Snow swirled outside the bare window of the small log cabin, the fat flakes whipped by a wind both cold and cruel. Noelle mourned the circumstances that had sent her husband on a reckless trek into the unforgiving elements but the need had been great.

Trembling, she nestled the last knot of wood into the dying embers of the yuletide fire. Its fading warmth no longer a source of gladness and cheer.

The howling gale gusted smoke, thick and black, back down the chimney to choke her lungs and sting her eyes.

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered in despair. “Please bring my beloved husband home.”

Suddenly, as if in answer to her fervent prayer, silence descended upon the night, and through a break in the clouds, a guiding star shone brightly. In the distance, the faint tinkle of sleigh bells sang sweet and clear. Soon the joyful jingle drew near.

Noelle heard the stamping of hooves in the snow and her husband’s merry laugh. She threw open the door and raced into his warm embrace. “Oh, Nicolas, you’re home.”

“Home and happy,” he said, giving her a resounding kiss. “Let me take care of the horses and I’ll be right inside.”

“But what of Mary?”

“Your Mrs. Josephson was safely delivered of a healthy baby boy.”

Noelle sagged against him in relief. “And a name,” she asked looking into his rosy face. “Has she named him, yet?”

Grinning, he announced, “Oh, yes. She named him Christopher Christian Josephson.”