It had been a long day. She was ready for bed. The presents were wrapped and in the shopping bag on the kitchen table. The appetizers and fruitcake were ready and in the fridge. Beth looked out the kitchen window. She could just see the top of the Paisley Abbey tower that was silhouetted against the night sky as it poked above the roofline of the nearby flats. A few tiny snowflakes fell. "Ahhh, maybe a white Christmas," she thought as she turned from the window. She loved this time of year and looked forward to Scottish Christmas Day with her friends.
She poured herself a wee dram, placed the glass on a plate with some shortbread fingers and padded off to bed. "A little something for Santa, and me," she said to herself and smiled as she placed the plate on the bedside table. Letting her robe fall on top of her slippers, she swept back the covers, fluffed up the pillows, and crawled into bed. The shortbread melted in her mouth and a sip of the golden liquid warmed her whole body. She could feel its tingle radiate through her as she reached over and turned off the lamp. The soft yellow light of the streetlight, as it filtered through the curtains, dimly lit the room. Beth looked over and saw the outline of the remaining shortbreads and half a glass of dram. "For you Santa," she giggled and fell asleep.
Perhaps it was the sound of footsteps in her room or maybe the smell that first stirred Beth from her slumber. Maybe it was a combination of both. However, as she stirred, Beth could see through her half closed eyes a figure move and smell the scent of wet peat and leather. Beth was not afraid but intrigued. The visitor appeared to be an older gentleman. He moved towards her bed and Beth sat up defensively pulling the covers up tightly across her chest exposing her feet in the process. He reached out and tenderly pushed back the hair from her brow. As his fingers moved down her cheek and under the cleft of her chin, his touch was warm and loving. Beth now felt both safe and excited.
