“Hmph,” mutters Jayne. “It don’t seem right, somehow. Spending Christmas Eve here ‘stead of up at the school, celebrating like regular folks.”

“You tell that to the Shepherd.” Mal hooks up the last wreath with much difficulty, breathes a sigh of relief, and climbs down the rickety stepladder that Jayne is spotting for him. “Besides, it’s for the little kiddies. They ain’t got anyone else.”

“Hrrrmph,” is Jayne’s only answer; he makes it slightly longer than the first one. But he doesn’t retort again, just follows Mal with the stepladder.

They pass Wash kinging it over a crowd of toddlers with his Tyrannosaurus Rex. “Bow down to my superior strength and prowess, worthless minions of mine! Ahahahaha! Ahahahaha!”

“That laugh ain’t hardly evil,” pipes up a small girl in the back, waving her Stegosaurus indignantly.

The Tyrannosaurus Rex angles in on her. “I will not bear such impertinence! Suffer my wrath!” The group scatters, screaming hysterically, as Wash chomps ominously after them.

“Baby, you’re going to give them nightmares,” laughs Zoë as she passes Inara a plate of cupcakes.

“Nightmares? Hardly.” Wash stands up and places his T-rex in pride of place next to the salad. “It is the education of their lives that I am giving them. Keep your mouth shut when the big man talks.”

“Gee, Wash, then you musta dropped out in kindergarten,” calls Kaylee from the other side of the table. “Hey, look – strawberries! Shiiiiny.”

Jayne crosses the room to where Simon is patiently blowing up balloons. “You done yet? It’ll take gorram forever to put these up, you know.”

“I ought to rise to the occasion to remind you that I am one man faced with as many balloons as there are people in China,” replied Simon testily, “but of course, I am a martyr. Just a minute.”

“Such queer moons we live with,” remarks his sister matter-of-factly, gazing up at the huge mass of balloons floating from her fist. “Whole worlds of colourful air. The similarities are astounding.”

“Huh?” supplements Jayne.

River reaches out with her free hand and taps a balloon, then Jayne in the middle of the forehead, and giggles.

“Huh.” Jayne backs away. “I’m going out to help Mal paint the sign. Those balloons better be ready when we get back.”

Book marches in from the kitchen area, wiping his hands on his robes. “Is everything ready, now? All right, children, gather round. Where’s Mal and Jayne?”

“Painting the sign,” answers Simon. “River, go get them.”

Kaylee is rounding up the children, making them soak their hands in a basin of water propped on a chair. “Gotta get clean, babies. Don’t wanna get sick on Christmas now, do we?”

River skips back in waving her fistful of balloons, Mal and Jayne in tow. “What’s going on?” demands Mal. “Dinner? Already?”

“Wash your hands, Mal,” says Inara virtuously.

A boy of seven tugs at Jayne’s sleeve. “Can I try on your hat later?” he whispers.

“Uh, sure, yeah, whatever,” mutters Jayne. “What?”

The children form a solemn ring around the table, laid with its modest spread. “Let us join our hands in prayer this evening for – ”

“Aw, Shepherd, do we really have to – ”

Inara steps on Mal’s foot, silencing his complaint. Today she is wearing her four-inch cream-gold d’Orsay heels. Across the table, Wash winces in sympathy.

“Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,” recites Book. “And the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain…”

Outside, the snow collects on the abandoned turpentine can and the half-painted sign: HAVEN.