"Blow your nose, honey." Nora handed Taylor a tissue and straightened the collar of his white polo shirt. "Maybe you should take some tissues with you. You can keep them in your pocket."
"In my pocket," Taylor repeated. He stared over Nora�s shoulder at one of the pictures on the mantelpiece. "Is that you, Mommy. . . oops. . ." he blushed, his face truning as read as the sweater Nora had made him put on. "Sorry, Nora."
Nora sighed. "That�s okay, sweetie, it was an accident. But I�m not your mommy, honey. And it will hurt her feelings if you call me Mommy, so remember to call me Nora." She smiled. "Don�t forget and call your mommy Nora!"
Taylor giggled. "That�s not her name. She�s not as nice as you."
Nora cringed. "Don�t tell her that, either, or you�ll really hurt her feelings. Remember, your mommy is trying really, really hard."
"We have to say please and thank you," Taylor recited, in a singsong, "and Merry Christmas, and not say we wish we were at your house, and not say that we love you better than we love Mommy, and Ike can�t say anything bad about her or Dan will find out, and Dan will be mad. . ."
"That�s enough," Nora told him, worried that he�d eventually spiel off this litany of rules to his mother. "I think you�ll know what to do. I trust you. Just be a good boy, okay?"
"I�m always a good boy," Taylor pointed out. "And we can�t say that we want to leave, or wet the bed, or take the cat, or run away. . ."
"When did you add those rules?" Nora asked, not recognizing the last three.
"Ike made them up," Taylor told her. "And we can�t cry, or fight, or hit anybody-even-if-they-hit-us-first. . ."
"Well, you�re very good at memorization," Nora commented.
"And I can�t hog all the covers if we sleep in the same bed," Taylor finished. "Ike made me promise."
Nora grinned. "You would never do that."
"I wouldn�t," Taylor agreed. "If I did, it would be because I was sleeping. If I was sleeping, I wouldn�t know I was doing it, was I?"
"Of course not," Nora assured him. She looked up to see Isaac coming down the stairs. His head down, he was dragging his feet and staring sullenly at the carpet. "You look nice, honey."
Isaac sighed hugely. He slunk into the room and positioned himself on the couch, his arms folded across his chest.
"How are you doing?" Nora asked him.
Isaac sighed again. "I dunno."
"I know this isn�t easy," Nora said, smoothing Taylor�s hair, "but it�ll be a good thing. Good for you guys, and good for your mother, too."
"I guess," Isaac breathed. "I hope so."
"It will," Nora told him, sounding way more sure of herself than she felt. "It will."
"And we will see my mommy on Christmas," Taylor chanted. "And we will see my mommy on the day after Christmas."
"That�s right," Nora agreed, not knowing what else to say.
"It�s two nights," Taylor went on. "Two nights. And today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. And then we come back and see if Santa Claus came here, too. Do you think he will?"
"I�m sure he will." Nora was certain of this. "He definitely will."
"Santa Claus is dead," Isaac muttered. "Dead, dead, dead. . ."
"Ike. . ." Nora warned him.
"Fine," Isaac scowled.
"I know you aren�t happy about this," Nora told him, standing up, "but there�s not really anything anyone can do to change it."
"I know," Isaac sighed.
"Ike. . ." Nora began, then shook her head. "you can call. If things get too bad there, you can call and we will come and pick you up. All three of you. Any time. Day or night. Okay?"
"Okay." Isaac didn�t look reassured. "I guess so."
"It�ll be fine," Nora repeated, attempting to meet Isaac�s eyes. "Believe me, honey, it will be."
"So, are you sure that�s all you need?" Dan asked Zac. He played with the zipper on the edge of the backpack, not ready to close it yet.
"Yeah," Zac agreed. "Just clothes. And Ninja Turtles."
"You don�t want any books or anything?" Dan prodded.
"My mommy doesn�t read to us," Zac told him, matter-of-factly. "And Ike does. And you do. And Nora does. But not my mommy." He smiled. "You read better than she does, anyway."
Dan didn�t know how to respond to that. What did he say. . . thank you? It might very well be true, unfortunately, and to deny it would be a lie. "Well, I don�t know about that."
"Do you like these?" Zac had moved on to the permanent marker that had fallen out of Dan�s pocket and landed on the floor. "You gots lots of them."
"I use them to work," Dan explained, capturing the marker before Zac had time to decorate the bedspread. "I use them to draw."
"Is that what your job is?" Zac wondered.
"Yep. . . pretty much," Dan assured him. "You know that place we go where we drop off the drawings every week?"
"Your office?" Zac asked.
"That�s right, buddy. . . you�re really smart," Dan smiled. "That�s my office. Someday, you and me will go there and go inside and meet my boss."
"How come you never is at your office?" Zac didn�t know much about jobs, and the people who had them, but he did sense that it was kind of unusual to be home all day.
"Well," Dan said, "the good thing about my job is that I have an office at home, too. That�s why I don�t always have to go to my office to work. . . I can pick up assignments there and do them at home."
Zac shook his head, having no clue what Dan was talking about. It sounded kind of nice, though. "When I grow up, can I work at your office?"
"If you want," Dan grinned. "I�d love to work with you."
"When I�m big though," Zac informed him. "When I�m four or five. Or maybe thirty-six or ninety-twelve."
"Are you sure. . . you�d be old enough. . . to go to work. . . when you were only ninety-twelve. . . years old?" Dan sputtered, shaking with silent laughter.
Zac considered this. "Maybe I could wait until I was bigger," he decided. "Ninety fifty-two or ninety-eleven."
"That might be a good idea," Dan agreed.
"Yeah, if I was too little, maybe I should wait to go to work," Zac resolved. "So I wouldn�t break the law."
"We don�t want to break any laws," Dan concurred.
"But I�m not going to work with my mommy though!" Zac exclaimed.
"What�s her job?" Dan couldn�t resist asking.
"She smokes cig�rettes," Zac told him, seriously. "It�s all she ever does," he sighed. Promptly, he changed the subject. "How come that deer�s nose is all red? Does it have a cold?"
"I don�t feel good about this," Dan whispered to Nora. They�d gotten the boys ready and Mary, the social worker, had arrived to pick them up. Dan and Nora had asked if they could drop them off at the halfway-house themselves, but their request had been denied. Children�s Services felt that the less contact there was between foster and biological parents, the better the situation was for everyone. Maybe this was true, Dan thought. . . he didn�t particularly know what he would say to Kathleen, and he didn�t know if he wanted to meet her. Still, he�d feel a lot more comfortable knowing what he was handing the boys over to, that was for sure. As he watched Mary�s car disappear around the corner at the end of the street, he felt a hard knot of worry tighten in his stomach. "I really, really, really don�t feel good about this, Nor. . ."
"I don�t really either," Nora agreed. She tried to shake some sense into herself. "God. . . we have to detach ourselves somehow." She took a deep breath. "This is not good, honey. If anything, we should probably try to be happy for them."
"Yeah, but how do we know she�ll really change?" Dan wondered. "If I just had some kind of insurance. . . if I knew she wouldn�t relapse. . . if I knew for certain that she would never hurt them again, I could turn the boys back over to her. It�s the fact that we don�t know for certain that�s the most awful part about it."
Nora sighed. "This is just a visit. Hopefully, it�ll be a good test of the situation. . . if Kathleen is really incapable of being rehabilitated to the point where she can take care of herself, let alone the boys, we�ll probably see it now. Otherwise, I think it will help her to see them again, and to have them with her for a short period of time. They�re her kids, Dan. She has more of a right to them than we do."
"Well, when does someone cross the line," Dan asked, "and give up their right to have kids any longer?" Neglect and abandonment, in his mind, were certainly line-crossing activities.
Nora shook her head. "I don�t know, Dan. All I know is, I definitely agree with you that the boys should never. . . ever. . . go back to live with her if it will mean that their safety is compromised. The only problem is, we have to give her a chance before we can make that judgment."
"Yeah," Dan sighed, "but I can�t help wondering. . . what if. . ."
"Don�t say it," Nora pleaded. "I�m thinking it."
Dan nodded. "Yeah. . . I guess I just think that the consequences. . . what might happen if she screws up even more badly this time. . . are possibly not worth the risk of giving her a chance."
"She deserves a chance," Nora decided. "She�s lost as much as the kids. . . and the worst thing is, I don�t know if she knows it. She deserves a chance to try again just as much as they do."
"I hope you�re right." Dan shook his head.
"I hope I�m right, too." Nora agreed, nervously.
For the next two days Dan and Nora jumped every time the phone rang; they squirmed through and endless Christmas dinner at Dan�s sister�s house and were certain there would be an awful message on the machine by the time they got home. Instead, there were only the voices of Nora�s sister and her daughters, singing out a Christmas message. "We love you, Auntie Nora! We love you, Uncle Dan! We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we WISH you a merry CHRISTMAS and a HAPPY new YEAR!"
Dan chuckled. "We should save the tape and play it when they get boyfriends. All three of them," he added, thinking of the messy divorce Nora�s sister had just gone through.
"Dan," Nora giggled. "That would be humiliating!"
"My thinking exactly," Dan grinned. His eyes slid toward hers. "You know what we didn�t do last night?"
"What?" Nora asked, worried.
Dan took a deep breath. "We didn�t. . . er, Santa Claus didn�t. . . pay a visit."
Nora nodded. "Let�s do that now."
"Okay," Dan agreed, happily. He dove toward the hallway closet and pulled out a roll of brightly colored wrapping paper. "Woohoo!"
Nora shook her head. "Maybe this will be too exciting for you," she observed, slyly.
Dan shook his head. "No," he said. "This is my favorite part of Christmas."
"You�ve never done it before," Nora pointed out, taking a roll of tape out of a drawer on the hallway table.
"That doesn�t mean I don�t like it!" Dan grinned. "You know, next year. . . I�m going to gain some weight. . ."
"I wish!" Nora interupted, thinking about the extra pounds she was trying not to gain during the holidays. . . and she was the one on her feet half the time, in the emergency room. Dan, on the other hand, whose daily tasks scarcely necessitated leaving his well-worn swivel chair, had the lithe, smooth muscles of a triathlete and the metabolism to go with them. Sometimes, Nora wanted to strangle him.
"You�re crazy," Dan said. "What do you need to lose weight for? Anyway, I�m going to gain weight, and grow a beard and bleach it out, and then I�m going to go down to the mall and get a job. . ."
"You�re the crazy one," Nora smiled. "They�ll think you�re psychopathic."
Dan flung his arms out. "I�m just filled with the Christmas spirit!" he exclaimed.
"I�ll bet," Nora chuckled. "You�re probably just filled with a little too much of the Christmas cheer."
"There�s nothing wrong with Christmas cheer," Dan told Nora, drawing her close to him. "Mrs. Claus," he added, kissing her on the lips.
Nora leaned against him. "I didn�t know you felt that way. . . Mr. Claus. . ." she teased.
"Oh, I do," Dan nodded, pleased that she was playing along with him. "You can never have too much Christmas cheer. . ." He kissed her again. "See, there�s some more."
"If this is the kind of Christmas cheer you�ll be spreading," Nora murmured up to him, "they�ll never give you a job at the mall."
"I should have given them my pager number." Nora opened her eyes in the middle of the night and sat up in bed, waking Dan up. "I forgot to give them my pager number."
Dan yawned, "Wha. . .?" he inquired, blearily.
"My pager number," Nora said. "They should be able to page me, if they want. . ."
"Nor," Dan murmured, "the odds that any of them know how to use a pager are really small."
"Still. . ." Nora shook her head. "It would have made me feel so much better to know that they can use it."
"It would probably just cause more problems if they could," Dan pointed out. "The kids haven�t called yet. They must be fine. They�re probably enjoying themselves. Go back to sleep, Nor. Don�t worry."
"Well, now I almost wish they�d call," Nora sighed. "So I wouldn�t have to worry."
Dan shook his head. "They�re fine. Worrying about this is going to make you crazy."
"Thank God it will be over soon," Nora breathed. "Thank God. . ."
"Nor," Dan groaned, "what�s it going to be like when we have to give them up for good? We can�t turn into emotional wrecks."
"I already am an emotional wreck," Nora lamented. "I know I shouldn�t be, but I am. . ."
"Anyway, they�re coming home. . ." Dan glanced at the bedside clock. "Today."
"Home?" Nora repeated, her voice high-pitched and questioning.
"O-h-h-h. . ." Dan groaned again, into the pillow. "Back, I meant. Coming back." He buried his face in his arms. "I have to emotionally disassociate myself!"
Affectionately, Nora rubbed his back. "Good luck," she smiled. "To us both. . ."
Dan nodded. "We�ll need it."