The Judge Who Stole Christmas (27 page)

It was a Woodfaulk family tradition—opening one gift on Christmas Eve—though Jasmine's dad used to put up token resistance, saying that opening the gift early showed a lack of discipline. But the kids would beg, Bernice would argue, and eventually they would all wear him down. Now it didn't seem quite the same; half the fun for Jasmine had been beating her dad into submission.

The three Woodfaulk women huddled on the couch next to the Christmas tree. Ajori began by lifting and shaking all the gifts with her name on them. “I'm going to open this one,” she announced, holding up a box just big enough to hold a pair of jeans and a cute blouse she had been dropping major hints about. The gift was marked from
Santa
, a code word for her mom.

“No, you're not,” Jasmine said. “I want you to open this one.” She thrust a much smaller box at Ajori and watched her little sister try to disguise her disappointment. “This one's from me,” Jasmine announced proudly.

“That's why I want to save it for tomorrow. You know, save the best for last.”

“Nice try. But I really want you to open it tonight.”

Ajori reluctantly set down the present she was holding and took Jasmine's, as if opening the gift from her sister was a major chore.

“Don't act so excited,” Jasmine said.

“It's not that. It's just that I like saving the surprises until Christmas—I already know what's in this other box from mom.”

The girls talked their way through it and soon had a plan. Bernice would go first, opening a present from the girls. Then Jasmine would open her present from Ajori. Last, Ajori would open Jasmine's present.

Bernice tore into the wrapping paper, then oohed and aahed over the cross necklace that matched the one Jasmine had worn to the Fourth Circuit argument. Bernice had been forbidden from attending—“I'm nervous enough as it is,” Jasmine had said—but nearly burst with pride when she heard about her daughter's stunt.

“It's beautiful,” Bernice gushed, and she put it on immediately.

Jasmine was up next, but Ajori made her sister try to guess before she could unwrap the odd-shaped package.

“Jeans?”

“Nope.”

“A new coat?”

“Nope.”

“Workout sweats?”

“You're not even warm. Think legal.”

“Keys to a brand-new Porsche Carrera so I can ride in style while I look for a new job?”

Ajori scowled. “Don't you think it's a little big for car keys?”

“Sometimes you wrap them inside bigger stuff just to fool me.”

Ajori shook her head.

Jasmine took her time, taking special care not to rip the paper, in an effort to drive her little sister nuts.

“Hurry up, grandma,” Ajori said.

This slowed Jasmine down even more, but eventually she peeled the paper back. “A new backpack!” she exclaimed.

“Your old one looked a little ratty for court,” Ajori said.

Jasmine didn't have the heart to tell her that real lawyers used briefcases. “Thanks.” She gave Ajori a quick hug. “Now maybe I can win some cases.”

“I don't know,” Ajori said. “It's not magic.”

Jasmine punched her sister on the arm.

“Mom!” Ajori whined.

Bernice rolled her eyes.

Ajori picked up her present, rattled it a little, then began guessing. “Socks? Victoria's Secret? Bath & Body Works? Coal?”

“Just open it,” Jasmine said. “You'll never guess.”

Ajori didn't have to be told twice. She ripped into the paper, and her smile turned into a furrowed brow. “Ankle weights?”

“You wear them around all the time except when you're playing,” Jasmine explained. “They'll increase your ups.”

Ajori looked skeptical if not downright disappointed. “I know what to do with 'em, but they're so old-school. Nobody uses these anymore. They're bad for the knees.”

“Well, you need to start using them,” Jasmine insisted.

Ajori stiffened. Jasmine could tell her sister wanted to argue the point, but it was Christmas Eve, so she shrugged instead. “Hey, I'll try anything. Thanks, Jazz.” She leaned over and gave her a quick hug.

“You'll do more than give them a try,” Jasmine said. “If I'm gonna coach this team, my little sister needs to work on her ups.”

Ajori's jaw dropped, and Jasmine's mom put her hands over her mouth, speechless. “What did you say?” Ajori managed.

“I said, if I'm going to coach this team—”

“Hold up!” Ajori shouted. “Stop right there—rewind. Are . . . you . . .
serious
?”

“Yep.”

Ajori squealed and gave her sister another hug, this time with feeling.

“What about law school?” Jasmine's mom asked.

“I'm going to take a semester off and finish this summer.” Jasmine searched her mom's face, looking for signs of approval. “When I pass the bar, I'll open up shop in Possum as a lawyer-coach. If that guy on TV can be a lawyer and run a bowling alley, I can certainly be a lawyer and a coach.”

“Awesome!” Ajori shouted. “You rock!” She jumped up and started pacing, then sat down and furiously laced on her ankle weights. “This is so cool! Wait till I call my friends. This is the best present ever! Has anyone seen my phone? I can't even believe this!”

While Ajori raved, Jasmine locked eyes briefly with her mom. Her mom was a little teary-eyed and wearing one of those tight-lipped smiles that moms get when their kids made them proud.

“You knew, didn't you, Mom?”

Bernice nodded with her whole body.

“How'd you know?”

“Moms know everything,” she said.

“Then where's my phone?” Ajori asked.

Bernice rolled her glistening eyes. “Okay, maybe not everything.”

A few minutes later, while Ajori worked the phone lines, Bernice disappeared for a moment and then came back downstairs with a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper.

“One more present tonight,” she said while Ajori was between calls. “I wrapped it earlier but left it in my bedroom. Just in case.”

“Who's it for?” Ajori asked.

“Well, it's got Jasmine's name on it. But it's really for both of you.”

With Ajori on one side and her mom on the other, Jasmine unwrapped the small box. For some reason—maybe it was the seriousness of her mom's tone of voice—Jasmine felt her hands shaking. She pulled the small top off the box and felt her body go limp. “Oh, my goodness!”

She looked to her mom, then to Ajori, then back to the precious small item in the box. She carefully picked up the string and pulled it out.

“Your dad's whistle,” Bernice said as Jasmine gingerly placed the string around her neck. “I think he would want you to have it.”

Jasmine held the chewed plastic whistle carefully between her thumb and forefinger as if someone had just placed the Hope diamond on her. She felt tears pooling in her eyes, but she didn't care. She could hear him again, blowing the whistle and yelling at her in practice. She could see him again, winking at her during games. “Take that chump to the rack,” he'd say, patting her on the backside after a time-out. “She can't stop you!”

Jasmine wrapped her fist tight around the whistle. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the couch. She could feel her mom's arm on her shoulder and Ajori's hand on top of hers. And somewhere out there, Jasmine knew, her dad was smiling, pointing at her like he did when she made a good play. Thumping his chest, telling her that she had heart.

She loved the sound of that deep, deep voice. Soothing. Confident. Proud.
“That's my girl,”
he was saying.
“That's my girl.”

Elizabeth had fallen asleep on the way home. Theresa was proud of herself for having the other kids in bed by nine. She had read the Christmas story from the book of Luke, they had said their prayers, and she had fetched two glasses of water for Tiger, leading to one bathroom run for her excited little boy.

Theresa finally got ready for bed herself, put her pajamas on, and wrapped a few more presents in her bedroom, no small chore since she had to fight King off for every piece of wrapping paper. She was exhausted, but she knew she couldn't go to sleep just yet. She crawled into bed, turned off her light, and listened.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard him. Little feet pitter-pattering down the hallway, sneaking toward the living room. King heard him too and jumped up in bed. “Shh,” Theresa said to the dog. She petted him and rubbed his tummy, calming the little puppy. Next she heard the gentle clinking of a few dishes, a chair being moved on the kitchen floor, and the refrigerator door opening and closing. Theresa smiled to herself as she continued to soothe King. A few minutes later, the pitter-patter occurred again, this time ending in Tiger's bedroom.

Theresa switched the light back on and waited another fifteen minutes, reading to pass the time. Then she shut King in the bedroom and tiptoed down the hall to Tiger's room. He was now sleeping, his mouth wide-open as he lay sprawled across the bed.

She padded through the kitchen and into the cramped living room. She found the plate that Tiger had just prepared, with two Christmas cookies and a napkin on it and a glass of milk sitting next to it. There was also a note that said
For Santa
, written on the white paper with wide blue lines that Tiger used to make sure his capital letters were just the right height.

Theresa smiled, proud of her son's careful penmanship. She ate most of the cookies, leaving only a few bites. After drinking the milk, she wrote a quick note of thanks on the paper, telling Tiger and Hannah what good kids they were, reminding them to obey their parents. She knew that technically the kids weren't supposed to believe in Santa, but this had been her and Tiger's routine the past two years, and she really didn't see any harm in it. She burped—Santa Claus couldn't have done it better—then headed back to bed.

She turned off the light, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and listened to the cold wind howling outside. She closed her eyes and started in on her prayers, thanking God for sending His Son as a babe in a manger. She thanked God for the warm bed and her food for the day and the fact that she had made it to Christmas without going completely broke. She prayed for Thomas and her pastor and the president and missionaries. She prayed until her thoughts became jumbled so badly that she wasn't sure even God could figure them out. And then she quietly drifted to sleep before she could say “Amen,” content in the knowledge that when she awoke it would be Christmas and that soon Thomas would be coming home, the greatest Christmas gift of all . . .

She hadn't been asleep long when she began to dream that she still had all her Christmas shopping to do on Christmas Eve and she couldn't find Thomas, despite searching frantically. Then she was back home, trying to wrap presents for the kids, when she heard a voice outside. King heard it too and let out a throaty little growl.

At first she was scared, but she was drawn like one of her children to the Christmas tree. She practically floated through the kitchen, flicking on the light as she went, then into the living room, where . . . there he was! Thomas! Standing in the middle of the room, big as life. Bigger. Dressed like Santa! Heavier than the last time Theresa had seen him . . . and with a long white beard . . . but it was definitely Thomas. “Theresa,” he said. “Theresa, it's me.”

For a moment she stood there frozen by the shock of seeing Thomas next to the fireplace and the presents under their Charlie Brown tree, but this one was as tall as the tree in Rockefeller Center. She rushed toward him, embraced him, felt the whiskers on her cheek. He kissed her, then licked her on the cheek.

“Theresa,” he said softly, holding her arm. “I'm home.”

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes to kiss him, then . . . wait, he had licked her? A fireplace? Their trailer had no fireplace!

She opened her sleepy eyes, and he was leaning over the bed, shaking her gently, holding her right arm. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs of her dream, then blinked, but he was still there!

“Thomas?”

“I'm home, Theresa.”

“Thomas!”

She threw her arms around him, squeezing him for all she was worth. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

King was jumping and
licking
, jealous of the embrace, making a nuisance of himself.

“It's a long story,” Thomas said. “But before I answer that—what in the world is
he
doing here?”