Author's Note – Well Christmas is upon us in two weeks time. This is a little story I wrote over two years ago and threw in the back of a drawer. This year I thought I'd share it with those who'd like to read it… mcj
"All I want for Christmas"
A Thunderbird Fan Fiction Story written by "mcj" Australia
Disclaimer – As in all my stories I own none of the original Thunderbirds Series characters and acknowledge the brilliance of Gerry Anderson in creating the series that is now on the verge of captivating its third generation. The rest of the characters in this story are my own (except Santa Claus of course) but they will always take a back seat to the characters we all know so well
CHAPTER ONE
He had to be the worst rendition of a Santa Claus the world had ever seen.
In fact, the more she stood there and thought about it, the more she was convinced anyone could have done a better job. Where in the world had he come from? Wherever it was he should have been well and truly left there. The suit didn't fit, his beard was all crooked and for the love of God ... where were the white eyebrows!
"Why don't Department stores pay attention to the detail any more?" she frowned in discontent. "Children aren't stupid nowadays. They're intelligent and they notice these things."
Josephine Tracy moved restlessly from one foot to the other and heard herself sigh.
The line to see Santa Claus hadn't moved for over ten minutes and quite frankly she'd had enough of that pathetic little man. At least the Santa Claus they used to have in Kansas was life-like and his "ho-ho-ho's" were from the heart.
"Now there's an understatement." she thought to herself, reminiscing of happier days in the past. "Not only was old Jeremiah Jensen a character, he was the closest thing to Santa Claus the world would ever see."
She glanced over at "the best Boston had to offer" and shook her head in disgust.
This ...this .. man ... for want of a better word was hopeless.
Old Jeremiah hadn't needed to shove a pillow down his front and pray to the Lord he wouldn't have to stand up when a child came running over to see him. Jeremiah's girth had been all his own and no-one had been prouder of it than he was.
Good southern cooking and one too many "root beers" on a Saturday night. That was Jeremiah's secret even if it did get him into trouble with the gallstones every now and then.
But irrespective of how he got to be the man he was and how he managed to stay that way, Jeremiah Jensen was real, every last inch of him, and he could make any child who saw him believe he was really Santa Claus.
The reminiscing continued.
That beard of his had been real too. Jeremiah had possessed the most amazing whiskers, ringlets of white silken hair, which varied in length depending on the season.
In the Summer he trimmed it back to cope with the dry Kansas heat but by December he made sure it was long again so the children could to reach out and touch it, eyes wide apart with awe, while he chortled a merry 'ho-ho-ho' and asked what Santa Claus could bring down the chimney for them for Christmas.
Santa Claus and a child's unconditional belief in his abilities...
Together the combination had spelled happiness in Kansas for as long as she could remember.
With that reality hit her squarely in the face and her smile faded.
"Happiness"
…something that had certainly taken a back seat in the lives of these little ones this year.
Josephine Tracy's eyes grew sad as she looked down at the five little boys beside her who had all been entrusted to her care. Her precious Grandsons were the only reasons she was still standing in this God-forsaken line and even though "Santa Claus" was driving her crazy, she'd stand here all day for them if she had to.
She'd promised them since Thanksgiving she'd take them to see Santa Claus so they could tell him what they wanted for Christmas.
"Only if you're good for Daddy." was the condition. "And you let him get on with his work."
She watched their impassive little faces as they stood waiting for their turn in the line-up and became more determined than ever to honour that promise.
Josephine contemplated them in silence.
They were such precious little boys, each and every one of them. The eldest three were well mannered, respectful and polite and the two babies never stopped smiling at anyone who cared to give them their attention.
But it wasn't the babies she was worried about.
It was the other three.
It had been well over nine months now and even though she'd tried to keep their day to day lives on track and as normal as humanly possible, the nine year old was still guarded and solemn, the six year old remained quietly aloof and the four year old with the big blue eyes hardly opened his mouth at all.
She bit her lips together and remembered the earlier conversation.
He was a wonderful Father to his children but he still wasn't coping well with what had happened to his wife.
He didn't want her to bring them here and expose them to a man making promises he mightn't be able to keep. He didn't understand why she had to take them there in the first place. He'd make sure there were presents for them under the Christmas tree. What more did she expect him to do?
"Mom please." he almost pleaded. "I've been through enough this year without feeling like I've disappointed the kids at Christmas time too."
When she told him he was being silly and the children would be happy with whatever they got for Christmas, his jaw set in exactly the same way his Father's used to do.
"It's not the point Mom …" he said defensively. "I don't want them to go."
"Besides." he added, somehow trying to justify himself. "The five of them are a handful whenever I take them out together and John's a real worry when he starts his dreaming and wanders off."
"Next year." he finished feigning a half-hearted, preoccupied smile. "The babies will be older then and I might be able to wrangle a day off work so I can take them over there myself."
Next year.
She tried not to let him see her shaking her head. If only he realised how often he said "next year" when it came to his five little boys.
Next year things would be better.
Next year he'd have more time.
Next year he would make things up to them.
Next year … next year… next year.
She exhaled and leaned forward to squeeze his shoulder. She knew he was still grieving and appreciated how fragile his emotions were when it came to her but even though it hurt him to hear it, he needed to understand why taking his sons to see Santa Claus this Christmas was so dreadfully important to them all.
"Jefferson … honey … please listen to me. "she said trying to say things as gently as she could. "Lucille always made a point of taking the children to see Santa Claus and it was very important to her that they went. Their Christmas won't be the same if you don't allow them to go this year and that's not a good idea."
She felt terrible as he swallowed, averted his eyes, and literally shrank away from the argument. For a few minutes he grappled to compose himself before he finally mumbled inaudibly into his chest.
"I realise all that ma'am and I don't mean to sound ungrateful for your offer or anything. But my boys need to understand a lot of things around here aren't the same for them anymore and while I have to work day and night to keep our heads above water, I can only apologise for being away from them and try to do my best."
It had taken some delicate manoeuvring; once Jefferson Grant Tracy made up his mind about something he very rarely budged; but eventually she'd managed to convince him that her taking his sons to see Santa Claus was one of the few things that didn't have to change if he really didn't want it to. If it would make the little ones happy, she was more than willing to do it for him, and then "next year" when he was feeling better, he could take the time to do it for them himself.
The tall, handsome young man in the business suit hung his head in defeat. He was tired and miserable and lonely and all he wanted to do was what he thought was best for his five motherless children.
"All right Momma … you win." he said. "Take them to see Santa Claus if you think it will mean so much."
She kissed the top of his head with quiet satisfaction.
"That's using good sense sweetie." she assured him. "Trust me. It's the right thing to do."
With that he straightened up, called the eldest three children into the lounge room and sat them down to face him. They were going out with Grandma, he said trying not to sound gruff, and they needed to listen to his instructions. When he was sure he had their attention the stern lecture about behaviour began, followed by the warning to stay "close to Grandma" and the final directive to "help out with their two little brothers."
"And before you start with the wish lists ..." he rumbled watching Virgil and John's eyes grow round. "I don't want you going overboard and asking for everything in sight."
"Is that clear boys?" he re-iterated deliberately looking each of them up and down.
Their "Yes Daddy" sounded respectfully in return.
Her thoughts returned to the present and this slow-moving, never-ending line. If she could ask for just one thing for Jefferson right now, she knew what that would be.
He hadn't been the same since he'd lost her and it was a real God-damn shame.
The frown returned.
They'd all been standing here for over an hour now and Alan was starting to become restless. Newly mobile and liking nothing better than to drag himself across the floor from one place to the other, he wasn't taking too kindly to being restrained. His blue eyes silently demanded his freedom and the demand was quickly escalating towards more than a wail or two of protest.
"Shhh Alan; Daddy said we have to be good." Scott began anxiously, crouching down beside the pram and offering him his teddy bear. "Don't cry. We won't have to wait much longer."
Alan's complaining stopped as he smiled at the attention and happily began to chew on the ear of the bear.
"We wouldn't have to wait at all if "Santa Claus" had some sort of restrictions." she grumbled listening to the continuous prattling of the little girl situated on his knee. "I swear that child over there hasn't taken a breath for ten solitary minutes."
With that a tiny voice piped up.
"Grandma." he said.
Josephine Tracy startled. It wasn't often John made the effort to speak, particularly in a public place where he knew people would notice him. She looked to where the two big blue eyes gazed solemnly up at hers.
"What is it sweetie?" she asked attentively, reaching out her hand to stroke his hair and exquisite little features.
"Grandma ..." he faltered. "How come that girl is allowed to ask for everything she wants?"
Josephine Tracy rolled her eyes. She should have figured that one was coming. John was a terribly analytical child and it stood to reason he would eventually make the observation especially with the words of his Father banging ever so loudly in his head.
Luckily Scott spared her the pain of a response. It may not have been exactly appropriate, but his rudimentary observation of women was better than nothing in a crisis.
"Johnny, it's like this…" he said, his voice equally as serious as his brother's. "Girls have to ask for lots of things at Christmas because they change their minds so often they don't know what they want."
She turned her head in surprise and fixed her full attention on the eldest.
"Now how do you suppose you came to that conclusion young man?" she demanded, preparing herself for the explanation. "I believe I'd like to know."
The curly haired nine year old reddened and became guarded.
"I heard Daddy say it to someone a while back." he said, carefully selecting his words. "So I guessed it must be true. Is that right ma'am?"
Josephine Tracy went to deny the statement but then thought better of it. "Daddy" was their hero and what "Daddy" said went.
"I suppose if Daddy said it, he must be able to back himself up." she replied tightly.
With that, John nodded his head, satisfied with the explanation.
Not so Virgil.
"I wish I was a girl then." he commented glumly. "If I was I'd be allowed to ask Santa for everything I wanted for Christmas too."
"No you wouldn't Virgil" Scott instantly interjected. "Daddy told you not to."
Virgil pouted and folded his arms in defiance.
"I already 'member what Daddy told me Scott. I'm not dumb."
"It's remember Virgil." Josephine Tracy said firmly, taking the time to correct his current flaw of speech. "Now start again and say the word "remember" for Grandma."
"Reee...member." Virgil obliged, still glowering at Scott.
"That's better." she replied. "And the next time you go to say that word sweetheart, I want you to think very carefully before you do."
Virgil nodded his head obediently but before long his emotions ran away with him.
"Anyway Scott" he sulked, glaring at him up and down. "I wasn't going to ask Santa Claus for everything I want. I heard Daddy tell us no and I know I'm not allowed."
"I know you know Virgil …I was only reminding you." Scott glowered back.
"No you weren't …" Virgil snapped. "You were bossing me like you always do."
"No I wasn't bossing you."
"Yes you were. You always boss me."
Despite how close they were and the warning they had received from their Father about behaviour, she could sense an altercation brewing between those two. She watched their eyes flashing and their faces reddening and knew she wasn't wrong. Scott hated his authority being challenged and Virgil hated being told.
A lethal combination …
"… and the unmistakeable traits of their Father …" she murmured quietly to herself "…even if the second one does live and breathe Lucille every waking moment of the day."
But she guessed she couldn't blame them for becoming aggravated. It wasn't exactly exciting for a child to stand dead-still in a line of faceless people especially when they'd had to do it for well over a blasted hour.
"So then." she intervened, trying to provide a distraction "Have you young men given proper thought to what you're going to say to Santa Claus?"
She glanced over to see the child with the never-ending list finally waving her goodbyes.
"I hope so. "she warned pointing out the obvious. "Because it's our turn to talk to Santa next."
Suddenly a veil of grey seemed to lift from overhead and for the first time in nine months she witnessed both John and Virgil smile at each other in unison.
"I have Grandma!" Virgil enthused trying to resist the urge to jump up and down with excitement.
"Me too Grandma." said John.
Gordon and Alan simply grinned at each other, egged on by the eagerness of their brothers.
"What do you think Allie?" Virgil encouraged, crouching down on the other side of the pram and smiling at his baby brother. "You want me to ask Santa Claus for something good for you too?"
The baby boy beamed at him widely and reached out to touch his face with chubby, inquisitive fingers.
"He needs a new teddy bear." Scott said solemnly, indicating the tattered and frayed looking object lying face down on the floor. "You should ask Santa Claus for that."
"OK I will!" Virgil exclaimed forgetting all about being angry at his "bossy" older brother.
Then his face became serious and he looked to his big brother for advice.
"But what about Gordie Scott? He still can't talk good enough to ask for something he wants and I don't want him to miss out from Santa Claus."
Before Scott could reply the timid little voice piped up.
"Gordie wants blocks."
Virgil's attention riveted in John's direction.
"How do you know that?" he demanded imperiously. "Gordie doesn't talk good enough to say."
Four year John didn't hesitate to defend his suggestion.
"He does need them because he's always giving mine to Alan."
He continued almost with distaste. "And then Alan puts them in his mouth and they go all slippery."
"Oh dear." Josephine Tracy grimaced, picturing the somewhat sordid scene. "None of it sounds too good to me from a Grandmother's health perspective. "
She reached out and tousled John's hair again as he nodded gravely at her in agreement.
"Are you going to be the one to ask Santa for the blocks sweetheart?" she asked the little boy.
John looked apprehensive and immediately shook his head.
"No Sir ma'am. Not me."
Josephine Tracy found herself becoming unhappy again. It was obvious the child was worried he would be disobeying his Father if he asked for more than what he wanted for himself. Jefferson didn't mean it but sometimes his generic instructions were a little too generic for his own good. They certainly weren't any good for the children. But Virgil soon lightened things up by placing both hands on John's shoulders and looking him squarely in the eye.
"You're allowed to ask Santa for 'em Johnny cos the blocks aren't something you want for you." he explained patiently. "It works like this see … if you ask for something for someone else, that something else doesn't count as something else for you."
His velvet brown eyes looked towards her for affirmation. "That's right what I'm saying hey Grandma?"
"Well that's quite a few something else's from one very small young man." she laughed trying to fathom what on earth he was on about. "But you are absolutely right when it comes to John asking Santa for blocks for Gordon sweetie. Daddy won't mind and I'll tell him all about it for you if you're worried it's not allowed."
Virgil smiled at John.
"See Johnny I told you so. Grandma says Daddy says you can."
"OK." John agreed reluctantly. "If Daddy won't get mad I'll ask.'"
But it was the six year old whose eyes now danced with life.
"I love Christmas Grandma." he said happily, taking a deep breath and looking about with joy. "We had so much fun with Daddy last year. I can hardly wait to have fun with him again."
At that moment all the warmth she was feeling in her heart somehow seemed to die away.
Last year.
Yes it had been fun.
Last year Jefferson had romped and played with his children until all of them fell to the floor in exhaustion.
Last year Jeff and Lucille had sat in front of the fire with their arms around each other when the children had finally gone to bed.
Last year she had sat nearby watching Jefferson and Lucille.
This year there would only be Jefferson.
And she would have to sit and watch that too.
But thankfully there was little time to dwell upon how she was going to deal with Christmas. They were finally being motioned forward towards that pathetic excuse for a Santa Claus and the little ones could hardly contain their joy.
"You just mind yourself Josephine." she warned, reluctantly leading the children in his direction. "Lucille's more than likely watching all this from heaven and she wouldn't take too kindly to you spoiling the moment for her sons by telling the management what you think."
"Ho- Ho-Ho." said Santa in his pitifully unauthentic tone. "Merrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry Christmas!"
She braced herself and looked heavenward. "On the other hand Lucille …"
But polite as always, she heard herself reply.
"A Merry Christmas to you too Sir."
"Why thank you ma'am. " he replied before looking jovially at each of the children. "My goodness …" he acknowledged. "…what handsome little boys."
"Yes they are." she said matter-of-factly, ignoring his compliment completely. "These are my Grandsons and each of them has something they'd like you to bring for them this Christmas. I hope it's all right that they tell you."
"And you should straighten your beard a bit before they do you foolish man." she mumbled to himself.
"Ho-Ho-Ho" Santa boomed out again, obviously not hearing her. "Of course it's all right to tell me! Now who wants to go first?"
Virgil immediately raised his hand.
"Me please Sir!" he shrieked before scurrying hurriedly into his lap.
The world's worst rendition of a Santa Claus listened attentively as Virgil carefully said his name, spelt it twice and reminded him that he was six years old now and not five like he had been last Christmas.
"Indeed you are." observed Santa. "And you've gotten bigger since last time I saw you too."
Virgil's eyes grew wide.
"I have Sir?" he breathed.
Santa laughed. "At least six inches or my name isn't Santa Claus."
"Wow." smiled the chestnut haired Tracy child with the beautiful big brown eyes. "I must be getting real real big."
His excitement grew.
"And I've been real good all year too Santa." he announced. "You ask my Grandma. I always set the table and I go to bed right whenever she tells me. I don't ask for anything neither after I go there ... not even a drink. That's the truth Santa Claus. "
Santa looked over and waited expectantly for her confirmation.
"Yes he has been good Santa." she agreed readily. "He's been a very good boy."
"If only you knew just how good they've all had to be." she thought silently to herself. "Especially this little one when his Daddy can't cope with who he looks like."
"Well I'm very glad to hear that Virgil." Santa replied proceeding to draw him close and asking what he wanted for Christmas.
The special secret whispered and the teddy bear for Alan requested, Virgil dutifully went to move off Santa's lap for one of his brothers to take their turn. But before he did, he sat perfectly still and asked the inevitable question.
"Santa." he said, tilting his head to one side and analysing him carefully. "Do you really land your sleigh on our roof and bring presents down our chimney?"
"Ho-Ho-Ho of course I do!" boomed Santa as sincerely as he could.
Virgil looked troubled.
"Gee Santa do you think that's a very good idea? You see our Daddy lights the fire on Christmas Eve so he and M... oh..."
The little chin dropped.
The little eyes grew sad.
Virgil floundered for a few moments not knowing what to say.
"I guess you won't get burnt Santa." he finished quietly, preparing to move away. "I forgot that Daddy doesn't sit near the fire no more."
Santa looked after him before fixing his probing eyes on hers.
Hers didn't flinch.
"Come on John. It's your turn now" was all she said, encouraging the little blonde towards Santa's knee. "Mind your manners and sit up straight now."
John's expression was a mixture of apprehension and delight as he happily climbed into Santa's lap and gazed up at him with adoration.
"So your name's John then?" Santa smiled.
The little boy nodded.
"And how old are you John?"
"Four Sir." he said in his even little voice.
"And do you have anything special you'd like to tell Santa Claus about yourself?"
"No Sir. Nothing."
"Not even how good you've been?" he coaxed. "Santa likes to hear things like that."
This time the blonde head shook from side to side.
"No Sir." he said.
It took a lot of encouragement but in the end Santa breathed a sigh of relief when John finally opened up to tell him what he wanted for Christmas.
"Is that all?" he asked incredulously, hardly believing a child of four could only want a book about the stars for Christmas.
"Yes Sir." he nodded solemnly. "I like stars very much and that's all I want you to bring me."
He bit his lip and slowly built up his courage.
"Plus some blocks please." he blurted before his face began to fill with alarm.
"They're for my little brother." he added hurriedly. "Please Santa I don't want them for me."
Again the probing eyes of the man masquerading as Santa Claus asked her for the answers.
Removing John from his lap, she deliberately avoided his gaze and motioned Scott forward with the two babies. She was sure at age nine Scott wouldn't want her to hear what he had to say to Santa Claus and using the babies as an excuse for him to do so seemed to be a very good plan.
Scott dutifully wheeled his baby brothers forward as instructed, totally unaware of her intentions.
Santa smiled and leaned forward to tweak the chins of youngest Tracy children. Normally they were social and smiled at everyone, but at the sight of Santa Claus in all his unrealistic glory, all Gordon could do was stare and all Alan could do was suspiciously look him up and down, ready to dissolve into tears at any moment.
"I'm really, really sorry Sir." Scott floundered as Alan, as usual, didn't let them down. "My little brother doesn't mean to be rude to you. He wasn't born last year when we saw you last and he doesn't take too well to strangers."
The man behind the Santa suit looked with admiration at the tall, good-looking nine year old with the impeccable manners and a maturity far beyond his years. He recognised what his Grandmother was trying to do. Most of the children around his age were the same and they needed special encouragement. They wanted to confide in Santa Claus but they didn't want anyone else to know about it.
"That's all right son." he assured him raising his voice above the din. "Santa's used to things like this. Now … how about you letting me know what you want for Christmas while Grandma takes the little ones away."
He motioned Josephine Tracy forward to remove the babies and when he saw that she had he looked back at Scott in expectation.
"All right son. It's safe for you to tell me now."
Scott shuffled his feet, looked about awkwardly and finally shook his head.
"I don't want anything from you this year thank you Sir."
"Nothing?" Santa quizzed. "Come now …that can't right. Every boy and girl wants something special from Santa Claus for Christmas."
Scott bit his lip.
"With respect Sir … I know that you're not real. I found out all about that last year."
Santa Claus listened without emotion.
"I see." he eventually said. "And are you sure what you found out last year was absolutely true?"
Scott shrugged and looked at the floor.
"Yes Sir. For the most part I think it is."
Santa paused thoughtfully.
For the most part.
It was obvious the child wasn't sure or still want to believe in something.
"I'm sorry to hear you feel that way." he offered cautiously. "May I ask you how it is that you found out?"
Scott hesitated.
He wasn't supposed to be awake last year when he saw them and he'd never told anyone what he'd managed to see.
It had been his parents who had placed their presents under the Christmas tree last year. They had waited up until midnight and thought everyone was asleep. He'd been too excited to think about sleeping and had crept downstairs for an unforgettable glimpse of Santa Claus. But instead of seeing a jolly old fat man with a great big sack, he had only seen his parents in their pyjamas floundering around in the firelight.
He had watched as his Father screwed up his face and bravely ate the Christmas cake he and Virgil had made for Santa Claus. He had watched as his Mother reluctantly ate the carrots they'd left out exclusively for the reindeers. And then he had watched his Father laugh and lovingly kiss his Mother in the darkness as the flames of the open fire smouldered and began to die down.
"No Jeff… the baby…" she had whispered.
He hadn't understood why she had said that as the two of them made their way to bed.
Scott lingered further.
Despite the intensity of his memories he knew he was expected to consider the feelings of others and that included "Santa Claus". He wasn't allowed to say things which hurt or offended anyone else. It was the Tracy way, his Mother had told him and even though she wasn't here to tell him anymore, he would never forget his Mother.
"I'd rather not say Sir." he said with extreme difficulty. "But the way I figure it, if you really were real, you wouldn't need to ask me what I wanted for Christmas. You'd just go right ahead and bring it for me."
His voice lowered.
"And you see Sir I know you can't do that for me even if you wanted to."
A set of dark blue eyes looked with childhood honesty into the eyes of a Boston Santa Claus.
"Nobody can. "
Author's Note – Please ….before you flame me … remember it's the season of goodwill and this story has a very nice ending ….
Yours mcj
