Please note that this Christmas story takes place several years into the future in my Roads Not Taken universe.  It wanted to be written (we all know how impatient Trixie is <g>) and I wanted to participate in both Zap’s and Jix’s holiday writing projects.  That said, there are some spoilers (though I don’t think any are of any big surprise – Bob-Whites have children; it’s nothing new in the world of fanfic <g>).  There are some things that might not make sense for those who haven’t read my uni.  There might be things that might not make sense until the chapters in between where I currently am and this story are written (I know what I’m doing…that’s the important part, right? <g>).  But there is nothing that makes the story itself nonsensical and I don’t think there’s anything that will fester in anybody’s curious soul...well, at least not too badly. <g>  Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Amended 12/17 to add a hanky warning I've been advised is needed. (smile)

Jix and Zap elements in green.

The Gift Outright
(originally posted December 16, 2007)

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!”

Trixie’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she tried to concentrate over the merry racket in the next room.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!”

Subject entered several stores in the 1800 block of the shopping district.  Detailed list of all times and locations attached to this email, with notations below on specified activities in certain establishments.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!”

At second establishment entered, subject purchased three items, which were paid for with a credit card (presumably counterfeit).  Store owner willingly turned over copies of receipt and credit card information.  This information has been scanned and is attached to this email.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!”

Trixie closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.  Would the song still be annoying if he knew more than just the first line?  She took a deep breath.  “He’s only a little boy,” she muttered to herself.  “It’s Christmastime.  Don’t be a grouch.”

She turned again to her computer.  At fourth establishment entered, subject purchased one high-ticket item, paying for it with cash (presumably counterfeit).  Store owner was reluctant to turn over the bills – three $100.00 bills – but relented when identification was shown and promissory note given for reimbursement.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!”

“Will,” Trixie called out in a gentle voice, “could you please keep it down a little?  Mama’s trying to work.”

There was blessed silence and Trixie looked heavenward in thanks before returning to her surveillance notes.  Agent lost visual of subject as he entered subway, regained brief contact below, but then lost the trail as subject entered and then quickly exited subway car just prior to doors closing.  Subject may have suspected he was being tailed, but I am confident I was not specifically spotted.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!”

The voice was nearer, but not as audible.  Trixie peered over the front of her desk to see her three-year-old son (“Almost four!” he would constantly remind her) crawling on the floor into her office, singing his carol into the thick carpeting.  “What are you doing?” she asked in exasperation.

“I’m keepin’ it down,” Will stated solemnly.

Trixie didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.  He took everything so literally!  She knew she had been stretched rather thin the past few weeks with work and the holidays, and everything else she had on her plate.  Plus, this pregnancy had her hormones badly out of whack as it was.  Still, it took only one look into her little boy’s somber eyes to convince her she had indeed been a bear lately.

She had to finish this report though.  Having her supervisor on her case would probably be the straw that broke the camel’s back.  “Baby, can you please sing something else for a little while?”

“Like what?”

Gritting her teeth, she replied tersely, “I really don’t care, but ‘Jingle Bells’ is getting on my last nerve and I have to finish this report.”

Will’s bottom lip stuck out and his blue eyes grew darker and slightly misty.

Trixie sighed.  Now she was snapping at her son.  She was beyond bear-like; she was officially Ebenezer Scrooge.  She saved her work and pushed back from the desk.  Special Agent Golding would just have to wait.  “Would you like me to read you a story?”

The storm instantly disappeared from Will’s face and he nodded enthusiastically.  “How the Grinch Stoled Christmas!” he shouted, scampering from the room to retrieve his favorite holiday book.

“Well, that was predictable,” Trixie sighed.  She’d already read him the book approximately forty-four times that week, and apparently it was entering her psyche as well.  She wondered if her face was turning green or she was growing long furry curly-cues out the top of her head yet.

As she got up from her chair, her stomach growled.  “Hush, you,” she said sternly to her unborn child.  “You just had breakfast a couple of hours ago.  I’m not going to look like I swallowed an entire watermelon before the end of my fifth month!”  But she was suddenly craving peppermint ice cream…at 10:00 in the morning.  Well, at least it was just ice cream and not some weird combination of vile foods like when she was pregnant with Will.  She still remembered the look of horrified revulsion on Dan’s face when he came home after work early one morning to find her eating nachos she had created using Cool Ranch Doritos, Spam, and Cheez-Whiz.

“Mama!”  Will was standing at the end of the hall, holding the book in his chubby hands.  “Come on!”

Forcing a cheery smile, Trixie went into the living room and sat down on the couch, letting Will crawl up into her lap.  He’d better do it while he still could, she thought ruefully.  She loved her son and her son- or daughter-to-be, and there were a lot of things she actually enjoyed about being pregnant.  But she did not like being overweight and unable to maneuver herself easily.  She missed her physical training sessions with the Secret Service and prayed she could get her figure back as easily as she had after Will was born.  She wasn’t on active protective duties anymore, so the quarterly physical fitness tests weren’t required and she really needed to be forced to discipline herself.  But if she went back to that job with two small children…that would never work.

“Read!” Will demanded and Trixie had an unpleasant flashback of Bobby demanding his three thousandth read-through of Peter Rabbit.  She loved her parents and her little brother very much, but she absolutely refused to let Will become that spoiled.

“Please,” she said softly, but firmly.

“Please,” Will echoed sweetly, placing his small hand over hers imploringly.

Opening the book, Trixie began, “Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot.  But The Grinch, who lived just north of Who-ville…”

“Did not!” Will finished in an awed tone.  “Mama?”

Will’s interruption was as predictable as his choice of reading material.  Trixie couldn’t recall the last time she actually made it all the way through the book without Will going off on a tangent.  He definitely got his impatience from his mother.  “Yes, Will?”

“How come Santa is naked?”

That, however, was not predictable.  In fact, it was downright puzzling.  “What?”

Digging into his pocket, Will pulled out a pen and handed it to his mother.  Trixie’s face turned red as she took it.  How had he gotten that?  The floaty pen was a gag gift from Honey at the Bob-White Christmas Party last Saturday.  Knowing Trixie’s current state of hormonal hyperactivity, she had given her the novelty item that had Santa stripping off his fur-trimmed red suit when the pen was tipped down.

“Because he’s getting ready to take a bath,” she answered quickly.  She tucked the pen in her pocket and vowed to find a place safe from her son’s curious eyes.

“Cuz he’s all covered in soot?”

“That’s right.  Would you like me to read The Night Before Christmas instead?”

“No!  Grinch!”

She continued, “The Grinch hated Christmas!  The whole Christmas season!”

“Mama?”

Trixie forced herself to breathe slowly in and out and speak calmly.  “Yes, Will?”  She wished Dan was here right now.  He’d be so much more patient with his son.

“What’s a humbug?”

Where he had picked up that word, Trixie did not know.  “A humbug is somebody who doesn’t like Christmas, like the Grinch.”

“How come you don’t like Christmas?”

“I do like Christmas.  I love Christmas!  Why do you think I don’t?”

“Unca Jim said you was a humbug.”

Trixie wondered briefly if Jim had said that before or after he came to visit last Friday, the day before the party.  Had she been awful when he was here?  She thought their visit was quite pleasant, all things considered; very pleasant, in fact.  Jim had, however, left rather abruptly and much sooner than she had expected.  Now she was wondering what it was she had said or done to run him off.  It didn’t have anything to do with Dan, did it?  She couldn’t think how, or why.  Gleeps, now her hormones were making her paranoid and delusional in addition to grouchy.  She didn’t remember it being this bad when she had been pregnant with Will.

“Mama?  Please read.”

Smiling in satisfaction at his politeness, Trixie continued, though part of her mind was wondering if Dr. Seuss’ reasoning applied to her, as well as to The Grinch.  “It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.  It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.”

Thinking about the previous weekend, Trixie blushed as she thought, My head is definitely not screwed on right.  And yes, my ankles are swollen, so my shoes are too tight!

“But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.”

That couldn’t be it, could it?  Had she really lost the heart of Christmas?
 

*******************************************

The week before, on the day of the Bob-White Christmas party…

“I’m a party pooper because I don’t want to eat elf poop?  What even possessed you to make such a thing, Mart?” Trixie scowled.

Mart laughed, holding out the bowl of small brown goodies that could only be described as “turd-like”.  “Come on, Trix, it’s Chex, chocolate and peanut butter.  You love all those things.”

“Yes, but you’ve ruined it for me with your extremely unappetizing name,” Trixie said, blanching as her lunch attempted to resurface.

“I’m sorry, Trixie,” sympathized Sally, “I tried to get him to lay off this year on the disgusting desserts.  Apparently, he doesn’t want his Christmas gifts all that badly.”  She gave her husband a dirty look, which he returned with his typical boyish grin.

Ever since Mart had experienced Alice Pemberton’s fruitcake brownies, he had determined to inflict the same punishment on his family and friends.  His culinary tastes wouldn’t allow him to make anything as foul-tasting as the fruitcake brownies, but his wit allowed him to come up with names for otherwise delicious desserts that made them almost as foul.  The boys at the school loved it, of course, but what did you expect of teen and pre-teen boys?

“Is that really poop, Uncle Mart?” Matthew asked doubtfully, poking a finger at the brown globules.

“What do you think?” Mart asked mischievously, popping one into his mouth.

“Daddy?” Matthew asked his father, knowing he’d be straight with him.

“No, Matthew, it’s not really poop – elf or otherwise,” Brian answered, giving Mart a scathing look.  Matthew was already questioning Santa and he didn’t want the seven-year-old having all his Christmas joy ruined at so young an age.

“Hey!” Mart protested.  “Be thankful I didn’t make reindeer poop instead!”

Brian wisely changed the subject.  “All the other Bob-Whites are already up at the Manor House and Honey is chomping at the bit to this party get under way.  Shall we go?”  He offered his arm to his pregnant sister.  Sally swept Will into her arms, snuggling against his neck and making him giggle.  Matthew ran to the family room to hug his grandparents good-bye, then took his Uncle Mart’s free hand as the Belden crew left Crabapple Farm.
 

*******************************************

I don’t think being unwilling to eat food that looks like turds makes me a humbug, Trixie thought, her stomach churning as she remembered the scene. 

She had had a wonderful time at the party; they all had.  Even grown up, married, devoted to their chosen careers, spread across the country, and raising families of their own, the Bob-Whites still made a point to get together several times a year, with Christmas in Sleepyside being their most special time together.

Jim had brought one of his newest students home for the holiday break.  The orphaned boy had no family other than an elderly grandfather who was physically unable to care for an active young boy.  The grandfather lived in White Plains, so Jim had decided to bring Jeffrey with him to Sleepyside and they made a few visits to the boy’s grandfather during the week.

Jeffrey was older than Honey’s and Trixie’s boys and scoffed at their misguided belief in Santa Claus.  Will and Danny had quickly forgotten the brief conversation, but not Matthew.  As smart and as serious as his father, he had begun peppering his parents with questions, trying to worm out the truth.  How could fat Santa fit down the chimney if the skinny Grinch got stuck?  How could reindeer fly when they didn’t have wings?  How could Santa be everywhere in the world in only one night?  How could he fit presents for all the children in the world in one sleigh?  How does Santa know if kids are good or bad?

Brian and Honey had patiently answered his questions to the best of their ability, toeing the narrow line between lying to their son and allowing him to enjoy the innocence of childhood.  But in the end, Brian decided some “proof” was in order, knowing his son would accept nothing less.

Trixie’s eyes teared up at the happy memory of that joyful moment when Matthew, Will, Danny, and yes, even Jeffrey, grew wide-eyed as they heard the sleigh bells outdoors and galloped like a herd of reindeer to the big front window at the Manor House.  Outside and down the hill, two sets of antlers (courtesy of Sleepyside’s only honeymoon deer hunter, Tom Delanoy) could be seen peeking over the ridge of the stable roof.  And not long after that, Santa himself (whose green eyes twinkled very much like Bill Regan’s) came to visit the Bob-White Christmas party, leaving presents for all and spending a few moments with each young boy in turn.

Having come to the Winthrop School from an overcrowded orphanage, it had been several years since Jeffrey had gotten a gift picked out specifically for him, rather than a generic charity donation, and the personally autographed basketball jersey with the name and number of his favorite Chicago Bull on the back made his eyes light up with joy.  As he gave Santa a big hug, Santa winked one eye at Jim, who had discovered the boy's secret wish.  And Jim in turn winked an eye at Tad, who had used his business connections to make that wish a reality.

Trixie blinked away her happy tears.  No, she hadn't lost the heart of Christmas.  She was just...pregnant.  Suddenly, she remembered the gift Santa had given her.  It had a tag on it that said it wasn’t to be opened until Christmas, but surely it was close enough now, wasn’t it?  Surely even Santa knew about Trixie’s legendary impatience.  She grinned as she imagined how Dan would chew her out if she peeked, but a glance downward showed Will had slipped off into his morning nap.  She carefully shifted the little boy off her lap and onto the couch, tucking a pillow under his head.

She tiptoed over to the Christmas tree and gently fingered the large, gaily wrapped box.  It was addressed to her, not The Mangan Family.  Why couldn’t she open it now if she wanted to?  Who was to know?  Will was asleep, Dan wasn’t here.

Dan would know, Trixie thought with chagrin.  He always seems to find out when I’ve been naughty.

She smiled wistfully.  It actually had been awhile since Dan had scolded her, teasingly or seriously, and she had certainly deserved to be on the business end of one of his reprimands more than once in the past few months.  A Christmas gift opened before its time would be minor in comparison.

She glanced at the couch where Will slept on, thumb in his mouth.  Picking up the package, she hurried back to the bedroom and shut the door most of the way, leaving it open just a crack so she could hear Will if he needed her.  She sat down on the bed, placed the box in front of her and studied it for a moment.

This is where her impatient nature would need to be harnessed.  Not to refrain from opening the gift – she’d already made that decision – but to open the gift as carefully as possible and hopefully leave the wrapping fully intact.  Her fingers itched to tear the gift wrap off as she normally did, but instead she slipped one finger under one of the taped ends and with her face fiercely concentrated in an expression worthy of a spy carefully attempting to defuse a bomb, slowly lifted it up.

To her delight, the tape came loose from the paper underneath it rather easily, leaving almost no mark on the wrapping.  She pulled the paper up and carefully straightened it out, peeking inside to see if the box gave any indication what the gift was.  Nope, just a plain white gift box.  Shoot!  Now she’d have to pull the box out of the gift wrap...without tearing it.

She cocked her sandy-blonde head towards the bedroom door, listening.  Not a sound.  She took a glance behind her, half expecting Dan to suddenly appear in the bathroom doorway, arms folded across his chest, a chastising expression on his face, tapping his foot while he tried not to smile at her naughty behavior.  For a moment, she drummed her fingertips on the top of the package, debating.  She had a vision of The Grinch drumming his pointy fingertips on Max’s head as he plotted to ruin Christmas for the Whos and she blushed.  But no, she wasn’t being a grinch or a scrooge or a humbug – not if she really wanted to see her present and couldn’t wait.  That was a good Christmas spirit, right?

Having justified her actions, at least to herself, she turned the box around and gently pulled on the closed end of the wrapping.  If it had been a gift from Mart or Dan, the wrapping would have been extra tight and probably taped directly to the box as well.  But this box had been wrapped by someone less masterful, and Trixie was delighted when the box started sliding easily out of the other end of the wrapping paper.  Her blue eyes as bright as a little girl’s on Christmas morning (which was still more than a week away), she watched as the box came into view and slid onto the top of the worn comforter.  She made a quick inspection of the wrapping paper to make sure it hadn’t been damaged, then carelessly tossed it onto the floor and grabbed hold of the box.

This was it – now it was truly the point of no return.  What if it was something vacuum-packed that she’d never be able to get back into the box once it was opened?  Even worse, what if there was some kind of exploding ink packet inside?  Mart and Tad and Dan had conspired to do that to one of her birthday presents one year, carefully wrapping the gift in several layers of cellophane to protect it and then booby-trapping the box so they’d know if Trixie found it and opened it.  She had and they did, and they laughed every time they saw her ink-stained fingers, until it finally wore off two weeks after her birthday.

But Santa wouldn’t do that, would he?  And since she knew where Mart, Tad, and Dan all were when Santa distributed his gifts, she figured she was safe.

Shivering with anticipation, Trixie opened the box.  Nothing exploded and she breathed a sigh of relief.  Sheets of white tissue paper, not crisp and new, but slightly tattered and limp, covered the top of the box.  Pulling them aside, Trixie first saw the warm colors of a patchwork quilt.  She sucked in her breath, reverently rubbing her hand over it without pulling it from the box.  Then she picked up the envelope on top of the quilt.

It wasn’t sealed, so she opened it and began reading.

My dear Trixie,

Why do I have the feeling it’s not yet Christmas as you are reading this?

Trixie blushed and smiled guiltily.  Looking again at the quilt and knowing the jig was up, she pulled it from the box and lovingly shook it out, admiring the patterns and designs, the rainbow of colors, and the thick warmth of the obviously handmade gift.  Laying it across her swollen belly, she turned again to the letter.

This quilt belonged to my mother and to her mother before her.  It came to me at the same time Dan did and as the memories of opportunities lost were just too painful to deal with, I pushed it far back into the crawl space in my apartment.  I always intended for Dan to have it someday when he had a family, but as it’s been passed from mother to mother (and mothers to be), I thought it only appropriate that it be your gift.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I plain forgot about it, or I would have given it to you when you married Dan, or certainly when Will was born.  It only resurfaced this past summer when the stables were being renovated and that crawl space needed to be cleaned out before construction could begin.

As you know, I was much younger than Cathleen; she had married and moved away when I was still in elementary school and our parents were killed in a car accident just a couple of years later.  To this day, I don’t know why social services couldn’t find her.  Maybe records weren’t as well kept back then, maybe Cathleen and Tim hadn’t settled down in one place yet where they could be found.  When Cathleen defied our father by quitting high school to marry Tim, she lost all touch with us; I’m not sure Cathleen even knew our parents had died. Although life in the orphanage was not pleasant, I don’t hold it against her at all.  She was a young mother and I’m not sure it even would have been an option to have a pre-teen boy as her legal ward, though I certainly would have liked spending any time I could have with her, and with my nephew.

But I remember the quilt well.  I remember my grandmother giving it to my mother shortly before Nana died.  I remember my mother giving it to Cathleen the day she moved away, crying as she left, begging her to stay.  All those memories came flooding back when I saw that quilt again and all I could think was how sad Cathleen would have been if she never had a daughter to pass it on to.

But she did.  If I knew my sister at all, I know she would have loved you, Trixie.  Not as a daughter-in-law, but as her own flesh and blood.  And she would have been shedding tears of great joy when she passed this quilt on to you.

You know I couldn’t handle that – being a man, being a stubborn redhead, remembering all that has happened this past year.  So I hope you won’t think me a coward by letting “Santa” give you this very special gift.  And if that little one inside you is a girl, I’ll look forward – as I know Dan will – to watching you pass it on to her someday.

All my love,
Bill

The letter was as precious a gift as the quilt, and the tears flowed freely down Trixie’s face as she clutched the pages to her breast with one hand, while the other held tightly to the quilt.  She didn’t even care if Dan chided her for opening it early – she knew he wouldn’t anyway – and the look on his face when he saw the quilt would be another very special Christmas gift for her.

She cried for the mother-in-law she had never known and thanked God, and Santa, and Bill Regan, for giving her a happy piece of Dan’s past.