December 22nd- White Christmas: A Starsky and Hutch Christmas Card Part 3 by Mvernet and Spencer5460

Click here to read Part 1
Click here to read Part 2

Chapter Seven

Starsky pulled the Corvette into a parking space near the entrance of the ski lodge. It was opportunity rather than luck that created the convenient spot, since the normally full lot was nearly empty. Hutch pointed out K.C.’s car with its Nevada plates parked nearby. But Starsky was looking toward the entrance of the lodge with a frown.

“Something’s missing,” he announced.

“You mean, besides guests?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah. No decorations. No wreaths on the doors. Nothin.'” Starsky had expected there would be some changes to the place without Edith’s steady hand on the helm, but the lack of Christmas decorations made him cringe.

“His first Christmas without Edith has to be hard. Maybe we could give him a hand,” Hutch suggested.

It only took a moment for Starsky to light up at the idea. “Yeah! We could do it up proud. A little garland here, a little tinsel there. Just like old times at the department!”

Hutch smiled. It was nice to see Starsky finally excited about something, although personally, Hutch didn’t have much interest in decking the halls this year either.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock on the heavy oak entrance, the door burst open and a beautiful, dark-skinned woman in a tailored business suit appeared, squealing like a little girl.

“Uncle Dave! Uncle Ken! You’re finally here!”

Both men laughed as they stepped in the foyer then took turns bundling an all grown up ‘little Rosie’ in their arms.

Starsky cupped her cheek and brushed away a happy tear. “Oh, Rosie. You get more beautiful every time I see ya!”

Hutch rubbed circles in her back. “How’s our favorite girl? You look great!”

“Thanks, you two.” Rosie made an unconsciously feminine gesture of putting her hand to her hair. “But look at you!”

She stepped back to take them both in, then gave a little frown. “Fame must not be as fabulous as it sounds. You both seem a little thinner then when I last saw you,” she commented, sounding more than a bit like her mother, as Starsky and Hutch traded self-conscious looks. “But nothing some home cooking won’t fix.”

A shadow briefly fell over Rosie’s face as their collective thoughts went momentarily to the woman whose tasty menus had helped making the Dobey Lodge famous. But then the shadow was banished in the pleasure of their reunion.

Starsky and Hutch followed her into the expansive yet homey kitchen where they found Captain Dobey and K.C. sitting at a prep table enjoying ham sandwiches on freshly-baked bread.

“Look who I found stumbling around outside,” Rosie announced with a dimpled grin.

“Starsky! Hutch!” K.C. dropped her sandwich on her plate and stood to give them each a hug.

Captain Dobey stood and stuck out his hand. “I was wondering if you two clowns were going to make it this year.”

Starsky took hold of the once beefy paw but then quickly pulled his former superior into a full bear hug. When they broke apart, they eyed one another with the keen appraisal of the cops they had been. The once robust captain of detectives seemed practically small and Starsky felt self-conscious in the tight-fitting jeans that now hung off his hips loosely. They knew each other well enough to recognize the concern mirrored in the other’s eyes.

Hutch interrupted the awkward silence to pull Dobey into a hug of his own.

“It’s great to see you again,” Dobey said as he regained his composure. “No need to ask what you’ve been up to. You’re in all the music rags.”

“You look great, Captain. And this place…” Starsky started but then Dobey held up a hand.

“Don’t kid a kidder, son. This place is suffering from a… slow period and I guess I am, too.” He cleared his throat. “But don’t worry, it’s going to snow any day now and things will pick up. You’ll see. Don’t worry about this old man.” Dobey dropped his voice a little and leaned in toward them conspiratorially as if Rosie and K.C. couldn’t hear. “Oh, and we kind of keep the captain title quiet. Scares the natives.”

Hutch laughed politely. “Sure… um… Harold. Whatever you say.”

“Rosie? Why don’t you show these meatheads to their rooms. Then come back down here and we’ll rustle you up some grub.”

“Sure, Dad,” Rosie replied.

Dobey picked up a bag of garbage from underneath the counter. He raised it and smiled, if a bit ironically. “Duty calls.”

“It’s hard to see the old man so down,” Starsky said as he licked the last of the mayonnaise off his fingers. Once they’d put their luggage away, Rosie had been quick to fix them cold meatloaf sandwiches, which they readily devoured.

K.C. propped her elbows on the butcher block counter and put her chin in her hands. “I didn’t really want to take his money for doing a show to an empty house,” she said. “But he insisted.”

“He’s always been stubborn like that,” Hutch added from K.C.’s other side.

“And prideful,” noted Rosie. “I know for a fact he’s been late on the mortgage twice, but won’t take a dime from me or Cal. He’s running the place with a skeletal staff, and most of them could get better paying jobs elsewhere. They’re only staying on out of loyalty to my dad.” She sat her glass of milk down a little harder than necessary.

“So there’s no point in offering financial help,” Hutch suggested and countermanded at the same time.

“It’s not just the money, guys.” Rosie let out a sigh. “Ever since Mom died, it’s like the heart has gone out of this place. The magic. You know?” She looked at each one of them in turn for understanding.

“Yeah, we know, honey,” K.C. agreed. “Not that I knew your mom all that well, but from the few times I’ve met her when I’ve played here, I could tell the love between Harold and Edith was the real deal.”

Something tweaked in Starsky’s heart at her words. “As many times as Dobey backed us up when we were cops, there’s gotta be something we could do for him now. Something to lift his spirits,” he said.

“It wasn’t just us he backed up, it was everyone. The whole department. And even people like Huggy,” Hutch reminded them.

Starsky grinned. “Yeah, as hard a time as Huggy gave him, Cap treated Hug like he was part ‘a the team.

“Good old Hug.” Hutch gave a little laugh at the memories the name evoked.

Suddenly, K.C. snapped her fingers and straightened. “Why don’t you call him and see if he could round up some of the guys from the department and their families for the Christmas Eve show. Really pack the place. That would show Harold how much he still means to everyone. He can’t just give up living.”

K.C.’s optimism spread from one to the other of the tiny group like a small brush fire, starting with Starsky. “We’d have to keep it a secret,” he said. “If the captain knew what we were up to, he might not go for it. Dobey sure can be stubborn.”

“A surprise! That would be perfect!” Rosie exclaimed, her face lighting up. “But do you think Huggy could arrange it? It’s pretty short notice.”

“Sure he could; doncha think, Hutch?” Starsky turned to his partner.

Hutch could practically see the wheels spin in Starsky’s head, just like back in the days when they worked together undercover.

“He always came through for us before,” Hutch said. “If you can keep Dobey distracted for a few minutes, I’ll give him a call right now.” He looked around at the little circle of conspirators. The anticipation on their faces was enough to warm the chill in his heart, if only a few degrees.

“That I can do,” Rosie stated. She retrieved a left-over cherry pie from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. “Daddy never could turn down cherry pie.”

She began to dish it out as Hutch left for the phone down the hall.

Along with the bridal suite and family rooms, the Dobey Lodge had several cozy single rooms. It was another of Edith’s ideas to have the singles face a huge common room to encourage socializing among the guests.

The common room was designed in a circular arrangement with a huge open plan fire pit in the middle. A cluster of club chairs and ottomans were placed near the fire pit allowing for the toasting of wieners and frozen toes after a day of skiing or hiking through the woods. Ample built-in seating lined floor to ceiling windows that held a picture perfect view of the slopes.

When the winter snow dusted the pines and drifted high on the mountains, the view was reminiscent of a Currier and Ives Christmas card. Now, however, with the unseasonably warm weather, the scenery appeared desolate and lonely.

The common room also had a small self-serve snack bar where a limited amount of hot drinks and sandwiches were available free to all guests. It was open twenty-four hours, giving midnight munchers a place to gather and enjoy popcorn and poppers for the fire or hot cocoa with marshmallows to coax them to sleep.

A short staircase led down to the sunken formal dining room. Tables for two, four, and six surrounded the dance floor and stage. The table linens and coordinating chair upholstery were a tasteful cobalt blue and silver. The silver highlights sparkled like moon dust under the subdued overhead lighting.

A mirrored ball hung above the oak dance floor waiting patiently for disco to return for one more night. Soft, blue glazed lights illuminated the stage area, providing just the right setting for torch songs and intimate guitar solos. Behind the stage, a window wall was covered by blue velvet drapery that could be pulled back to reveal a majestic view of the countryside.

Once the groundwork for their conspiracy had been laid, pies finished and calls placed, Starsky, Hutch, K.C. and Rosie rewarded themselves by relaxing by the fire until their friendly conversation shifted into contagious yawning.

“I think it’s time for me to hit the hay, boys and girls,” K.C. was the first to stand and announce.

“I guess I’ll do the same.” Hutch stood a second after her, placed his hands on his hips and arched his back.

Starsky felt Rosie move to stand as well, but discreetly held her back by the elbow as Hutch and K.C. climbed in tandem up the wide, freestanding spiral staircase. Hutch leaned in to whisper something in K.C.’s ear at the top of the stairs as Starsky and Rosie watched unobtrusively from below. They saw K.C. smile at whatever it was he had said, then touch his cheek. Hutch spoke softly once more, then K.C. rose on tip-toe to kiss the other side of his face before heading toward her room.

Hutch looked back down the stairs and Starsky knew he realized their interaction had been caught when Hutch waved an awkward goodnight.

“Those two sure looked awfully cozy,” Rosie commented. “What’s going on, Uncle Dave? Don’t tell me they’re in a relationship.”

Starsky didn’t miss her disbelieving tone. She knew them well. Although she’d seen previous girlfriends come and go, even Rosie was aware there hadn’t been anyone special in either of their lives for years.

But that was about to change, if Starsky had anything to do with it. “Not yet, but maybe it’s time they were. Sure the music business is great and all, but it’s not really what your Uncle Ken wanted to do with his life. He only did it for me.”

Starsky could tell by looking at her pretty face, focused so intently on his, that he wasn’t telling Rosie anything she didn’t already suspect. “I want him to have the chance to settle down with a wife and family before he misses out. We’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Rosie smiled at him reassuringly. “You two have had more lives that a clowder of cats. You’ll live forever,” she said.

Starsky couldn’t disagree they’d lived through more than most. But that was because they’d done it together. He turned to stare into the large pit where the fire was slowly dying out, leaving phosphorescent cinders behind.

“No one lives forever, Rosie. It’s time I gave Hutch his life back, or what’s left of it. The part he sacrificed for me.” Starsky hadn’t meant to turn their happy reunion somber but he couldn’t keep away the melancholy that engulfed him.

“I want to see him happily married with a couple of blond-headed kiddies running around. That’ll never happen if he stays on the road with no one but his beat-up old partner for company.”

“Uncle Dave, are you playing matchmaker?” Rosie smirked and jabbed his ribs lightly with her elbow. He knew she was trying to distract him from the ache he must surely be emitting.

“Just keep that our little secret.” He forced a smile.

“Two secrets in one night. I adore secrets. Count me in!” Rosie laughed.

Though Starsky had sat up into the wee hours of the morning planning a second conspiracy with Rosie, he was still first to rise. He doubted he’d slept more than two hours with so much on his mind.

Since the lodge was unusually empty, he and Hutch had been given separate rooms. It was a good thing, he mused, because Hutch would have mother-henned him to death if he knew that not only wasn’t he sleeping but he’d stashed some very unhealthy, greasy, salty junk food and root beer in his night stand, hoping it might help him to think.

Starsky went across the hall and knocked lightly on Hutch’s door then tested the handle to see if it was locked. When he found it wasn’t, he swallowed hard, pasted a smile on his face and barged in without waiting for a response to his knock.

“Rise and shine, my blond beauty! We’re burnin’ daylight and we got Christmas shoppin’ to do,” Starsky announced as he opened the blinds to let in the light. Starsky shook his head at the clear sky without a hint of snow clouds. It looked to be the beginning of another unseasonably warm day.

Starsky turned back to the bed then and admired the sight of a rumpled Hutch with his head still half under the covers. The California sun peeking from behind tall pines reminded Starsky of his enigmatic partner in a way. In a formal tux or dressed for the stage, Hutch was a heart-stopping sight, but this was the Hutch few people saw—in his oldest, softest green t-shirt and jogging shorts fresh from dreamland. It was the way Starsky loved him best. Disheveled and a little bewildered. Like one of Peter Pan’s lost boys.

Starsky exhaled and forced himself to look elsewhere so he could bring his focus back to his plan for the day ahead.

“Come on, blintz. By the time you shower and get done primpin’ in the mirror, the girls will be done with breakfast. I’m hungry. Come. On. Get. Up.” Starsky reached over and pulled the covers away from Hutch’s curled form.

“Wha’? Wha’ we doin’? Why are the girls waiting? What you up to?” Hutch opened one eye suspiciously.

“Rosie, K.C., me, and thee are goin’ shoppin’ for decorations and a real Christmas tree.”

Starsky strolled to the window and thumped on his chest as if taking a deep breath of fresh air, gratified he was able to hang onto a wheeze. “Oh, boy, Hutch. I can’t wait to get out there and smell the fresh pine and search for just the right tinsel garland, decorations, and stocking stuffers.”

“I’d like to stuff a stocking in your big mouth,” Hutch muttered.

Starsky watched as Hutch finally connected his brain to his legs and rolled out of bed. He stopped on the way to the shower and touched Starsky’s arm. “Sorry, buddy. I love what you’re doing for Dobey. I want to help all I can. I’ll be out in a minute. Sit down and put your feet up; you look tired, babe.”

Starsky’s resolve shook like a tin sign in a hurricane. No matter how long they’d known each other, Hutch always had a way of surprising him. He didn’t want that to end. Not at all. He sat on the bed and pulled the still warm, sleep wrinkled covers close. The thought of never feeling that singular warmth against his skin or hearing that heaven-sent voice crooning in the shower again made his very soul ache.

He fought the urge to give in to selfishness and change his mind. During his few hours of sleep, he’d dreamed that with just a quiet word in Hutch’s ear, a touch on his shoulder, Hutch would swear to never leave him. Starsky sighed knowing that was just why he had to let him go.

He gathered his resolve around him like the covers until he heard Hutch shut off the water and start to hum as he shaved.

The ride to town was as nerve wracking as any Hutch had spent riding shotgun in the Torino as Rosie maneuvered her dad’s Jeep over the rugged country roads. They’d opted for the Jeep. As much as Starsky loved Christmas and all its trappings, the thought of a Scotch Pine with its sticky sap and sharp needles tied to the top of his Corvette was more than he could bear. So Hutch didn’t complain when Rosie hit another bump in the road and his head on the roof yet again.

At first, Starsky insisted Hutch get in the back seat with K.C., but his mile-long legs over-ruled him. Starsky ended up with an arm around K.C. after the first bump in the road. Although that fit perfectly with Hutch’s plan, he winced inwardly at the tightness in his voice when he turned and asked, “You guys cozy?” He hated how he sounded almost jealous.

The Christmas tree lot was bustling despite the unseasonable weather. Just like every other year, it had been set up on the empty lot wedged in between the hardware store and a small insurance sales office.

“How about we split up,” Starsky suggested. “We can cover more ground that way. Hutch, K.C., you pick out the tree and wreaths, while Rosie takes me decoration shopping.”

Hutch tried to object but Starsky chided him. “Geez, Mr. Scrooge. Way to ruin a surprise. I need some time to shop for you two, all right?”

“Okay, Starsk. We’ll meet you back here in an hour.” Hutch didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t the splitting up he minded, but rather the choice of teams. He placed a hand on the small of K.C.’s back and led her through fresh cut trees.

Starsky paused overlong to watch them before Rosie took his hand and squeezed.

The small town had grown up since the first time Starsky and Hutch had rolled into the dusty old gas station in Hutch’s rusty old Ford so many years ago. The roads were paved now. The vintage gas station sprouted a new ARCO sign and an attached convenience store. The general store was a supermarket. The hardware store, where Starsky and Rosie were headed, was about the size of the high school’s football field.

The Sheriff was now the Police Chief and in place of the antiquated jailhouse was a black and white cement block and glass building housing the Pine Lake Police Department complete with four officers, two cruisers, and a desk sergeant.

There were two quality restaurants and a country western bar on the main drag. Starsky’s favorite, the Tinhorn Inn, was a family style burger joint with a small, friendly beer-only bar. The other, Whole Earth Eatery and health food store, was Hutch’s. It also had a bar that specialized in carrot juice frappe’. The partners had delighted in torturing each other as they’d take turns eating at each whenever they were in town.

After visiting Dobey’s cabin numerous times over the years, Starsky and Hutch had become practically fixtures in the town. Hutch had played at the country western bar when he still had training wheels on his guitar, as Starsky liked to say. Then, as Hutch’s popularity and fame grew, the locals continued to respect their privacy. Especially since they felt they owed them an enormous debt.

Hutch wasn’t the least surprised when the young man overseeing the Christmas tree lot came up to him and shook his hand.

“Hey there, Hutch! How are you doing? Happy Holidays! Who’s this gorgeous lady?”

“Nice to see you again, Bob. May I introduce the lovely and talented K.C. McBride. She’s playing at Dobey’s ski lodge.”

Bob nodded to her with a toothy smile as Hutch went on. “We’re planning a big bash on Christmas Eve. It’s K.C.’s show but she might let me slip in a few songs here and there. We’d be grateful if you’d spread the word around.”

“I’d be glad to. If we can find a sitter, the wife and I will be there. “

Hutch turned to K.C. “Bob here is married to the Police Chief’s daughter.”

“The daughter you and Starsky saved from Satanists,” Bob clarified as he hitched up his jeans. “A big star and still is so modest.” He winked at K.C. “Hey listen, any tree on the lot half price for you two. And check out our red barn flea market in the back. Lots of handmade crafts for gifts.”

Just then a young boy let out a squeal. Bob’s face turned red.

“Merry Christmas,” he called out hurriedly as he went to chase down his two young boys who were playing a version of tag under the trees that seemed to include screaming and tripping the customers.

K.C. turned to Hutch with big round eyes. “Satanists?” she squeaked.

Hutch shook his head. “Long story from a long time ago. More a Halloween ghost story than a Christmas tale.”

Bob’s rambunctious boys ran into K.C. before diving further into the line of trees. She laughed and watched Bob pull off his cowboy hat and slap it on his thigh in exasperation.

They wandered away through the rows of trees, carefully examining each one and debating the perfection of their size, shape, and needle texture.

Then Hutch suddenly cleared his throat. Here was his opportunity at hand. “So you like kids? Ever think of having any?”

K.C. frowned briefly at the odd turn of conversation. “Actually, I always thought I would adopt when the time was right. There are already so many children that need a loving home.”

Hutch smiled. She’d struck just the right chord. “Starsky loves kids. He’d make a great father. I used to be a big brother to two kids, Kiko and Molly Ramos. Starsky would help me out with them all the time. Kiko became a cop. Molly’s an actress. Starsk influenced a lot of kid’s lives, not just Rosie and Cal Dobey.”

“Ken, you really are modest. I’m sure you influenced their lives, too.” She pushed away a tree branch that had grabbed at her hair.

“I guess, but Starsky is so… Starsky.” Hutch picked out a pine needle from the blond wave thoughtfully. “He’s loving and caring, but at the same time he’s strong and fiercely loyal. He’s the best friend you could ask for and the best man I know.”

“You two are really something, you know that?” K.C. adjusted her hat that the tree had knocked askew and looked him in the eye with such intensity he had to turn away. In addition to all her other special qualities, Hutch could tell K.C. was quite perceptive in her ability to size people up.

“No one could do better than being in a permanent relationship with Starsky. Anyone who loved Starsky would be truly blessed.” He knew he sounded corny, but every word was true. Their time here was short and it was imperative he make the most of it.

K.C. took Hutch’s arm and patted it. “I know that, sugar. I know that.” She looked as though she might say something else, but then sputtered, “Let’s check out the barn, okay?”

When K.C. changed the subject, Hutch wondered if he shouldn’t have just come out and said it: Marry Starsky so he’ll get off the road. I’m afraid this life will finish what Gunther started. If anyone could make him happy, you could.

But the words froze on his tongue, rendering it as useless as the first time he had faced an audience.

“Shall we go Christmas shopping for a little while before we pick out the tree?” she urged him again.

Hutch nodded, wondering if he’d gotten through at all.

By late afternoon, the perfect tree was tied to the top of the Jeep and various packages, wreaths, pine garlands, and boxes and boxes of ornaments were stashed in the back cargo area. While they loaded the Jeep, Starsky had hoped to see more signs of a growing attraction between Hutch and K.C. But instead of acting like a man on the brink of love, Hutch seemed discouraged somehow.

On the other hand, K.C. was as effervescent as ever. She and Rosie sat in the back seat this trip, chatting away about costumes and set designs for the upcoming concert. Starsky drove and watched his partner out of the corner of his eye at the same time. This was definitely not a man happily in love. Not yet anyway, Starsky resolved.

“Hutch? You okay?”

Hutch twisted in his seat as if in pain. “Sure, Starsk. It’s just… you know Christmas shopping isn’t my favorite thing to do.”

“You and K.C. have a good time?” His insides burned with anxious curiosity while he worked to keep the question light.

Hutch revealed nothing. “We met up with Bob and his kids. And we went to that flea market.”

“Buy anything?”

The old line caused the corners of Hutch’s mouth twitch. “Not telling.”

“Oh. Oh! You bought me somethin’, didn’t ya? What is it, huh?”

K.C. stopped chatting with Rosie long enough to give Starsky a playful slap on the back of the head. “Hey! Santa only brings good boys presents and you’re straddlin’ the line, sugar.”

Starsky, Rosie, and K.C. all laughed.

Hutch turned to look out the window.

When Starsky saw the beloved blond head turn away, the laughter died on his lips.

Chapter Eight

Rosie found her father holed up in his office, rifling through a stack of bills as large as the stack of Christmas cards he’d pushed to the side.

“Come look at how the guys have decorated the place,” she urged him.

Harold Dobey sighed and leaned back in the old chair. It gave a groan of protest.

“I appreciate how you all are trying to brighten the place up but I’m afraid I don’t have much Christmas spirit this year.”

Behind the large desk Rosie thought her once imposing father now looked more like a lost boy. She swallowed hard. “I miss her, too, Dad.”

Dobey lay the papers down, stood up and came around to envelope her in a hug. “Of course you do, Rosie girl.” For a few minutes she let her father’s strong arms warm her just as they had as a child. But then she pushed him gently away.

“Mom wouldn’t want us to be down. Especially at Christmas. No matter what else was happening, she always made it such a happy time. And that’s what she’d want us to do now,” she convicted him.

“I know that. But sometimes… it’s hard. When I lost your mother, I lost a little piece of my soul.” Dobey looked down at her, and a light seemed to reflect from his face. “Nothing is as powerful as true love, Rosie. Just remember that.”

“There’s still a lot of people who love and need you. Me, and Cal, and…” Rosie caught herself before she gave away too much. Keeping secrets was becoming harder the older she got. Maybe it was because the secrets were becoming more important. Or maybe secrets were just overrated.

“Those bills can wait, Dad,” she said. “Come on out and join the gang.”

His response held a hint of admiration mixed in with the sorrow. “You’re stubborn, you know that?

“I learned form the best.” It wasn’t just Dobey’s suits that needed to be hauled out of mothballs around here, she thought, as she left open the office door.

Starsky hadn’t wanted to admit how much manhandling a seven foot pine tree and hanging mistletoe had taken out of him. And without Hutch staying in close quarters with him, nagging him to take his inhalers, making sure he ate right and rested, he was feeling worn down.

Still, he couldn’t sleep. He ached through to his soul. His throat felt dry and the damn phantom pains in his chest were back tonight. He sat on the edge of his bed, feeling stressed and wishing Hutch were there to rub his back and take away his misery—whether the physical or emotional kind he didn’t want to think.

Starsky growled at himself. He needed to get used to going it alone. He decided to wander downstairs and get a snack. He thought of how Hutch sometimes made him tea when he had a bad night. That was certainly something he could handle by himself.

He grabbed his jeans and a worn out flannel shirt that might have once been Hutch’s and gingerly pulled them on. He groaned as he rose and headed to the common room.

He made it halfway down the stairs when he stopped to catch his breath. He hung on with white knuckles to the cold wrought iron banister, while he practiced the breathing techniques Hutch had taught him from the time he took yoga lessons.

While he waited for his breathing to become more regular, he heard the sound of a guitar coming softly from the floor below. He didn’t know the tune, but he couldn’t mistake the player. He knew his Hutch’s strumming like he knew the beating of his own heart.

The music and knowing who was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs gave Starsky’s spirit a needed lift. He released his hold on the banister and shook out the tightness from his hand. He descended the rest of the stairs with slow but more confident steps.

Starsky stopped just before he entered the common room and took in the scene. Hutch was wearing another old flannel shirt Starsky was pretty sure was once his. He had a sudden feeling of deja vu. If not for the stray strands of silver he’d seen in the mirror that morning and the aches and pains in his body now, it could have been 1975 at Hutch’s old house by the canal.

Starsky couldn’t take his eyes off his partner, his old friend. Hutch sat on the brick hearth with his head bent over the rosewood guitar Starsky had given him after crazy Diana smashed his favorite. The embers of an earlier fire bathed Hutch in a molten glow.

Starsky watched as Hutch concentrated on the unfamiliar tune’s lyrics, eyes shut and lips moving silently, just the way he’d watched him compose incredible music so many times before. Hutch’s hand caressed the guitar’s neck. Long fingers moved expertly across the frets creating notes that reached into Starsky’s heart and struck a chord deep within.

“My beautiful blondie.”

Starsky must have spoken aloud because Hutch’s eyes slowly opened. He stopped strumming and looked up, searching the room. Starsky smiled and stepped out of the entry way’s shadows.

“Don’t stop on accounta me, blondie. It sounded real good.”

“It’s something new I was working on. Just foolin’ around.” He smiled sheepishly.

As Starsky stepped further into the dwindling light from the fire, Hutch took in Starsky’s pale appearance.

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing up? You all right?” He set aside his guitar. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Starsky shrugged off the concern. “Could ask you the same thing.”

Hutch deflected the question, stretching out his legs and arms and moaning dramatically. “Been a busy week. Hey, you hungry? I got just the thing.” He stood up and headed to the snack bar.

Starsky carefully slipped his blue jean clad legs and red stocking feet over a stool. He leaned into the counter as his eyes trailed his partner and realized Hutch didn’t miss the hesitant movements.

“You know I have a theory about midnight snacks and dreams,” Hutch said. He produced a platter of sandwiches from the mini-fridge and varied snack size chip bags and placed them on the counter.

“Do you now? Oh, great and wise Hutchini?” Starsky played along, looking over the assortment.

“Sure!” Hutch picked up a tuna sandwich and examined it intently. “Tuna. You dream about a gorgeous blonde with legs that don’t stop.”

Starsky pointed to a ham and Swiss and Hutch turned thoughtful. “Ham and Swiss gets you a brunette bombshell, a little on the scatback side.”

“What the hell does scatback mean?”

Hutch chuckled and scratched his eyebrow. “I… I… don’t know, but Grandpa used to say it about my great aunt Myrtle. She flew a crop duster and never got married.”

Starsky shrugged and let it go. “What about liverwurst?”

“You dream about liverwurst.”

Starsky laughed and threw a bag of corn chips at Hutch.

Hutch laughed along with him then went back to the microwave to heat water for hot cocoa. He poured them both a mug and tossed a handful of mini marshmallows into Starsky’s.

“Let’s go get comfortable,” Hutch said, turning to Starsky with a mug in each hand. “Bring the tray of sandwiches and a couple bags of chips.”

Starsky settled in a club chair and Hutch straddled an ottoman at Starsky’s feet, both facing the fire. Hutch reached down to pick up a few logs that were stacked handily nearby and threw them in on top of pieces that remained, still smoldering from earlier that evening. He handed Starsky a poker so he could rearrange the crackling pile and bring the fire back to life.

Within minutes the room was full of flickering red and gold shadows and comforting heat. The partners grew silent watching the flames dance, both focusing on the sounds around them—the hissing of the logs as they burned bright then crumbled, giving birth to a hundred smaller sparks; the wind howling outside the sturdy doors and tight windows that refused to let it in; the crackle and crunch of Starsky finishing off the bag of potato chips.

Starsky crumpled the empty bag into a ball and tossed into the fire where it caused a rainbow flair of color. As he watched it, his minded wandered over the journey that had brought them to this place. All the adventures they had had. Yet here he was on the threshold of a new life without his best friend. His future stretched out before him empty and bleak. The thought caused him to sigh.

Starsky turned his eyes from the flame and watched the top of Hutch’s head as he sipped his hot cocoa. He marveled at how warmth flowed from him like melted butter. How he held a fire of his own. Starsky wrapped his fingers around his mug, thinking how he wanted to run them through that corn silk mop. Against the firelight, Hutch glowed amber like fine whiskey in a crystal glass waiting to be sipped and savored.

Hutch was as beautiful and dependable as the dawn itself. For so many years, Hutch had been the sun Starsky’s world encircled. How could someone go on with their life if the sun never rose again? He shivered despite the heat he felt from Hutch and the fire. Life without Hutch would be as cold and desolate as spent ashes.

He knew for certain he would never love anyone the way he loved Hutch.

Hutch, too, stared into the fire, his thoughts on the man behind him. Hutch knew Starsky was hurting even beyond the wounds that had been inflicted on his body. Something had been bothering him, but he didn’t know what. Something between them had gone off track and Hutch didn’t know how to reconnect, which was most unnerving of all.

Before their pain had always been shared no matter who was hurting, but tonight Hutch would gladly have taken all Starsky’s pain onto himself. His heart ached for his friend who had always been the epitome of a good, honest man.

I couldn’t love anyone more than I love him, he mused. He’s the star shining through to my darkest fears. The bright light of my life, bringing joy to my existence and glad tidings to my heart. He’s my religion. What I believe in. He gives me Christmas every day wrapped in a curly-haired package of pure love. How on earth can a man live without a shining star to guide his path and never lead him astray?

Hutch fingered the pocket of his flannel shirt, finding the handcrafted Star of David on a fine gold herringbone chain he had bought for Starsky at the flea market. He was searching for a nice way to wrap it. A good time to give it to him.

Tonight happened to be the eighth night of Hanukkah. Ever since Starsky’s ma had passed away, Hutch had dutifully given him his eight presents each year. The last seven mornings he had left a candy bar and a small toy outside of Starsky’s door, earning Hutch the great reward of a crooked smile, glistening blue eyes, and a whispered, “Thanks,” at the breakfast table.

He thought maybe he’d give this final gift to him tonight when they said goodnight. Hutch cringed at the idea of K.C. handing out Hanukkah presents to Starsky next year.

Hutch’s breath hitched and he closed his eyes. He gave in to the urge to just lean back into Starsky’s space as he rested in the club chair. He immediately felt strong, warm hands stroking his hair. He heard Starsky sigh and felt him scoot forward in his chair till Hutch was surrounded by the man he loved.

Starsky pulled him in and rested his chin on top of Hutch’s head. Hutch patted Starsky’s knee in return. He caught a wisp of Starsky-scented air, sweet as a Mars bar and fresh as newly washed jeans. Still silent, they sat as long as they could, basking in the rare sense of contentment that the two of them created whenever they were alone together.

Hutch felt this might be the last time it would be like this for them.

Starsky was the one to clear his throat and break the golden silence. “Can I hear that song you were practicing earlier?”

“Sure.” Hutch smiled and reached for his guitar. He turned on his ottoman to face Starsky and backed away a bit by pushing against the hearth with his boot heel.

Starsky moved to the edge of his chair and leaned forward, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him. He bowed his head as Hutch began to play.

“When I’m worried and I can’t sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I used to be a white knight, upon a worn out steed
Now I’m in the spotlight and have just what I need
So if you’re worried and you can’t sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you’ll fall asleep counting your blessings.”*

As Hutch’s voice filled the room with the heartfelt last line, Starsky finally looked up into his eyes. Tears were starting in Hutch’s eyes as they latched onto Starsky’s.

“Hutch, babe. That was beautiful.”

Hutch put down his guitar without breaking eye contact. “It was for you. Starsk, you’ve been the biggest blessing in my life. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you, you know that, right?”

“Hutch, I’ve been blessed to have you by my side all these years. No matter how the future turns out, I’ll always love you.”

“We had a great run, buddy. I guess it was silly of us to think it could never end.”

“Yeah, pal. No bad guy could ever bring us down. But we can’t fight time.”

“Can’t fight the inevitable.”

They broke apart, and Starsky wiped a few tears that had fallen on Hutch’s cheek away and ruffled his hair. “None of that, babe. We’re both goin’ to be happy as clams.”

“Yeah, sure we are.” At least one of them would be. Hutch looked down and decided the time was right. “Got something for you. May it bring you health and peace.” Hutch reached in his pocket for the gold herringbone necklace with the star of David charm and dangled it in front of Starsky.

Starsky took the necklace from Hutch’s hand and held it up to the moonlight cascading through the darkened windows. “This is terrific, babe. Help me put it on. I wanna see it on me.”

Hutch took the necklace and stood behind him. His fingers brushed Starsky’s neck as he worked the clasp. He smoothed the necklace against Starsky’s neck, pulling errant brown curls out of the way of the clasp. He let some strands curl around his finger sending electric shocks through his hand.

Hutch noticed goosebumps on Starsky’s neck as he fastened the clasp. When he had finished Starsky lifted the charm in his hand seeming to admire the craftsmanship of the six-pointed star then let it drop. He reached for Hutch’s hand to give it a squeeze. “Thanks, babe. I love it.”

“Sure, Starsk. Look, I better get some rest and so should you. Another big day tomorrow. Show must go on.”

Hutch backed away from Starsky and nearly ran up the stairs to his room. He never looked back, because he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

For long minutes after Hutch left, Starsky sat by the hearth watching the fire die. As he touched the precious gift Hutch had given him, he couldn’t come up with a single blessing now that Hutch had gone.

To be continued…

* Lyrics by Irving Berlin