This concept has been bouncing around in my brain lobes for awhile, but it was only recently that I decide to turn this into a Christmas story.  I hope you enjoy!

I'd like to acknowledge my little brother, Matthew, who put up with pretty much the entire creative process, including constant comments like "Now what if Gary…" and "That would be good for my story…"  And I'd also like to thank Tracy, who sent me a wonderful present in the mail that frequently served as my inspiration. :-)

Of course, Gary, Marissa, and Chuck (yep, he's in this one because I wanted him in this one- so there! :-P) do not belong to me.  They belong to Columbia Tristar, the writers that conceived them, and the actors that brought them to life.  Because nobody saw fit to give Gary a happy Christmas, I have provided one for him.  I promise I will return all the characters unharmed after I'm done.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Value of Little Things
by Stephanie Souders

A river starts with a stream, that began with a creek, and was once a single drop of water... You never know when a little thing will come along that will change your life.  Or a little thing that you do might change the life of someone else.  No one is alone.  We're all connected.
     -Monica, "Monica's Bad Day," Touched By An Angel

"Hey, cat."  Chuck reached down and picked up the newspaper lying on his best friend's stoop.  The tabby returned Chuck's greeting with a low growl.  "Yeah?  Merry Christmas to you too, furball."

Chuck glanced at his watch- 6:45 am.  _I wonder why Gar hasn't picked up his paper yet_, he thought to himself as he knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" a muffled voice groaned from inside.  Gary was probably sleeping with his face in his pillow again.

"Open up, Gar.  It's me."

There was a significant pause before the door finally opened.  Chuck raised his eyebrows slightly at the sight that met his eyes.  Gary's dark hair was in complete disarray, with some strands plastered against his forehead and others sticking up in the air in untamed cowlicks.  His muddy green eyes were glazed over, and a bit of a crust had formed on his right lower lashes.  On his right cheek was a bright red mark- it looked like an imprint of the corner of his blanket.  He was clad in his usual sleepwear- rumpled tee-shirt and sweats- and the hand that was holding the door open was wrapped in white gauze.  "Whoa," Chuck breathed.  "What happened to you?"

"Last night, I had to put out the McGuiness family Christmas tree," Gary grumbled in response, snatching the Sun-Times from Chuck's hands.  "What the paper neglected to tell me was that the McGuiness family dog would be guarding the tree."

"Ow."  Chuck cringed- he could already see where this was going.

"Oh, I would've been fine if Marissa hadn't insisted I go to the emergency room to get stitches.  The place was a madhouse- I didn't get in until 2 am."  Then, as if Gary had just then realized who was talking to, he suddenly exclaimed, "Chuck, what are you doing here?"

"Why is it you always ask me that every time I come to visit?" Chuck groused.  "I just wanted to spend the holidays with my best bud.  Merry Christmas, Gar."  Chuck cuffed Gary on the shoulder.  "By the way, um, you have something in your eye…"  Gary rubbed his eyes with his fingers.  "So, anything in the paper today?"

Gary walked into his kitchenette and poured himself a mug of coffee- nice, strong coffee.  He looked down at the paper- and put his mug down with a loud thunk when he saw the headline on the first page.  "Oh, no…"

"What is it, Gar?"

Later, Gary, Marissa, and Chuck sat conferring at the bar.

"Read the story to me, Gary," Marissa insisted, leaning forward with interest.

"One Killed, Two Seriously Injured in Hit and Run.  Christmas eve, an evening that should've been joyful, turned tragic last night at 5 pm when an unidentified vehicle drove up onto the sidewalk in front of the Bloomingdales on Michigan Avenue, killing one last minute shopper and seriously injuring her husband and eight year old son.  The search still continues for the driver at fault, who witnesses believe may have been driving under the influence.  The names of the victims have been withheld at the family's request."

"No name for the driver or the victim?" Chuck commented.  "That doesn't give you a lot to go on."

"Tell me about it."

"What are you going to do?" Marissa asked.

"I guess I'm going to have to go there myself tonight and keep everyone off the sidewalk until that car goes by."  Gary shrugged into his black and blue coat as he spoke.  "Sorry, Marissa, I guess I'm going to miss the party with the staff."

"That's alright, Gary, I understand."  There was a twinge of disappointment in her voice.

"Where are you off to now?"  Chuck piped up.

"Oh, I, um, have to go out and buy a Furby."

"Huh?"

"If I don't find one before the city runs out, Martin Wallace is going to spend Christmas Eve in jail for assault."

"Good luck, Gary," Marissa called after him.  "And be careful tonight, alright?"

"I will."

*****

Little baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give our King, pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum
Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum
On my drum?

*****

Standing in front of the Toys R Us on North Western Avenue, Gary once again looked down at the carton he held in his hands.  He certainly didn't remember toys looking this ridiculous when he was a kid.  It seemed like such a silly thing to get in a brawl over.

Walking into the store, he was assaulted by a kaleidoscope of color- pink, red, blue, yellow, and shiny chrome.  The place was packed with panic-stricken parents arguing with the clerks and each other.  On the loudspeaker, a piano played the melody to "The Little Drummer Boy," but the music could only barely be heard over the din.

Two gentlemen reached one shelf at the same time and grabbed for the same box.  Gary paused and watched the scene unfold.

"Oh, no," said one, a man in his late forties with dark eyes and a receding hairline.  "I got here first, buddy.  Hand it over."

The other man, somewhat younger and dressed in a business suit and round glasses, pulled the box towards his chest and responded, "I don't think so.  I think I was here first."

Gary saw the light in the older man's eyes and decided to step in.  "Martin Wallace?"

"What?" he snapped, irritated at the interloper.

"I-is it really worth getting into a fight over, Martin?"

"What's it to you, kid?  And how do you know my name?"

"I-I-I know you've got a six year old daughter at home that would really miss her daddy if he ended up in jail on Christmas Eve," Gary stammered.  "And I know you've got a wife that would prefer you be home too.  Is this- is this really what you want Christmas to mean?"  Gary's gesture took in the whole scene.  "A black eye over a toy?"  His voice softened and he held out the Furby he bought earlier that morning.  "Listen, if the Furby is that important to you, you can have this one.  I don't need it."

Martin Wallace was genuinely shocked at the generosity of the young man standing in front of him.  His mouth was hanging open slightly- shutting it quickly when he realized he was gaping, he reached out and took the toy from Gary's hands.  "Thank you, kid," he said with some amount of wonder.  Remorse in his eyes, he turned to the second gentleman.  "Listen, I'm sorry.  I don't know what got into me.  This season has just been crazy."

The man in the glasses smiled.  "That's alright, I know what you mean.  Hey, after I get done here, I was planning on getting a drink.  Would you like to join me?"

"I'd be happy to."  Martin turned around to offer an invitation to the kid who had probably saved his Christmas.  "Listen, what's your name, kid…"  But he trailed off when he realized the kid had disappeared.

*****
 
Outside, Gary pulled on his gloves, struggling a bit with the bandage on his right hand, then took the paper out of his back pocket and checked the front page- the hit and run was still there.  Sighing, he put the paper back in his pocket and began to walk down the street.  He stopped when a man wearing a tattered hat and scarf approached him.

"Do you have any change, sir?" he croaked in a worn voice.

"I think so."  Gary took off his right glove and reached into his pocket, pulling out a dollar's worth of change in quarters, nickels and dimes.

"Thank you so much, young man," the beggar said as Gary dropped the money into his cup.  "You are a generous soul."

"You're welcome," Gary replied as the man walked away.  He wriggled his fingers back into his glove, and was about to cross the street when something caught his eye.

The beggar who had just asked him for change was now talking to a woman who was holding a little girl.  Both were dressed in several layers of dirty clothing, and the child had no mittens.  When the beggar kissed this woman and hugged the girl, Gary realized with a sudden sadness that they must be a family.

"Um, excuse me, sir!" Gary called out to the man, picking up his pace to catch up to him before he disappeared.  The beggar and his wife paused and turned around, confusion on their features.  Gary fumbled for his wallet as he spoke.  "Um, why don't you take this."  He held out several crumpled bills- the rest of the money he had withdrawn from the bank before going to the store.  "You can…stay in a hotel or something.  I-it's going to get pretty cold tonight.  Maybe get something to eat."  Gary smiled at the child, who stared at him with large green eyes.  "And maybe you can get some mittens for your daughter too."

"I can't take this," the man choked, amazement in his voice.

"Please."

After a moment of silence, the beggar took the money.  "Thank you," he whispered.  He turned and started walking away, his arms around his wife and daughter.  He didn't want the good samaritan to see the tears in his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," Gary said quietly to the man's retreating back.

*****

O come, o Day-spring come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
And drive away the shades of night
And pierce the clouds and bring us light

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee o Israel

*****

Richard Lowman stepped out of the store and pulled the item he'd purchased out of its plastic bag- a tiny pair of mittens.  They were pink, Tessa's favorite color.

He thought again of the stranger who gave him the money to buy the mittens- remembered the astonishing sincerity in the man's eyes as he held out the bills.  Richard had never been inclined to believe in angels- especially not with his struggles to earn enough money to pay the rent- but now he was beginning to entertain the possibility.  That young man was like a light in the darkness.

Ever since he was evicted from his tiny apartment two months ago, Richard, his wife Beth, and his daughter Tessa had been moving from shelter to shelter, Richard desperately trying to find work.  It felt so good to put his daughter down for a nap in a room that was their own, even if it was just for one night.  It was about the best Christmas gift Richard could ask for.

Blinking back the burning sensation in his eyes, Richard put the mittens back in the bag and started the walk back to the hotel.  He was about halfway there when he saw the young girl.

She looked like she was only fifteen or sixteen.  Her clothes were somewhat worn, but still in fairly good condition.  She was standing on the street corner begging for some change, but people passed by without a second glance.

Richard watched as the girl sat down on the curb, her face falling into her hands.  She looked like she was crying- sympathetic, Richard crossed the street and sat down next to her.

"What's wrong, young lady?"

The girl jumped at the voice- and recoiled when she saw the speaker, suspicion and some fear in her green eyes.  _Eyes like Tessa's_, Richard thought to himself.  "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

The girl relaxed only slightly and looked away.  "I have to catch the bus to Skokie, but I don't have any money."

"Who's in Skokie?" Richard asked.  Then an idea struck him.  "Your parents?"

The girl turned and stared at him in surprise.  "Yes.  I-I left home a few months ago… but I want to come back…"  Tears tracked mascara down her cheeks- Richard felt the urge to reach out and wipe those tears off her face, but he resisted it.  Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

"Here, take this," he said.  "Some guy just gave me all the money in his wallet completely out of the blue.  I really don't need it all."

The girl shook her head.  "I-I can't.  It's too much- you could use that money for food…"

"We can eat at the mission tonight," Richard interrupted.  "I want you to have this.  Maybe… maybe you can get your parents something for the holidays."

The girl looked at Richard with wonder.  Here was someone in even more dire straits than she was, and he was offering her more than she needed.  "Why are you being so kind?"

"Because I have a daughter.  Her name is Tessa… and she has eyes just like yours," Richard added, pointing to the girl's face.  "And I know that if my daughter left home, no matter the circumstances, I'd still be happy to see her on Christmas."

The girl smiled and wrapped her arms around Richard, hugging him tightly.  "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Richard responded.  "Now go on and get that bus and go home.  I'm sure your mother and father are waiting."  He pulled away, squeezing her arm gently before she picked up her bag and took off running, disappearing down the sidewalk.

*****

 I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Savior did come forth to die
For poor on'ry people like you and like I
I wonder as I wander out under the sky

*****

Karen Whittacker paused for a moment in front of the church, listening to the music emanating from within.  The choir was practicing for the Christmas Eve performance, and the vibrant voice of the soloist reached the sidewalk outside.  "I Wonder as I Wander" had always been one of her favorite songs, but now it seemed to resonate more than ever.

When the school year began in September, Karen dreaded going back to high school.  Freshman year was difficult enough, and sophomore year was promising to be even worse.  Every class was a chore, and it certainly didn't help that the boys seemed to leer at her from every hallway.  During the last year, she started to rebel- skipping classes, going out with friends.  And the more she got into trouble, the more her parents tightened the reigns- and the more she longed to escape from their supervision.

Everything exploded the night she came home several hours after curfew, drunk and smelling like smoke.  Her parents threatened to ground her until Thanksgiving- Karen remembered screaming at them that they were unfair and storming out with her duffel bag packed, vowing never to come back.  She had no plans then- she only knew she wanted to go into the city and make a life for herself away from her parents' intervention.

The next few months, she drifted.  Without a high school diploma, Karen could only get the most menial jobs.  She lived in the shelters sometimes- and other times she slept in churches or in alley ways.  Then came that terrifying night a week ago.

Karen closed her eyes tightly, pushing the image of the man who assaulted her- and might have killed her, if some stranger hadn't hit her attacker from behind- out of her mind.  Opening her eyes, she looked down at the bouquet of flowers in her hand and smiled when she thought of the man who helped her buy them- and helped her get home.

She walked away from the church and, after a few blocks, found herself standing at her front door.  Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell.

Inside the house, Karen heard a loud crash, then the sound of running footsteps and a child shouting, "It's the mailman!"  Then the door opened and Karen found herself facing her little brother and sister, Michael and Amanda.

Both kids blinked brilliant green eyes, nonplussed.  Then Amanda screamed, "Mom!  It's Karen!  Karen's home!"

Karen's mother, Tracy Whittacker, came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.  "Amanda, what are you-" she began, but she stopped instantly when she saw who was standing in the doorway.  Her hand flew towards her mouth.  "Karen?"

Tears spilled from Karen's eyes.  "Mom."  She held out the flowers.  "I'm sorry.  I want to come home."

Tracy stood shocked, a long moment passing before she finally took her daughter into a powerful embrace.  "Oh, thank God you're home," she sobbed into Karen's shoulder.  "Thank God you're home."

Amanda and Michael, who had been watching the scene silently, wrapped their arms around their mother and older sister.  For several minutes, the family remained tied together in this way- and Karen reveled in it.  It was the warmest thing she had experienced in a long time.

Tracy was the first to finally pull away.  Wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron, she once again whispered, "Thank God."  Then, disappearing back into the kitchen, she said, "Oh, God, I have to go call your father."

*****

O come, o come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee O Israel

*****

Martin Wallace savored the burn of the whiskey as he drank the shot, then set the glass on the counter and turned to his companion.  "So…"

The man sitting next to him adjusted his glasses and introduced himself.  "Tom.  Tom Whittacker."

"So, Tom," Martin began again, "I'm guessing you've got some kids in elementary school at home."

Tom smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.  "I have three kids.  Amanda- she's the one who wanted the Furby- is six.  Michael is eight, and Karen…"  He paused and looked down.  "She's fifteen."

Martin picked up on Tom's sadness.  "What's wrong?"

Tom glanced up and sighed.  "Karen stormed out a few months ago.  I don't know where she is, or whether she's okay.  All I know is, I want her back home, safe.  I don't even remember what we were fighting about, to tell you the truth."  He took a long swig of his beer.  "God, I'm sorry to load all my problems on you."

"No, it's alright," Martin replied.  "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"What about you?" Tom asked.  "You look a little old to have kids in elementary school."

Martin laughed.  "My wife and I, we started kind of late.  We adopted our daughter Amy- she's Amanda's age, as a matter of fact."

At that moment, the cell phone in Tom's pocket went off.  "Excuse me a minute," he said as he pulled the phone out and flipped it open.  "Hello?  Tracy?  Wait a minute, slow down…What?"  Tom stood up abruptly, knocking his beer over.  Martin reached for some napkins to mop up the spill.  "She's home?  Oh my God… I-I'll get home as soon as I can.  Okay-okay, goodbye."  Tom closed the phone and put it back in his pocket, a large grin spreading across his face.

"What is it?  Good news?" Martin inquired.

"Karen has come home.  She's alright!" Tom shouted, throwing his arms around Martin before he realized what he was doing.  Then, embarrassed, he pulled away, clearing his throat.  "Um, I have to get home," he mumbled as he put on his coat and picked up his bags.  "Maybe our wives can set up a play date for Amanda and Amy."

"Sure," Martin responded.  Taking a dry napkin, he took a ballpoint pen out of his pocket.  "Just let me give you my number," he said as he started to write.  "And maybe we can go out for drinks again sometime."

Suddenly, a voice thundered out from the other end of the bar.  "I will let you know when I'm finished!  Now keep them coming!"  Martin and Tom both turned to see a man with a long, gray coat and a heavy five o'clock shadow holding the bartender by the shirt, anger contorting his features.

"Whoa, wait a second, pal."  Martin had decided to step in.  Prying the man's fingers from the bartender's collar, he advised, "Maybe you have had enough for today, huh?"

The man fixed him with an icy glare.  "Wha' do you know?  How much I dri-ink is none of yer business…" he slurred, sitting back down on his stool and swaying slightly from the movement.

Behind Martin, Tom provided input.  "It is his business when you try to manhandle the bartender.  What's going on?"

"Why do you care?"  The man's face fell into his hands.  After a long silence, he brought his head up- his eyes were swollen and bloodshot.  "I lost my job about six months ago," he began, concentrating on forming coherent sentences.  "My daughter, Lisa, she really wants a Furby, but I'm not going to be able to afford anything this year."  He laughed- the sound was hollow.  "I thought about selling the car, but it's too late now.  I guess my family won't have a Christmas this year."

Martin fingered the plastic Toys R Us bag he had taken with him into the bar, thinking.  Then, a crazy idea stuck him.  "Listen, I might be able to give you a Furby if you need one."

The man and Tom responded simultaneously.  "What?"

Martin dug the carton out from under several other toys and placed it on the table.  "Some guy just gave me this for no reason at all- and he stopped me from clocking this man right here too."  He gestured to Tom.  "I might have been in jail right now if he hadn't reminded me what the holidays are really about.  Giving.  And family."

The man didn't know quite what to say.  He took the toy from the table and stared at it, trying to make sense of it all.

"Martin's right," Tom piped up.  "Tonight, my daughter finally came home.  And no matter what I get for Christmas this year, being able to hold Karen in my arms will be the best gift of all.  I can give you some of the toys in my bags to take home to your daughter- we'll both figure out some way to explain it to our own children."

"Thank you," the man murmured, his eyes shining.

"Why don't I go call a cab for you so you can go home and celebrate Christmas Eve with your daughter?" Tom continued.  "You probably shouldn't be on the roads right now."

The man could only nod in reply.

*****

Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays
'Cause no matter how far away you roam
When you long for the sunshine of a friendly gaze
For the holidays you can't beat home, sweet home

Tonight I'll dream of a place I like
And soon I will be there
Even tho' so many miles lie between
I can't hardly wait to see the one
I'm always thinking of
There'll be cold and stormy weather
But we all will be together

*****

"And just like that, the headline was gone."

Gary was telling the story to Marissa and Chuck in the office while changing the bandage on his hand, extreme puzzlement etching his features.  "Home for the Holidays" filtered in from the bar outside, where the staff and a few customers were enjoying some eggnog and holiday revelry.

"Maybe it was a miracle," Marissa mused.

"A miracle?"  Gary's tone was somewhat skeptical.

"Look," Marissa responded, "ever since you started getting the paper, it's always given you exactly what you need when you need it.  Somehow, something you did this morning had to have been connected to the hit and run."

"Yes, but how?" Gary asked, leaning forward.  "All I did was stop a fight in a toy store and give some money to a homeless family.  How could either of those things be connected to a hit and run on Michigan Avenue?"

"Who cares?" Chuck interjected.  "The important thing is, the paper gave you the night off.  Just sit back, relax, and join the party!  Everyone is wondering when you're going to emerge."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Gary mumbled as Chuck grabbed his arm and pulled him out the office door, Marissa following close behind.

As soon as Gary entered the bar, the music stopped and there was a thunderous round of applause.  "What's going on?" he whispered to his friends, utterly confused.

"Gary, the party I've been planning all this week isn't for the staff," Marissa told him.  "The party is for you."

"Howzat?"  Gary looked at Chuck to confirm what he was hearing.

"Marissa called me a week ago.  She and I figured you've spent too many Christmases alone lately, and it's time we did something to change that."  Chuck put his hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Merry Christmas, buddy.  We're glad you could make it."

Speechless, Gary took in the room.  Somebody had dragged in a real Christmas tree and set it up in one corner of the room, decorating it with twinkling lights and tinsel.  Pine boughs and ribbon had been strung all the way around the ceiling.  And the place was packed with the entire staff of McGinty's and their families- cooks, bartenders, everyone.  Even some of the regular customers had decided to drop by.

"Thanks," Gary finally managed, still overwhelmed by it all.

"You're welcome," Chuck responded.  Then he turned and addressed everyone in the room with a sweeping gesture.  "Well, what are you just standing there for, huh?  Someone crank up the music and let's get this show on the road!"

For the next two hours, Gary Hobson was given the license to have fun.  He talked, danced, drank eggnog, and smiled- even Marissa, who couldn't see Gary's eyes dancing, sensed that he was glowing.  But the highlight of the evening came at the end of the party, when every single female employee kissed Gary on the cheek on their way out, leaving Gary stammering and blushing and sending Chuck into fits of jealousy.

"I can't stand it, I tell you!" Chuck yelled at one point, after Robin kissed Gary and wished him a merry Christmas.

After the last partygoer left, Gary helped Marissa and Chuck pick up the mess.

"Marissa, these cookies are great," Chuck said with his mouth full as they were bringing the leftovers into the kitchen.

"Thank you.  They're my mother's recipe."

"You know, I think I know some people who may appreciate your mother's recipe even more than we do," Gary murmured.  Chuck and Marissa turned around to find Gary once again buried in his newspaper.

"Who?" both of them asked in unison.
 
"The 16th Street Mission," Gary answered, holding out the paper and indicating a headline on the front page- "16th Street Mission Serves to Overflowing Crowds."

"Gary, that's a great idea!" Marissa exclaimed.  "We should probably make more, though.  I think Chuck has eaten most of this batch."

"Hey!"  Chuck put on his best injured puppy dog face.  "I can't help that your cookies are so irresistible.  It's all your mother's fault."

Grinning, Gary said, "Just tell us what to do, Marissa, and we'll help you make some.  And maybe we can make some soup and sandwiches too."

Marissa ended up doing most of the cooking, not trusting her friends, no matter how willing to assist, to avoid ruining anything.  Mixing the batter for her famous cinnamon cookies, she found herself out of flour.  "Gary, would you get the flour for me?"

"Sure."

"I'll help," Chuck jumped in.

Both men shouldered their way into the storeroom and looked up at the shelves.  "It's on the top shelf," Gary observed.  "Do you see the ladder?"

"Yeah, it's right over here," Chuck replied, bringing it over.

"You spot me, and I'll get it."  Gary stepped up onto the ladder and reached up to grab a brown paper bag.  He was about to climb back down when the bag got caught on a nail, tearing open and emptying its contents onto Chuck's head.

Chuck stood there sputtering and brushing off, flour snowing from his body onto the floor.  Gary jumped down and almost cracked up, but after seeing the look on Chuck's face, he wisely swallowed his mirth.  "Um, gosh, I'm sorry about that, Chuck."

"That's alright," Chuck said calmly.  Then an evil glint started to shine in his eyes.  "Actually, I kinda like being covered in flour.  And I think," he continued, bending down and gathering the white stuff in his fists, "that you might enjoy it too…"

"Oh, no, no, no!" Gary cried, holding his hands up as a shield and backing away.

"Come here, buddy!" Chuck shouted, jumping on Gary and rubbing flour into his hair.

"Alright, that's it, you asked for it!"

Marissa had heard the commotion, and had made her way over to the doorway of the storeroom.  "What are you- hey!"  She had gotten there just in time to receive the face full of flour intended for Chuck.

At that, total chaos erupted.  The melee lasted a full five minutes, clouds of flour flying in every direction.  Finally, they stumble out of the storeroom, Gary carrying an intact bag of flour and all three of them gasping for breath, covered in a fine film of white.

"You know," Gary choked, "we should probably clean up before we go to the mission."

"Does it look that bad?" Marissa asked.

Gary and Chuck exchanged a look, then burst into laughter.

*****

We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts, we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star

O star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to thy perfect light

*****

Bundled up against the wind, their arms loaded with food, Gary, Chuck, and Marissa were welcomed into the 16th Street Mission with open arms.  "We Three Kings" was being played on a small piano standing next to a beautiful Christmas tree against the back wall.

"Thank you so much," the lead volunteer, Betsy Clancy, gushed as she took their burden from their hands.  "We can always use the food- as you can see, we get quite a crowd on cold nights like this."

"Do you need us to help serve?" Gary offered.

"Of course, we can always use some extra hands."

Gary was serving the soup when he heard a small child cry, "Daddy, look!  It's that man!"  He turned around just as a little girl collided with his legs.

"Hello there," he said softly, crouching down to the child's level.  "What's your name?"

The little girl looked up, and Gary immediately recognized the green eyes- she was the child from earlier that day.  "My name is Tessa, and I'm this many," she replied, holding up four fingers.

"Is that right?"

"Daddy bought me these."  She pulled pink mittens out of her coat pocket.

"They're very pretty."

Just then, another voice cut in.  "It is you."  Gary looked up to find the beggar he helped outside of the Toy R Us smiling down at him.  "I don't think I got the pleasure of learning your name."

Gary stood up and shook the man's hand.  "It's Gary.  Gary Hobson."

"Well, Gary Hobson, I can't thank you enough for what you did for us.  I was starting to lose faith that people are generally good.  You've helped restore that faith."

Gary blushed and looked down.  He had never been very comfortable with receiving praise.  "Well I- I just thought it was the right thing to do…"

Tessa pulled on the bottom of Gary's shirt.  "What is it, honey?"

"You want to know what else?  Santa came."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and he brought me a book."  Tessa grabbed Gary's hand with sticky fingers and started to pull.  "Come on, I want you to see!"

Gary laughed.  "Okay, I'm right behind you."

Sometime later, Chuck saw Marissa struggling with a pot and rushed over to help her.

"Have you seen Gary?" Marissa whispered.

Chuck glanced behind him, then grinned and whispered back, "He's kind of… occupied at the moment."

Gary was sitting in a chair next to the tree, Tessa curled up and fast asleep in his arms.  He was actually a bit tired himself, the four hours of sleep catching up with him.  With the lights on the Christmas tree casting a dim light on his face and the piano playing a quiet melody nearby, Gary could feel his eyelids starting to get heavy.

Richard Lowman finally came and relieved Gary of his burden, and part of Gary was sad to see Tessa go.  Watching the little girl doze in his lap had enlivened old dreams, and he felt vaguely lonely in her absence.

"It's snowing!  It's snowing!"

The shout startled Gary from his reverie.  Several of the children bounded outside, and Gary got up from his seat and followed the movement of the crowd.  Marissa joined him just outside the door.

It had apparently been snowing for awhile- a thin layer blanketed the ground already.  "Describe it to me," Marissa told him.

"Um, well…" he began.  "It's very peaceful.  I mean, I can see everybody's lights on and everything, but there aren't very many people on the street.  It's quiet- the snowflakes are kind of twirling in the wind."

Gary looked back at Marissa and saw that she was smiling.  Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"What was that for?"  There was surprise in Marissa's tone.

"I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have a friend like you."

Chuck poked his head outside the door.  "What are you guys doing standing out there?  Aren't you freezing?"

"We were just enjoying the snow," Marissa responded.

"Oh."

"Hey, Chuck," Gary said abruptly before Chuck could duck back inside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you came to visit.  And thank you- both of you- for everything."

Chuck smiled and stepped all the way outside.  The three wrapped their arms around each other and turned to watch the kids chasing after each other with snowballs.  "Merry Christmas," Gary said after a moment of silence.

"Merry Christmas, Gar."

The pianist inside started to play "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," and the melody drifted outside.  The snow continued to dance around the trio, riding the breeze.  But even though Gary had left his coat inside, he felt warm in the company of friends.

*****

Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more

Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bow
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

*****

The End.

Happy Holidays to all!

Email the author:  Stephanie Souders
 
 

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