Chapter Three

Bing Crosby and UPS

"I'm dreaming of a White Christmas…." The sound of Bing Crosby's rich, mellow voice resonated from Woody's CD player. "Just like the ones I used to know…."

Just like the ones I used to know…Woody grimaced at the irony of the crooner's words. While Bing could be reassured that Woody was having a white Christmas in Boston, the Christmas's like the ones he used to know were eluding him.

I guess it serves me right….he thought as he decorated his pitiful, Charlie Brown-esque Christmas tree. He had bought it at an after Christmas yard sale two years ago. Jordan had laughed at him…but back then he had been the optimistic Farm Boy that was working hard on stealing her heart. He promised her that he would make it look good…that it would be a beautiful tree the next holiday season.

Jordan had laughed and called him Charlie Brown.

But he had shown her. He decorated it as best he could the next year…and while it wasn't something that would ever be featured on any White House Christmas card, the poor thing did look marginally better. She even admitted it and had bought him a policeman's ornament to hang on one of the branches…he gave it an honored place near the top of the tree….a place that it still owned.

This year all he had gotten from her was a Christmas card. He had nearly discarded it, but the "Miss you" on the bottom played with his heart strings. The card now resided on the nightstand by his bed. He re-read every night and silently told her that he missed her, too.

He wondered when and if he could ever tell her in person.

"I'm dreaming of a White Christmas…with every Christmas card I write…." Woody frowned at his CD player again. "May your days be were merry and bright….." His days were far short of merry….and much less than bright. They could be described primarily as empty. There were no presents to go under his tree this year. Most of his fellow officers were barely on speaking terms with him this year. He kept telling himself it had nothing to do with his attitude.

And Cal….as for Cal, he hadn't heard from his brother in nearly a year. Through communication in the family grapevine, he did know where Cal was at…working on a cattle farm somewhere out West, getting as far away from the temptations of women, gambling, and drugs as he could Woody was happy that his brother was making some positive changes in his life…but Cal hadn't contacted him at all. And Woody didn't know how to get in touch with him. He guessed that when he told Cal that he no longer had a brother, Cal took it to heart.

Just like Jordan had done when he kicked her out of his hospital room. Sure, they had worked together…civilly even. They had to. But once he had told her it was over between them and he didn't believe she really loved him, Jordan had shut herself off from him. She had tried, bless her heart, to reconnect, but after his fiasco with Riggs and she found out how badly he used her, she turned to another man. JD Pollack. Woody winced. He had seen them kissing…but Pollack had never tried to change Jordan. He let her be herself.

And then poof, one day, the tabloid reporter was gone. Woody had held his breath for weeks thinking that Jordan would eventually follow the reporter. He had sighed with relief when that didn't happen. But Jordan had never tried to reconnect with him. The most intimate conversation Woody had had with her was a week ago at the jewelry store.

So…because of himself…or in spite of himself … he was sitting in an empty, quiet apartment with a decorated Christmas tree that had no presents under it. His Christmas dinner was a Healthy Choice frozen turkey dinner and the festivities planned were simply to work on the twenty-fifth. He kept telling himself this was nice. A quiet Christmas was what he needed after everything he had been through. No pressures to attend parties with people he really didn't want to see or that wanted to see him. No after Christmas bills to pay for gifts that stretched an already overspent budget. No awkward family gatherings where well-meaning but nosey relatives kept asking him why he hadn't settled down yet and produced a gaggle of little Hoyts all his own. And was he still seeing that woman-doctor-ME person that had a boy's name.

This is better…he kept telling himself, trying not to think about last Christmas. There had been caroling…snowball fights….the party at the Pogue…mistletoe and Jordan. His heart tugged a bit.

"And may all your Christmases be white…." Shut up, Bing. Woody slammed his CD player off and complete silence engulfed his apartment. Be careful what you wish for his conscious goaded him. Yeah, well….

A knock brought him out of his dark thoughts. He certainly wasn't expecting company on Christmas Eve. And even she wouldn't have the gall to come over now….Woody haltingly opened the door to be greeted by a familiar brown suit. It was the UPS guy. "Package for a Woody Hoyt?" the man asked.

"I'm Woody Hoyt."

"Good. If you would just sign here…." The man shoved a clipboard at him and Woody signed on the designated place. "Thanks. And Merry Christmas Mr. Hoyt." The man shoved a brown box in Woody's hands and was on his way.

"Merry Christmas….." Woody's voice trailed off as he stared at the package. Wonderingly he brought it into his small kitchen and looked it over carefully. It had no return address…but did bear a Boston postmark. So it wasn't from Cal or any of his assorted estranged Wisconsin relatives. And he couldn't think of anyone in Boston who still liked him enough to send him anything.

Still curious, he looked the package over again. No wires or strings or oily residue. It looked safe enough. He chuckled grimly at himself. While he could see someone trying to hurt him….he could not see anyone wanting to send him presents. He must have gotten unbearable to live with over the past several months.

Flicking out his pocket knife, he carefully opened the box and pulled back the tissue. Inside was another box, beautifully wrapped. For a moment he debated if he should put it under the tree to have something to open up on Christmas morning.

But his inner child won out. He needed to see what was in that package now.

The adult in him at least didn't make hash out of the wrapping. He gingerly pulled off the bow and the wrapping….and lost his breath.

The roby. The one he had wanted so long but feared he would never have. With gentle hands he lifted it from the box. The lightly scratched surface….the dent over the heart….the slight dusting of rust on the soles….this was the 19876FT Roby from the antique shop he had been lusting after for so long.

But who sent it?

In vain, he searched the boxes for a card. There was none. He looked at his watch. The antique store was long closed by now. In desperation, he picked up his phone and called the UPS office. He was disappointed to find out that all they could tell him was that they did pick up the package from the antique gallery downtown, but had no idea who sent him the robot. They did admonish him to have a nice holiday season and to enjoy his gift.

Who could have sent it? He wondered as he absent-mindedly turned Bing back on to have another voice fill his quiet apartment. "You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen…."

Yeah, I know all of those Bing…I just don't know who sent me this gift…a gift I can't possibly accept because it cost too much…Woody racked his brain for who could have possibly given him this treasure….he had told so many people about his obsession for these robots….and how much he wanted this particular 19876FT Roby that it could very well be nearly anyone who had a soft spot in their hearts and wallets for a detective that went around acting like an ass.

"But do your recall….the most famous reindeer of all….."

He recalled Rudolph just fine, thank you….but try as he might, he had no idea who would send him this gift. "I guess it's just you and me for the holidays, little fella," he finally admitted to the short tin man in front of him. Woody was sure that if anyone overheard him, those words sounded incredibly lonely and pitiful.

But not to him. Not from where he was sitting. Someone still thought enough of him, despite his terrible temper and horrible attitude of late, to send him such an elaborate Christmas gift. He couldn't remember such a token of affection since his parents played Santa Claus for him and Cal a lifetime ago.

"Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer….you'll go down in history…."

Woody grimaced again. He had nearly forgotten about Bing, but at least he could identify with the outcast deer on some level. This would go down in Woody's history as one of the most lonely and mysterious Christmases ever.