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It was winter on Minbar. Checking the Earth calendar he kept on his computer, John Sheridan realized it was late December at home; and almost Christmas. Sighing, he closed the link and stated into the air, “Power off.” The screen obligingly blanked, leaving only a pulsing blue light indicating that the system was in hibernation. Hibernation seemed the order of the day. Either it was later than he thought, or everyone had taken off early. He’d been putting in some full days lately, picking up the slack at headquarters. Delenn was still not back to full strength after the delivery of their son.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, as he remembered the helplessness he’d felt, watching her struggle with the illness and fatigue caused by her pregnancy. Sometimes he thought she’d carried David to term through sheer will; her determination set against her body’s attempts to reject the baby. He’d helped as best he could, but it had been a difficult conflict. Between his duty to the fledgling Alliance, and his duty to his wife and unborn child; he’d often felt torn in two. Then when the baby had finally come, he’d almost lost the both of them. He still felt ill when he thought about the hemorrhaging that had started in the middle of the night, and continued throughout the next day. Now, three months later, Delenn was finally able to work a few hours a day. She still tired quickly, but didn’t let it stop her. He laughed when he remembered her overseeing the last negotiations between the Drazi and the Gaim in their quarters. She stopped them twice to check on the baby, and once to confer with the nurse; and they were so intimidated, they didn’t say a word, just sat there and waited for her to return to the conference table.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Sathenn, his current assistant, came in in response to his invitation. He was carrying a sheaf of papers, and said, “Your pardon, President Sheridan. I was just going to leave these for your approval tomorrow. There is nothing urgent in them,” he said hurriedly, as John began to go through them.
“Oh, all right. I’d better be getting home then.” John stood up and began to gather some files together.
“May I speak, President Sheridan?” Sathenn said tentatively.
“Of course,” John stopped his movements, and stood quietly. It still surprised him how much his presence overwhelmed the Minbari, even those he worked with closely. He waited patiently for Sathenn to gather up the nerve to continue.
“I…that is…we, have been wondering when Delenn will be returning. We had been told that your people stop working this time of year, to celebrate a native festival. Will Delenn be coming back to take over while you are gone? Is she well enough? We have all been very concerned, and we hear little news.”
John was taken aback by this, “I have no plans to take any time off. Delenn is feeling better daily, and has begun working from home, a few hours a day. I expect she will be back full time soon. I am sorry you were not kept informed.”
Sathenn bowed his head, “This situation is different from our normal customs, that is all.”
John asked curiously, “How different?” Delenn had never been very clear on Minbari customs in child-rearing, simply stating she would deal with any issues that arose.
His assistant paused as if translating in his head, then went on, “When Minbari females give birth, they either retire from public life to raise the child, or give the child over to the male parent or another in the clan to raise, so they may continue their work. We have few children, and value them highly. We believe they need devoted caretakers, but it need not be the parent if their service is required elsewhere. Delenn has made it known that she intends to do neither. I mean, both-- I’m not sure what she intends, actually.”
John laughed, “She’ll do as she pleases, that’s for sure!” Then he sobered, and said, “Delenn wants to be as involved with raising David as much as she can, given her other responsibilities. That is a normal human way of parenting.”
“I see,” said Sathenn. “I will let the others know. They may not understand, but that is not required.” He went on, “But what of your festival? You should not have to forego your traditions because you have chosen to serve the Alliance, and made your home here. Is there anything I can do to assist you? Are there ceremonial foods I can help you obtain, or prayers to be said?”
John was touched by Sathenn’s concern. There was one thing he missed about Christmas. “Let me show you something,” he said, and powered up his computer again. After logging onto EarthNet, he quickly located a picture of a Christmas tree. “Is there any kind of tree or plant on Minbar that looks like that? I mean, without the lights and decorations?”
Sathenn looked carefully at the screen, “There is one that resembles this…”
John smiled and said, “Good! Then maybe I can get hold of one. I showed Delenn one once on the station; she loved it. David’s a little young yet, of course, to appreciate it, but next year…”
Sathenn interrupted, “I am afraid it might be unsuitable. Am I correct in that these decorative plants are brought inside the house?”
John nodded, and asked, “Is that a problem?”
Looking serious, Sathenn said, “The winterleaf tree has small hard leaves like this one. The leaves never fall off the branches.”
“We call the Earth equivalent ‘evergreens’ for that reason. They are a symbol of renewal and rebirth on my world. This festival is all about that.”
“Ah. Very suitable. Unfortunately, the Minbari version also has three inch razor sharp spines along the branches. Long ago, in the dark times, the warrior caste tried to develop a fast-growing version to use as barrier plantings around their villages and fortresses. It worked almost too well, as they grew rampant. There are still areas where they have controlled burns each year to keep them from coming back.”
“I see,” John said with a sigh. “I suppose it was too good to be true.” He picked up the file folders he had laid aside, and said, “Thank you for trying to help. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sathenn bowed, and preceded John out of the office.
It was quiet when he got home; quiet and peaceful. He paused inside the doorway to deposit the files he'd brought home to look at later in the evening on a small table, and drank in the silence. As he stepped further into the room, he saw that his wife was sitting on the couch in the living area. There was a computer open on the end table, and stacks of papers, a few open books, and a row of data crystals in a holder on the low table in front of the couch.. The only light in the room was from an overhanging lamp which illuminated the work area, and left her partly in shadow. There was a yellowish glow from the pass-through to the kitchen area, but the door was closed to prevent further light escaping. He took the moment to look carefully at her, as she leaned forward into the light. She was still too pale and thin, but her eyes were clear; her movements quick and controlled. She was obviously concentrating hard; her brow was furrowed, and he could just catch what sounded like murmured imprecations.
As he walked towards her, she heard his step and looked up from the papers in her hand. As always, her welcoming smile lit up her face, and his breath caught in his throat as it had the first time he'd seen her. "Hi there. Working hard?"
She rose from the couch, and stepped into his embrace. "I am trying. I have a lot of catching up to do."
He looked over her shoulder to the open book on the table, "Infant and Child Care: Differences Among the Races? Volume Eight: The Human Child? What kind of research are you doing?"
She laughed, "That is one of the books Stephen left me when he visited us after David was born. He said he was no pediatrician, but thought I could benefit from some basic information. Human infants are not like Minbari ones, and I have little experience with either."
"Is something worrying you about David? Where is he anyway?"
"Asleep. He will awaken shortly; it has been almost three hours since he fell asleep, and he should be hungry. Nothing is wrong, just….well…"
John settled back onto the couch, pulling her down beside him, "Come on, give. What's bothering you about the baby? Maybe I can help. Though I don't have much more experience than you, unless you count being an absentee uncle."
Delenn looked a little embarassed, but pulled the book onto her lap. "Here it is: milestones to look for. David is three months old, and he's never smiled. He's well along in the motor skills, and I believe his vision and hearing are fine for his age, but he does not respond to anything or anyone by smiling."
John had to suppress his own smile at her earnest expression. "Have you spoken to the human nurse Stephen recommended about this? How long are we going to have her here by the way?"
"Only a few more weeks. We will still need assistance, but she has been training a few Minbari caretakers who will take over. I want to do as much as I can myself. The book says that human infants bond to their primary caretakers. It would be best if that were you and me." She added, annoyed, "I do not think the nurse takes my concerns seriously."
"I'm sure she means well. Sathenn was telling me today about how Minbari handle childcare. Some humans use childcare centers. Is there anything like that here?"
“I believe the warrior caste has communal care, but in the religious caste, a caretaker is normally assigned to be in charge. Who is chosen is up to the clan elders. The parents’ wishes are taken into consideration, but the elders look at all aspects of the decision; determining what would be best for the child, the parents, and the clan. Of course, once the child is old enough they are sent to school, often in another village or town. Some parents maintain a home near the school for their child. My father did that. Of course, he also provided special tutoring sessions for me at our home."
John looked at her thoughtfully, "Will you want to send David away to school when the time comes?"
"No!" she said forcefully. "I have discussed this with my clan elders already. They agree he is a special case. He will be tutored here." She looked at him, and added softly, "It is important that he be here, as much as possible."
He didn't say anything, but held her closely for a moment. "I wouldn't worry about the smiling thing. I'm sure the book gives averages. David is different in many ways, and this might just be another one." He felt her nod against his shoulder.
Then she sat up abruptly, and said, "This would be a good time, I think."
"For what?" he replied in confusion.
"I have a gift for you. This is your season for gifts, is it not?" She smiled in anticipation of his reaction. She called out for more light, then walked over to a corner of the room where a silver box stood. Reaching into it, she lifted something out, and brought it over to the low table in front of the couch, placing it down carefully.
John looked at what seemed to be a glass pyramid, about three feet tall. There were cascades of green color swirled throughout the structure, ranging from a delicate chartreuse to a glowing emerald to a green so deep it was almost black. "It's beautiful, Delenn." He quoted absently to himself as he examined his gift, "No matter where you look, you're bound to see forty shades of green."
"What does that mean?" she asked, enjoying his appreciation.
"Oh, it's an old Earth saying. There used to be a country called Ireland; it’s part of the Eurasian confederation now. It rained there a lot, and the countryside was always green. They used to say there were more shades of green in Ireland than any other place on Earth. The Sheridan clan came from there, a long time ago, and my Dad is fond of that saying. I think there was a song by that name too; I'm not sure."
"Then it is even more appropriate! Do you like it?" she asked, a little anxiously.
"It is really beautiful, but why this? And why green?" He asked, looking up at her.
She knelt by the low table, leaning against his knees, and began to manipulate the structure, pushing on certain points and pulling at others with a series of deft touches. What had seemed a solid, seamless piece of glass was folding out, like a blossoming flower, into a series of interlocking triangles and small pyramids. At last she stopped and looked at him expectedly. She laughed at the look of incomprehension on his face. "It's a Christmas tree, John! Or, at least, the Minbari equivalent. The artist took a bit of license with my description and the pictures I provided him." She paused to admire the structure, "Still, it turned out well, didn't it? I know it's not the same, but…"
Her voice was silenced by his reaching down and pulling her up into his arms for a fervent kiss. "I love it," he said huskily, when they broke apart.
She stroked his face, then said, "There's one more thing." She reached into the drawer under the table and pulled out a firelighter. "The small pyramids are oil reservoirs." She lit the candles, three on each level. "That is more like what you showed me, back on the station."
The silence was broken by a piercing wail from the bedroom. "Uh-oh," said John, rising to his feet. "I'll go."
"He will want to eat, I imagine," Delenn said. "I'll go warm the bottle. It'll only take a minute."
"Bring it in here, and I'll feed him. I haven't seen him all day."
When Delenn returned to the living room, carrying the warm bottle, John was just coming out of the bedroom, carrying his slightly less fussy son.
"I went ahead and changed him. He overflowed again, we'll have to change the sheets."
As John approached the couch, he saw Delenn's eyes widen. Looking down, he saw David was lying quiet in his arms, staring fixedly at the glowing green glass tree on the table. He sat down carefully, and the baby flung his arms towards the structure, and broke into a wide toothless smile. Taking the bottle from his wife, who settled down beside them, he thought to himself, This is what Christmas is all about. Light, and love, and family.