A/N: Yup, end of another one. The next tale, the continuation of The San Francisco Vampire, will pick back up next week. Thanks for all the favorites, follows & comments, everyone - I love hearing from you!
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"A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear…"
— John Lennon, "Happy Xmas (War is Over)"
Christmas Eve, 1971
Fidgeting, Joe tried to look solemn, but the choir robes were itchy and too tight across his chest, especially over the broken ribs. Aunt Gertrude had wrapped him in ace-bandages and made him take a pain pill right before they'd left, which made Joe loopy and a little sleepy. But he was determined to get through this, especially since he could see Frank and Kris right down front and most of his friends scattered through the crowd. First United was packed, and Joe had even seen license plates from Boston in the parking lot.
It was a surprise, Kris being in church. Granted, the actual service wasn't until after the main choir performance, but it was still odd. Joe kept watching her. Arms crossed around herself, Kris shifted in her seat and alternated between staring at the ground or around at all the people with open suspicion. Frank nudged her, leaned over and whispered something, and nodded towards Joe…then made a funny, screwed-up face when he saw Joe watching.
Miss Callahan was turned away. Joe quickly stuck his tongue out at Frank.
Wide-eyed, Kris hid her mouth behind her hands. Frank grinned back at Joe…just as Aunt Gertrude's "Joseph!" echoed through the church, followed by muffled laughter from the audience.
Miss Callahan turned around; Joe plastered his best innocent look on his face just in time. She gave him a pointed glare, then moved to the lectern to do the pre-service announcements and introductions. Joe snuck another glance at Kris — Frank was whispering to her again, and Kris was back to staring at the floor, but from what Joe could see of her face, she was smiling.
"Score," Frank mouthed at Joe.
Joe rolled his eyes. That really wasn't fair. Joe couldn't exactly do much to get their tagalong to laugh in the middle of church…well, not without getting tossed out of choir, anyway.
The main lights had been turned off; only the candles and the colored Christmas lights on all the trees behind the altar were lit. Evergreen garland and wreaths were strung along the stone walls under the stained glass windows, and to the right of the altar was the indoor Nativity scene. The area behind the small stable had been draped with black cloth pierced with white Christmas lights to look like stars.
Something poked him in the back. "Joe," Iola whispered, behind him.
Joe didn't turn around. Miss Callahan hadn't separated him and Iola tonight so they'd be in their proper sections, but they'd been warned to behave. That meant Iola was going to get him in trouble even before the performance started, Joe knew it.
Iola poked him again; paper crackled. "Joe!"
Joe kept staring straight ahead. If she was so determined to get them in trouble, he didn't want to be blamed for starting it. The poke didn't repeat, but Joe heard frantic whispering behind him, then to his left, where Sharon stood.
Just as Miss Callahan stepped down from the lectern, Sharon elbowed Joe and passed him a gift-wrapped package — with a covert eye-roll on Sharon's part, which Joe returned, but he took the package from her. Luckily, Miss Callahan didn't seem to notice. The package felt weighted on one end and slightly damp, but Joe put the gift at his feet and dropped the hem of his robe over it to hide it. No matter what Iola thought, it could wait.
Behind him, Joe heard Iola breathe out an exaggerated sigh, but what else was he supposed to do with it? He couldn't open it right there. Then Miss Callahan rapped her conductor's baton, everyone hushed, and the organ trumpeted out the opening of The Hallelujah Chorus.
Joe took it as easy as he could, mouthing the words or only singing at quarter-volume, trying to save his breath and energy for his solo. The pain meds made it hard to concentrate, but he knew most of these songs by heart already. Hallelujah into Angels We Have Heard on High into Bring a Torch into Deck The Halls, and on, and on, and then a long, silent pause. Miss Callahan looked at Joe, a silent are you okay to do this? Joe nodded back, closed his eyes, and steadied himself as the organist lilted through the intro of The Little Drummer Boy, then Joe started his first solo
So far, so good. A bit breathy: his chest kept catching at odd moments with small twinges of pain. But as Joe finished the first verse, he happened to glance down at the front row…
Frank and Kris weren't there.
Luckily the rest of the choir joined in at that point, so Joe's fumble wasn't too obvious — but Miss Callahan was watching and Joe yanked his concentration back on the carol. Get through it. That was all he had to do. Get through it.
Finally, finally, Adeste Fidelis and that was it for the pre-service — and Frank and Kris still hadn't returned. As the choir seated themselves and Reverend Duncan, Reverend Mason, and Father James all stood up for the combined opening invocation, Joe caught Miss Callahan's eye and she came over.
"I really need to…um…take a break." Joe tried to look as out of breath and pathetic as he could; it didn't take much acting. "I mean…"
Miss Callahan patted his shoulder. "Go on, dear," she whispered back. "Just be back before the end of the Gospel."
His next solo, and the big one. Joe glanced down at the front row again — Dad nodded towards the choir-side door. Okay, Dad and Mar didn't look worried, so it wasn't trouble, and Frank would run in yelling at the top of his lungs if something happened, church or no church.
But that made it worse. Leaving and not listening to Joe's first solo?
He started to squeeze past the others; his foot kicked at the package. He'd forgotten about it. Joe scooped it up, pushed through the others to the choir's vestibule to grab his coat, and out the side door to the parking lot.
It was freezing out here, the church yard thick with new snow, and more was falling, fast and heavy, a dazzling glory of white sparkles in the parking lot lights. Frank and Kris stood by the outdoor Nativity scene, which had a real stable and manger; Kris was scratching one of the sheep behind its ears, her hands buried in its thick wool. The Mortons had loaned a couple of their sheep and a shaggy pony to the church, and the animals were fenced in a sheltered section next to the Virgin Mary.
"I'm sorry, big brother," Kris said in a small voice, as Joe came near; she looked miserable. "I'm really, really sorry. I was okay until…I mean, you guys did Deck the Halls…and…and…it started to hit really bad." She wasn't looking at him, her attention on the sheep.
Joe didn't understand that at all, but Frank caught his gaze behind Kris's back, frowned just a little, and shook his head.
"It's okay, Tag," Joe said instead. He'd ask Frank about it later. "You didn't miss anything."
The other sheep ambled over and snuffled at Joe through the gap in the fence slats, leaving wet marks on Joe's coat. But now Frank was grinning; he nodded at the package in Joe's hands. "So what'd Iola give you?"
Brothers. Joe scowled. "I don't care. She's trying to get me in trouble, that's all. She's nothing but a brat."
"No, she's not," Kris said. "Iola's not…um…I mean…she's just not. I knew she was your Santa because she asked me what to get you because she wanted to get you something good and didn't know what to do and I told her about the Christmas Rose and everything and…"
Oh. Yeah. That. "You knew about Iola," Joe said. "You knew and you didn't tell me!"
"And you had me and you traded just to get rid of me!"
"Children," Frank overrode both of them. Frank's expression almost earned him a face-full of snow — but Joe still had to get through the rest of the service. Miss Callahan would notice if Joe came back wet and snow-covered.
"It doesn't matter, anyway," Kris said, kicking at the snow. "Me and Sharon are gonna be witches, so none of this Christmas stuff matters at all. Not like anyone really cares. If all that's been what it's supposed to be about, you can keep it. I don't want it."
Both Frank and Joe stared at her. Joe didn't understand — where'd that come from? He'd thought she'd liked the Secret Santa thing…well, the good parts, anyway…
"You asked me last year. When we were down in the fairy kingdom, about monsters and if being down there was worth missing Christmas. Well, my answer's still the same. The monsters are worse up here." Kris kicked at another lump of snow. "The monsters down there, at least they looked like monsters. They couldn't trick me."
The brothers looked at each other. Joe didn't remember anything like that at all. But before he could figure out what she was talking about…
"You're wrong," Frank said fiercely, "because then you'd be deciding what someone's like because of what they looked like. I mean, folks would say Tina's a monster, if it was like that. And if that's what that fairy kingdom of yours is like, then I'm glad we blew it up like you said we did. Because Tina's not a monster, and you're not, and Mar's not, and Charlie's not, because what someone looks like isn't what they are."
"Shimá's doesn't look like a monster!"
"All the movies say so," Joe said. "And the Lone Ranger and all the stuff on TV. Lots of people still think Injuns are monsters. And she's not."
"And you say you're gonna be a witch," Frank said. "Well, witches are monsters. All the fairy tales say that, that witches are mean and ugly. But if you're one…is that what you want? People calling you a monster, just because some stupid story says so?"
Wiping at her face, Kris said nothing, looking down at the sheep nosing at her through the fence slats.
"And I wasn't getting rid of you," Joe said. "I wasn't. You're already my friend and I got you stuff for Christmas and it wasn't fair for me to get you stuff twice."
"That's what Miss Callahan told our class," Frank added. "That it was about being good to people you don't know."
Joe nodded. "Uh-huh. And Sharon likes all that spooky stuff, so I traded with her because I knew she'd be nice to you."
Silence, broken only by sniffles.
"If you think about it," Frank said, "Joe was still your Secret Santa. He set you and Sharon up to be friends. That's a better gift than candy and stuff."
Now Kris looked at them, from Joe to Frank and back. Joe shifted from foot to foot.
"You got two friends out of it, y'know," Joe said, trying to make a joke out of it. "Tina and Sharon. So that means you owe me an extra gift, Tag."
"Um…" Kris looked panicked, "but I…I mean…I didn't know…"
"He's teasing, Tag," Frank said, smiling. "You'd better get back in, Joe."
Joe cocked his head towards the church, listened; the strains of Away In A Manager floated out over the snow — they were in the middle of the Nativity readings. He still had time. "You're coming back in, too," Joe said, not moving. "You're both gonna sit right down front and listen to me sing."
Shivering, Kris shook her head, turned back towards the sheep.
"Tag, come on," Frank said gently. "I'll be right next to you. We'll make more faces at him."
"You do and I'll dump snow all over your bed!"
"I can't," Kris whispered. "I can't. It's nothing but him. Papa, I mean. That's all it is, all that religion stuff, all the stuff he…I mean…what he tried…" She stopped, focused back on scratching the sheep's head. "I can't. I just can't."
"He's got nothing to do with it," Joe said scornfully. "He's nothing but a bully and a liar and a…a…cockroach. I bet Joseph would've beat him up if he'd come anywhere near the Baby Jesus."
"All the shepherds would sic the sheepdogs on him," Frank said.
"And Mary would throw sheep poop at him," Joe said. "And the angel poop."
"Joe!"
"She would! Angels were flying over the stable all night, so they'd have to go sometime, and they didn't have toilets back then."
Now Kris stared from Joe to Frank and back…then…unexpectedly, giggled.
Grinning, Joe leaned over, joined her in scratching the sheep's ears. Crisis averted.
"We don't have to sit in the pew, Tag," Frank said. "We can stand in the doorway and listen, if that'd help."
Joe nodded. The church was standing-room only tonight; no one would notice a couple kids standing in the side aisles. "And I've got my real big solo coming up. You can't miss my big debut." He gave her a wide-eyed pathetic-puppy look. "Not on Christmas. You don't wanna make your big brother sad, do you?"
"We're trying to get Tag in the church, Joe," Frank said, dead-pan.
"Hey!"
"Um…you haven't opened that," Kris said, nodding towards the package in Joe's hands, even as she wiped her eyes again.
That brought Joe up short. "I'm not going to," Joe said. He wanted to dump it in the trash; he wasn't about to open it here, not in front of Frank, not in front of anyone!
"You were saying all that about monsters and looks and stuff," Kris said, accusing. "So now you're judging Iola just because of what she is? Because she's a girl?"
Girls. "Tag…"
"She's right," Frank said severely. "Us big brothers have to set a good example. Go on, Joe. Open it."
Brothers! "Frank…"
"He should open it in front of Iola, so she can see he likes it and he can thank her," Kris said. "Um…I mean…that's what Shimá says."
Joe was not about to open it in front of the whole church. "Tag…"
"That'd get them in trouble with Miss Callahan," Frank said, grinning again. "In the middle of church, I mean."
Now Joe was torn between thanking Frank for saving him from that particular horror or dumping snow in Frank's bed in the middle of the night. But then Go Tell It On The Mountain rang out from the church, loud even out here — the last reading was coming up.
Better get it over with. Not bothering to be careful, Joe ripped the paper away…
Another Christmas Rose, in full bloom, the white flowers now glistening with snowflakes. This one was in a ceramic pot shaped like an angel cradling the plant in its arms and lap; the angel had gold-leafed wings, wavy gold-brown hair and bright blue eyes…
…like Mom.
Frank bent and picked something up from the snow, handed it to Joe. A note:
Joe,
Frank told me the other one didn't make it because of what happened. I'm really, really sorry. Mrs. Cohen said to come in when you can and she'll tell you how to care for this one.
Merry Christmas From Your Secret Santa!
Iola
"Joe?" Frank said.
Tracing the angel's face, touching the leaves and flowers, Joe didn't answer.
"I can hold it for you," Frank said.
"No!" Joe jerked away, then caught himself, looked up at their faces. "I…um…I mean…no. It's okay. I…I…uh…need to get back in."
He turned and made it through the doors and back into the choir vestibule before they could follow. There, Joe shrugged off his coat and squeezed back through the choir to his spot in front…still holding the Christmas Rose. He set it on the misericord in front of him; it was wide enough to hold the pot, and that way, no one would accidentally kick it.
Eyebrows raised, Miss Callahan looked at him, then at the Rose.
Joe glared right back. The Rose was going to stay right where it was, and if he got in trouble for it…well…then he'd get in trouble.
But Miss Callahan only nodded to the choir to stand, as Father James finished up the last reading, from Luke:
"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and singing, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men…"
Very, very softly, the organist played the first couple notes to get everyone on key. Miss Callahan looked at Joe…and Joe took a deep breath, his gaze firmly on the Christmas Rose, and he launched into O Holy Night.
Movement caught his eye — Frank and Kris moved back into the front pew, though Kris's gaze was firmly on the floor; Mar put her arm around Kris's shoulder in a tight, comforting hug. But Joe looked back at the angel, at the Christmas Rose…
…no, Mom. He was singing to Mom, and she was right there, listening, watching, and smiling…
Applause startled him. Blinking to get his eyes to clear, Joe looked up. Dad and Frank were grinning hugely, Aunt Gertrude on her feet even though everyone else was still sitting down, and Frank gave Joe a thumbs-up; Kris was staring, and Charlie's and Mar's grins were just as big as Dad's. Joe grinned back, though he really wanted to jump around and scream his head off with triumphant war-whoops.
But as Miss Callahan lifted her baton to start the next song, Joe turned to look back at Iola.
"Thank you," he mouthed.
She looked surprised, then blushed and stared at her feet.
Joe looked at the Rose. He hadn't done much for Iola for Secret Santa. He'd been too mad about how she'd maneuvered to get his name and then tried to butt in on his and Frank's case. But…maybe…well…Joe whispered quickly to Mike, the tall tenor next to him, and the moment Miss Callahan turned her attention to the other half of the choir, Mike moved aside…
…and Joe reached back and pulled Iola forward, to stand next to him. She squeaked in surprise, but then Joe leaned towards Iola, just enough…
"Merry Christmas," he whispered.
Iola's eyes got real wide — and when the choir breathed into Silent Night, Iola started smiling, even bigger than Dad, Frank, Mar, and Charlie all put together. Something about that smile made Joe's chest feel warm and glowing again, brighter than all the Christmas lights on the altar trees.
Maybe girls weren't so bad after all.
