Christmas Wishes

by Alisa Joaquin

Part 10 - Paul's Wish

Paul Blaisdell was feeling a bit sorry for himself. He would never fully understand why his Captain insisted he go over to the Pine Ridge Orphanage. The kids over there just weren't interested in police work, but every year he would be the one to go over to talk with the kids about staying out of trouble and try to get them to think about becoming police officers instead of selling drugs. The kids weren't really old enough to go to the Academy until they graduated from High School. A lot of them would never even get that far, but each year he tried, and each year no one came to his class.

"Do not be discouraged," a voice stated, one that was not his own. "Someone will come who will be interested and he will be the one you are looking for to replace the one that you lost."

Where did that voice come from? Paul looked around, but there was no one else in the room. The voice sounded ancient and had the hint of something else, an accent that whispered of the Far East, China perhaps, but Paul could not be certain. He dismissed it as his imagination and went back to planning his curriculum for the upcoming talk for next month.

Three weeks passed and he had forgotten about the voice, but the date was looming closer, and once again Paul was feeling down, but this time it was more than just feeling discouraged. Another Anniversary loomed, one that he wished he did not have to face, but every year for the past five years it would be there, staring him in the face and stabbing him in the heart like no other. It was the Anniversary of his son's death. It was to be his and Annie's first child together even though he already had two girls from a previous marriage that had gone sour. She left right after their second child was born, disappearing into the night without a single word, leaving Paul alone to raise two beautiful girls. His second wife Annie became pregnant soon after they were married. With the timing of her pregnancy, this new baby would be born near Christmas, a blessing to be sure. He remembered the pregnancy was a difficult one for her, and when it came time for the child to be born, Annie was suddenly whisked away from him, but he had not been prepared for what happened next.

"I'm sorry Mr. Blaisdell, we couldn't save your child. He died soon after he was born."

"What? How? What about my wife?"

"Your wife is fine, but . . ."

"How did my son die?"

"We don't know," the doctor stated. "We're sorry."

Paul recalled that the tragedy tore Annie apart. She blamed herself, and Paul felt helpless. He watched as Annie became more and more despondent. He tried to remind her that she was now the mother of two beautiful girls.

"We can try again when you're stronger and in another year," Paul stated.

Then the news came that Annie would not be allowed to have more children; it was a blow to both of them.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Blaisdell, but I would not recommend it. Your body would not be able to handle another pregnancy. There were some abnormalities and I am afraid we're going to have to do a hysterectomy."

It was the worst news imaginable. Paul knew that Annie wanted to have a child with him, but that was not meant to be, and the son that they lost would never know the joy of two loving parents. As the anniversary of their son's death loomed closer, along with the talk he was giving at Pine Ridge, Paul tried to keep his mind occupied with other things, but once again he would have to face the truth. Even though both he and Annie would do their best to make Christmas a pleasant and memorable one for their girls, there was always something that would cast a shadow on those days, and eventually Christmas became more of a misery for them than not.

"Do not be sad," the voice said. "Your wish will be granted in a most unexpected way."

Once again, the voice came out of nowhere. Paul once again tried to dismiss it as a product of his imagination and wishful thinking, but he could not deny that the voice seemed to know what was truly in his heart. How could his son be returned to him? It was impossible.

The phone rang on the desk of Lieutenant Paul Blaisdell and he was brought out of his revere.

"Blaisdell here," Paul answered. "Yeah, I'll be there today, just to remind them that my talk is tomorrow. They often go to the basketball court? I'll try there. Thanks for the tip. Can I get your name?"

The phone went silent. It wasn't until Paul hung up the receiver that he realized the voice on the phone was the same as the voice he had been hearing in his head.

"No, it can't be," he said quietly to himself.

"You say something?" Detective Strenlich asked.

"No, partner, just talking to myself. Let the Chief and the Captain know I'm off to Pine Ridge."

"You still doing that?" Strenlich asked. "I would have given up a long time ago. Those kids, a lot of them are nothing but trouble."

"I know," Paul replied. "But if I can save one kid from the streets, it's worth it," he said trying to convince even himself.

"Good luck."

Paul headed out the door and before he knew it, he was walking into Pine Ridge.

"I'm glad you're here, Paul," the counselor at the orphanage stated. "Before you give your talk tomorrow, I wanted to talk to you about something else. "

"What is that you wanted to see me about? I thought I was just going to remind the kids about my talk on police work."

"I can do that in the morning when the kids are in class. I have another reason for you coming over. I don't remember if I told you that we have a few new arrivals. There's one kid I think you should see. He's got a big chip on his shoulder. Came to us under some pretty strange circumstances."

"What's his name? Do you think he might be heading for trouble?"

"I don't know. He seems to be a good kid, always seems to look out for those younger than himself, but he's filled with a great deal of anger and won't let anyone close to him."

"Where is he?" Paul asked.

"In the basketball court, but I don't want him to see you yet. I'll take you to a place where you can observe."

Paul followed the man up a flight of stairs to a balcony that overlooked the basketball court. There were several boys playing on the court. One boy was by himself. His hair was longer and a dark chestnut brown. The boy was tall, about 14 years old. There was something about his shooting skill that intrigued Paul. The boy was trying to shoot baskets without really looking at where he was shooting. It was as if he was trying to sense where the basket was without actually seeing where it was. For the most part he would make it into the basket. Paul watched to see if he could see any evidence of the anger the counselor mentioned. Sure enough, when the ball didn't quite do as the kid expected, he could see a flash of anger in the young man's eyes, but that seemed to be more with missing the basket than with other issues.

"Hey, Caine! You going to let us play or not! There's only one ball you know."

Paul observed the exchange between the boys and the one they called Caine. The boy turned toward the others giving them a look that seemed to say he meant business. It appeared to Paul that this young man had run-ins with this group of boys before.

"You guys going to play fairly, no cheating?"

"We didn't cheat," one of the boys, replied.

"Pushing someone else younger and smaller than you out of the way just to get the ball? I don't call that playing fair."

"The kid had it coming," another of the boys chided. "He wouldn't give us the ball."

"So, you think pushing someone around is playing fair."

"What's it to you Chinaboy?" the first kid stated.

Paul observed that the boy called Caine suddenly tensed up.

"I just don't like to see someone younger bullied. You want to play a fair game you should give me a try. And you've got to stop calling me Chinaboy. I'm not from China."

"We heard you speaking Chinese," another replied. "Where'd you learn to speak that gook talk?"

Paul saw another flash of anger and something else appear in the young man's eyes, deep grief.

"None of your business," Caine replied, then he tossed the ball in the group of boys' direction. "You want to play, you've got to get past me."

Paul watched from the balcony for at least fifteen minutes, observing that every time the boys who teased the boy named Caine tried to block him or get around him, Caine managed to redirect their moves and take the ball. He outscored them two to one, until one of the boys tossed the ball too high and it sailed over the balcony railing beside Paul. He watched as Caine ran up the stairs after the ball. Paul held onto it waiting for Peter to ascend.

"Give us back our ball, please,' Caine said, a little more forcefully than was necessary and after seeing Paul standing there holding the basketball.

"You know if you were to tell someone what's bothering you, I just bet that chip will fall right off your shoulder."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Paul Blaisdell."

"Oh the cop who's having a talk tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you interested in police work?"

Caine didn't answer at first.

"Talk will be at 2:00. If you are." Paul then tossed the ball back, doubtful that the angry young man would even consider coming. Paul watched as Peter started to descend the stairs.

"Two O'clock you said? Sure, I'll come. It will get me out of a Math class," and the young man continued down the stairs.

Paul stepped near the railing and called down to the young man. "What's your name? I'll be sure to look out for you."

"Peter, Peter Caine."

Paul's thought returned to the Christmas party as he observed Peter talking to his newly found father. He could hear him telling Kwai Chang Caine and Lo Si the very story that he was just thinking about.

"And that's how I was fostered at the Blaisdell's," Peter said, ending the story. "I guess you might say Paul saved my life. He helped me find a different direction where I could focus my anger, help people instead of thinking about revenge."

Paul Blaisdell watched Lo Si come over to sit beside him. "To lose a son is a tragedy. To gain a son is a blessing. To have two fathers is a great honor. The hole that was empty has been filled."

Paul turned to Lo Si, astounded by his words. "How did you know?"

"I am Shaolin," Lo Si answered with a wink, "And a little bird told me."

"I don't understand," Paul said. "You knew all along."

"All I knew was that a young man needed a home. It was you who granted him that home and in turn fulfilled a wish within yourself."

"But can I still call myself his father since . . ."

"Hey, Dad!" Peter called out toward Paul. "Everyone's waiting. You have to take the picture."

"I believe you have your answer," Lo Si said, and both men rose to join the rest of the family.

Continues with Part 11