Acknowledgments: Thanks to Medie, DebC and Mari4212 for the betas!
Please be informed there is a Santa Claus.
That’s affirmative. You’re the best ones to know.
–Jim Lovell and Ken Mattingly, Apollo 8 flight journal
“So you’re not going home for Christmas? Again?” Declan asked, peering at Miranda over his glasses. As usual, he was leaning back in his chair, feet on his desk. He tapped the pen in one hand against the yellow notepad in the other. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, it’ll be great having you around, but don’t you ever miss spending Christmas with your family?”
Miranda shrugged and draped a piece of tinsel over a branch. It was practically a tradition, Declan reflected a little ruefully. Miranda decorated the tree in his office while he tested his last pre-winter break lecture on her.
“Which family?” she asked. “Dad and Joyce are spending Christmas in Switzerland this year. Mom’s going to my oldest brother’s house, and my other brothers are all spending it with their families.” She hung an ornament and turned back to him with studied nonchalance. “Besides, I’ve got a lot of work to do. I need to finish this draft of my thesis by January if I want to graduate in May.”
Declan’s feet thumped suddenly to the floor, his lecture forgotten. May? How could Miranda be graduating in May? She hadn’t been here long enough to be graduating…had she? His mind scrolled rapidly back through their acquaintance, discovering to his surprise and horror that they’d known each other now for five years. Which was about average for a PhD program in physics, and three years longer than many postgraduate degrees.
But…Miranda couldn’t graduate! (Not that he’d tell her that!) Who would help him with the practical side of his investigations? He’d have to break in a whole new cohort and that was a daunting prospect. Worse was the prospect of Miranda just…not being around.
Miranda frowned at him. “Declan, are you all right?”
Declan waved it off with deliberate nonchalance, even though a cold knot had tied itself in his gut that refused to go away. “Yeah, fine.”
Miranda’s frown deepened, but she didn’t ask again. Not that she needed to. Declan’s mind was perfectly happy to nag him on the subject all on its own.
The thought persisted long after he’d abandoned his office and headed home. Which was probably why Declan found himself almost unconsciously diverting towards St. Joseph’s.
Peggy was in her office, much to his relief. To his annoyance, though, she wasn’t alone. There was an old man sitting on the couch, a man who frankly looked like he could’ve stepped right out of Declan’s lecture on St. Nicholas. And as if he needed more of an indicator that she didn’t want to be disturbed, the door was closed too.
Lucky for him, Declan had built up a reputation for being oblivious to even the most obvious signs. It gave him the perfect excuse to ignore them when he just plain wanted to. He knocked on the door.
Peggy looked up with an impatient sigh and a glare that clearly said “Go away.” Declan ignored that too. He opened the door. “Hey, Peg, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“I’m with a patient, Declan.”
“I know, but it’s important.”
The old man turned with a smile. His long, bushy white beard tickled the lapels of his suit. “Oh, I don’t mind,” he said pleasantly, eyes twinkling like Edmund Gwenn’s. “If it’s important.”
Peggy smiled ruefully. “I’m sure you don’t, Nick, but that’s not the point.”
“Nick?” Declan echoed. Well, that was ironic, considering what he’d just been thinking about the man. He stepped inside Peggy’s office and shut the door behind him, then studied her patient with narrowed eyes. Round face and rounder belly, the aforementioned beard, jolly demeanor: all he really lacked was the red suit and flying reindeer.
The man rose gracefully, offering a hand in greeting. “Nicholas Von Myra, at your service.”
Declan shook it. “Declan Dunn. Von Myra: that’s an interesting name. Sounds…” He frowned. “Greek by way of German?”
“Very good!” Nicholas Von Myra exclaimed. He sounded pleased. “Are you a student of languages, young man?”
“Actually, no, I’m a professor of anthropology at NOU.”
Peggy sighed. “Declan…”
“And you two have something important to discuss, so I’ll be on my way.” Peggy started to protest but Nick interrupted with a smile. “Don’t worry, Dr. Fowler, I promise to be back tomorrow to continue our little discussion.” He kissed her hand, shook Declan’s again, and almost skipped out the door.
As soon as it closed behind him, Peggy rounded on Declan in obvious frustration. “Declan, you can’t keep barging in here or paging me or otherwise interrupting my sessions whenever you want my attention. Nick is a very serious case and if I can’t get through to him, he could find himself in serious trouble.”
“How serious can it be?” Declan scoffed mildly. “He’s a harmless old man. Heck, he could practically be Santa Claus.”
Peggy sighed. “That’s the problem. He believes he is Santa Claus.”
Declan stopped and looked at her over his glasses. “Really?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Peggy warned.
Declan flushed. “Come on, Peg, I may have believed some pretty crazy things in my time, but Santa Claus has never been one of them. Well…not since I was a kid, anyway.”
“Good,” she declared. “Because I think you’re right; Nick’s just a harmless old man. But I’ll have a much harder time convincing the state of Oregon not to commit him if you encourage him in his delusion.”
“Commit him?” Declan echoed, and winced. “That’s harsh. What’d he do to deserve that?”
“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” Peggy stated firmly. With another sigh, she seated herself once more behind her desk. Declan followed and took a chair opposite her. “Now. What’s so important that you couldn’t wait five minutes to talk about it?” she asked.
Declan’s demeanor sobered. His hands, which had been fidgeting restlessly in his lap, abruptly stilled. “Miranda’s graduating in May.”
“Good for her,” Peggy answered absently. “I’ll have to remember to mark my calendar so I can be there. But what does that have to do with anything?”
Did she really have to ask? Declan just looked at her helplessly. Peggy looked at him in return and he could see the anger drain from her face. “Oh, I see,” she said, much more softly this time. “She’s graduating and you’re not ready for it.”
Declan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I just…we’ve got such a good thing going here. I guess I’m just not ready for that to change.”
“But things do change, Declan. You can’t stop it, and if you try, you’ll just end up changing things for the worse instead of the better.”
“I know. I know, and I’m not going to do anything to sabotage her,” Declan promised. “I just…what do I do?”
“Be supportive,” Peggy suggested. “Let her know you’re going to miss her. Make the most of the time you have left.”
Declan frowned. “You make it sound like she’s dying.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Peggy’s mouth. “Well, that’s kind of how you’re acting. What is Miranda planning to do after she graduates? Is she moving away?”
Declan opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He realized, much to his embarrassment, that he had no idea.
Peggy sighed. “Did you even think to ask before you panicked?”
Declan squirmed in his seat, avoiding her eyes, which was probably answer enough. When he finally felt brave enough to peek, Peggy was shaking her head with a smile. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you talk to Miranda, find out what her plans are. Then, if she’s planning to move to India and never speak to you again, I’ll happily clear my schedule for an afternoon so we can discuss your abandonment issues.”
Declan glared at her for a moment, but it quickly faded into a smile. No matter what happened with Miranda, at least Peggy would still be around. “Thanks, Peg. I just…don’t know what I would do without you guys anymore, you know? Either of you.”
For a second, he thought Peggy almost looked uneasy, but the look was gone as soon as he noticed it, so Declan put it out of his mind. After all, what would she have to be uneasy about? It wasn’t like she was leaving too.
*****
Miranda wasn’t in Declan’s office when he got back to NOU the next morning. Nor was she in the lab. He tried to remember if she had a class this hour, but realized with a twinge of dismay that he’d never really paid much attention to her schedule, just expected her to be there when he needed her. He called her apartment too and got no answer, but after that, the search had to be put on hold for a while, since he had full slate of classes to teach.
If he was being honest with himself, Declan was a little relieved. As much as he did want to talk to Miranda and find out that she wasn’t taking off for parts unknown as soon as she graduated, a big part of him was afraid she might instead reveal that she was, confirming all his worst fears. And that potential eventuality he didn’t mind postponing one little bit.
So naturally by the time his last class was over, she was waiting for him in the doorway. This gave Declan mixed feelings of an entirely different sort. Why was it Peggy’s advice always seemed so much easier to follow before the opportunity arose?
“Hey,” Miranda greeted him as he came down to shut the door behind the last departing student.
“Hey. Where’d you disappear to earlier?”
“Post office,” she answered simply. “You have to mail stuff early if you want it to get to Switzerland by the twenty-fifth. You?”
“Went to see Peggy.”
“Oh. What about?”
Declan hesitated only a second before promptly chickening out. “She’s got a new patient. Thinks he’s Santa Claus.”
“Huh.” Miranda looked intrigued in spite of herself, a clear sign she’d been hanging out with him too long. “Is he?”
Well, that certainly wasn’t a question Declan had been expecting. It startled him into an equally unexpected answer. “I don’t know.” He gave Miranda an odd look. “You believe in Santa Claus?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Even if you dismiss the obvious folklore elements, such as flying reindeer and elves, his existence is empirically unlikely. It’s statistically impossible to visit all the children in the world in one evening.”
“But not all the children in the world celebrate Christmas,” Declan pointed out, wondering more than a little why he was doing so. Habit, maybe? “And not every culture that celebrates Christmas has a Santa Claus figure, either. Even the ones that do, a lot of them get gifts on St. Nicholas Day, not on Christmas.”
Miranda shrugged. She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him curiously. “Nonetheless, the population of the United States alone is only a little under three hundred million. Even if you eliminate all adults, children old enough to stop believing in Santa Claus, and cultural groups that don’t celebrate Christmas, it’s still physically impossible for one man to deliver gifts to all of them. And that’s not even taking into consideration travel time to get from one city to another, or the fact that some poor children don’t get gifts on Christmas, which you’d think they would if there was a Santa Claus.”
All of which Declan knew and agreed with, but still he found himself grimacing at the reminder. Not of Santa Claus’s nonexistence, but of the flimsiness of his excuse. “Right.” He took a deep breath. “Hey, I think I’m going to take Mole to the park. Last day of regular classes and all that. Want to come?”
Sitting on his cushion a few feet away, Mole sat up and let out an eager whine.
Miranda glanced at the dog, then uncertainly back at Declan. He probably shouldn’t have asked. She had, after all, already mentioned she had a thesis to write and he’d promised both Peggy and himself that he wouldn’t sabotage her. No matter how much he didn’t want her to leave, keeping her around by making her hate him for ruining her academic career would be more than a little counterproductive.
It didn’t really surprise him, therefore, when she smiled but answered, “I probably shouldn’t. I’ve already put off working on my thesis for most of the day.” Miranda hesitated a moment before adding a little more unexpectedly, “But tomorrow, maybe? If I meet my word total a little earlier?”
Declan forced a smile. “Sure. Sounds great.”
*****
It was ridiculous that he was so frightened by the prospect of Miranda leaving. Peggy would still be there. It wasn’t like he’d be on his own again like he had been when he first started investigating miracles after the avalanche.
Truth be told, Declan didn’t think he could go back to that. At the time, the solitude had been good for him: most of the friends he’d still had by that point were his drinking buddies, and getting away from them while he was trying to get sober was probably one of the best decisions he’d ever made. And then Miranda had come along and become his right hand. And then he’d met Peggy, who’d served as a much needed sounding board. They’d become his best friends, in many ways closer than family, and he couldn’t imagine life without either one of them anymore.
It was ridiculous to be getting so worked up over the chance that he might have to, a chance that might not even happen. Declan let out a sigh as he crouched down to unclip the leash from Mole’s collar. Frazer park was one of Mole’s favorite haunts, one of the few parks where he didn’t wander out of the off-leash area and get Declan into trouble, so it was the perfect reward for the day’s good behavior.
Mole took off like a shot, racing across the grass, and Declan watched him with a rueful expression. “S’okay,” he called loudly after the dog. “I probably wouldn’t want to be around me right now either.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear it,” came an unexpected, newly familiar voice at Declan’s elbow. “I must say I feel sorry for any man who can’t even count on his dog for company.”
Declan looked up, startled, to see Peggy’s patient standing behind him. The suit he’d been wearing had been exchanged for a red velour jogging suit that made the man look even more like Santa Claus. No wonder he’d started to believe he was Santa; Declan might start to believe it too if he saw that in the mirror every day. “Nick!”
“Declan, wasn’t it?” He smiled when Declan nodded. “Imagine running into you again.”
It was odd enough that Declan glanced around the park, trying to figure out why Nick was here. “Do you have a dog?” he asked.
Nick laughed heartily. “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve had some unusual pets in my day, but no dogs.”
“Right.” Declan couldn’t help but grin too; the old man’s merry spirit was infectious. “Reindeer?”
Nick laughed again, this time more of a chuckle. “And a goat, on occasion.” He looked Declan in the eye with a knowing gleam. “I see Dr. Fowler has told you my little secret.”
Oh, crap. Declan winced. Peggy was going to kill him for letting that slip. “Ah, actually–”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Nick interrupted, still smiling. “I would hardly have wound up being sent to a psychiatrist if I were very good at keeping it a secret now, would I?”
He had a point.
Declan glanced at him. “You really believe you’re Santa Claus?”
“Only for about the past two hundred years,” Nick answered easily. His smile was warm and his voice filled with laughter. “But I’ve had many other names over the centuries. People know me as they need to know me, and that’s enough. Even if it’s just as a ‘harmless old man’ with delusions of sainthood.”
It had to be a coincidence that Nick used almost the exact same language Declan and Peggy had when discussing him. Nevertheless, Declan gave him an odd look. Maybe Peggy’d told him something similar. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Not at all,” Nick assured him. “Belief isn’t an easy thing in this skeptical age, and that’s not necessarily bad. I told Dr. Fowler the same thing. Which reminds me, how did your conversation with her go?”
Declan squirmed a little at the reminder of the advice he still hadn’t taken. “Oh, y’know.”
“How long have you been seeing her?”
That got Declan’s attention. “What? I’m not…we’re not…” He was halfway through a fumbled denial of there being anything between him and Peggy when he suddenly realized that’s not what Nick was asking. “I mean…I’m not a patient. I’m a friend of hers.”
“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” Nick said apologetically.
“Shouldn’t you have known that if you are who you claim to be?” Declan asked.
“I never claimed to be omniscient,” Nick protested.
“Oh yeah? What about all that ‘sees you when you’re sleeping, knows when you’re awake’ business?”
“Blame the man who wrote the song, not me,” Nick said dryly. “And besides, even if I did claim to have such knowledge, when one is asleep or awake or bad or good is hardly all there is to know about a person. And ‘sane or mad’ isn’t even on the list.”
Declan laughed. “Okay, you’ve got me there.” He decided it couldn’t hurt to humor the old man a little. He just wouldn’t tell Peggy. “Must be tricky, having to live up to all those songs.”
Nick chuckled as well. “It would be easier if the songs and stories were all consistent, but naturally over the years they’ve changed quite a lot. Change can be a disorienting thing. Particularly if it’s not your choice, but someone else’s, that brings the change. But when you confront it, accept it, then often it becomes a great deal less frightening than you expected. Sometimes you might even discover that things have changed far less than you thought.”
Declan gave him a sharp look at that. Ostensibly, Nick was talking about his “life” as Santa Claus/St. Nicholas/whoever being changed by people’s perceptions of him, but the applicability of the statement to Declan’s own current dilemma seemed too pointed to be entirely coincidental. “Were you listening at the door or something when I was talking to Peggy?”
“Why? Is there someone in your life, too, whose choices are liable to affect it?”
Declan laughed uneasily. “Don’t we all have people like that in our lives?”
“Of course.” Nick’s eyes danced. “But I take it your situation is a little more immediate than most.”
He was a complete stranger, but something about the man just made him easy to confide in. Which was how Declan found himself saying, “Yeah. Another friend of ours…Peggy’s and mine…Miranda’s her name. She’s graduating in May. Probably going to move away and start a new life and I’m…just not ready to let her go, I guess.”
“You say ‘probably’: you don’t know for sure?”
Declan felt embarrassed all over again. “Well…no. But why wouldn’t she? It’s what people do after they graduate.”
“Hmm.” Nick looked thoughtful for a moment. “You clearly don’t want her to go. Wouldn’t it be wise to find out what it is that she wants before you convince yourself you can’t have it?”
Declan peered at him with narrowed eyes. “Okay, now you’re starting to sound like Peggy.”
Nick just looked innocent and glanced deliberately down at the watch on his wrist. “Well, would you look at the time. My little friends should be here any moment, so I’m afraid I’ll have to say goodbye. I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
“’Little friends’?” Declan echoed, looking curiously around the park. “What, like elves?”
“No, Declan. Like children,” Nick corrected.
He pointed, and Declan followed the line of his finger to see a group of boys entering the playground area at the edge of the dog park. They were all about eight years old, with a Middle Eastern look about them. One of the boys spotted Nick and shouted something to him in what sounded like Turkish. Nick answered in the same language then turned back to Declan. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Declan Dunn. I hope you get your Christmas wish.”
Then he headed off across the playground to where the boys had congregated around a basketball hoop. Within minutes they had a lively pick-up game going.
Declan stared after him, mystified. He was only distracted by a whine at his elbow, and looked down to see Mole staring up at him expectantly. “Pretty spry for an old dude, isn’t he?” he asked the dog. When Mole didn’t answer, Declan glanced back over at the game with a puzzled frown. “But then I guess immortality’s gotta have some perks.”
It unsettled him more than a little that he wasn’t sure he was joking.
*****
“You’re starting to believe it, aren’t you?” Miranda had that look on her face, the one that indicated she was getting a great deal of enjoyment at his expense. He hated that look.
“I didn’t say that,” Declan protested a little too loudly, to cover his embarrassment. “I’m just curious, that’s all. I mean, something must’ve happened to the guy to set this off. People don’t just wake up one day and decide they’re Santa Claus without a reason. Besides, maybe if we can prove to Nick that he’s not Santa Claus, we can help keep him out of the psych ward.”
“Uh huh.” Miranda hadn’t given him that look since just after Emma left.
Emma. There was someone else he’d let slip almost completely out of his life, to the point where he probably hadn’t called or e-mailed her in almost a year. Declan winced. All the more reason he really ought to sort out this whole graduation thing with Miranda, before he let her name get added to that list.
“What could it hurt?” he demanded defensively.
Miranda shrugged. “Well, Peggy could stop speaking to you for investigating Nick when she asked you not to, but if that’s a risk you want to take…”
Ouch. That was low. And hit a little too close to home at the moment too, although she couldn’t know that. A brief image flashed into Declan’s mind of himself a year from now: Miranda gone and Peggy not speaking to him. And since his mind was apparently in a vindictive mood, it threw in Mole having run away–this time for good–as well.
It was almost harrowing enough to curb his curiosity where Nick was concerned. Almost, but not quite. “Who says Peggy has to know?”
Miranda shrugged, hiding a smile. “Your funeral.”
Declan scowled at her.
“So what’s our first move?” Miranda asked cheerfully. “Fly to the North Pole, rent a snowplow and a metal detector and start digging for Santa’s workshop?”
She really had been hanging around him too long. Not to mention Peggy. The two of them had never tormented him quite so gleefully before they became friends independently of him.
“How about we start by finding out who he is? Birth records, school, work history and all that. See if we can’t figure out what triggered the St. Nicholas thing. Not to mention why someone was worried enough about it to consider committing him.”
“That works.” Miranda nodded.
Declan shot her a worried look. “Is this okay? I mean…I know you have your thesis to finish and all…if you’re too busy, I could…” He made a random gesture meant to indicate getting out of her hair and doing his own investigating.
Miranda looked surprised but touched by the unexpected act of thoughtfulness. “No…no, I’m okay. I figured you’d probably come to me with something or other, so I budgeted my time to allow for that and still get everything done.”
He sputtered in wordless embarrassment for a moment, until Miranda smiled and patted his arm. “Relax, Declan. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. I am capable of saying no to you, you know.”
“You sure?” he asked uncertainly.
Miranda gave him an odd look and he immediately realized how that sounded. “I mean…I didn’t mean…”
She cut him off with a rare, merry laugh which eased his conscience considerably. “God, I’m going to miss you.”
Declan froze. The relief he’d been feeling melted away in an instant like a fog fleeing an icy wind. His stomach curled back up into the knot from earlier, only certainty made it tighter this time. “Why? Ah…where are you going?”
Miranda looked startled, then stricken, then just uncomfortable. “I…I don’t know yet. I’ve put out a couple of job applications for after graduation, gotten a couple of interviews…” She paused for a long moment before adding, “I haven’t heard back from the place I really want, yet.”
“Right, well…ah…” Be supportive. Don’t sabotage her. Great advice, but that didn’t make it any easier to sound positive when he was feeling anything but. “I, um, hope you get it. Wherever it is.”
Miranda just offered him a weak smile. “Me too.”
*****
“Dr. Fowler?”
Peggy jumped in her seat, letting out a little gasp. She looked up at where Nick was standing over her, again wearing a suit and a brightly colored tie. “Oh, Nick. I didn’t hear you come in.”
The old man looked sheepish as he seated himself in a chair on the other side of the desk. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I suppose I’ve simply spent too many centuries being stealthy and now can’t break the habit.” His eyes twinkled.
Peggy smiled ruefully. “Truth be told, I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”
Nick laid a hand over his heart in a gesture of mock injury. “You wound me, Dr. Fowler. Have I ever missed one of our sessions? Well, aside from my birthday?”
Peggy’s smile warmed a little at that. She supposed she wouldn’t have wanted to spend her birthday at a psychiatrist’s office either. Although…the smile faded a little as she remembered that the birthday Nick claimed for himself was December 6th, St. Nicholas Day.
His was an extremely thorough delusion. Truthfully, she’d never seen a dissociative fugue quite this severe before, and it was only aggravated by the fact that the identity he’d assumed was a character out of folklore. But at the same time, she didn’t want to commit him. In spite of herself, she liked Nick. She wanted to help him so he would feel safe reclaiming his own life.
Not that she’d had much luck finding out what that life was. There were no records of a Nicholas Von Myra anywhere that she could find, not before the break-in, which wasn’t surprising considering it had to be an alias. But Detective Cobb had also sent copies of his photo and fingerprints to other police departments around the country, and so far, nothing.
“No,” she admitted in answer to his question. “You’ve been remarkably consistent, which to me says you really do want help. That’s encouraging.”
“Or perhaps I’m here to help you. Did you consider that?” Nick asked, his eyes sparkling again. “Just out of curiosity, what was it that had you so engrossed you didn’t notice my arrival earlier?”
Peggy’s hand instinctively reached out to cover the job offer from Johns Hopkins that she’d been re-reading. It had been preying on her mind ever since it arrived yesterday, and not just because of her earlier conversation with Declan about Miranda, though that was part of it.
“Your friend Declan seemed troubled by something too, after he spoke to you,” Nick added thoughtfully when she didn’t answer.
It took a moment for what he’d said to register as more than just a vocalization of her own thoughts, but when it did, Peggy stiffened. “You saw Declan again?” If her voice sounded a little angry, she had a right to be.
She was going to kill Declan. No matter how often she told him not to interfere with her patients, he consistently disregarded her wishes. Something in their file or their actions would catch his attention and he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. And yes, often he turned out to be right that there was more going on than she knew, but one of these days he was going to be spectacularly wrong and someone was going to wind up badly hurt by it.
“Yes, but not to worry, Dr. Fowler,” Nick assured her with a knowing smile. “I found him; he didn’t find me. We ran into each other at Frazer Park.”
It was sweet of Nick to defend him, but even if he was telling the truth, Peggy knew Declan too well to believe a repeat encounter with Nick–particularly one without her to act as a buffer–wouldn’t have only intrigued him. Not because Declan was going to suddenly start believing in Santa Claus, but because no matter what he believed, he could never resist the “What if?” Especially with something like Miranda’s graduation hanging over him: he’d be so desperately wishing for her to stay that he’d latch onto anything that might provide a means of granting that wish.
Peggy sighed, glancing down at the letter on her desk. It was times like this that as much as she loved Declan, a job on the other side of the country from him seemed almost appealing.
“I appreciate your concern, Nick, but we’re not here to talk about my troubles, or Declan’s. I want to know what’s troubling you. What do you remember from before you came to Portland?”
“Everything,” Nick answered cheerfully. “Which, if you’re as old as I am, makes for one crowded memory, let me tell you.”
Well, she did have to give him credit for one thing. Nick was almost admirably consistent in the details of the life he’d created for himself. Peggy had yet to catch him in an obvious error. Well, except for one.
“I did a bit of reading since last we spoke,” she said calmly. “In this country, we normally think of Santa Claus at the North Pole, but that’s not the only place associated with St. Nicholas in his various identities. Father Christmas is supposed to live in Lapland, and Nicholas is said to be patron saint of cities all over the world, from Amsterdam to Barranquilla in Columbia, not to mention countries as diverse as Russia and Greece. But nowhere in any lore is he associated with Portland, Oregon.”
“So if I believe I’m him, what am I doing here? Is that what you’re asking?” Nick asked.
Peggy nodded. “Why Portland? Doesn’t it bother you that it doesn’t fit with anything else you’ve told yourself?”
Nick looked unperturbed. “I go where I’m needed,” he answered with a shrug.
“And you believe you’re needed here,” Peggy stated carefully, watching his reaction.
Nick smiled and looked her in the eyes, a look that went right through her. “Oh, yes,” he answered quietly. “I certainly do.”
*****
“Hey.” Miranda rapped on the door frame. “I found something.”
Declan looked up from his laptop. “So did I. C’mere.” He turned the screen around towards her as she came up behind him, and pointed to a picture on it: a medallion of St. Nicholas with the words Nikolaus Von Myra around the edges. “I knew the name sounded familiar.”
“Huh.” Miranda took in the image with a thoughtful frown. “Still, it doesn’t prove anything except that Nick did his research.”
“I know that,” Declan defended himself. “But, well, you gotta admire the guy’s dedication, y’know? Oh, and remember how I told you I thought he was speaking Turkish with those kids?” He scrolled further down the article and pointed to a line of text. “According to this, the town of Myra where St. Nicholas was born is in a region now part of Turkey, not Greece.”
“I’ll admit the Internet is a good source in a pinch, but hardly proof of a miracle.”
He scowled at her. “So, what’ve you got?”
“Nick’s police record.”
Both eyebrows shot up at that and Declan peered at Miranda over his glasses. “He has a police record?”
Miranda nodded, handing him a stack of printed pages. “Not a very long one. You wanted to know how he wound up seeing Peggy: Cobb sent him to her after he got caught breaking and entering.”
Declan’s eyes flew over the report. According to it, a woman named Carol Davidson had come home the night after her bachelorette party to find Nick in her house. She’d called the police and had him arrested, and he’d politely waited for them to arrive. Then she’d later dropped the charges because nothing was missing.
“It says here they couldn’t find any evidence to explain how he got in. No skeleton key, no lock picks, no sign of forced entry…”
“That’s not all.” Miranda pointed at a sentence further down on the page. “Read that.”
Declan’s eyes followed her finger, then widened. Not only had Nick not stolen anything, but he’d apparently– “Whoah. Nick broke into this woman’s house to give her a wedding dress?”
“And not just any wedding dress,” Miranda added. “I called Carol Davidson. She said it was the exact dress she’d had her eye on, but hadn’t been able to afford. When she found it in her closet after the police took Nick away, she couldn’t think of any other explanation for how it got there. That’s why she dropped the charges.”
Declan shook his head in amazement. “Weird. Especially since it lines up almost perfectly with one of the earliest legends about St. Nicholas.” He pulled a book from the middle of the pile on his desk and tapped the page for Miranda. “There was this poor man in the city where Nicholas lived, who had three daughters. Now, the daughters were almost old enough to marry, but their father couldn’t afford a dowry, which meant that when he died, the daughters would probably be forced to turn to prostitution to support themselves. Nicholas found out about this and gave each of the daughters–anonymously–a bag of gold that was just enough for a dowry. In some versions, he dropped the bags into a couple of stockings that were hanging by the fire to dry, which is where the tradition of hanging up Christmas stockings comes from.”
“Huh.” Miranda studied the book over his shoulder. “So you think an expensive wedding dress is Nick’s idea of a dowry?”
“Well, it fits thematically anyway.” Declan closed the book. “That story is one of the reasons St. Nicholas is also the patron saint of unmarried women. The question is…where did the dress come from?”
Miranda shrugged. “Don’t know. Carol never found out. I called a bunch of bridal stores in the area, but none of them have sold that particular dress recently.”
“Could it have been stolen?”
Miranda shook her head. “Not that the police ever discovered. But if it was, that would pretty much rule out sainthood for our friend Nick, wouldn’t it?”
Declan smiled wryly. “Not necessarily. I think I read somewhere a long time ago that Nicholas is also honored as the patron saint of thieves.”
Miranda frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “How can thieves have a patron saint if ‘Thou Shalt Not Steal’ is one of the Ten Commandments?”
“Dunno.” Declan shrugged. “Ask Father Perry.”
“Ask Father Perry what?”
Declan sat up so suddenly he nearly tipped the chair over. Miranda, standing behind him, startled and jumped backwards guiltily. And not without reason, for the words had come from Peggy. She was standing in the doorway of Declan’s office, her arms folded defensively across her chest and her face a storm of almost hurricane strength.
“Why you have so little respect for my professional judgment that you consistently ignore it?” Her eyes flared. “Or maybe why you become so consumed sometimes with your little quests that you’re willing to risk the lives and happiness of people around you just to prove the existence of something that will justify your obsession? Maybe he can answer that, because I’ve certainly given up trying.”
Miranda took another step back. “Um. I should go.”
Peggy’s eyes flashed to her now. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not letting you off the hook for this one either. You don’t have to go along with everything he does, you know, Miranda. You are capable of saying no.”
“I…I know that,” Miranda stammered, quailing under Peggy’s angry gaze.
“Peg, I never meant any harm,” Declan started to explain himself.
“You never do,” Peggy acknowledged, but it didn’t make her seem any more agreeable. “And you think that makes it okay. But it doesn’t. So far, you’ve been lucky. You haven’t caused any lasting harm. But if you’re so fond of ‘what ifs,’ Declan, consider that one. What if one day your investigation does really hurt someone? How will you justify it then?”
“Peg–”
“Stay away from Nick,” Peggy interrupted, her voice as stony as her expression. “Both of you.” Then she turned on her heel and stormed away.
*****
Okay, so she hadn’t been entirely truthful with Declan about her reasons for going to the post office the other day. Yes, she’d been mailing a package to Dad and Joyce, but it was already too late to get it to Switzerland by Christmas. Fortunately they’d be there at least through the new year, so they would still get it.
The truth was, though, she’d been stopping by almost every day that the post office was open to check on the status of her job applications. She’d even switched all her mail to a PO Box just to reduce the chances of a letter getting lost, misdelivered, or stolen. Sue and Lisa thought she was crazy to be applying so early, but Miranda didn’t want to take any chances of a dream position being filled before she could put her name in. Leonard had already gotten job offers from several prestigious labs and institutes around the country.
So had she, honestly. But the one she was waiting for, the one she’d pinned all her hopes on…that one had been uncomfortably silent. She’d sent in her resume weeks ago and hadn’t heard a word back, not even the offer of an interview.
That had to be what was making her so nervous, Miranda decided, as she fumbled her keys for the third time. This time at least she’d dropped them taking them out of the lock, rather than putting them in, but in a way that only further complicated things. She stared at the keys on the floor, trying to figure out if she could bend down to pick them up without dropping half the pile of papers in her hands.
Before she could make up her mind, another pair of hands picked them up and offered them to her. “You looked as though you could use an extra hand,” the owner told her cheerfully.
Miranda looked up into the face of a tall, rotund, smiling old man whose resemblance to Santa Claus was only heightened by his long white beard and merry twinkling eyes. Her stomach flipped as she recognized him from the mug shot she’d found with his records. “Nick!” she blurted out without thinking.
Nick Von Myra, Peggy’s patient that she’d been ordered to stay away from, frowned thoughtfully at her. “Have we met?”
Seizing the opportunity, Miranda shook her head. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. Thanks.” She snatched her keys out of his hand and backed away towards the trash can.
Much to her dismay, Nick followed, wagging a finger in recognition. “Wait a moment. You must be Declan’s friend, Miranda. He’s told me about you.”
“Oh. He has?” She took another step back, eyes searching as covertly as possible for a way out. “That’s nice.”
“You’re the one who’s graduating in a few months. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
He folded his arms and continued to pursue her with an oblivious relentlessness that was reminiscent of Declan. “If you wouldn’t mind terribly indulging an old man’s curiosity, have you decided yet what you’ll do after graduation?”
Miranda squirmed. “Oh, you know. Get a job.”
Nick nodded pleasantly. “Doing what?”
God. He really was as bad as Declan. “Well, I’m getting my PhD in physics…”
“Wonderful! What an incredible calling, to put your mind to discovering how the universe works.” He smiled warmly at her, which had the unfortunate effect of just making Miranda feel more uncomfortable. Peggy was going to kill her, and it wasn’t even her fault! “Practical or theoretical?”
“Oh, y’know.” Miranda dropped her eyes to her mail and began busily stuffing advertisements in the trash can. If she couldn’t get rid of Nick, she could at least look like she wasn’t talking to him. “Whatever I can get.”
“What about what you want?” Nick asked.
Miranda sighed. Having now gone through the entire stack of letters without finding what she was looking for, her voice was more than a little dead as she admitted, “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to get what I want.”
“That doesn’t mean you should give up trying.”
He sounded so earnest that despite her best intentions, Miranda couldn’t help looking at him. Sure enough, the expression on his face was just as sincere, and the interest in his eyes seemed genuine. For a split second, she could see how Declan could start to believe the impossible about him. Still…
“Look, Nick, I appreciate that you seem to care so much about what I want, but…I really gotta go.”
He gave her a shrewd look that almost seemed to read her mind. “Did Dr. Fowler say something about me?”
“Yes,” Miranda blurted. “Well…sort of. She thinks Declan and I are encouraging you.”
Nick sighed. “Yes, I suppose she would. Very well, then. I shouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your friends. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure to finally meet you, Miranda.”
Miranda accepted the offered hand in relief. “Likewise.”
He turned to go, then paused. “Oh, by the way…I believe you dropped this.” Turning back to her, Nick held out an envelope with a familiar logo in the corner above the return address.
Miranda stared. For a second, she could swear her heart stopped. She’d looked at every single envelope in her box as she’d pulled them out, then again when she’d sorted the regular mail from the junk, and she was certain that hadn’t been in there. But it was definitely addressed to her. Hands shaking with the effort not to give away her excitement, she carefully took the letter from Nick. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Miranda.”
Miranda barely noticed. Her hands were too busy ripping open the envelope, pulling out the letter inside and staring in happy disbelief at the contents. When she finally thought to look up to thank Nick, he was gone.
*****
Sometimes no matter what astronomers or geologists or weathermen said, the days felt longer around the holidays, Peggy thought tiredly to herself as she walked back to her office after rounds that had seemed to take forever. That was always the case, but this year especially. Between the letter from Johns Hopkins, Nick, Declan’s abandonment issues and her confrontation with him and Miranda, the Christmas season felt almost completely soured.
She knew she shouldn’t blame Declan for that. His heart was in the right place, as always, but she just wished he’d stop and think for once before diving head first into something. And why Miranda, who had more sense in one finger than Declan probably possessed in his whole body, consistently insisted on enabling this obsession of his was just as aggravating in its own way. She loved them both, but there were times–like now–when she felt like the only adult in their little group.
An adult who right now desperately wanted to go home and curl up in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine and some soft music. Anything to relieve the stress of the day.
When she reached her office, though, Peggy stopped cold. Declan was inside, standing at her desk looking as serious as she’d ever seen him. And when she saw what he had in his hands, she knew why. It was the job offer.
Her heart sank. “Declan…”
He looked up at her and the hurt in his eyes was palpable. It wasn’t the wounded puppy dog look he so often assumed to get his way, either, but a genuine pain that she knew she had inflicted. “I came by to apologize,” he started to explain in halting words. “Say you were right, I let my curiosity get the better of me again. When you weren’t here, I thought I’d at least leave you a note. And I found this sitting on your desk.”
He was silent for a long time before quietly asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” she argued, the excuse sounding as weak to her as it must to him. “You already had enough on your mind with Miranda graduating…”
“So what were you planning to do?” Declan challenged her. “Wait until Miranda was leaving and then just happen to mention, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m out of here too’?”
“That’s not fair,” Peggy protested, though she knew it was. “Look, I haven’t even decided if I’m going to take the job or not.”
“It’s Johns Hopkins,” Declan scoffed. “Of course you’re taking it. You’d be crazy not to.”
Peggy didn’t know what to say. The logical part of her had been saying the same thing for weeks as well and she honestly wasn’t sure why she kept hesitating. After her conversation with Declan about Miranda, she’d told herself she was just worried what it would do to him if they both left. And now here he was, confirming that fear, yet at the same time unexpectedly echoing that logic.
“I just…” He sounded defeated. “Am I really that bad, that you felt you had to go clear across the country to get away from me?”
She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he interrupted again before she could.
“No. No, that’s not fair and I know it. This isn’t about me. This is about you doing what’s best for you. I’ve got no business sabotaging you any more than Miranda. I’ll just…” He set the letter gingerly back down on her desk and moved towards the door. “…get out of your hair and let you get back to work.”
“Declan–” Peggy tried one last time.
He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Declan forced a smile onto his face. “Nothing to be sorry about, Peg.”
Peggy felt awful. After the way she’d spoken to him earlier, was it any wonder he’d jumped to the conclusion that she wanted to leave to get away from him? Nothing could be further from the truth. Not because she didn’t believe what she’d said to him. The day Declan’s single-mindedness pushed someone too far in the wrong direction was one of her greatest fears, not the least because she knew how hard he would take it. But no matter how angry he made her sometimes, he was still one of her best friends and she didn’t want that to change any more than he did.
“Dr. Fowler?”
Peggy jumped a little. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even heard anyone else come in. “Nick!”
He took another step into the office. “I realize it’s not our usual time, but I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”
Pulling herself together, Peggy nodded. “Of course. Please, come in.” While he did, she circled around behind her desk and sat down.
Nick took his customary seat opposite her. He was frowning, something Peggy didn’t honestly think she’d ever seen him do before. “Your friends…Declan and Miranda…they’ve begun avoiding me.”
Peggy grimaced. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. Declan’s a good man, but he’s spent the last five years of his life in search of a ‘smoking gun’ that will prove the existence of miracles, and sometimes he gets carried away.”
“Carried away…such as not immediately doubting the sanity of a man who claims to be Santa Claus?” Nick asked shrewdly.
“Basically, yes.” Peggy smiled more ruefully than she would’ve expected, considering. “A story like yours was bound to get his attention, whether he believed it or not. Which is why I just don’t think spending time with him is a good idea for you right now.”
Nick sighed. “While I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, Dr. Fowler, you realize you have made it harder for me to do my job.”
Peggy frowned, not quite understanding. His job? What did his job have to do with Declan? “So you admit that your job isn’t delivering presents to all the children of the world?” she asked carefully.
“It never was,” he insisted. Peggy felt a jolt of pleasant surprise. Maybe she was getting through to him after all. Of course, those hopes were promptly dashed by his next words. “All those stories about me dropping down people’s chimneys and leaving presents under the tree or in shoes or stockings…those are all metaphors. Tangible symbols of the gifts I really bring.”
She bit back a sigh. “Which are?”
“Hope. Faith. Comfort. Perspective. I remind people that they are loved. That their needs and desires are important to the universe.” He leaned forward, and there was an intensity in his eyes that Peggy’d never seen before. “Take you, for example. You want more than anything to stay here, in Portland. You love St. Joseph’s. You love Wakefield. And your friendship with Declan and Miranda has made you feel more alive and more valued than you have since your husband died. But Johns Hopkins, well, it’s prestigious. It means money, recognition, all those things you’re supposed to want. The pressure of expectations, both your own and society’s, is to accept. And as a result, even though you know what you want, know what’s in your heart, you can’t quite make up your mind to follow it.”
Peggy stared at him, her face gray with shock. “How could you possibly know any of that?”
“I saw it,” he stated plainly. “In your eyes, in the letter and the photograph on your desk, and in the time we’ve spent together. I think you’ve very nearly got yourself convinced that if you do stay, it will be for Declan and not for you, so that you can persuade yourself that going is the right choice. But if you truly listen to your heart instead of arguing with it, I think you’ll come to an entirely different conclusion.”
This whole conversation was quickly becoming far too unsettling for Peggy’s taste. It felt like it was spinning out of her control. Worse, somewhere in the back of her mind, a quiet voice that sounded uncomfortably like Declan was whispering, “What if…?”
She seized onto the first tangible thought that came to her. “So breaking into Carol Davidson’s house…”
“Well,” Nick looked sheepish. “I had to get your attention somehow. And besides, she truly did deserve that beautiful gown.”
*****
Christmas Eve, the entire NOU campus was virtually deserted. Students and professors had all gone home for the holidays, and even the few maintenance staff seemed to have taken the evening off. It was a wonder the anthropology building wasn’t locked, Peggy thought as she wandered the hallways in the direction of Declan’s office. Either Declan must have a key, or someone who did was well aware how much he practically lived here.
With anyone else, that would probably be a sign of a dangerous level of workaholism. With Declan, she suspected it had more to do with the fact that his house wasn’t exactly set up for entertaining company. She only hoped that her company would be welcome.
It was almost a relief to reach his office and find the door open and the lights on. When she’d called his house and got no answer, it seemed safe to assume he was here but she’d still feared otherwise. He could have gone to his sister’s, or run off to Israel to witness some rumored Christmas miracle. With Declan, anything was possible.
Mole spotted her first, and let out a welcoming bark that got Declan’s attention. He straightened up from where he’d been plugging in the tree and greeted her with a surprised, “Hey!”
“Hey,” Peggy answered with a hesitant smile. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”
“Oh yeah?” Declan asked. He looked wary but hopeful. “Why’s that?”
“Well, I’m going to my Mom’s tomorrow for Christmas, but I didn’t want to completely break tradition.” She held up a small Macy’s bag filled with gifts and gave him another sheepish smile. “I was hoping to spend Christmas Eve with you and Miranda.”
Declan’s smile at that was brighter than the Christmas tree. “Yeah, of course! Come on in, have a seat. I was actually hoping you’d come.”
Peggy smiled in relief. She stepped inside and looked around the room, while Declan took the bag out of her hands and began arranging packages under the tree. “So where is Miranda?”
“She’s coming.” His smile turned rueful and he dropped his eyes. “Guess if this is our last Christmas together, we ought to make something of it, huh?”
“It’s not,” Peggy answered. Declan looked up in surprise. “Well, I don’t know about Miranda,” she added hastily. “But I’ll be here. I didn’t take the job.”
“What?” Declan looked startled and a little horrified. “Peg, you didn’t have to do that. Not on my account.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Peggy corrected. “I did it for me.”
He frowned, confused. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to go. What changed your mind?”
“Nick,” she answered honestly. “He helped me realize that I didn’t really want the job, I just thought I should want it. But I’m happy here.” Peggy seated herself on the couch and thought hard for a moment about how to explain what had transpired in their last session. “It was the strangest thing, Declan. It’s like he just looked at me and knew exactly what I was thinking. Like he knew what I wanted better than I did.”
Declan leaned thoughtfully against his desk. “Pretty weird, all right.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still don’t believe he’s Santa Claus,” Peggy added hastily. “But there is something special about him. And if believing he’s St. Nicholas is what made him that way; then maybe it won’t hurt him to go on believing it.”
Declan grinned. “I knew you’d come around.”
She gave him an exasperated look and was about to offer a sharp, affectionate retort when the sound of running feet announced Miranda’s uncharacteristically noisy arrival. “Declan!” she blurted out, looking as excited as they’d ever seen her. “I got the job! The one I wanted!”
“Congratulations!” Peggy enthused, standing to offer Miranda a hug.
In contrast, Declan’s good mood abruptly and obviously vanished, despite his best efforts to hide it. “That’s great,” he said with a bright but forced smile. He hugged Miranda as well, but Peggy noticed the desperation in his grip, and how he hung on a moment longer than strictly necessary. “What’s the job?”
Miranda grinned and held out the piece of paper in her hands. Declan took it and stared at it for a disbelieving moment before he looked up at her again, his smile and the look of wonder in his eyes now completely genuine. “Wait a second. This job you were so worried about…you applied here?”
“Yup.” Miranda’s grin turned triumphant. “You’re looking at the newest faculty member in the undergraduate physics department.”
Declan looked up at her like he still couldn’t believe his ears. “But…why? You could be out there…I don’t know, figuring out the secret to faster than light travel or something. Being the next Einstein. Why would you want to stick around here and put up with a bunch of self-important, know-it-all undergraduates?”
“You do it,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but I’m insane,” Declan argued. “Just ask Peggy.”
Peggy laughed, but didn’t contradict him.
Miranda unsuccessfully fought a smile. She shrugged. “Well, what can I say, Declan. You inspired me. All these years of watching you with your students…of learning from you myself even if I never took one of your classes, I’ve watched the way you make the past interesting. You make your students care about people who’ve been dead for centuries. You made me care about people whose lives have been touched by something extraordinary: made me want to know why and how just as much as you do. I know I won’t be as good at that as you are, not for a while probably, but I want to try.”
“Personally,” Peggy put in. “I think it’s fantastic.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled,” Declan agreed in a hurry. “I guess I’m just…surprised. Flabbergasted, really. Not to mention flattered.” He looked at Miranda with an almost humbled expression on his face. “You really mean it?”
“Every word,” Miranda stated firmly.
“Then why didn’t you tell me about this, I don’t know, days ago?” Declan asked. “I could’ve put in a good word for you.”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Miranda admitted. “Especially once it started to look like they weren’t going to call. And when they did contact me to set up the interview, I almost missed it. If Nick hadn’t picked up the letter when I dropped it, I might have just assumed the worst and never even noticed.”
Declan and Peggy exchanged a surprised glance. “Nick?” he asked.
Miranda nodded. “I ran into him at the post office. If I didn’t know better I’d say he tracked me down.” She looked at Peggy. “I didn’t go looking for him, I promise.”
Peggy smiled ruefully. “That’s okay. I may have overreacted a little anyway.”
Declan paced back and forth, obviously still trying to process this latest twist in the story. “So Nick helped you get your interview…which in turn got you the job.”
Miranda nodded again. “But that’s not even the weird part.”
Declan’s whole posture improved in an instant. “There’s a weirder part?”
Miranda nodded. “When I went to talk to Dr. McGrath, the head of the department, he mentioned that he’d pretty much decided not to give me an interview. Apparently he’s been hearing stories about us for years from Professor Waldau, especially about you: he complains all the time that you’re irresponsible and unfocused and an embarrassment to the university.”
Declan winced.
Miranda continued. “Dr. McGrath figured if you were as much of an influence on me as Waldau seemed to think, then he didn’t want me on his staff. And since Dr. McGrath had never had me in a class himself because I started here as a graduate student, that was all he had to go on.”
“So what changed his mind?” Peggy asked curiously.
“That’s where it gets weird,” Miranda said. “He said a couple of days ago, an old acquaintance of his turned up out of nowhere. Someone he hadn’t seen in years. They got to talking, and somehow the subject of my application came up. He told him what he’d decided and this friend of his said that what he’d heard about you couldn’t be more different: that you were tough but fair, and one of the most popular professors in the school of anthropology because you made your subject interesting. That there were students who had changed majors after taking your class because you inspired them. He said that, in his opinion, there were worse professors I could emulate. Like, for instance, Professor Waldau.”
Declan grimaced giddily. “Ooh, ouch!”
“So, he decided to ask around, get a third opinion, and everyone else he talked to said the same thing. Even Dr. Gale. And he realized that Professor Waldau just doesn’t like anyone who isn’t deadly serious about their subject, so he decided to give me a shot.”
“That’s great,” Peggy enthused. “But what’s weird about it?”
Miranda looked amused, confused, and a little awed all at once. “That old acquaintance, the one who’d inspired him to go into teaching and then disappeared for thirty years? His name was Nick Von Myra. And according to Dr. McGrath, he looked like he hadn’t aged a day.”
*****
“You know, you guys really didn’t have to do this,” Declan insisted as he accepted a wrapped package from Miranda, who’d been gradually distributing the pile of gifts under the tree. It was bigger than he remembered, but then he’d probably just forgotten to take Peggy’s contribution into account.
Mole lifted his head from where he’d been nuzzling a pile of wrapping paper and barked once. Peggy and Miranda both laughed. “I’m with him,” Miranda said as she passed another package to Peggy. “I don’t believe it either.”
“No, I mean it this time,” Declan insisted, looking from one to the other. “You guys both already gave me the best Christmas gift I could’ve asked for.”
They both looked pleased, if a little embarrassed. “I still can’t get over that,” Miranda admitted. “I mean…not that we all wanted the same thing, more or less, but how did Nick know?”
“Well, he did talk to all of us,” Peggy pointed out. “And I’d be willing to bet that all of us talked about each other. He is a very perceptive man.” She pulled the last of the wrapping paper off the gift in her hands and raised an eyebrow. “Very funny, Declan.”
“What?” Declan leaned forward, curious. “What’d I do?”
Peggy held up the book, an old but well-loved and well-preserved copy of The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, by L. Frank Baum.
“I didn’t give that to you,” he objected.
Peggy looked at him, puzzled, before glancing to Miranda. Miranda shook her head. “Me neither.”
“Well, that’s odd.” Frowning, Peggy opened the front cover and turned a few pages, but there was no inscription, no indication of where the book had come from. “It’s a beautiful book. And so old: it must’ve cost a fortune.”
“Oh!” Miranda exclaimed as the paper fell away from her latest gift. “Speaking of a fortune.” She gingerly lifted from the box an antique glass ornament blown in the shape of Father Christmas himself. The bright, metallic paint was a little worn with age, but otherwise the ornament was in beautiful condition. “This must be at least fifty, sixty years old,” she stated in an awestruck voice. “Maybe older. Where did you find it?”
Declan shook his head in amazement. “I didn’t,” he repeated, glancing down at the package in his own hands, which, come to think of it, was wrapped in the same paper. Suddenly overcome with curiosity, he ripped the paper away and lifted the lid off the box. When he saw what was inside, his mouth dropped open. “Holy…”
“What is it?” Peggy asked.
Lifting it out of the tissue with the same reverence Miranda had shown the ornament, he turned it around for them to see. The frame was simple enough–a basic design in a deep red cherry wood—but it was the contents that were remarkable. Matted on green velvet with a dried sprig of real holly at the top right and bottom left hand corners was a clipping from a newspaper. A very old one, judging by the discoloration of the paper, and the article itself. “Is There a Santa Claus?” the headline declared in bold, serif type, followed a paragraph down by the answer that was so well known it had become a cliché: Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus.
“Oh. Oh my,” Peggy exclaimed.
“Is that a copy of the original article?” Miranda asked, awed.
“I don’t know,” Declan admitted. “But if it is…” He glanced back into the box and was surprised to find a card sitting there under the frame. He picked it up and read it aloud.
“‘Dear Declan, Miranda, and most especially Dr. Fowler,
“‘As great a pleasure as it’s been to meet and spend time with you all, I’m afraid my work here is done and it’s past time I was getting home. Dr. Fowler, you may tell the state of Oregon that they needn’t fear for my sanity, as I shan’t be their problem any longer.
“‘In parting, I hope you all will forgive me if I succumb just this once to the cliché. While I know that none of these gifts can be said to be your hearts’ desires, I hope you will enjoy them regardless and remember me fondly whenever you look at them. I know I shall certainly remember all of you.
“‘Your friend, however briefly,
“‘Nick.'”
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Peggy was the one who finally broke the silence. “This is insane. We don’t know anything about Nick. He could’ve had all these things for years, collected them over time to reinforce his delusion…”
“Yeah, but how much time?” Declan pointed out, indicating the article. “I mean, look at this. For Nick to have clipped this out of the newspaper himself, he’d have to be over a century old, at least.”
“Or he could’ve bought it. He could very well be a very wealthy man. Maybe one who never felt he did enough to share what he had, so he made himself into someone more generous.”
Declan shrugged. “Maybe.” Honestly, he didn’t really mind Peggy rationalizing it. She could be right. They certainly hadn’t found any evidence to the contrary.
“So what do you think it means?” Miranda asked. “Do you think he really is St. Nicholas?”
Declan studied the article for a moment before answering. His eyes fixed on two lines in particular: He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. and Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
Maybe that was Nick’s way of saying they’d never know for sure, but Declan was surprised to realize he didn’t care. There were plenty of other wonders, seen and unseen, out there for him to discover. The important thing was that he, Miranda and Peggy would discover them together.
He touched the glass in the frame and smiled. “I think it doesn’t matter.”
Bibliography:
“Miracle on 34th Street”
“The Santa Clause”
Eureka – “O Little Town”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Nicholas
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Claus
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yes,_Virginia,_there_is_a_Santa_Claus
http://history.nasa.gov/ap08fj/16day4_final_orbit_tei.htm
