"Don't forget the hat," Eames reminded Goren after shoving the pillow up his red-and-white jacket. She grinned. His tall, lean figure looked more bowling-pinnish than round and jolly, but she wouldn't say that.
He kept his face frozen in the expression of a man dragged into something he wants no part in. But his eyes gave him away. Deep brown pools sparkled with anticipation though he sighed heavily, ruffling the white hairs on the cottony moustache.
"How do I look?" he asked, spinning 360 for an honest opinion.
With a grunt, Eames hefted up the bag of toys and handed it to him. "Christmassy."
The corners of his mouth twitched for a very brief moment. "Thanks," he said dryly, easily lifting the heavy sack over his shoulder. He put his hand on the doorknob and paused nervously.
She knew what that meant. She punched him in the shoulder playfully. "Go get 'em, Santa."
He allowed himself to give her a flickering grin and pulled the hospital door open.
"Look everyone!" cried Mercy Phelps from her rocking chair, interrupting the narration of The Night Before Christmas. "It's Santa!"
Two dozen heads whirled around excitedly, half of them bald, mouths agape and smiling. "Santa!" they shouted, leaping to their feet as fast as they could leap.
Eames covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. Three kids latched themselves to his long legs while others circled loudly. Mercy, her old college roommate, stood by her side with a broad grin.
"Kids! One at a time, please," she said, then turned to Eames. "Thank you again for coming. It must've been hard to get him to agree to this, dignified guy that he is."
Santa waded to the rocking chair and sat himself down with a thud. Little people a fourth his size squirmed everywhere.
"Will you finish our story, Santa?" asked a little girl, wrapped around his neck. "Before you start with presents? Please?"
The corners of his eyes crinkled and his brow relaxed into the kindest face imaginable. "Of course, Lacy. Where were you on the page?"
Three little kids crawled into his lap while others gathered at his feet and still more peeked over his shoulders at the pictures.
Mercy turned to Eames with a strange expression. "How did he know that was Lacy? The wish list didn't have any pictures."
Eames grinned. "But it did list the children's conditions. Goren can tell the difference between the leukemia and heart patients and all the rest."
Mercy grinned broadly and pulled her long, golden braid over her shoulder to play with. The two women watched with soft eyes as Goren picked up the story. "His eyes, how they twinkled. His dimples, how merry…" His voice put the kids at ease, his warmth bringing smiles to the unnaturally hollowed cheeks of babies and toddlers.
Eames looked away, cleared her throat and occupied herself with studying the shiny ornaments on the artificial tree. For her part, Mercy set to rearranging the garland on the banner, blinking. Cautiously, they locked eyes. Mercy grinned.
"You sap," she said quietly.
"Look who's talking," said Alex, lifting a box of tissues where they could both have access, should their holiday makeup start running. "And you said there was no such thing as a good man."
Mercy sighed and cocked her head, watching Goren pull Lacy onto his shoulder when her head started to droop. She shook her head and grabbed a tissue. "Crap. I hate being wrong." She dabbed her eyes and refused to look at Alex.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night." He closed the book and bounced his knee to wake the kids back up. Alex and Mercy sighed in unison, then caught themselves and blushed for feeling silly.
"Oh, bad news, by the way," Alex began, figuring she might as well get this over with before it began. "We weren't able to get all the kids' number one wishes. Donations were slow this year."
Mercy nodded. "I half expected that. Who's missing?"
Alex paused, wishing there was an easy way to say what she had to. "Danny, Jake, Megan, and Lorna."
Her friend tried to hide her disappointment, but there isn't much that can stay out of those big blue eyes. Lorna had a terminal brain tumor. They weren't expecting her to make it past Easter.
"That's all right. You did your best, and these kids are the greatest in the world at sensing that kind of thing." Alex reached out and took her hand as they watched the pandemonium before them.
Santa had started passing everything out. "One at a time, please," he said, gently. "I'll call you up when it's your turn." The children before him were long accustomed to waiting.
He reached into the bag and looked mysteriously around the room. Necks craned to see what his big, gloved hand was resting on. His eyes fell first on little Lacy. "Come on up, sweetheart."
She bounded up to his lap with the energy of a child in remission. "What would you like for Christmas?"
She kicked her feet back and forward, sticking out her lower lip. "If you were really Santa, you'd know that already."
He smiled beneath the beard and held out a box. "I certainly do. I was just making sure you did."
She gasped at the shiny paper and took it from his hands, beaming. "Thank you, Santa," she said. She hopped down and found some place quiet to open it where she wouldn't disturb anyone else. But when she pulled the wrapping paper back to find a robotic, mewing, purring, fur-covered cat complete with brush and rhinestone collar, she couldn't contain her excitement.
Mercy and Alex smiled at the crowd, growing more and more anxious by the moment. Their smiles dimmed when Goren called up a little red-headed boy in the front of the pack.
"Now, Danny, have you been a good boy this year?" asked Goren.
Mercy sent Alex a look but kept quiet as the little devil's horns remained concealed.
"Well, then I think I have just what you want." The women took in their breath and watched through squinted eyes as Santa reached into his bag to pull out… exactly what Danny wanted.
A long, red, vintage fire truck found its way out of the stuffed burlap sack and into the little Paddy's arms. Mercy and Alex looked at each other, both speaking at once.
"I thought you said--" began Mercy.
"How did that--" Alex stuttered.
Realization dawning on them both at once, they turned their eyes back to Santa. He made it a point not to look at either one of them.
Alex put her hands on her hips, looking annoyed. "We couldn't find that thing anywhere. What makes him so special?" Mercy knew better than to think her friend was really peeved. She sent up a prayer of gratitude and watched the rest of the evening.
"Devon?" said Santa. A small black boy reached out with his eyes closed, opening them to find a swanky camera. It wasn't digital, but he'd specifically said he wanted a "cool camera."
"Bill?" A shy five year-old meekly reached up and took the wrapped package. Upon opening it, his face broke into an enormous smile above a fully-loaded Game Boy.
"Gabrielle?" Goren looked down at the girl who could pass for his daughter with her curly black hair and sleepy brown eyes. "That's a very pretty name," he commented. She giggled and clumsily took hold of her present, moments later squealing with delight and counting the brushes in her new paint set.
"Sammy?" A scrawny kid wriggled his way up and found his package. A new copy of his favorite movie, The Land before Time, was now his, after a nurse rolled a cart over his old one.
"Ashley?" Mercy found it simply amazing how Goren looked right at each child as he said their names, so there could be no doubt Santa knew exactly who they were. The little bald girl found herself a porcelain-faced doll with wavy auburn hair, and wept into the forest-green dress. "Hey, hey now, don't cry," said Santa, scooping her into his strong arms. He patted her hair and shushed her until her tears stopped.
"Thank you," she said, wiping her swollen eyes.
"You're welcome," said a hoarse Santa. He cleared his throat and turned his attention on the next child. "Jake?" A boy no older than three looked up at the sound of his name and reached up hopefully as Alex and Mercy tightened again. To their amazement, a smiling Tickle-Me-Elmo was pulled from the bag. Exactly what Jake wanted, and almost didn't get.
Next came Laura, a bespectacled seven year-old girl who sat the whole night next to an equally dweeby-looking seven year-old boy. She quickly found someplace safe to put her chemical set, and the boy, Ritchie, happily took the fifth Harry Potter book.
"I'm sure you'll find it satisfactory," said Santa. "Peeves is up to his old tricks and Professor Lupin is doing well." Mercy and Alex exchanged glances. You couldn't get that information just reading the back of the book jacket.
Jamaal was soon steering his remote-controlled Corvette all around the room, Aaron was working out his new baseball glove, and Derek clung to his Shrek doll like it held the key to happiness.
Megan opened herself a box of Christmas divinity, a fluffy candy twice as hard to make as the most delicate soufflé. She bounced up and down as once again Alex wondered where in the world her partner managed to find someone who knew how to make divinity. "Did you make it yourself, Santa?" asked Megan, taking a bite and feeling it melt down her throat.
Santa chuckled and wiped some off the corners of her mouth. "Well, young lady, Santa's grandmother was a stubborn old Sicilian who knew if you couldn't cook, you'd starve." Alex's eyes widened and she found a rail to lean on to get a more comfortable seat for the rest of the insanity.
Anna received a perfect angel necklace for her troubles with Sickle Cell Anemia. Eve combed the hair of her Little Mermaid Barbie until Alex thought it would fall out. Blake made trumpet noises out of the trunk of her stuffed elephant. It was an interesting moment when Bobby met little Bobby, and little Bobby wanted a Yankee jersey.
And finally a tiny, forsaken little girl took her place in line. Santa's eyes grew misty for a faint moment, but he shook himself back into jolliness for the girl who still lived. "Well, Lorna, I've got something special for you."
Mercy and Alex looked again at each other. The Plaza had gone ahead and bought Lorna the second thing on her list, although she couldn't think of much she wanted more than the first. Mercy braced herself for the appearance of the inadequate My Little Pony, #2 and not good enough. But absolutely no one could fine #1.
Except Santa.
Goren reached into the sack and pulled out the last item: a lilac princess gown. It was made of satin and lace and fell to the floor around the little girl's feet. It fit her tiny, thin body perfectly. Large, unashamed tears fell down her cheeks as she fingered the fabric she would wear as soon as she got the chance.
"Well?" said Santa. "What do you think? Is it good enough for a princess?"
Wordlessly, she climbed into his lap and threw her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, holding onto the petite creature who he knew could break him into a thousand pieces.
Alex sobbed silently and next to her Mercy stood, melted. Bobby Goren was the image of paternity, but would never have his own children to hold onto like he held little Lorna.
She shook her head as the Kodak Moment broke up and cleared her throat. Alex caught the signal and used all her self-control to stop her crying. Mercy's voice didn't sound at all forced or strained when she addressed the kids.
"All right everybody, your parents are in the other room; go show them what you've got while Santa gets on his way." Noisily, the children filed out to show Mom and Dad what they got.
Goren folded his hands behind his back and waited until everyone was gone. "Where's the restroom?" he asked. "This thing is driving me crazy." He tugged on the beard and walked past the water-logged females.
Mercy took a deep breath and managed to calm herself down. She got over things pretty quickly. "Did I mention," she began, "I really, really, really hate being wrong?"
"You might have said something to that effect," said Alex with a grin. Mercy shrugged and set herself to work, picking up the wrapping paper torn asunder by the children. She appeared lost in thought. "Hey Alex," she said, "what are you doing tonight?"
The smaller woman straightened and looked at her friend. "Not much. Why?"
Mercy bit her lip. "Would you like to have a little Christmas Eve at my place?"
"A Christmas party?" asked Alex.
Mercy cocked her head teasingly. "You know I don't do parties. Especially not Christmas ones."
"Oh, come on," said Eames, crossing her arms. "Don't give me that. You're Jewish but still show up here to pass out presents and bake the best damned fruitcake I ever tasted."
Mercy waved. "You forget, I was raised Southern Baptist. Life without Christmas is unacceptable." She paused. "Hell, even if Jesus wasn't the Messiah, he was at least a perfectly nice guy and he deserves to have his birthday celebrated, at least as much as Martin Luther King. Am I wrong?"
Alex shook her head. "No, you're not. As usual. We'll come."
"Really?" she said after a pause.
"As soon as we leave."
Mercy sighed. "All right. Follow me in my car. I just wish I'd have dressed up a little more."
Alex cocked an eyebrow. Most of the clothes her friend wore were white or pastel, flowy, elegant and angelic. For the occasion of Christmas, she'd donned a maroon, velvet dress that fell to the tops of her shoes. The sleeves were cut just below the elbow and the neckline was cut just below the modest. She'd done her makeup to bring up the minute green flecks in her eyes and the feminine movements of her walk turned her into sheer beauty on two legs.
The detective looked down at her own brown slacks, white turtleneck and sued jacket, wishing she had something more festive than the crazy little snowman necklace to show for her spirit.
"Did I tell you how wonderful you look tonight?" Mercy asked.
Alex made a noise of mingled disbelief and disgust. She looked to her friend to see that her eyes had traveled over her shoulder.
Goren stepped out of the hallway in corduroys and a khaki-colored shirt collar sticking out from under a hunter-green sweater. The wig had mussed up his hair and he'd tried in vain to do something with it, but his curls weren't feeling particularly obedient this evening.
Unable to hide a triumphant smirk, Alex turned to face him. "Mercy talked us into coming to her place tonight. I hope you don't mind."
He looked back to the lady in red and shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all." His eyes lingered a beat longer than can leave anyone feeling comfortable and she cleared her throat.
"Well," Mercy began, "Just let me check on everything in here and I'll be right out." She turned to leave and almost tripped over Lorna.
At that moment, Bobby was very happy to have left the empty Santa suit on the bench out in the hall. She came out in her little purple gown, eyes aglow and searching for her hero.
"Did Santa leave already?" she asked nervously.
Alex and Mercy turned desperately to look at Bobby, who didn't even flinch. He lowered himself to her level, squatting and hunching to fit three-foot-two. "Yeah, he's probably in Buffalo by now," he said kindly. "Is there anything you wanted to say?"
Lorna twirled around, letting the skirt fly as little girls like to do. "I just wanted to tell him it fits."
Bobby grinned that little Bobby grin and took her frail hand in his. "And would you like to know something else?" he asked in a low whisper. Lorna leaned in to hear what he told her as he brought his face inches from her ear. "You look as pretty as brand new snow in the early morning sunshine." He gently kissed her hand and let it drop as she blushed deeper than Mercy's dress. She mumbled her thanks and ran back in to be with her mother and father.
Bobby stayed where he was for a long time, rubbing his fingers together where innocence had been. Mercy and Alex exchanged glances.
The lawyer came over to the large figure hunched on the floor and touched his shoulder. He fidgeted and stood to his full height. Startled, she pulled back an inch and forced a smile. "No matter what happens," she said, "eventually, everything is going to be fine."
Bobby nodded and headed across the room to open the door for Alex. Holding the suit in one hand, he helped the women down the icy stairs, first Alex then Mercy.
"Look!" said Alex, pointing to the top of the door. "Mistletoe! I hadn't noticed it before."
He looked up and clicked his tongue. "A romantic parasite. Will irony never cease?" With a grin, he lowered his eyes on Alex. "Well, then, come here you."
He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. Giggling (yes, Alexandra Eames, giggling), she kissed him back and nudged him in Mercy's direction. It wasn't unknown that they weren't very familiar with one another. He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
After a moment or two too long for her liking, she took the initiative and stood on tip-toe to meet his cheek with her lips. The five o'clock shadow that started growing around noon pricked her face. So much testosterone…
Suppressing a shudder, she pulled back and smiled.
"You smile a lot," he said, cocking his head.
She nodded. "Happiness is contagious and I intend to start a plague." He tossed his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking, voice loud and genuine.
Alex's eyebrows hit her hairline but neither of the other two seemed at all surprised. "Well, that's my Neon under the light," said Mercy. "I'll be behind you guys all night."
"Yeah," said Alex, her insides warming up. "Yeah. We'll see you in a few."
Bobby opened the door for her and got into the car, still chuckling to himself. Alex smiled and turned the radio up on the way home.
"Angels we have heard sing of mercy, hallelujah…"