The Goblet from the Girl

A/N: For this little pre-Christmas ficlet, I'm borrowing Kennedy, an early elementary school friend of Christine's, from Razztaztic's epically wonderful family saga, Roots and Wings. She has created a whole cast of memorable Booth and Brennan characters, so why re-invent perfection. For those who are curious, Kennedy's dad is military, killed in the line of duty, and she follows his example, joining the service as an adult. But those aspects of her story are for another day. Give yourself a memorable holiday gift, and read this delightfully complex creation of hers.

Third- grader Christine Booth wiggled in her seat, impatient for the school day to end. Her Brownie troop was going on an overnight weekend trip, camping indoors at the Troop House owned by the local Nation's Capital Girl Scout Council. It was a two story saltbox style house, with a large kitchen and open meeting room with a huge fire place at one end, perfect for rainy day games, craft projects, and troop sleepovers.

Having served several generations of DC area Girl Scouts, the sturdy building's interior had seen better days, a fact Brennan had discovered while investigating Scouting as a possible activity for their kindergarten daughter. She had promptly consulted with Booth and made a sizable donation to refurbish the place. New siding, insulation, furnace and air-conditioning systems insured its energy efficiency. Resurfaced colorfully-stained concrete floors now sported Girl Scout logos in front of the renovated fireplace. New all-weather picnic tables and benches, and other comfortable furnishings now graced the spacious main hall.

Christine was unaware of her parents' generosity, but the astounded Girl Scout executives were extremely grateful. The generous couple had included a small endowment to finance the memorable landmark's continued operation. A venerable institution of the DC Scouting program, the Troop House had been not only a source of wonderful girlhood memories, but a costly budget headache each year prior to their unheralded financial support.

Mrs. Hawkins and Thompson gathered their fifteen over-excited little charges on the school's playground, away from the traffic of cars and buses, as parents arrived with sleeping bags and backpacks for each Brownie. Christine hopped about until she spotted Booth's black SUV. Easily lifting her kit from the truck, he strode over, picked her up, whirled her in an enormous hug; then repeated the process for Kennedy. Greeting the other little girls, Booth handed Mrs. Hawkins a large string-tied box.

"Daddy, you me-rembered the donuts for tomorrow morning!" Christine chortled in delight.

"Those were supposed to surprise your friends, Monkey," her father reminded her. "You be good for your leaders, sleep tight, and we'll see you back here Saturday afternoon, Muffin," he said fondly, hugging her tightly again.

"Bye, Daddy, kiss Hank G'nite for me, okay? An' Mommy, too."

"Sure thing, Punkin." Booth helped load the colorful assortment of My Little Pony, Frozen, and Barbie luggage into the leaders' trunks.

"If you brave ladies need anything, be sure to call us," he said.

Returning to the SUV, he climbed, waved to the troop, and drove back to the Hoover.

After a thirty minute drive, serenaded by raucous Christmas carols and Scout songs, Brownie Troop 263 arrived at their destination. Its gravel driveway wound through pecan and fruit trees. A hasty dinner of hot dogs filled little tummies and the group set to work. The girls spread newspapers to protect the picnic tables, taping them in place.

Opening their duffles, the Brownies unpacked the decorations they'd gathered for this project; unusual little buttons, bits of lace, beads from broken necklaces, sequins, ric rac, and other little baubles. But what were they for? The mothers had purchased chunky goblets at Hobby Lobby some weeks earlier and filled them with candlewax and wicks as directed on Pinterest, a Girl Scout leader's best friend. Serena Thompson and Alma Hawkins had laughingly wondered aloud to one another how their own leader mothers had managed dreaming up child-friendly crafts in the years before the internet existed.

"Girls, you each need to sit down or we can't start our project. You don't want to be mopping up Elmer's Glue off the floors later tonight instead of playing games, do you?" The excited chatter ceased immediately as the girls wondered what came next.

The leaders placed a goblet in front of each girl. Whitney Smith frowned. "What are these for? My mom has some glasses like these, but you can't drink out of them. They're already full of something."

"These are holiday candles for your families," Mrs. Thompson told her. You may decorate them any way you wish with the decorations you brought from home. Plan out your design a bit first. Then glue on each button or bead securely, and then we'll let them dry. Don't worry about glue puddles, it will dry clear. We will help you spray paint them gold or silver after breakfast in the morning. We've written your names on the bottom of each goblet so you can take home the right one."

Christine and Kennedy worked diligently on their candles, little tongues stuck out in concentration. They compared ideas, traded beads and buttons, talking all the while.

"I want mine gold, like the necklace my daddy gave Mama. It's got a really little picture of me and her inside a heart," Kennedy decided.

"My mommy's ring is silver, so she and Daddy must like it better, so I'm choosing silver," Christine declared. "That way we can tell them apart, too, since our decorations are a lot the same."

After an hour of focused gluing, the girls had finished adorning their goblets. The leaders set them up on the fireplace mantle to dry, avoiding any chances of masterpieces being knocked over. The group roasted marshmallows in the fireplace for s'mores with graham crackers and Hershey squares. They played simple charades, planned a skit in groups of five and acted out their plays.

By nine p.m., sleeping bags were spread out, pillows fluffed, and pajamas donned. Dimming the lights, the leaders walked around, bidding each girl 'sleep well' then crawled in themselves. The group softly sang several quiet Girl Scout songs; Day is Done, When E'er You Make a Promise, Ash Grove, then called 'Good Night, all," in unison and fell silent. As tired as they were, the group slumbered peacefully.

Rosy hues of sunrise faded as sunlight peeked through the curtains of the Troop House, awakening the early risers among the Brownies. Christine gently poked Kennedy in the shoulder and whispered, "Come on, get up, we've got a surprise to fix." The two little girls tiptoed to the kitchen and carefully lined up a tray of clean mugs. Emptying a package of cocoa mix into each one, they added a spoon. Kennedy peered into the large flat white box Booth had given their leaders.

"Your daddy always buys the yummiest donuts!" she sighed with satisfaction. The two friends put seventeen paper plates and napkins on the picnic tables, counting as they went. By the time they had completed this task, Mrs. Thompson was sitting up in her sleeping bag. She rose and smiled at the two girls. "You guys are certainly helpful this morning. You must be hungry," she greeted them. She filled a tea kettle with water and set it to boil on the stove. "Good for you, waiting for an adult to heat the water. Go wake up the sleepyheads."

Once breakfast and kitchen kapers were finished, the leaders checked the weather outside. It was a warm morning for December, without much breeze. "Perfect for painting," Mrs. Hawkins declared. 'Spread out these newspapers, girls and set up six cardboard boxes here on the front porch," she directed. "We'll spray in one, then the other to let your goblets dry completely. These three are for silver, those three are for gold. Have you each decided what color you prefer? Please line up accordingly."

It didn't take long for the assembly line operation to transform the goblets into classic holiday candles. The Brownies were surprised and delighted with the results. The group returned indoors to plan their holiday party being held the following Tuesday evening in place of their weekly meeting so their parents could attend. Assignments were made for bringing napkins, favorite cookies and punch. The girls voted to give their families each gift that evening, but open them at home. By then the goblets were dry. After wrapping each carefully, the leaders stored them in boxes, while the girls repacked their belongings.

The two mothers dispatched the girls outside for quick games of Duck-Duck-Goose, Flying Dutchmen, and Hide-n-Seek among the trees while they loaded the cars. By eleven-thirty they were on the way back to Lincoln Elementary, singing at the top of their lungs.

Some years later, in early December.

Christine unpacked the box of Christmas decoration Andrew had brought down from the attic. She carefully lifted the silver goblet from its tissue wrappings, smiling through teary eyes at the memories it evoked. The morning her parents had opened it, the many Christmases it had sat on their dining table, a yearly reminder of childish affection and feigned parental surprise. In retrospect, she knew her mom had helped purchase the required supplies. But her parents' delight had been genuine.

Christine ran her fingers gently over the painted buttons, lace and beads, remembering her friendship with Kennedy, with whom she had recently reunited. An Air Force pilot, Kennedy had called her while in town for an aviation conference, and the pair met for dinner in Alexandria.

Booth's daughter had inherited his privately sentimental nature and shared his love of all things Christmas. She stood up and placed the silver candle on her own mantle, where it would sit during future Christmas seasons.