Synopsis: The Christmas Letter (A short story in two parts.)

Story: Peter writes his first letter to Santa Claus

Time Frame: The first year that Peter was with the Blaisdells

Violence: None

Disclaimer: I know the characters belong to WB and Michael Sloan, I promise to take good care of them while they are temporarily in my possession. I promise to return them in as good a shape as when they were lent to me. (Well I will try anyway. You never know about these characters. They sometimes have a mind of their own.)

The Christmas Letter

Part 1

by Alisa Joaquin

"Do I have to?"

"It's a family tradition that we all do each year."

"But I don't believe in . . ."

"Aw come on, Peter," Kelly whined. "If you don't write a letter, Santa Claus won't get you what you want for Christmas."

"I know what I want for Christmas, but it's impossible," Peter said, his voice nearly a whisper and tears threatening to spill.

"Nothing's impossible for Santa," Paul Blaisedell stated with a wink. "You won't know if you ask."

Peter rose from the family room floor, his shoulders were hunched, "But what I want will never happen."

Paul watched his newly fostered son leave the family room. He could tell that Peter was deeply troubled. Many times he tried to console the boy, but this time, nothing seemed to work. Peter still refused to talk about what happened and why he landed in the orphanage. The best information that Paul could piece together was that Peter's mother had died when he was two years old and his father had been raising him alone. Blaisdell learned that three years ago, something had happened. Peter's father had been killed, but the circumstances of what happened had not been clear. He knew there had been an explosion and the home that Peter had known for most of his life had been destroyed. Paul would try to coax Peter to open up, but there wasn't much he could do. During those difficult times, Paul just left Peter alone and allowed him his privacy. He figured when the time was right, Peter would come to him when he was ready.

**
Peter left the family room and entered his bedroom, feeling angry and alone. 'They would never understand,' he thought. No make-believe man in a red suit would bring his father back to him. Peter shook his head and he tried to forget Kelly's naive words. What good would writing a letter do if it would never get delivered anyway. All the letters to Santa ended up in the dead letter office. He remembered when he was five years old, he asked his father if he could send a letter to Santa Claus. Though they did not celebrate Christmas that often at the temple, his father let him. When Christmas came, there had been no answer to his letter. After that, Peter stopped believing in Santa Claus.

"Peter?"

"Leave me alone, Kelly," Peter said, anger clearly present.

"Why are you so mean?" Kelly asked as she hopped up on Peter's bed. "I just want to ask you a question."

"I'm sorry, Kelly. I didn't mean it. What's your question?"

"Do you believe in Santa?"

Peter turned his back on his youngest foster sister, trying to hide the tears now present on his cheeks. "No."

"Why not?"

"Kelly, I just want to be left alone right now."

"But if you write a letter to Santa, you might feel better."

"Kelly, I told you. I don't believe in Santa Claus."

"I know, but this is different. Daddy says that when you write a letter to someone, someone that you care about but will never see again, sometimes it makes the pain go away."

"I don't understand."

"When Mommy died, I was too little to understand. But later, Daddy told me if I wrote her a letter, she would know that I was thinking about her and that I loved her. Even though I knew that Mommy could not read the letter, it made me feel better just writing it."

Peter blinked at Kelly's explanation, but did not say a word.

Not getting an answer Kelly decided to leave. "I'll tell Mom and Dad you're writing your letter in private if you want."

Peter nodded his head and Kelly jumped from the bed and headed to the family room. A big smile was present on her face.

Peter got up and shut the door to his bedroom then moved to his desk. He pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began to write.

End of Part 1