Alone for Christmas

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to Christmas Past. However, it is not necessary to read it prior to reading this. Wouldn't hurt, though. The author has a third Christmas story entitled 'Twas the Night Before. That one stands alone! Enjoy and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Joyous Eid to all!

Alone for Christmas

Chapter Three - Changes

Gracie spoke to Al and the elderly couple as they prepared to walk through the blizzard. "You're not going to get far. Stay and have some hot chocolate. It's on me." The door needed closing. The winds were chilling the room and no one was happy about the encroaching cold.

The guy eating chili mac grumbled incessantly. "I came in this joint to get some food and get out of the snow. Shut the damn door."

Mona sighed a bit. "I'm sorry, sir. You're right."

He looked at her with a lot of anger in his heart. "So close the doors and bring me the cheese you promised."

There was no unkind bone in her body, no ill will toward any soul. Mona figured the man was unhappy with his life and just took it out on everyone around him. She brought him a helping and a half of cheese. Maybe that little bit of extra would take some of the bite out of his mood.

On the other hand, Al didn't like the guy's attitude at all. There was no call to be rude to Mona and he wanted to smack some sense into him, but that was not Mona's way and he respected and loved her too much to do anything to make her feel bad. So, he let the comment go without saying a word to the rude customer. His eyes stayed on the guy as he followed the couple out the door into the storm. "I'll be back soon."

Walking in a snowstorm is daunting to the hardiest trekker, but when the wind is at your back you thank God for small favors. Al found out that Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Probst were on their way home to New York City after visiting her sister in Gary, Indiana. With her husband on one side and Al on the other, the trio let the wind push them toward the train station. Conversation was limited by the rushing snowfall and the effort needed to keep plodding toward the station.

In good weather, Al could cover the five blocks to the station in less than five minutes. With his elderly couple in tow and with the heavens throwing down more flakes than Al thought inhumanly possible, the five minutes turned into 30. They found the station open, but almost completely deserted. "I'm not sure I want to leave you here. Doesn't look like any train is going to be coming along soon."

Mr. Probst smiled. "No need to worry about us, son. We're here, thanks to you, and our train will get here when it gets here. At least we'll be able to board it." A well-worn leather wallet slipped out of his back pocket. "Let me give you something for your trouble."

Holding his hands out in front of him, Al backed away a step. "No, sir, I won't take any money from you. Put your wallet away." Looking around Al continued, "And you should keep that wallet in your inside breast pocket." Speaking from his now embarrassing experiences as Al the Pick, he advised, "It's easy for pickpockets when you carry it where you do."

Clucking like only old people can, he cackled, "Now, I have to do something. You certainly went out of your way for us."

"Please, it's not necessary. All I did was go for a walk."

Mrs. Probst walked up to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You are such a nice young man. I'm sure your mother is very proud of you."

Oh yeah, Mom was so proud. The thought of his mother made his cold bones get colder. "Wouldn't know, ma'am. She . . ." He thought about telling her what happened to him and his baby sister 19 years ago, but he decided to fib. "She died a long time ago." Okay, so he lied, but the truth was so much worse and not the kind of thing he was about to share with strangers no matter how nice they were. The angry little boy in him wanted to tell her that there were mothers in this world that were worthless to their kids and that he envied the Probst children because they lucked out and he hadn't, but he lied again. "Wherever she is, I hope she's proud."

This good mother found a few tears in her eyes for this lost young man. "What mother wouldn't be proud of you? I only wish you were my son."

Kindness in the world was possible, but he didn't see it enough, so when this gentle woman wished, he smiled and returned her sweet kiss. "Thank you, ma'am. That's really nice of you."

Mr. Probst took Al's hand and shook with all his energy. "Now, you take care of yourself. It's going to be harder getting back to Mona's than it was getting here."

No doubt about that at all, but Al barely heard the admonition. He tried to give back to Mr. Probst the five dollar bill the man palmed him. "Sir, please." There was pride at stake and Al finally recognized that Mr. Probst had to do something for Al in return and money was the only thing that came to his mind. "I appreciate this, but it's really not necessary."

"Of course, it isn't, but it is appropriate. It's all I have to give you and I want to give you something for being so kind to us."

Arguing was just going to be a lot of repeated words and Al acquiesced. "Then I thank you. Just so you know, I think I'll donate this to the Salvation Army. They do a lot for men in service. Someday, I may need them."

Mrs. Probst hugged him again. "I hope that day will never come. Stay safe."

After exchanging clumsy good-byes, Al pulled his coat around him again and started back toward Mona's. The wind that blessed him on the walk to the station now cursed his return. He couldn't look forward. Staring at his feet kept the bite of the blizzard out of his eyes and helped him watch his footing. Even without two old folks in tow, it was going to be a longer walk back than he wanted. No use complaining. He just dug his hands farther into his pockets and made his way home to Miss Mona's.

While on his mission to the train station, the diner clientele filtered out of Mona's despite the forecast. Seeing Al and the older couple leaving gave courage to the few who wanted to get home before it got any worse. With Jack long gone, Gracie moved to the counter and sat next to Deuce. Mona pulled a stool across from her friends and sat down behind the counter keeping an eye on the chili mac man who sat in his booth, keeping to himself, eating with an ear bent toward the conversation he was overhearing.

Gracie poured another cup of coffee. "I got to start drinking decaf. No wonder I don't sleep!" She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. "What do you think, Mona?"

"About what?"

Another hot sip passed her lips. "You know about what. Al, of course. What's going on with him this time? That boy is full of sad."

Deuce nodded. "He looks more lost now than he did 19 years ago."

Mona filled her own mug and sighed. "Too much life and not enough living. It's hard being alone at the holidays and I think he's been alone way too much."

Chili mac man grunted just loud enough to be heard, "Like he's the only one."

From where she sat, Mona could tell the man's water glass needed filling. With the pitcher in her hand she walked over to the booth. "He's not the only one. There are a lot of lost souls out there. It's just that he's ours. At least we think of him as ours."

He pushed his finished plate out in front of him. "I want pie. You got pie?"

"Yes, sir. Apple, pumpkin, or chocolate cream - all homemade."

Gracie had to stick her nose into the order. "Now, if you ask me, the pumpkin pie here is the best. It just melts in your mouth."

Chili mac man just couldn't be agreeable. "Then I want chocolate cream."

Smiling at the man that would not be allowed to ruin her spirit, Mona said, "Now, chocolate cream is my favorite!"

Deuce stood up and faced the booth. "And before you make another smart remark, my favorite is apple, okay?"

The line was drawn and chili mac man lost the first round, but before his retreat, he told Mona, "Bring me a piece of that coconut cake and I don't care whose favorite it is."

"Coconut cake, made it fresh a few hours ago." On her way back to the counter, Mona told Deuce, "That tree looks pretty bare."

"Still got your decorations in the back?"

"Yeah." She pulled a set of keys from a hook by the grill. "The box is labeled. I hope the lights still work." A fresh piece of cake was cut and Mona returned to the booth. "And here's your cake, on the house. It's a Christmas present."

While she didn't charge him in order to be thanked, the man said nothing. He wrapped an arm around the plate, hunched over it and ate the dessert without looking up at anyone.

Deuce disappeared through the diner's back door leaving Mona and Gracie to chat about their boy. Gracie, as usual, had more to say. "It's no accident that he's back here today. Something brought him back to you. You know that."

"What can we do for him, Gracie? That child is lost."

"Now, you know even better than I do that no child is ever lost. They may get misplaced on occasion, but never lost."

"Maybe that's what he needs to understand."

"You never know." Looking back at the big picture window up front, Gracie grew concerned. "I pray to God he finds his way in this storm."

"I hope God is listening."

If He was, then He probably heard Al muttering, "What the hell was I thinking?" His coat was covered with a layer of wet snow and the weight was dragging his steps more than he wanted to admit. Shivering from the cold on the back of his neck, he wished he had his long curls back. Military haircuts didn't do anything to keep you warm no matter how low you pulled your cap. By the time he was across the street from the diner, he just wanted warmth and the lure of the hot chocolate got his feet moving faster. The snow was deep enough to hide the slick spots and no more than 15 feet from the front door, he took a spill. Snow fell inside the collar of his coat and the cold was paralyzing. Not wanting to end up like the Little Match Girl, he tried standing up and felt the first warmth he'd felt in nearly 45 minutes. Unfortunately, it came from inside his ankle. He knew a sprain when he felt one. "Damn it!" Standing got harder, but once on his feet he limped toward Mona's and dreaded having to ice down his already cold foot.

The small bells on the door jingled when he got to his destination. With snow dripping from his coat and his face, he looked more like a yeti than a man. Mona flew to him. "My goodness! You must be freezing. Get that coat off you." As his arms wormed their way out of the wool straight jacket she sighed. "Those wet clothes must feel terrible."

"Almost as bad as my ankle. I slipped out there and I think I sprained it."

Mona draped his wet coat on the back of an empty booth. "Your uniform is wet, too. Let's get you sitting down." She put his arm over her shoulder. "Lean on me."

Taking her hand gently, he pulled her arm down. "I'm fine. I can walk without help." While his gait wasn't pretty, he managed to cross the room and sit at the counter finally relaxing. "Miss Gracie, you're not getting home anytime soon. It's treacherous out there."

"Won't be the first time I spent the night here and the company couldn't be better."

Chili mac man couldn't help but overhear. "You mean I'm stuck here?"

Al shook his head, "Mister, unless you're interested in frostbite, I think you're stranded for awhile. I didn't see one car out there."

Mona brought a towel over and started drying his face. "You can't stay in these clothes. Let me see what I can find."

The towel had been near the stove. Even if only a kitchen towel, it felt toasty and plush. Taking it in his shaking fingers, he laughed a little. "No need, Miss Mona. I have a change in my duffle bag. Won't look so military, but at least I'll be dry." Drying his face a bit more he asked, "Can I get another towel or two? And I'll take you up on that hot chocolate." Then with duffle and more towels in hand, Al hobbled his way to the men's room.

After locking the door behind him, he gently removed his shoes taking a lot of care with his right foot. The socks came next and once barefoot, he took stock of the damage. Feeling around the joint, he decided there was no break, just a muscle strain that was going to hurt like hell for a few days. He stripped off the rest of his wet uniform and folded it neatly until he could get some hangers from Miss Mona. The duffle gave him a pair of chinos and a pale blue shirt. It also offered him a pair of sneakers since even his shoes were soaked through. It took only ten minutes for him to settle into his dry clothes and be sitting back at the counter.

Deuce was unpacking boxes of tinsel and Christmas lights. "I hear you fell out there. You okay? I can get you to a hospital if need be."

"For this? No, nothing to worry about." The decorations intrigued Al. His memory held visions of almost every globe that hung on the magic tree he saw spring to Christmas life before his eyes. "You want some help?"

"Stay off that foot, Mr. Military Man." Deuce winked at Al. After all, the Navy needs you in good health."

Mona took his uniform and hung it up near a heating vent. "That should help it dry out, but it's going to need a good pressing." Her pot of milk started boiling over. "Oh, no you don't!" She grabbed it with an oven mitt and put it aside. "It's a little too hot for chocolate right now. I think letting it cool a minute is a good idea, don't you?"

Gracie just sat and stared at Al with the biggest grin. "Now you look like our little boy. When you found us 19 years ago, you were wearing clothes almost exactly like the ones you have on."

It was embarrassing. He knew he had a style, but he couldn't figure out what it was yet. His only hope was that the 60s promised more fashion excitement than the 50s. Other than some bowling shirts with long-legged blondes on the back, nothing that men wore in the 50s was any fun. He opted for an excuse. "On Navy pay, all I can afford is this stuff."

"You look handsome regardless." She noticed a slight wince. "The truth now - how is that ankle?"

"Annoying. It's nothing, Miss Gracie. I've been hurt worse."

The depth of truth in his statement wasn't lost on either woman. Mona poured his hot chocolate. "Just be careful with that. It's still hot. Tell us about Trudy."

Gracie hadn't heard the news yet. "How is that sweet little girl?"

For the third time in one day, he had to tell someone his sister was dead. It had been eight years and in all that time, no one had asked him anything about her. His body stiffened against the emotion. Mona touched his hand, "It's okay to talk about her." He shook his head. "Honey, you got to talk about it. If you don't, it's going to eat at you forever."

It wasn't hard for Gracie to figure it out. "No, please, don't tell me she's dead."

Trying to gain some bravado, he smiled at her, "Okay, I won't tell you."

Deuce dropped the lights and sat on Al's right. "My God, what happened to her?"

Worse than saying Trudy was dead was trying to explain why. "From what I was told, she caught pneumonia and died three days later."

Gracie was still incredulous. "What did the doctors say?"

Whether his feelings were truth or just misunderstandings didn't matter to him. As far as he was concerned, Trudy died from neglect. "I couldn't get into her files. They wouldn't let me see, but no one even knew the name of the doctors that saw her. I have a feeling they didn't call anyone."

Compassionately stroking his hand Mona asked, "Where was she?"

Now his failure as a brother was going to come out. He didn't want anyone to know how he failed the perfection he called sister. "A place called Willowbrook. It's a horrible hole. They didn't do anything for her at all. I don't even think they bathed her. I know she was mentally retarded, but she didn't deserve being there. No one should be there, not in conditions like that."

Being a man, Deuce had guy questions. "How did your father let that happen?"

Everything was just wrong. These shouldn't be the thoughts he had on Christmas Eve. "My father died and she got sent there. I was sent back to the orphanage."

This group didn't know he lived at the orphanage once, let alone twice. Mona wanted more information. "My dad couldn't take care of us and keep a job, so he placed us in an orphanage while he went off to the Middle East to do some construction work. He was gone nearly three years, but when he came back he had a lot of money and he bought us a house." He hated this story. No one really cared. Then he knew that wasn't true here. "I think we lived there a month, maybe less when he ended up in the hospital. He died from a brain tumor about a month later and no one could find his money. We didn't have any relatives that wanted us so we got sent off again, but we were separated. I only saw Trudy about once or twice a year after that. In '53, I thought I could get her out of there and be her guardian, but when I went back, they told me she died like a month earlier. No one bothered to call me."

From the booth, they all heard the outsider talking. "Retards are better off dead."

Al spun around forgetting that he had a bad foot. His quick anger was usually under control except when it came to Trudy. Old instincts to protect her never died, even after she did. His leg crumbled and Deuce caught him before he hit the floor. "Let it go. He doesn't matter."

Mona stepped between Al and the booth. "Deuce is right. What he thinks doesn't matter. We know the truth about Trudy, right?"

"He shouldn't talk about things he doesn't understand."

Just so chili mac man could hear, Mona whispered, "Yes, you're right, but you'll never change a mind like his. Let it go, like Deuce said."

Her helping hand reached out and he took it. The touch of a caring human being strengthened him and he sat down again, willing to try to dismiss the stupidity of the man behind him. "It's just the cold, Miss Mona. I'm still a little cold."

"Then let me get some soup in you. Soup will warm you better than hot chocolate." She wandered behind the counter. "Chicken noodle or navy bean?"

Navy bean? It had to be a joke. "You serious?"

"Would I kid a serviceman?"

"It has to be navy bean." He liked the feel of smiling. "What else would I take?"

Mona served up a bowl of her navy bean soup. "You sure do eat a lot, but I like to see that. You're still a growing boy." The soup and a few packets of crackers were on the counter in front of Al. "Mangia, figlio mio."

The phrase startled Al. She just told him - in Italian yet - to "Eat up, my son." He asked her. "When did you pick up Italian?"

"That's about all I have. Works real well in a restaurant." She snapped her fingers. "You need a grilled cheese. They're nearly as good as my cheeseburgers!"

"Sounds good to me."

He downed the soup and grilled cheese, savoring them and liking the warmth filling his belly and the warmth filling his heart. Mona looked perfect behind the counter. Gracie was perfect just jabbering away about anything that popped into her head. Deuce was stringing the lights on the fresh tree he brought in. It was all perfect. Even with a throbbing ankle and a jerk in the booth behind him, it was all perfect. As the last of the crackers soaked up the last of the broth, he put his spoon down and yawned. Mona didn't miss the exhaustion on his face. "You've had a long day out in that snow. If I recall, you used to like naps."

"I used to be seven, Miss Mona."

"I don't care how old you are. I want you to take a nap and elevate that foot." Pointing to the window, she said, "I think we're having a small Christmas party tonight and you need to be awake for it!"

Deuce added, "The lights are on the tree. You and me can do the rest when you wake up."

Tentatively his ankle tried to support his weight. If he moved slowly, then he could tolerate it. He got to the booth behind the chili mac man, the booth where he and Trudy had napped 19 years earlier. He slipped onto the bench he sat in those years ago and stretched his legs down the length. Leaning his head against the wall, his body relaxed and almost immediately as his eyes shut. He slept and found rest in his heart and mind.