Kristmas Collins (33 page)

“I guess,” Taylor said, not exactly sounding convinced.

Capitalizing on his recent philanthropy, or more likely wanting to one-up me once more, Alexander led the twins out of the barn. Whatever the reason, I was happy to remove myself from the scene of the crime.

He took them into the backyard where a castle was awaiting them. It was technically a “play” castle, but a family of five could have lived comfortably inside.

“Don’t worry, no gift can top what you gave them,” Libby whispered softly to me, noticing my flailing self-esteem.

“They did seem to like the ponies.”

“No, I meant that you gave them their father back. They’ll never receive a gift with more value.”

“But it will never make up for all the time I missed.”

She put her arm around me, which surprised me. “Last night, at mass, the sermon was about the similarities between Jesus and Santa Claus. A lot of people in the church look at Santa Claus as a modern symbol of materialism that is a competitor of religion, and of what the day is truly supposed to represent. But in the end, at their core, Santa and Jesus both believe in the same thing—redemption. Forgiveness of sins through baptism and penance, on the one hand. While Santa wipes his slate clean each year. His naughty list starts over on December 26. It’s what we do with that blank slate that counts. ”

“I didn’t get a blank slate with you.”

“We will always be together, Kris,” she looked out at the twins. I was pretty sure they were trying to sell the playhouse to Taylor and Alex. They were really going to get along well with Ned.

“A lot of people praised me as noble for trying to hold our marriage together. But I was being selfish. I knew that you had a much bigger destiny to fulfill, and no matter how much we loved each other, I was holding you back.”

“You were holding
me
back? I think it was the other way around.”

“No, things have never been more clear for me. When I walked down that aisle at our wedding, I firmly believed that we would stay married forever, for better or worse. But sometimes it takes a while for our destinies to be revealed, and once they are, we have no choice but to follow our calling.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do, Santa. And we both know that I was never cut out to be Mrs. Claus … so I think it’s time for you to find her.”

I followed Libby’s gaze to the woman walking up the path.

I met Nicole with a smile. She met me with a slap to the face. My cheeks once again matched.

“That’s for putting my family in danger!”

Then she hugged me—I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be utterly confused by a woman. In other words, being in love.

“Thank you for what you did. We very much appreciate it,” she said.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” I played dumb. It worked about as well as it did on Libby.

“Zee told me everything on the way home, including why you did it. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“That Zee—can’t shut him up,” I replied with a smile.

“He asked me to tell you that he had business to take care of in Boston, and he’ll stop by tomorrow when he gets back.”

It was the same business he had every year on Christmas, so it was understood. “I’m just glad that you and the children made it home safely.”

“We made it home just in time to see that Santa had come.”

“Was he good to you this year?”

“Too good … I don’t think we can accept it.”

“Sounds like he just returned what was stolen from you. With a little extra bonus courtesy of Stone Scroggie. But he won’t be needing it where he’s going.”

“I guess I wouldn’t know where to return it, anyway—the North Pole? And it would crush the kids. They got everything they asked Santa for, and then some. Although, Santa sure made my mother and me look bad with our measly gifts.”

“Don’t feel bad—look what I have to compete with,” I said, pointing toward the backyard.

“Is that an actual castle?”

“They tell me it’s just a playhouse.”

“Wow—I think it’s bigger than my first apartment.”

We stood in awkward silence for a few minutes before she spoke again, “I said some terrible things to you. My mother taught me to never assume, and I guess she was right. So I apologize.” She looked at her watch. “I have to get back to Peter and Janie. I just needed to stop by and tell you that.”

Since we were on the subject of apologies. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. It wasn’t my intention. And that your kids missed meeting Santa this year.”

“I’m not sure that they did,” she said and began to walk away.

She stopped and turned hesitantly, as if she might regret what she was about to say next. “If you’re not busy, I’d like to have you over for New Year’s Eve, to cook you dinner as a thank you for what you did. It would make me feel better about accepting it.”

“Like a date?”

Her face horrified.
“So
not like a date. My mother and kids will be there, and I was going to suggest you bring the twins. I think they’d get along good with Janie.”

The old ‘safety in numbers’ trick. “The twins will be watching the New Year’s festivities from a hotel room above Times Square. And I don’t know if I feel safe in your home with this Santa Burglar on the loose. What do you say we go out to dinner, no parents or kids?”

“Now that sounds like a date.”

“
So
not a date. And besides, the FBI is always following me, which means there’s zero chance we will ever be alone.”

“Will blindfolds be involved?”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date?”

She smiled. “Only on the condition that I get to pay.”

“I hear that you came into some money recently, and I’m just a struggling paralegal, so I think it would only be fair.”

“And that you have me home before midnight. The kids and I have a tradition of watching the ball drop together.”

I glanced at my family and realized that getting them back was the best gift I could ever receive, not the other way around. “I would never think of standing in the way of a family tradition.”

She nodded. “Then it’s a non-date.”

“A non-date it is,” I said as I watched her walk off.

She came to a sudden stop and turned back to me. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. I’ve changed my mind. Sorry.”

I stood confused, as usual, and watched her leave.

Zee sat across the street from the house in the Boston suburb of Watertown, Massachusetts, just as he had the past fifteen Christmas mornings. Everything looked the same, including the old, leafless oak tree that he always climbed to get a better view.

Kris hadn’t come up with his Christmas plan all on his own—he’d seen Zee do it for this family each year. It was a more scaled-down version, and Zee’s gifts would arrive anonymously by courier, not break-in, but the spirit was the same—an attempt to return the stolen innocence.

They’d moved here not long after the trial ended. Their aunt and uncle took them in, and they still called it home, even though they were starting to leave the nest. The oldest boy, Joseph, was twenty-two now, having graduated from BU last spring, and recently got engaged. He planned to attend law school at Holy Cross next fall. His sister had just turned twenty last week, and also attended BU, where she earned a swimming scholarship, and won the American East championship in the 200-meter backstroke last year. The youngest brother was just a year old at the time of his parents’ murder, and was currently a senior at Watertown High, where he starred on the baseball team. Ironically, a left-handed pitcher with the type of velocity that attracted the scouts.

A court of law declared that Zee Thomas was not responsible for their parents’ murders. Witnesses had come forward, and by the time Kris finished with his summation, he made Zee look every bit a victim as the children.

But in the court of Zee Thomas’s mind, he was guilty. If only he could have woken up in time—he still couldn’t believe he was that close and wasn’t able to stop it. Or maybe if he wasn’t lying in a pile of his own puke on that club floor, and he couldn’t be used as a scapegoat for the killers, maybe they wouldn’t have been so brazen as to go forward with the home invasion. Logic told him that they’d go to any length to get money for their next drug fix, so it was doubtful anything would have stopped fate from playing out the way it did. And that’s what haunted him the most. Because at that time he was no different from them—he would have done anything or hurt anyone to get that next fix.

And there was another law he broke. The law of the scoreboard. That’s one of the things he loved about baseball—the scoreboard never lied. It wasn’t complicated like a lot of things in life that get murkied up—you either won or you lost, there was no middle ground. And his father used to drill into him that there were no excuses in baseball. It didn’t matter if Zee’s arm was sore, or if the sun was in his eyes, as it was that day when he was ten and dropped that fly ball. The yelling lasted the entire car trip back to Tarrytown—it wasn’t that he dropped it that angered his father, but that he’d made an excuse.

And on the scoreboard, these kids had their parents taken from them. It didn’t matter if he was dragged to the crime scene without his consent, or any other excuse. He’s the one who put himself in that position, nobody made him do those drugs.

After his father’s suicide, Zee had vowed to protect other children from going through the same pain he did. But he ended up doing the complete opposite. Just like himself, these kids would never get to have a catch with their father ever again. And worse still, it happened on Christmas Eve, a day that symbolized childhood innocence. The least he could do was give them Christmas, even if he knew it would never change anything.

As the sun rose through the fog of Christmas morning, he watched from his perch. The curtain was always open just enough for him to see into the living room window. It was almost like they knew he was there and let him watch. He observed as they opened their gifts—the ones from him were marked
From Santa,
while others were exchanged between each other. Smiles abounded—it was a happy year. In the early years after the tragedy, the children had seemed to hold back their joy. As if they didn’t completely trust happiness, or felt guilty for feeling that way.

Zee was always amazed at how much change occurred between each Christmas. The aunt and uncle were much grayer this year, and the children had crossed that threshold to adulthood. He imagined that in the coming years there would be weddings, followed by babies—he could only hope that the new additions would be passed down the unrestricted joy he’d witnessed this morning, and not the residue of that horrible day from years ago.

Zee gathered his emotions, and maneuvered his way back down the tree. He would always leave before the family headed out for Christmas brunch, as they did each year. But when his feet hit the ground the front door of the house opened, and the oldest boy, Joseph, began walking through the snow-filled front yard. By the time he reached the street, Zee knew he was heading in his direction. Part of him wanted to flee, but his legs felt paralyzed.

“Can I help you?” the boy asked him.

Zee took note of Joseph’s beard. He was a child no more. “I was just passing through the neighborhood. I hope I didn’t alarm you.”

“My aunt thought she saw someone in the tree. Her brother was murdered in a home invasion when we were younger, so she can be a little paranoid.”

“It’s nice that you have someone to watch over you. I apologize for interrupting your Christmas morning. As soon as my ride arrives, I’ll be on my way.”

Zee noticed Joseph’s baseball cap. A midnight blue Yankees cap with an interlocking NY. “It must not be easy being a Yankees fan up here in Boston Red Sox territory.”

Joseph smiled. “My dad was a big Zee Thomas fan. So I guess when we moved up here rooting for the Yankees was a way of keeping his memory alive.”

“My father taught me to play baseball. One year he gave me a new glove for Christmas, and we stayed out in a snowstorm the rest of the day working it in. I still have it—that’s one of the ways I keep his memory alive.”

“Do you want to have a catch?”

“Excuse me?”

“A baseball catch—would you be interested in having one while you wait for your ride?”

“I don’t even have a glove with me.”

He smiled. “I don’t have a ball.”

Zee followed Joseph across the street into the front yard. The one that the young man grew up in, even if it wasn’t where he was supposed to grow up. He scooped up snow into his hand, the slushy kind that would make a perfect, tightly-packed snowball.

He tossed it to Zee, who caught it with his cold hands, and threw it back with his once famous left arm. Soon, the other children came out of the house, and joined in without a word. Zee threw the ball to Joseph, who sent it to his sister. She fired a fastball to her baby brother, who tossed it back to Zee.