you should feel
guilty for making new friends," he said.  "These friends aren't trying to
take you away from the bobwhites, are they?"
	"No," Honey admitted.  "In fact, they've even asked me to try to
convince Mart to try out for ensemble.  Never enough tenors."
	Brian offered a wry smile.  "Did you?" he asked.
	"I mentioned it," Honey said.  "But Mart said he had enough on his
plate.  And that was before the university sent the acceptance letter."
	"There you go," Brian said.  "It sounds like your new friends know
how close you are to the other bobwhites.  They probably wouldn't've asked
you about Mart if you'd distanced yourselves from the club."
	"I suppose not," Honey said.  "I haven't thought of it that way.  
But you're right; they haven't tried to pull me away from the bobwhites."
	"And I doubt they will," Brian said.  "Most likely they just want
to get to know you while you're still one of their classmates, in the same
way they've had the opportunity to get to know their other classmates.  
It won't be long before you go off your separate ways."
	There was something in his voice that sounded almost plaintive.  
She realized immediately that she had taken over the conversation, and
while she knew he wanted to hear her thoughts and was glad that he had
given her a new perspective, she also wondered what was on his mind.  It
was her turn to give his hand a squeeze.
	Brian looked over at her and smiled.
	Honey remembered what he had said earlier.  "You know you can
always talk with me," she said softly.
	The expression on his face showed that he remembered his earlier
words just as well.  "Hindsight is twenty-twenty," he said.  "I didn't get
to know some of my classmates until senior year."
	"You didn't have a license before then," Honey said.
	"True," Brian agreed.  "But I also didn't try to get to know most
of them before that.  When I finally did, I was invited to the gatherings.  
If I had spoken up earlier, it's likely I'd have been included earlier. I
could've gotten a ride, or at least biked in."
	"Maybe even walk," Honey said.  "Cap did."
	"My cousin is insane," Brian said cheerfully.  Then he sobered.  
"Actually, two miles doesn't seem like much walking anymore.  It'd take
time away from the gathering, but people never arrived on time anyhow.  
And I suppose back then it seemed like we had all the time in the world.  
These days, time seems to move faster."
	"How so?" Honey asked.
	Brian shook his head.  "I remember a time when I looked up to
college students," he said.  "I couldn't wait to be one of them.  And now
I am one of them.  But it's hard to believe.  Sometimes I still feel like
the little kid who hoped to be one of those college students someday."
	"I'm sure they didn't all feel as admirable as you found them,"  
Honey said.  "It's never the same when you're on the outside looking in."
	"No, it isn't," Brian said.  "But it still seems incredible that
I'm more than halfway through college.  I have friends who are graduating
in May; after that, I don't know when or if I'll ever see them again."  
His voice was softer when he spoke again.  "Everyone is getting older.  
And while it'd be nice if they were around forever, that's not reality."
	The words were not lost on her.  Honey knew that her father was
not much older than she was now when he had last seen the man whose son he
had ended up adopting.  "Do you think that could happen to the bobwhites?"
	"Could?  Sure.  Would?  Not likely," Brian said.  "Because at the
end of the day, no matter where we live, no matter how many new friends
we've made, we still all end up getting together."  He offered a wry grin.  
"Look at how the past couple of weeks have been."
	Honey could not help laughing.  "I suppose we're all a bit closer
than most groups of friends," she admitted.
	"There's no group quite like the bobwhites," Brian said.  "And I'm
glad.  Even if it's a bit harder to find the time to talk one on one.  
But honestly I don't mind the enthusiastic ones taking center stage.  I'd
prefer to be one of the quiet ones and not get the limelight."
	"So would I," Honey said.  "But I am glad I've had the chance to
talk with you about what's been weighing on my mind."
	"And I'm glad I've had the chance to talk with you," Brian said.  
"Most people think I'm too serious."
	"Maybe we are," Honey said.  "But at least we're not alone."
	"No, we're not," Brian said.  "And we won't ever be as long as..."
	Suddenly, the door to the clubhouse burst open.
	Brian and Honey started in surprise, then both started laughing.  
"That wasn't quite what I meant..." Brian began.
	He did not have a chance to finish.  "Hey!" ten-year-old Bobby
yelled excitedly.  He waved the two paper doves he carried in each hand,
causing the balloons attached by string to his wrists to sway wildly.  
"You started decorating without us!"
	"Us?" Honey asked, just as Larry and Terry Lynch entered the room,
each also armed with two doves and two balloons.  "Of course," she said,
as Dan Mangan brought up the rear with a seventh balloon.
	Bobby set his two doves on the table.  "There," he said.
	The twins also set the doves they were carrying on the table.  
"Seven doves for seven bobwhites," Larry said.
	"'cause they're all birds, right?" Terry asked.
	"Right," Brian said.  He stood and pulled Honey to her feet.  He
nodded at Dan, who tied the balloon to a chair.  The younger boys followed
his cue.  "Good to know they didn't break the lock."
	Dan smirked.  "They know better than to mess with the clubhouse," 
he said.  "The consequences are severe."
	"Yes," Bobby nodded solemnly.  "Our tree house would be in danger!"
	"And we wouldn't want that," Larry said.
	"Where else would we hide from girls?" Terry added.
	At that Honey, Brian and Dan all started laughing.  "You know,
some day you're going to want to be friends with girls," Dan said.
	"But not today," Bobby said.
	"No, not today," Brian said thoughtfully.
	Honey glanced up at him, remembering what he had said about time
going by quickly.  She would probably return from college one day, just
like he had now, to find that the trio of now fourth grade students had
friends of both genders.  Tactfully, she shifted the attention away from
him.  "Today we have something more important to do."
	"We do?" Terry asked.
	Larry swatted at him.  "Birthday party!"
	Bobby did not seem to notice his friends' exchange.  "Moms said
it's too early for birthday cake," he said.  "But she said I could open
one present if the people who gave it to me said it's okay.  And the one
you, Mart and Trixie gave me sounds like a game when I shake it.  Could I
open it?  And if it's a game, could we play it before my party?"
	Brian glanced over at Honey.  "I don't see why not," he said.  
"Why don't we head back to the Manor House and see who else wants to come
down to the farm?"  He winked.  "In case it's a game to play."
	"Okay!" Bobby said.
	"Come on," Dan said.  "I'll race all of you."  The four of them 
were out of the clubhouse in no time flat.
	Brian helped Honey with her coat before he put on his own, then
retrieved the picnic basket from underneath the table.  Honey arranged the
doves so each sat in front of one of the chairs before she put on her hat
and gloves.  Then they walked towards the door.  "I'm glad we could have 
brunch, just the two of us," he said.
	"So am I," Honey said.  She opened the door, let them both out, 
then held the basket while he locked it.
	"Do you think we could do it again?" Brian asked.
	"I'd love to," Honey said.  She frowned.  "But where?  And how
would we get past all of the other bobwhites?"
	"If I leave the jalopy down the road, opposite the driveway, I can
get it out without anyone hearing," Brian said.
	"I could probably sneak out of my room early and close the door,"  
Honey said.  "Everyone knows I'm not a morning person."
	"There we go," Brian said.  "We could have breakfast at Wimpy's."
	"When do they open on weekends?" Honey asked.
	"Saturday, seven thirty," Brian said.  "Sunday, not until ten."
	"That would be too late to escape notice," Honey said.  "But we
could try meeting tomorrow, at seven thirty."
	"Is it a date?" Brian said.
	Honey smiled.  "It's a date," she said, wondering how those little
words could mean so much.  She let him take her hand as they walked up to
the Manor House.  "I can't believe we're sneaking around,"  she said.  "I
thought we were supposed to be the sensible ones."
	"We are the sensible ones," Brian said.  "Otherwise we wouldn't be
telling our parents that we're sneaking around the other bobwhites.  Nor
would we only plan to meet on days with no school."
	"We must be the only two in the world who could turn sneaking
around into a sensible action," Honey said.
	They shared a laugh.
	As they got closer to the top of the hill, Honey glanced down into
the hollow.  Her parents were wealthy enough to have given her anything in
the world, but it had never been about the mansion.  They could have moved
into a tiny log cabin and it would still have remained her favorite gift,
because it was next door to Crabapple Farm.

Happy Holidays VI