All I want for Christmas - Chapter Two
After four consecutive years he still hadn't gotten used to the Boston winter and despite a coat, a scarf and an expensive woollen business suit he still felt himself shiver as he stepped from his car into the driveway to walk wearily into the house.
The December night was bitter and the air around him had bite. Almost without thinking he pulled his collar up to protect his face and block out the rest of his upper body from the elements. They said more snow was expected tonight and the falls in Boston would be heavy. More than likely he wasn't going to get to the business meeting tomorrow as most of the roads would be blocked.
"Just what I need," he sighed despondently. "Snowed in with five kids and a half million dollar contract at stake."
Half a million dollars.
He paused, looking around the darkened neighbourhood, and took a moment to reflect on the one piece of good news he'd had in the business all month.
He was so happy he'd finally scored himself the contract, even though payment was to be made in increments and not guaranteed for Christmas. The Air Force was a very important customer and he'd really missed their business when he'd fallen apart after Lucy died. The call last week had been unexpected but the news it conveyed was welcome. His designs were the best and most cost-effective available on the market and they were prepared to forget the inefficiency of his past few months and give him another chance.
Continuing up the path, he silently congratulated himself for finally pulling himself back together. If nothing else the contract eased the financial position, something which worried him constantly from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning to the moment his head hit the pillow.
Once his thoughts ran away with his finances, the guilt began to work overtime.
More money meant more work and more work kept him away from his children. But more money also allowed him to indulge the children a little more and bring some much needed smiles to the house this Christmas.
Smiles.
The coldness of the air matched the coldness of his heart as his mood changed and he remembered a time when there were nothing but smiles in this house… smiles, hugs, and a cheery hello before she let the rabble loose on him to play their games with "Daddy."
He heaved another huge, unhappy sigh.
Not anymore.
These days Daddy didn't have time to play games with anyone.
He finally reached the end of the pathway and stepped gingerly onto the darkened concrete porch. Pausing, he made sure he took extra care. He didn't want a repeat of last night's painful experience and equally painful aftermath.
Last night he'd damn near killed himself, somehow slipping on the icy concrete and ending up on his back. He still didn't know how he did it and he was lucky he hadn't broken anything when he did, but lucky or not twenty four hours later his tailbone still hurt like crazy and he sported some very nasty bruising.
Closing his eyes, he mentally prepared himself for what he knew he was about to face inside.
They were wonderful kids but after twelve hours of business meetings, difficult clients and problems they were the last thing he needed to deal with at the end of the working day. It didn't help that he was tired tonight and all he wanted to do was stand under a hot shower, eat a decent meal and have a little bit of time to himself before he went to bed.
He scoffed as reality told him in no uncertain terms that none of it was actually going to happen. When he walked through that door, whether he was in the mood for it or not, he would be bombarded with three little voices all vying to tell him about their day and two babies who didn't understand why he was exhausted and couldn't give them his undivided attention.
A sad resignation marred his handsome features.
At thirty five he hadn't expected to be left alone to cope with five children but the cold hard fact of the matter was he could feel as sorry for himself as he liked. Jeff Tracy had been left alone and there was nothing Jeff Tracy could do about it.
He pictured the faces of his five little men. It wasn't their fault he'd been left alone to raise them and no matter how bad he felt about things he would never lose sight of the depth of the love he had for them. With that in mind, he tried to look on the bright side before he opened the door to the house.
At least he had his Mother to lean on in all of this, he supposed. She'd been a tower of strength from the beginning and was great with helping him deal with the boys. She did a pretty good job of holding his head together too when things started to get the better of him and life became too tough. But it was the little things she did that made his life seem better. She could always be relied upon to have supper on the table when he came home late from a meeting, a bottle of warm milk ready to give to Alan and the laundry washed and sorted so he didn't have to do it himself.
Feeling a little better, he slowly turned the door handle and began to walk inside.
There they were, all sitting eagerly on the couch. All three of them in their pyjamas … all three of them with smiles on their faces… all three of them waiting to tell him about their day…
Right on cue the excited chorus went up.
"Daddy!" they shrieked happily rushing forward to hug him.
"Hi there!" he said removing his coat and trying to hug all of them in return. "You're all being very good by the looks of things. Where's Grandma tonight? In the kitchen?"
He looked over at them expectantly while he moved to hang the coat in the closet. It didn't go un-noticed that Scott and Virgil quickly exchanged worried glances.
"Grandma's in the bathroom Daddy," Scott informed him in his solemn little voice. "Gordie kind of fell over a few minutes ago and she thinks he's split his lip."
He tried not to show his aggravation but after building himself up for the inevitable ever since he left the car, the words escaped from his lips before he had the chance to check them.
"Not again!" he growled, shutting the closet with a bang and striding in the direction of the bathroom. "What the hell was he doing this time?"
A trail of blood along the carpeting and some very unhappy sobbing soon confirmed the inevitable diagnosis.
"Mom what's happened? Is he all right? " he demanded as he rushed through the bathroom door in alarm.
"I'll let you know in a minute." Josephine Tracy replied stonily trying to restrain the hysterical red haired toddler in an attempt to get a look at the injury.
Her hand extended towards him.
"Hand me that cloth over there, will you." she directed above the screaming.
"Yes ma'am." he mumbled, rummaging through the endless items of children's clothing before holding up the only recognisable cloth he could find
"Are you sure you want this one, Mom? I think it's kind of dirty." he commented helplessly.
"Any cloth's fine when the child is bleeding half to death." she quipped, snatching it from his hand and pressing it to the little boys lip. "Thank you. Hopefully now I might be able to see what he's actually gone and done to himself."
"Shhh baby." she comforted holding the cloth firmly and trying to rock him in her lap. "These things happen when you try to climb chairs when Grandma isn't looking ..."
"Chairs?" he frowned. "Since when has he started climbing on chairs?"
"Since now, I'd hasten to say." she frowned back. "What the hell do you think?"
And that had heralded the start of his evening… his mother feeling the need to develop her sarcasm and him trying to eat his supper one handed and comforting a traumatised Gordon on his lap.
The evening didn't get any better either with him trying to take urgent business calls and settle a restless Alan.
And then, just when he thought he might be able to sit back and relax in peace and quiet for a while he was held to ransom on the couch and forced to hear all about Santa Claus.
They may have only been six and four but they certainly made sure he was listening to each and every word they said. They carefully balanced themselves, one on each side of his lap, fixed their big Tracy eyes on his and began whether he wanted to hear what they had to say or not.
"Daddy are you listening?"
"Yes Virgil I'm listening."
"Daddy, I told Santa I was six today"
"He knew I was four too, Daddy."
"And he said I'd real got big. "
"Santa even knew my name?"
"No he didn't. Grandma had to tell him, Daddy."
"He did so know, Daddy."
"No he didn't Johnny. You're making that up."
"He did Daddy. Daddy are you listening?"
"Yes John. Daddy's listening."
"He didn't know his name Daddy. I heard."
His deep voice intervened. "Boys ..." he warned. "Don't argue with each other please."
"I'm sorry Daddy."
"I'm not saying sorry to you Virgil."
"John. That's enough."
"Yes Daddy."
"Anyway Daddy I said to Santa then that I'd been real good."
" I said I was real good too."
"You didn't, Johnny. You didn't hardly say nothing."
"Yes I did."
"No you didn't. You just sat there."
"No I didn't."
His deep voice intervened again. "Boys for the last time stop that..." he rumbled." Daddy's tired."
"You can sleep in my bed, Daddy."
"Daddy you can sleep in mine too."
"That's enough about the sleeping arrangements. Can we just get back to Santa Claus?"
"Did you know that he really does land a sleigh on our roof?
"Yes, and he said he comes down our chimney too!"
"Daddy please say you won't light the fire this year."
"Please don't light it Daddy. Santa will get burnt real bad if you do."
It was then the barb pierced him and despite the innocence of those childish words, a lump like concrete began to form in his throat.
The fire.
Their fire.
Christmas Eve eleven years ago.
The crackling of wood in the silence… the warmth of the brandy … her body snuggled lovingly into his…an engagement ring hidden under the pillow in their bedroom… a proposal about to happen.
"No boys…" he said quietly, swallowing the lump and deliberately shutting out the memories. "I won't be lighting the fire at all this Christmas so you can be assured Santa Claus is quite safe. "
He lifted the two of them from his lap, signifying the conversation had ended.
"I think that's enough for today OK?" he directed, grimacing at the pain in his tailbone as he rose slowly to his feet. "It's past your bed time and Daddy has work he has to do."
"But Daaaaaaddy." they objected.
"But Daddy nothing," he warned. "I said it's time for bed."
"Yes Sir," they said obediently each hugging him in turn before doing the same to their Grandmother.
"Yeah we know Grandma," they giggled scampering towards the bathroom before she opened her mouth to remind them.
"That means you too." he emphasised turning towards his eldest. "Unless of course you've got something else to add about today's big visit to Santa Claus."
Scott stood up and dutifully began to fold the blankets Virgil and John had discarded on the couch.
"No Sir," he murmured quietly. "I don't have anything to say."
Jeff Tracy watched him puzzled. There had been something very different about Scott's demeanour tonight and he'd noticed it as soon as they sat down to supper. Normally Scott conversed well, too well sometimes for a nine year old, but tonight he'd been distant and hadn't eaten much of his food.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked brushing his hand across Scott's forehead. He hoped the boy wasn't coming down with anything specially this close to Christmas. In the Tracy household illness was a catastrophe. One usually meant two and then numbers three, four and five came down with it and the whole house ended up in uproar.
"Oh no." he heard his Mother groan when he commented Scott seemed a little warm. "Don't tell me …."
Scott's eyes flickered past his father and straight towards his grandmother. Past experience had taught him that if Grandma thought an epidemic was looming, he'd be confined to his bedroom in an instant with nothing but a thermometer sticking out of his mouth.
"I …I ...I'm not sick Grandma." he stammered. "I'm just tired."
The deep voice between them seized the obvious opportunity.
"Well if that's the case then..." it rumbled "… Bed!"
Scott's eyes moved to his father's.
"Yes Sir. I'm going."
The hug between them was brief and he seemed to linger afterwards more than he usually did. Initially he thought he was waiting for his brothers, but when Virgil and John said their goodnights and headed off to bed without him; Jeff Tracy knew there was something else. Scott only lingered when he had something on his mind. He was so much like himself he couldn't help but recognise the signs.
Placing an insistent finger under Scott's chin, he tilted the troubled little face to his.
"You want to tell me what's on your mind then or do I have to guess?"
Scott bit his lip and looked everywhere but at his Father.
"No Sir …" he faltered.
Jeff frowned.
"Does that answer mean "no Sir you won't tell me or no Sir I have to guess?"
For a few moments he could see Scott struggle with how he was going to express himself. The words finally came with difficulty.
"Daddy... I'm sorry ...it's all my fault ... I wasn't watching ... I should have been but he wasn't doing it when I was ... he waited till I wasn't ... and then he fell ... I should have noticed..."
His bottom lip trembled.
"I'm real real sorry about Gordie Daddy. I'll take better care of him next time."
Jeff Tracy softened immediately. So that was it. He probably should have guessed. Scott was terribly protective of his little brothers, particularly the babies, and if they were ever hurt or unhappy he blamed it on himself.
Gently tousling the nine year olds curls, he smiled and tried to reassure him.
"Hey, let's not go beating ourselves up too much about that huh? The lip didn't need any stitching and Grandma's pretty sure he'll live."
He turned around to look at his mother who was sitting bolt upright on the couch worrying about an epidemic.
"Isn't that right Grandma?"
Josephine Tracy's face relaxed and in the end she smiled too.
"There," he said turning back to Scott with satisfaction. "If Grandma thinks your brother's going to live, we both know for a fact that he will. No-one goes and disobeys Grandma around here without a pretty good excuse do they?"
He smirked and gave Scott a wink. "Not even Daddy if he's smart."
Scott's tear filled eyes still gazed worriedly up at his Father. "Yes Daddy, if you say."
"That's exactly what Daddy says." he stressed, giving him a longer hug and shooing him off in the direction of his bedroom.
Once he was out of earshot Josephine Tracy made the observation that a thermometer might still be a good idea just in case he'd gone ahead and caught something. The child hadn't been himself all night and in her opinion there had to be more to it than Gordon.
"Oh?" he enquired, folding his arms with interest. "What makes you say that?"
Her answer was simple. The child had been acting strangely long before Gordon had fallen off the chair tonight. In fact he'd been acting very strangely ever since his conversation with Santa Claus. She didn't know what that man had said to him, but no matter how many times she'd asked him what it was, he'd refused to tell her anything thing about it.
"It bothers me Jefferson. It bothers me a lot."
Jeff Tracy shrugged his broad shoulders.
"Relax Mom. He's nine now and pretty bright... more than likely he's worked out the truth about Santa Claus and he's feeling a bit disappointed."
Her face reddened.
"That's not true Jefferson," she snapped, hotly denying his words. "I know for a fact you still believed in Santa Claus when you were Scott's age. Why should your son be any different to you?"
Her statement took him back to a Kansas Christmas and his own upbringing as a child. Christmas on the farm had been magic but the only reason it had sat directly opposite him on the couch. His father had no time for Christmas when there was work to be done in the fields. Fortunately his mother had refused to listen to him. She made the house festive, baked herself to a standstill and even though they couldn't afford any luxuries, always made sure "Santa Claus" left a present for him underneath the Christmas tree.
His eyes glistened at the memory of those times.
Life had gone a long way for him since then.
"Well, maybe I'm wrong Mom," he conceded, dismissing the subject completely. "I'm wrong about most things when it comes to handling the boys. Now I'm going into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. You want some?"
"Thank you dear I do." she said, pulling the blanket on her lap further up to encase her shoulders. "It's very cold in here tonight and a hot drink will do me good."
He ignored her subtle hint about the current state of the temperature and disappeared in the direction the kitchen. He hadn't made the effort to light the fire once this winter, not even when the snow storms came and he began to shiver himself. Her hands fidgeted nervously at the thought of broaching the delicate subject. It wasn't as if she didn't understand how he felt about it but if the weather got very much worse tonight she was really going to have to insist.
Her eyes moved towards the fireplace, visualising Virgil's worst nightmare... Santa Claus rocketing up the chimney with his pants on fire... She began to laugh at the image and the fact that Virgil was worried sick it was really going to happen.
Instantly she berated herself. Laughing at the child's fears wasn't what a good Grandmother should be doing...
She laughed again.
But it really was funny.
"Penny for your thoughts Grandma," he smiled, setting the cup down beside her and moving to sit next to her on the couch. "Dreaming of making your escape out the back way are you?"
"What's that dear?" she queried her thoughts a thousand miles away.
"You were smiling at something, Mom. I thought you must have found a way out of this nightmare and had decided to make a run for it."
"Who says I want that then?" she frowned, reaching for the cup. "For your information I might be quite happy being in this nightmare with you, Jefferson. And besides even if I didn't we're both in this together remember? I told you that nine months ago. "
"Yeah Mom," he admitted feeling foolish at the tasteless joke. "I know."
They both sipped their coffee and watched the snow drift downwards from a darkened sky. He took so much solace in her strength and determination. He could be as negative as he liked but she never stopped telling him things would get better. When he started losing faith in himself she always said she believed in him. She never stopped telling him he was a good father and decent man and Lucy would be proud of the way he was raising their five little boys.
"Count your blessings not your troubles", she told him, "And if your Math is half as good as mine at the moment they should both add up to five."
But as the night wore on and with only five days to go until Christmas they couldn't dwell too much on how they were battling to cope with life without Lucille. It was time to talk about Santa Claus and what he was going to "bring down the chimney" for the children for Christmas. Fortunately the trip this morning to the department store wouldn't cause too much damage to his credit card.
"You need to find a Teddy Bear of some sort that's suitable for a baby... not white I swear Jefferson because it won't stay white for long. You also need some new building blocks for Gordon that look exactly like John's - mainly in yellow. He has a fixation for that colour and I have no idea why. You can buy those from the Department store where I took the children. Third floor, Aisle two." she directed."Are you with me so far, son?"
He nodded his head and tried to look like he was remembering.
Next she moved from there to the book store. "The name of the book is "Bright sky, big star." Don't know who the hell wrote it but it's on the bottom shelf ... blue with a big gold star on the cover. That's all Johnny wants so for goodness sake make sure you find it."
"Big star. Bright sky." he repeated.
"No dear. Bright sky. Big star. Get it right."
Then she had him imagining himself in the Art Supply Store which was three doors down on the right. "They have the all the colours Virgil likes on the fourth shelf - and if you buy the full set of browns they throw in a sketch pad for free."
"As for Scott..." she paused."Scott I'm not so sure about."
"I was going to get him a model plane." he offered, making the best suggestion he could. "We used to like building those together."
"Good thinking." she agreed. "More than likely they're on the third floor too then."
"Is that in the toy store?"
"Well I don't think you'll find it in the book store son."
"Sorry Mom. Guess not."
He made a mental note to himself to write all that down once he finished his coffee. He'd never had to shop for the boys before and he felt really nervous he was going to make a mistake. Lucy had always handled things at Christmas. Until now he'd only had to go out once and buy them a Christmas Tree.
But feeling comfortable the children would be attended to, he finished his coffee and continued to sit and watch the snow.
"Mom," he said in the silence.
"What, honey?"
"Thanks for taking the kids to see Santa Claus today. I'm sorry I was such a pain when you offered."
"That's all right. You've been more painful than that in the past."
"Thanks a lot for the compliment."
"You know you're always welcome dear."
The snow continued to fall.
"Mom," he said, once again breaking the silence. "It made them happy, did it?"
"Yes it did, dear. Very happy."
"You know that's all I want for them, Mom."
"That's all either of us wants for them Jeff."
His eyes became distant and his handsome features grew sad.
"What about me Mom? Do you think I'll ever be happy again?"
Instinctively her hand closed over his.
"Oh, honey." she whispered. "All I want for Christmas is to see you happy again."