A Due South Christmas Carol

By Paul E. Jamison

 

STAVE THE FIRST

 

It was late December as Ray Vecchio stood at the back door and looked out into the yard.  It had gotten chilly – he was wearing a sweater, but it wasn't cold enough to button it up.

 

A neighbor had his radio on, tuned to a local deejay.  Ray had never cared much for the rock jock, but today he was being more obnoxious than usual.

 

"And here's the latest weather forecast for Vermont, folks!  They're calling for six inches of that white stuff – what is it called again? – Oh, yeah, snow! It's not like that white stuff you snort, though – there's a lot more of it, but it's cold!  And if you put it in lines on your mirrors, it turns from white stuff into wet stuff!  Don't ask me how those yahoos up North put up with it.  Just be glad that it stays up there and don't come down here!  Don't you folks just love being in Florida?

 

"But let's not be too hard on those folks up North.  Just to show 'em our hearts are in the right place, I'm gonna play an old classic in their honor.  Of course, I'll have to make a few editorial comments along the way…"  And he put on Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas".

 

Someone came up behind Ray and put her arms around his waist.  Stella leaned her chin on her husband's shoulder and listened with him.

 

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas."	–     "BBRRRRRR!!!"
"Just like the ones I used to know."	–     "Dang this sidewalk is slippery! WHOOPS! splat!"
"Where the treetops glisten, And children listen, To hear sleigh bells in the snow…"	–     "HONK! Get that stupid sled outtathaway" SKRREECH!"

 

Finally, Stella said, "I always kind of liked that song."

 

Ray replied, "Never did much for me, but I'm starting to warm to it."

 

"A penny for your thoughts, Ray."

 

Ray looked around at the palm trees and shrugged. "I miss the snow. It doesn't seem like Christmas without snow."  He stared at his neighbor's outdoor Santa, who wore shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with his red cap and white beard.  Ray and Stella had taken one look at it and had agreed not to decorate their own yard.  It had taken them an entire afternoon to rearrange the furniture so their Christmas tree wasn't visible at the window.

 

"I know what you mean, hon.  But if that's the case, I want to ask you something important."

 

"And that is…?"

 

"Why are we spending Christmas here?"

 

After a long moment, Ray replied, "That's a very good question."

 

Stella went on. "You know, those gifts you have for Stan and Benny – they're kind of fragile.  You sure you want to trust them to the mail?"

 

Ray grinned.  "I never did have that much confidence in the Post Office.  Hand delivering may be more reliable."

 

"Julio can run the bowling alley just fine without us."

 

"That he can.  Good man.  I'll call him while you call folks in Chicago to tell them we're coming. Deal?"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Stan Kowalski had just finished clipping Gene Kelly's toenails when someone knocked at his apartment door.  He placed the ferret on the floor and went to answer it.

 

It was Constable Benton Fraser and his wolf.  "Ah, Stan, good afternoon.  I'm here to drop Diefenbaker off while I go shopping.  I hope this isn't a bad time."

 

"Hey, Fraze!  Nah, this isn't a bad time at all.  The Weasel Patrol is out, and they'll love to see Dief.  In fact, it's good you're here.  I just got a call from the Vecchios."

"Ah, how are they doing?  Did the doctor confirm, ah…?"

 

"Yeah, it's official – you and me are gonna be godfathers!  But they had other news – they're driving up here for Christmas!"

 

"Oh, that will be good!  It'll be nice to see them!  Not to mention saving everyone postage!"

 

"Yeah, but we're gonna have to get cracking on presents!  I got some ideas, but I haven't had much time for shopping."

 

Stan's three ferrets had discovered Diefenbaker and were gleefully swarming over him.  The wolf sat there with a look of martyrdom.

 

Fraser said, "Don't try and play on my sympathies.  You have to stay here and that's that."  He said to Stan, "Every year it's like this. He tries his hardest to find out what he's getting for Christmas. I'm running out of hiding places as it is.  And if he comes along while I'm actually shopping…"

 

Stan nodded.  "I can imagine.  Believe me, I know exactly what you're going though, Fraze.  Same thing around here."  Cyd Charisse left off scrabbling at Diefenbaker's belly and looked up at her Daddy.

 

Stan pointedly ignored the ferret and said, "By the way, Fraze – and this is a change in subject, you know – have any large packages come to the Consulate?"

 

Cyd Charisse extricated herself from under the wolf and padded over to look up at her Daddy and her Uncle Benny.  Uncle Benny nonchalantly said, "Why, no, Stan, no large packages in today's post, but – if there are any large packages expected – they most certainly will arrive tomorrow.  We did receive a shipment of some cloth material today.  I intend to use it for making… things… later tonight."

 

"Oh, good.  Well, these hypothetical large packages we're talking about ought to be there tomorrow – theoretically.  And those… things… you're gonna be working on – if they turn out half as good as the blanket and hammock you made for Max, they'll look first-class."

 

"Max deserves the best, Ray."

 

"That he does.  I just wish I could give him what he really needs."

 

"And that would be…?"

 

"A pair of hind legs that really work."

 

Fraser nodded and softly replied, "I know, Stan.  But his front legs are strong; he can drag himself around quite well.  And he is such a happy ferret.  We should rejoice in what he does have – not the least of which is a fine sponsor."

 

"Yeah, well, two fine sponsors.  Sweet little guy. – Anyway, it's getting late.  You better get going."

 

"Right.  There's a woodwright's shop I need to get to before closing time."

 

"Woodwright – that's a guy that makes things out of wood, isn't it?"

"Correct.  Woodwrights usually have some scraps laying around that are great for carving.  I'd better be on my way.  Oh, and I like your tree.  It needs something like a star at the top."

 

"Ah, I never have found a tree topper that I like.  It's okay.  I'll see ya later, Fraze."  After Fraser left, Stan looked down at Cyd Charisse.  The petite little ferret was still sitting there and staring up at her Daddy.  Stan looked as innocent as he could and asked her, "What?"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Ray and Stella had already gotten some Christmas gifts, but they weren't done shopping when they left Florida.  As Stella put it, "We'll find what we're looking for along the way."  So they started driving North in the Riv, catching Christmas music on the radio where they could – minus derogatory remarks, thankfully – and enjoying the trip.

 

They were passing through Macon, Georgia, when they spotted a large shopping mall.  Ray said, "What do you think, babe?  This look like a good spot?"

 

Stella nodded.  "I think it is, Ray.  Somehow it feels right.  I can't really say why."

 

"Neither can I, but you're right.  I can feel it, too."  He pulled into the parking lot, and they immediately found an empty spot – right next to the entrance.  Ray said, "Talk about good omens – I'd say we picked the right place."

 

It so happened that there was a craft show in the mall that day.  It was well set up, with plenty of room to get around; there wasn't much of a crowd, either.  "This looks promising, Ray – we might find some good gifts here.  Your mother loves handmade things."

 

"Could be, could be."  Ray was looking over the store directory.  The usual – shoes, clothing, a petshop, a bookstore, and…  "Whoa.  Check this out!"

 

He pointed at an entry under Gifts: "NORTHERN THINGS, EH? – all things Canadian".

 

Stella said, "A Canadian gift shop?  I've never seen one before!  How odd!"

 

"Odd is right.  I'd bet this is the only one below the Mason-Dixon line!"  Ray smiled.  "And we just happen to come across it.  At any rate, we have to look into this!"

 

"Oh, definitely.  I'd say we take a look in the pet shop, too.  We might find something there."

 

"What, gifts for the wolf and Stan's three weasels?"

 

"Why not, Ray?  Stan said that his ferrets love to play, and they could probably use some new toys.  And isn't Diefenbaker a friend, too?"

 

Ray nodded.  How many times had he gone to the zoo in Florida, and how long did he spend watching the wolves in their cage?  "Yeah – we really need to get some gifts for the animals."

 

First they browsed the crafts booths.  Almost immediately they scored. One booth featured nutcrackers of all sizes and painted-on costumes. The propietor was a cheerful old greybeard named Clyde, with a bowl of hickory nuts on the table in front of him.  As Ray and Stella looked over the varied selection of nutcracker figures, Clyde told them, "Made these all myself, and if I do say so, they're all good and strong.  Not like those flimsy things you find in department stores – those are jokes.  These are real nutcrackers – they'll do the job real easy.  Let me show you."

 

Clyde picked out a nutcracker at random – a nice looking London Bobby – and set it in front of him.  He picked a hickory nut out of the bowl, pulled up on the lever on the nutcracker's back and put the nut in the open mouth.  He stood up and with a grunt slammed his palm down on the lever.  There was a sharp crack, and pieces of hickory nut dribbled from the bobby's mouth.  Clyde grinned.  "That's good, solid wood. You could use these puppies to crack a hundred nuts a day, and they'll still be in good shape fifty years from now."

 

Ray and Stella saw one particular nutcracker at the same time.  Ray picked it up and they looked at it more closely.  Neither one said a word; they just nodded.

 

Clyde said, "I like doing police uniforms, and I try to get the details right.  I'm proud of that one there – I even called the RCMP folks up in Canada to ask about details.  As far as I can tell, I got the red just right, too."

 

Ray said, "Looks right to me.  We've got a mountie friend up in Chicago, and… Well, what can I say?  You've made a sale, pal!"

 

The next booth was labeled "Ruthie's Furry Angels".  Ray had seen things like this before – angels with conical bodies that could be used to top Christmas trees.  These angels, however, were based on different types of animals; there were cats, dogs – and some ferrets.

 

"Oh, look at this one, Ray!"  Stella held up one of the ferret angels. It was a sable ferret, with a very distinctive, almost raccoon-like mask.  Over its head was a golden halo, and from the back of its white gown grew little white wings.  The face was wonderfully innocent, and it looked remarkably real.  It held a candle in its little paws, with a blue Christmas tree light for a flame.

 

Stella said, "This would be great for Stan.  He loves a big tree, but as long as I've known him, he's never found a good tree-topper.  Never thought anything looked right.  I doubt if that's changed any."

 

"Well, that's another one, then."  Ray looked over the different ferrets in the booth, and looked back at the sable.  "And somehow, I think this one is it.  It just feels right."

 

The Canadian gift shop yielded some books – an illustrated history of RCMP uniforms for Constable Fraser and a history of boxing in Canada for Stan.  Alas, they couldn't find much else, especially for Fraser; why would you get Canadian souvenirs for a Canadian?

 

When they entered the pet shop, Ray looked around and simply said, "Jackpot."  It was a very well-stocked pet shop; they decided that they needed a shopping cart.

 

Near the front of the store was a poster bin, and Ray and Stella began by browsing through this.  Stella came across a picture of a sable ferret surrounded by sunflowers; he was looking directly at the camera and sticking his tongue out.  Stella laughed and said, "Stan", and the poster went into the cart.

 

Ray found the next poster.  It showed a ferret in a birch-bark canoe, floating on a river.  On the bow of the canoe hung a miniature campaign hat, with the Canadian flag on the hatband.  Ray looked at Stella and said, "Gee, hon, do we know anyone from Canada?"  Into the cart it went.

 

They passed by a cage, but didn't pay much attention to it.  Inside, a small creature was sleeping.

 

They went to the doggie treats section next.  Ray was leaning toward some large rawhide treats, but Stella made the big discovery.  "Hey, Ray, look at this!"  She held up some packages containing bone-shaped objects.  Ray looked at the package labels and his eyes widened.

 

"Junk-food flavored chew toys??  They gotta be kiddin'!"  He looked more closely at the packages and shook his head.  "Corn chips? Twinkies?  Chocolate?"  On the back of each package was an open hole marked "Smell me".  He did.  "Well, I'll be – it does smell like a Twinkie!  Diefenbaker, for sure!  He'll chew on these for hours!"

 

Stella smelled the chocolate chew toy and replied, somewhat ruefully, "I'd like to chew on this for hours!" Into the cart they went.

 

Over in the cage, the animal awoke with a big yawn that showed off some sharp-looking teeth.  It walked over to a hanging bottle and began to drink.

 

Ray and Stella discovered that the pet store's ferret section was large; there were a lot of ferrety items.

 

Stella said, "Ray, I'm wondering how much of this stuff we should buy for Stan's kids.  I'm sure he has a lot of supplies for them already. We might be giving them things they already have."

 

"Yeah, but I've been reading about ferrets.  The books say that they bore easily.  It might be a good idea to give them a variety of stuff so that they can have a change of pace once in awhile.  Besides, if we give them too much – well, I've got an idea.  You know all three of his fuzzbutts came from a rescue shelter in Chicago?"

 

"Yeah – Windy City Ferret Rescue, I think it's called.  Stan and Fraser do a lot of volunteer work there."

 

"That's the one; I think Stan even sponsors a handicapped fuzzbutt that lives there.  Anyway, these rescue shelters are always short on supplies. I figure we tell Stan that he's free to donate any surplus ferret stuff to the shelter.  None of it will go to waste, then."

 

Stella thought about this, then she smiled and slowly nodded her head. "That's a good idea, Ray – that's a great idea!  We'll be giving a donation to the shelter that way!"

 

Ray smiled back. "So – why don't we splurge?"

 

"Why not?"  Stella looked at her husband thoughtfully.  "You seem to know quite a bit about ferrets, Ray – why the sudden interest?"

 

Ray shrugged.  "I dunno.  I just felt like reading up on the little weasels since Stan got his and started sending us all the pictures. They really are interesting animals."  Stella said nothing.

 

The shopping cart turned out to be a good idea, and soon they were filling it.  They avoided food because they weren't sure what Stan fed his critters.  They got bags of litter and bottles of vitamin supplements and laxatives.  There were hammocks and fleece-lined sleep sacks galore, and they picked out a few of each.  There were even little tents for ferrets to crawl in for privacy.

 

Ray picked up one sleep sack, and it made a crinkling noise.  "What the –?"  He read the label.  "A krinkle sack?  Good name for it.  There must be some special paper or plastic in the lining to make the noise."

 

"Huh – I wonder why it's made that way."

 

"Well, ferrets like noise.  I can see where they'd love to play in it if it made that sort of sound." So they put a couple in the cart.

 

They picked out several toys, including little fleece balls with bells inside and long flexible tubes like dryer hose.  Ray said, "These will be a big hit – ferrets love running through tubes."  The cart was almost full, so they headed for the checkout counter.

 

As they passed the cage, Ray saw a pair of little red eyes.  He looked into the cage and broke into a grin.  "Why, hello there, fella!  What are you doing all by yourself this close to Christmas?"  This was enough for the young albino ferret.  It scrabbled up the side of the cage and stood on its hind legs, begging to be held.  Ray obliged it and was rewarded with tons of ferret kisses.

 

The cashier was a young man of high-school age, with several tattoos, a nose ring and a very friendly smile.  He came over and said, "That little girl is what's left of our most recent batch of ferrets.  She was sold, too, but the people brought her back this morning – claimed she was a biter."

 

Ray held the ferret as he listened to the clerk.  Suddenly he realized that he was feeling something pricking his finger, and looked down. The ferret had her mouth around his finger, and her teeth were bearing down ever so slightly.

 

"A biter?  Like this?  You call this biting??"

 

The clerk shook his head.  "You don't, and I don't.  But they did. Some folks are like that.  It's probably just as well she's back here."

 

Stella reached over and gently stroked the little ferret.  "You mind if I hold her, Ray? – She's really a sweetheart.  It's a shame that she's all alone."

 

"Yes, it is.  We're gonna get another batch in, but not until after the holidays.  Until then, she's on her own.  She's okay, just a little depressed."

 

Ray looked over her cage.  It was a good layout, with a plenty of food and water, and a litter pan that someone obviously kept clean.  But otherwise the cage was bare.  "It might help if she had some toys. Couldn't somebody do something about that?"

 

The clerk rolled his eyes.  "I know, man, and you're right.  But my manager – he's got this policy of not putting any of our stock in with the animals.  'They'll wear it out and we won't be able to sell it', he says.  Stupid, if you ask me, but the guy is a real miser."

 

Ray looked at the ferret, cradled in Stella's arms.  He turned back to the clerk.  "What about if somebody – a customer, say – gives this kid some toys?  Uncle Scrooge have any objections to that?"

 

The clerk thought about it.  "I don't see how he can.  Not if it's not our stock."

 

"And once a customer pays for something, it's theirs – they can do anything they want with it, right?"

 

"Yeah…  I see where you're going, but I don't know how the boss would feel about it.  I'd have to talk with him."  At least that's what the young man was saying.  It was hard to take him seriously, though, not while he was nodding his head and grinning from ear to ear.

 

Ray said to Stella, "Hon, I've got a little more shopping to do."

 

"Take your time."  She gently placed the albino back in her cage.

 

Ray came up to the cash register with two items.  "I want to buy this separately from the rest of the stuff.  You can keep the receipt and wave it at your boss if he squawks."

 

After paying, Ray came over to the cage and began opening one package. It held two fleece balls, and when he got them out, the bells inside gently tinkled.  The ferret looked up, fascinated with the sound.

 

Ray leaned into the cage and held one of the balls out.  The ferret stood up on her hind legs and grasped the ball in her front paws.  She looked up at Ray, and it was as if she were saying, "For me?!"

 

The little albino dropped down and began to gingerly bat at the fleece ball.  When the bell rang, she got excited and batted it around harder. Soon she was tossing her new toy around her cage and chasing it for all she was worth.

 

Stella said, "It's my turn."  She opened the second package and laid the krinkle sack in the cage.  When she pressed on it to make the crackling noise, the ferret almost dropped her ball.  She stared at the sack, then at the ball, then back at the sack.

 

"Oh, dear, I think we've given her a difficult decision, Ray."

 

"Yeah, well, she's young.  She's gotta learn that life's full of difficult decisions."

 

Ray and Stella went off to pay for the rest of their stuff.  As they were leaving, Ray looked over and saw that the ferret had solved her problem.  She was backing in to her new funny-noise-sleep-sack, and she was pulling her new funny-noise-balls in behind her.  She stopped long enough to look back at Ray.  From the look on her face, she wanted to tell Ray "Thank you".

 

"You're welcome", he said.

STAVE THE SECOND

 

Felix watched as Fraser rummaged through the scrap bin.  They were the only people in the shop.  He hoped the mountie would be through soon, before his boss got back.  Felix had something to do, and he needed to be alone to do it.  His eyes wandered over to the cash register.

 

He didn't plan on taking very much.  Just enough to buy his son that electronic game system he wanted for Christmas.  Arturo never paid any attention to the cash flow in his own woodworking business; he might be suspicious about the totals at the end of the day, but Felix would tell him that things had been slow, which was true enough.  Arturo once said it was good for a businessman to trust his employees, and Felix, as his chief clerk, had always justified that trust.  Until now.

 

Arturo would blow his top if he found out.  But he hadn't been too generous with wage increases, and what could Felix do?  Jerry had been distant since the boy's mother had died. Felix wanted so much to get closer to his son.  The game system ought to help a lot, but it was expensive – too expensive for his Dad's salary.  But with some money from the cash register – not much.  Just a little.

 

The mountie seemed to be done.  He was coming over with an armload of scrap lumber.  He'd picked out some good pieces, from the looks of it – the guy had an eye for wood.  Arturo still wasn't back yet; good.

 

The mountie smiled and said, "I'm terribly sorry, but I just remembered that I didn't properly introduce myself.  My name is Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.  I'll spare you the story of how I came here to Chicago.  I'm pleased to meet you."  He juggled the scraps of wood around and held out his hand.

 

Felix could have screamed, but he kept calm.  Be cool – a quick intro and tell the guy you're busy.  He reached out to shake Fraser's hand.

 

They clasped hands…

 

…and Felix saw the Future.

 

The pilfering from the cash register would be even more successful than he'd expected.  Arturo wouldn't even suspect a thing.  So Felix would get the money and Jerry would get his game system for Christmas.  And Father and Son – it wasn't going to help their relationship at all. They would drift even further apart.  Jerry would just spend even more time by himself, playing computer games.

 

Things weren't going to be any easier for Felix.  He was going to steal from the cash register again.  The fourth time, he was going to be caught.

 

Arturo wasn't going to blow his top when he found out.  He wasn't going to get angry at all.  He would watch Felix at the trial, and he was just going to look hurt.

 

Felix was going to be convicted for theft, and he would serve some time in jail.  Eventually he would be a free man again, but his life would be changed forever.  And so would his son's.  Jerry would learn an important lesson from his Father – if you want something, you have to take it, even if you're not supposed to.  Jerry would start with shoplifting and petty thievery, and it would get worse.  Felix's son would finally be sent to prison, convicted for armed robbery and manslaughter.

 

Felix saw the Future, and he saw that the price for Jerry's electronic game would be very high.

 

Felix came back to the present.  The mountie was saying something. "I'm sorry, my mind was someplace else entirely.  What was that again?"

 

Fraser said, "I was asking how much you wanted for this wood."

 

"Oh, no, no, there's no charge!  That's scrap lumber, free for taking!"

 

"Oh, now, this is very good wood!  I'm more than willing to pay a fair price for it!  How much will you accept?"

 

Felix thought about it.  That was an idea – he could charge the mountie a reasonable amount, and he'd still be able to afford the game system. It would be a personal transaction, nothing to do with the shop – that way he could stay away from the cash drawer.  It wouldn't be illegal…

 

"I'm sorry, sir.  I can't accept your money.  It wouldn't be right."

 

Fraser smiled.  "Ah.  I understand.  Perhaps I can come in at some point and sweep up for you.  That ought to be payment enough."

 

Felix knew when he was licked.  If someone wanted to pay you back that bad, there was no way you could stop them.  He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "If that's what you want to do, I guess it's fine."

 

"Very well then, I'll be back in touch.  Thank you kindly."  And Fraser headed for the door.  Felix said softly, "Thank you".

 

As the mountie was leaving, Arturo was coming in.  He looked over his shoulder at Fraser and said to Felix, "Was that some scrap that guy was carrying?  I hope you didn't charge him for any of it!"

 

"Of course not!  He wanted to pay, but I wouldn't let him."

 

"Good, good.  Can't charge people for scrap.  It's not the way I do business.  And that reminds me, Felix – I've been doing something lately that I haven't done for a long time.  Brace yourself – the World's coming to an end.  I've been looking over the accounts."

 

Felix was surprised – somewhat.  Embezzlement had never occurred to him; now he was glad it hadn't.  "Is there something wrong?"

 

"You better believe it – you haven't been getting paid enough, that's what's wrong!  You haven't gotten a decent wage increase in – what, two years?  Why haven't you said anything, mister?"

 

All Felix could do was stammer.  "Uh – I didn't –"

 

"Ah, never mind, never mind.  It's my fault for not paying attention to the cash flow.  Some businessman I've been, huh?  Don't worry, though.  After the holidays, you're getting a raise.  And for now – it must be tough getting your kid Christmas presents on that crummy salary.  I'll have to see about fixing you up with a bonus – that sound okay for you?"

 

Felix couldn't even stammer.  He just nodded.  Jerry was going to get his game system after all.

 

Arturo smiled.  "How is that boy of yours doing, Felix?  I bet it's rough being a single parent."

 

Ordinarily Felix would have been more careful about an answer, but he was feeling a bit light-headed at the moment.  He replied, "Yeah, it's rough.  Jerry's doing pretty fair in school, but we don't seem to have much to say to each other."

 

Arturo nodded.  "Too bad – families can get like that sometimes.  I'd say you need to spend more time with him.  Do things together.  Tell you what – me and my two boys like to go to the school gym a night or two each week and shoot a few hoops.  You think your kid might like that?"

 

Basketball?  As much as he'd worried about getting close to Jerry, Felix had never thought about sports.  And now he remembered that Jerry loved watching ESPN.  "Yeah… I think he would.  Thanks."

 

"Great!  I'll let you know when!"  Arturo grinned, and Felix realized that he'd never really known this man.  He smiled back.

 

Arturo said, "Hey, I'm really sorry if I haven't been the best of bosses.  I'll make up for it, promise.  You're a good worker, Felix, one of the best I've ever had.  One thing I saw going over the books, you're good at keeping them in shape.  I'm thinking about taking on a partner for this place next year.  And I'd say you'd be a good choice."  He slapped Felix on the shoulder.  "C'mon – let's see about that bonus!"

 

As they walked into Arturo's office, Felix thought: the Future can be changed.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Ray and Stella saw their first snow in Kentucky.  Not much – just enough to give the ground a light coating and not enough to affect driving conditions.  The Riv had been winterized before they'd left – Ray always did that every year, even in Florida – and was doing fine.

 

They were driving through a Lexington neighborhood when they saw a group of people walking along the street.  Stella said, "Now I wonder what they're doing – hey, they're carollers!"  The folks stopped in front of a house and began to sing.  They were sharing songbooks, and someone in back was using an electric lantern to provide light.

 

Ray watched them and shook his head.  "There wasn't much carolling in my family while I was growing up.  My Dad – you can imagine what he thought of Christmas carols.  Mom never made an issue of it.  In school they made us sing Christmas songs every year, and I hated it. I never went to the school Christmas programs."

 

"I know what you mean; I never liked singing in school, either – Ray, why are you slowing down?"

 

"To find a parking spot – here's a good one."  After he stopped, Ray looked at his wife.  "For the first time in my life, I'm thinking caroling might be fun."

Stella said nothing; she just smiled.  They got out of the Riv and together walked toward the carollers.

 

Brandon was going through the motions of singing, but his mind was elsewhere.  Some friends had come up with the idea of going out in the cold night and singing these blasted Christmas carols, and Betty, Brandon's sentimental idiot of a wife, had agreed.  Brandon had no choice but to come along.  He'd made other plans for the evening, but he certainly wasn't going to tell her what they were.  He wasn't ready to tell Betty about Heather.  Not yet.

 

He smiled to himself as he thought about Heather.  Such a gorgeous creature!  So alive and energetic!  She was able to bring the young man out in Brandon, something Betty hadn't done in years.  It used to be that he and Betty would talk for hours about the literature they liked, but they hadn't done that in a long time; it felt good to talk with Heather about Poe or Hemingway.  So what if Heather was young enough to be his daughter; age was a small thing when you were in love.

 

He'd made his mind up that the time was almost right to ask Betty for a divorce.  It was for the best.  She had to know it wasn't working for them.  She'd find a new man, someone better suited for her.  Like Heather was better suited for him.  But Christmas was a bad time for that sort of thing.  After the first of the year, that was when he'd tell her. For tonight, however, he'd stay for a few more carols, then beg off, maybe say he left some work at the office.  He'd go over to Heather's place then.  It was still early; they'd have some time.

 

Now another couple was coming up to join them; Brandon hadn't seen them before.  It turned out that they were from down South, on their way through Lexington on a trip to Chicago.  They'd just stopped on an impulse to join the carolers.  Betty and just about everyone else thought it was sweet.  Brandon didn't care one way or another – it takes all kinds – but figured that it might make it easier for him to slip away shortly.

 

So the Vecchios joined the carollers.  There wasn't an extra songbook, but the newcomers were placed so they could share with someone else. As it turned out, the husband, a nice enough guy named Ray, stood next to Brandon.  It was an awkward arrangement; Ray had to lean close to read from Brandon's songbook.  Ray's shoulder brushed against Brandon's…

 

…and Brandon saw the Present.

 

He recognised the place immediately – it was the bedroom of Heather's apartment.  And there was Heather, stretched out on the bed and talking to someone on the phone – one of her friends, no doubt – while applying eye makeup.  He hadn't noticed before how much makeup she usually wore.  He thought that she'd look very pretty even without makeup, but he'd never seen her that way.

 

For that matter, he'd not taken much notice of her bedroom before, either.  Whenever he'd been there before, he'd only had eyes for her, as the song went.  Now, he could see the little details.  She had a lot of magazines on the dresser, for one thing – People, The National Enquirer, several other celebrity magazines.  Where were all the books he'd given her?  There were several CDs piled by the fancy stereo that he'd given her – bland top-40 pop stuff; nothing substantial.

 

He would have thought she'd be eagerly waiting for him, or at least be fuming over the delay.  Instead she was chatting and laughing with her friend.  He could hear what she was saying.

 

"Yeah, Bev, he's coming by later…  Had to go singing Christmas songs with his wife, if you can believe that!…  Not me, I wouldn't go out on a cold night like this!…  Oh, I'll warm him up when he gets here, count on it!  He isn't that old!…

 

"Oh, it's okay, I guess…  He's nice to me…  Oh, yeah, generous, you bet…  I think he got me that DVD unit I wanted, I've dropped enough hints… I would've liked that sports car, too, but it didn't work out – maybe sometime next year…  Depends on how much his old lady soaks him for when he tells her…  He'll tell her soon, I think. I don't see why he hasn't already – tonight would've been good…

 

"I don't know how long it would last, him and me.  You know me – I don't think that far ahead.  But he's pretty well off – he's got enough to keep me happy, so I'm not worried…  What's he do? Something with airplanes, I think…  Hey, if I knew what was gonna happen in the future, I'd win big in the lottery!… If he gets laid off, he'll deal with it somehow…  I gotta have my stuff…

 

"If I could get him to stop talking about books…  He could go on forever about this writer or that one – BOR-RING! Nobody reads books anymore!  Me, I make nice noises and look interested, and he's happy. Maybe he'll get away from that junk if I work on him – get him to sell all those books… Oh, he has a LOT of books!  Don't ask me why anybody'd want that many…  Oh, yeah, we went out dancing last night – it was a trip!  He tried to keep up, but an older guy dancing the new stuff?  I could've either laughed or screamed…

 

"Oh, I saw this gorgeous guy last night, too!  A real hunk!… Real buff, nice clothes, too…  The way he looked at me, we could've gone for it…  I don't know, maybe I'll see him again…"

 

Brandon felt numb.  It all rang true – that was Heather.  That was the way she thought, all right.  He could see her now for the kind of person she was – a child.  A shallow, self-centered, thoughtless child.

 

He'd been a fool.  How could he even think that he might have some sort of meaningful life with someone like Heather?  The more he thought about it now, the more Brandon realized that she wasn't the type of woman he wanted to stay with the rest of his life.  Beauty was all well and good, but it meant nothing more than aesthetics.  Brandon really liked women who were smart and who respected his interests. The woman he wanted wouldn't try to change him or to use him for her own selfish interests.  He could see that now.

 

And he realized something else – he didn't need to hunt for that type of woman.  He was already married to her.

 

He saw Betty differently now.  She stood next to him, singing carols in that wonderful voice of hers, and he saw that she was still a lovely lady – without relying on makeup, either.  She hadn't asked for much for Christmas, but he sensed that she'd done a lot of shopping for him – browsing through his favorite bookstores, no doubt.  Now that he thought of it, she'd tried asking him about books several times lately, but he'd never wanted to say much.

 

And after all these years, she still loved him.

 

Brandon knew now that he wasn't going to leave early.  He wasn't going to go see Heather tonight.  He wasn't going to see Heather again, ever.  That was done.  He'd probably call her tomorrow, tell her it wasn't going to work for them, apologize but it was better this way. Heather would probably still want her Christmas gifts, and he'd make some arrangement about sending them to her.  The rent for her apartment was paid up until after the 15th of next month; she was on her own after that.  Right now, Brandon was trying to think of some place he and Betty could go for coffee after they were done caroling; Betty loved to sit in a cozy little cafe and relax over a good cup of coffee.

 

They were starting a new carol – "Joy to the World".  Brandon had always liked that one.  His voice rang out to the World, full of the joy in his heart.

 

STAVE THE THIRD

 

Not surprisingly, Benton Fraser always returned favors.  Tonight he paid his partner back by watching the ferrets while Stan went out to do his own shopping.  Stan thought this was good; Fraze could think of the best games to keep the weasels entertained.

 

Stan had done quite well.  He'd discovered something in a used bookstore that he figured Stella would like – Stan danced, Stella collected first editions, at least things like that hadn't changed.

 

Now he was browsing his way through a local mall.  It was crowded, but that didn't bother him – this Christmas was too special for that.  He was window-shopping when he came across an electronics store.  The window was full of radio-controlled cars of all sorts of shapes and sizes.  He saw one, and stopped.  Compared to all the other monsters with huge wheels and flashy colors, it wasn't much.  But this particular car had caught his eye.  He bent down for a closer look.

 

"I don't believe it – right model year – the details are authentic – and it's even the right shade of green!"  He smiled.  "Ray Vecchio, you're gonna love this!"  He was in and out of the store quickly, with another package under his arm.

 

That was it; Stan figured he was done with his Christmas shopping. Now he just strolled around the mall, crowded as it was, to people-watch.  And he saw the girl.

 

Patty slumped on the bench.  She'd already picked a target – a woman with a cartload of packages.  Kids' clothes and toys, from the look of them.  The woman was looking in a store window, not paying too much attention to her purse.  It was gonna be so easy to stroll by and grab it.  Then out the door to the car where Kev was waiting.

 

Just as Patty was about to stand up, some guy with spiky hair sat down next to her.  He said, "Hi," and she somehow knew he was a cop.

 

"I didn't do anything!"

 

"No, you didn't," he said.  "But you were getting ready to, weren't you?  That lady you've been watching.  Thinking of snatching her purse, right?"  He was a cop, but he didn't treat her like a cop would.  He was being nice to her.

 

Patty didn't say anything.  He couldn't do anything if she kept quiet.

 

"I'm not here to hassle you.  But look at her.  She must be a nice lady.  Probably has a great husband and two sweet kids.  If somebody takes her purse, it'll ruin Christmas for them all.  Do you want to do that to them?"  The cop brushed against Patty's shoulder…

 

…and Patty saw the Past.

 

The woman's name was Kristine, and she did have a family.  But the cop didn't have the details quite right.  She had three sweet kids.  And she'd had a great husband.

 

Patty saw how wonderful life had been for Kristine and her family. She and her husband – Carl – had loved each other, and they'd loved their kids.  Patty saw the onset of the illness that had quickly taken Kristine's husband away, leaving her and her children with enormous medical bills.  Patty saw Kristine as she sat in a loan office, signing papers under the watchful eye of a loan executive named Wilbur.

 

Patty watched the lean times Kristine and her children went through. Kristine had worked two jobs, occasionally three, to pay off the loan, getting a babysitter when she could, trusting her children alone when she couldn't.  The first Christmas on their own, Kristine had done her best to explain why Santa Claus couldn't bring them very much.  What she couldn't do for her children with gifts, Kristine had tried to make up for with love.  Her family and friends had helped when they could, but it had still been hard.

 

And as Patty watched, Kristine worried at that loan.  She'd gnawed at it here, nibbled at it there.  A few dollars extra added to the bill this month, rounding off to the next higher dollar – or five, or ten – that month.  Until the day, three months ago, when Kristine had again been sitting in front of Wilbur's desk, watching him as he'd taken out her loan papers and, with a flourish, stamped them "PAID IN FULL". As Patty watched, Kristine took her copy of the papers and, much to Wilbur's delight, deliberately tore them in two.

 

That was why Kristine's shopping cart was so full; for the first time in years she could give her children the Christmas they deserved.

 

Stan said nothing.  There was a sad, haunted look in the girl's eyes. Finally she said, "That lady has a boy.  And two girls.  I've got a daughter of my own.  I don't have anything for her for Christmas."

 

Stan asked, "Was that why you were gonna do it?  To get money for your daughter's Christmas present?"

 

Patty began to cry.  "No."

 

She saw her own Past.  She'd met Kev when she was a teenager in St. Paul.  He'd been exciting and dangerous, at a time when she'd thought that that was the same as being fun, and she'd taken up with him out of rebellion and what her Grandma called "Minnesota boredom".  Soon she was pregnant with his child; her parents had been upset, of course – maybe she'd wanted it to hurt them – but they'd accepted it. Even when Patty had given them all that grief, they didn't say a thing.  How they'd put up with it all without knocking her silly, she'd never understand.

 

One thing had led to another, and Patty had eventually left with Kev for Chicago, leaving her daughter Jolene behind.  Patty soon realized that what had seemed exciting and fun with Kev was only dangerous. He had habits to support, and he'd made it clear that it was up to her to find the money he needed.  Since then, Patty did whatever she could to get the money, and endured the punishment if she couldn't. She didn't like her life, and she felt no love for Kev anymore, but she thought it was too late for her to go back, and that Kev was the kind of guy she deserved.  She missed her parents, and the baby that they were raising as their own, but they were better off without her.

 

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear – did you say that you couldn't get anything for your daughter for Christmas?"  Stan and Patty looked up.  It was the lady named Kristine.

 

Any other time Patty would have told the woman to mind her own business, but she didn't feel like it now.  She shook her head. "It's not important."

 

Kristine said, "Oh, yes, it is!"  She began rummaging through her purse.  "Now I've got a little money left…"

 

Patty's jaw dropped, and she stammered, "No… no… you don't need to do that!  You don't know me – and your own kids…"

 

"My own kids are going to do pretty good this year, don't worry about that!  But no child should be deprived at Christmastime.  Believe me, I know what it's like to go without.  It's not fun at all.  I can't help every needy child, but I can at least help yours."

 

Patty couldn't say anything; she just bowed her head and let the tears come. Kristine knelt down and held the young girl close.  The lady looked over at Stan and said, "I take it that there's more going on here than Christmas presents for her daughter."

 

Stan replied, "Yeah, well, I'm a stranger, too.  I don't know for sure what's going on, but I think you're right."

 

Kristine nodded.  She looked at Patty and softly said, "Maybe I can help you with that, too."

 

Patty pulled back and shook her head.  "No… There's a lot of bad stuff going on with me.  It's too late for anyone to help!"

 

The other lady smiled and said, "Bull.  You obviously love your daughter.  I don't know what all the bad stuff is, but it can be dealt with.  I can at least help you make Christmas good for your child.  Is she with you?  No – do you know where she is?  What about her Father?"

 

Patty dried her eyes.  "Yes, I know where she is – with my Mom and Dad, in St. Paul.  But I haven't spoken to them in years.  And the Father…"  She shook her head.  It was then that she realized that she didn't want to be with Kev anymore.

 

"Well, it may be hard to believe, but it's never too late to mend fences in a family.  And it won't hurt to send your daughter some toys – might even help.  So – may I please help?  I've been through some hurt myself; I think it would help me, too."

 

Patty looked at Kristine.  If things had been different, this lady would have been running after her, shouting, "Somebody stop that little thief!"  Now this wonderful woman was offering to help her. And Patty knew then it wasn't too late for her.  She deserved some help.  She nodded and smiled; it felt good to smile like that.

"Great!  We won't be able to get much, but sometimes it's fun just to look!  Later I can help you wrap it and send it to your parents!  Oh, why not send them a card, too?  It's getting late – shall we go?"

 

"Just a minute."  Patty gave Stan a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, mister."

 

"Hey, always glad to help."  He watched the two women walk away, waved after them and turned to go.  He felt great; sometimes the best Christmas presents were the ones that didn't cost any money at all.

 

Patty never knew how long Kev waited in the car for her; she and Kristine left the mall by another entrance.  Christmas turned out great for Patty; Mom and Dad were happy to see her again, and Jolene had grown into a beautiful little girl.  Later, Patty tried to track down Kev – Jolene was his daughter, too – but she never saw him again.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

"How do you do, sir, welcome to the Canadian Consulate – oh, hello, Detective Kowalski!  Compliments of the season!"

 

"And the same right back at ya, Constable Kawajima!  Is Constable Fraser here, by any chance?"

 

"Yes he is!  Back in his office, as a matter of fact.  From what I've heard, he's been doing some woodcarving."

 

"Yeah, working on Christmas presents, I bet – Hey, Fraze!  It's me, Stan!  Hope I'm not interrupting, but we got plans this morning, remember?"

 

"Hello, Stan!  Just wait a few moments – I'm almost done!"

 

"Don't take too long!"  Ray smiled at Kawajima.  "The Constable and I are gonna go to the rescue shelter – we got some Christmas presents for the fursnakes."

 

"I know – Constable Fraser told me.  It sounds like it might be fun; I'll have to drop by there myself someday."

 

"The fuzzies would probably love to see you.  Just count your socks before you leave – oh, hi, Fraze!  D'ya get everything done?"

 

"Just finished, Ray.  Look here – I made this sign to go with Max's hammock.  It matches this other sign for your ferrets' gift."

 

"Oh, hey, that looks super!  Neat work on the lettering."

 

"Thank you kindly, Stan.  Are we ready to go?"

 

"Yep, got the stuff in the back seat.  Let's roll out!  See ya later, Kawajima!"

 

"Later, Stan!"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

It was a nice two-story house in a quiet Chicago neighborhood, not very different from any of the other houses on the same block.  Until you walked up on the front porch, that is.  You might catch a glimpse of a little furry face giving you the once-over from a window.  And attached to the front door was a sign which read "WINDY CITY FERRET RESCUE – Every ferret deserves a home."

 

Stan and Fraser were met at the door by a huge leather-clad biker, hefty, bald, a braided mustache hanging down his chest, and arms covered with tattoos.  The tattoo on his upper right bicep showed a ferret in leather jacket and cap, with the words "RAISIN HELL" beneath.  Hondo was another shelter volunteer.  He grinned a gap-toothed grin and said, "Hey, Stan, Fraze!  Glad ya could make it! Happy holidays!"

 

"And the same for you, Hondo.  We've brought some Christmas for the little ones.  Some toys, hammocks, a large bag of ferret food – things like that.  We also have some special gifts for Max."

 

Hondo nodded.  "Sounds great, guys!  Max'll be happy to see you, I know!  C'mon in!"

 

He led them into the living room.  "Ah!  That's a very nice Christmas tree you folks have!  And a very nice plexiglass barrier you have around it!"

 

Hondo laughed.  "Yeah, there's some folks around here – I'm not naming any names, now – who'd love to get their little paws on those lights and shiny ornaments!  You should see how their eyes light up every time they see this tree!"

 

"I can well imagine.  A barrier a meter tall should discourage them, though."

 

Hondo nodded.  "You'd think so, wouldn't you?  But I'm not so sure. I've seen some of them just stand here and study that barrier.  You can almost hear the wheels turning in those little fuzzy noggins. The other day I caught Superfly trying to push the footstool over there.  Not trying too hard, you see – just testing.  I figure he was gonna get his buddy Nathaniel to help him.  I moved the stool to another room and now they give me the dirtiest looks…

 

"Ah, well.  I'll tell Kim you're here.  She's giving out meds and I think she's almost finished."  Hondo left, and Fraser and Stan admired the tree.

 

"Tell me, Ray, have you had any difficulties with your ferrets and your Christmas tree?"

 

"Yeah, well, we've had some discussions about it, and we've reached an agreement."

 

"Understood."

 

Shortly they heard some chirping approaching from another room.  Stan listened for a second and said, "Has to be Marlee."

 

"I agree.  It sounds like she's excited about something."

 

A gorgeous panda blaze ferret came running through the room, chattering a mile a minute.  She saw the two men and headed for them, yipping even more.  Marlee Mustelid stopped in from of Stan, stood up on her hind legs and chuckled and dooked at him for a second.  She then dropped down, went over to Fraser and did the same thing for him. Both men smiled down at her and gave little hello waves, but they didn't say anything to her.  Finally Marlee left the room by another door.  She never stopped chattering.

 

"Ya know, Fraze, it amazes me how a deaf ferret like that can be so noisy."

 

"It's not uncommon for a deaf animal for be quite vocal, Stan.  They can't hear their own voice, so they can't regulate the sound."  The mountie sighed.  "I'm thankful Diefenbaker isn't that way!"

 

"Yeah, sleeping at night is kinda nice.  Marlee sounded like she was trying to tell us something.  I wonder what?"

 

"Whatever it was, it must have been important."

 

"Maybe she wanted to share her big news with you two."  Through the door came a middle-aged lady.  This was Kim, the operator of the Windy City shelter.  "She's been adopted!  Her new Daddy is coming by later today to take her to her new home.  She's been running around all day – lots of last minute things to attend to when you move, of course. Anyway – hi, guys!  Good to see you two!"

 

"Hello, Kim.  We're here to drop some Christmas gifts for the little ones."

 

"Yeah, we've got a couple of things for Max in particular.  Is he out and about, by any chance?"

 

"Yes, he is!  He's already gotten something special for Christmas." Kim gave an odd little smile.  "I'm certain that he'll want to show it to you.  In fact, here he comes now!"

 

From the door behind Stan came an odd squeaking sound.  Fraser saw the source first; he raised his eyebrows and said, "Well, well…"  Stan looked behind him and his jaw dropped.

 

Ordinarily Max could drag himself around quite well with his front legs, though he couldn't move as fast as the other ferrets.  But that had changed.  His paralyzed hind legs were secured in a peculiar-looking contraption, made of aluminum tubing, nylon straps – and wheels.

 

Max zoomed around the room, running in circles around Stan and Fraser. He finally stopped – more or less – in front of Stan and hopped up and down in his very own variation of the Weasel War dance.  Because of the wheels, this also involved some unique back-and-forth movements. Max looked up at his sponsor Daddy, chuckling and obviously a very happy little ferret.

 

Fraser said, "A mobility device.  How wonderful!  I've seen them around Chicago on dogs, but this is the first one I've seen one designed for ferrets.  High-quality workmanship, too, from the looks of it.  Did someone locally make it?"

 

Kim nodded.  "A local company makes them.  Max was their first ferret customer, and they went to a lot of trouble to make sure it fit correctly.  And do you know what they charged?  Just enough to pay for the materials – that's their policy with shelters."

 

The shelter lady – who had given so much of her heart to help so many sick, crippled, homeless ferrets – smiled.  "You can tell how much Max loves his new wheels.  He's been running around like mad ever since we strapped him in.  It does so much good to see him free to move around like this."

Stan knelt down and picked up Max, wheels and all, and held the ferret up so that they faced one another.  It took a moment before Stan could speak.  He finally said, softly, "This is great, little guy.  This is so great.  I'm so happy for my little shelter kid."

 

Then Stan grinned.  "Those are really cool wheels you got there.  What you need is a biker jacket to go along with them!  How about it, Maxie – think you'd like that?"

 

For an answer Stan got a ferret kiss on the tip of his nose.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

By the time Ray and Stella hit the suburbs of Chicago, it was snowing and everything was lightly covered with white.  Ray was in an excellent mood.  "Now this is what Christmas is supposed to look like!"

 

"No argument there, Ray.  Florida is nice, but…"  Stella looked in the back seat.  "It's good we found that toy store in Kentucky.  Now your sister's kids will have some new toys – the ones they got last year must be worn out by now."

 

Ray shook his head.  "Not Frannie's kids – they're different.  They don't break things.  Oh, yeah, they're happy and they love to play. But no broken toys, no fights."

 

"Really…  That may well have something to do with the circumstances of their births.  In a case like that, it's not surprising that they play nice."

 

"Could be, could be.  My sister, a real single parent – Yikes!!"

 

"Ray, what's wrong!?  Did we hit something?!"

 

"No, but we almost did!  There was a cat in the road!  I missed it, but…"  He stopped the car.  "Stay here – I'll check on it!"  He got out and ran back.

 

It wasn't just a cat – it was a black kitten.  It gave Ray a curious little "Mew" as he came up to it.  It didn't look like it was suffering from the cold – yet.

 

"Hey, there, kid.  You don't look like you belong out here."  It showed no fear of Ray as he picked it up; it even tried to play-swat at him.

 

As Ray walked back to the Riv, he noticed that the kitten wore a bright blue collar, with a tag. Ray couldn't read it too well in the fading light, but there was something about Hi, my name is… and If you find me, call….  Ray told the kitten, "Your humans care about you – the tag proves that.  Good humans, smart humans."  The kitten began to purr.

 

So Ray and Stella had to take a little detour, but it was worth it to reunite the kitten with its loving human parents.

STAVE THE FOURTH

 

Stan watched the Weasel Patrol as they played some complicated ferret game, involving the usual chasing, wrestling and jumping.  The rules evidently allowed for individual timeouts, at least for Donald O'connor.  Once in awhile Donald O would stop playing, wander over to Stan, look up at him and touch his feet with a little pink ferret nose.  In turn, Stan would bend down and give Donald O a scritchie under the chin.  Soon Donald O would turn around and join his two ferret buddies for more playing.

 

This was normal behavior for Donald O'Connor.  It's as if he had to constantly check that his Daddy was still there.  Given Donald O's history, Stan wasn't surprised.

 

He checked the clock again.  Fraser ought to be here soon.  The packages had arrived at the Consulate earlier that day, and he was bringing them over.  The problem now was how Fraze was going to get them in the apartment without interference from certain nosy individuals.  Getting the packages from the front door to the other room was going to be awkward.

 

Then Stan heard a tapping in the ferrets' room.  He looked in and saw a familiar face at the window.  Two faces, actually; Diefenbaker was with him.  Stan smiled.  The fire escape; with Fraser, what else?

 

Stan went into the ferrets' room and just managed to close the door behind him before the Weasel Patrol got there.  He opened the window, and said, "Why doesn't the Post Office give service this good?  Have any trouble, Fraze?"

 

"Oh, no, Stan, none at all!  It was only twelve blocks from the Consulate.  Right next door, practically!  Here, I'll hand these through."

 

As box after box after wrapped gift made its way through the window, Stan began to contemplate the idea of Fraser carrying all of this by himself.  He had to have made more than one trip!  Stan decided not to think about it too much.

 

"There we are!  Just put these in the closet here, take the other gifts in the living room…"

 

"You sure about that, Fraze?  Ferrets and wrapped packages don't mix – at least not if you want to keep the packages wrapped."

 

"Good point – all of it goes in here, then.  There we go!  I take it that the Vecchios haven't arrived yet?"

 

Stan opened the door, and three streaks of furry lightning ran in.  As the Weasel Patrol played detectives hunting for clues, Stan replied, "Nah, they were probably held up.  It's early yet."

 

As the two men walked into the living room, the doorbell rang.  Stan said, "Hark!  That's the sound of a major coincidence if ever I heard one!"  He opened his front door.

 

There were Ray and Stella Vecchio, laden with packages and all smiles. "Merry Christmas!"

 

"And a Cool Yule right back at you!  C'mon in!"  The packages were set down to make room for hugs, handshakes, pats on a wolf's head and all-around joyous greetings.  The commotion was enough that the intense investigation of the other room was suspended, and the Weasel Patrol came in to join the greetings.

 

"It's good to see you, Ray!  How was the car trip?"

 

"It's really good to see you, too, Benny.  Trip was just fine.  Matter of fact, we had a great time!"

 

"Stel'…  You're looking good."

 

"Stan…  You're looking good yourself.  It's been awhile since I've been here.  It's changed quite a bit.  The toys suit the place."

 

"Yeah, well, when you got kids…"  He pointed at the three little faces looking up at the humans.  "I try to tell them to pick up after themselves, but do they listen?  Noooo…"  Stella laughed, and they both smiled.

 

"It's good that you folks showed up now.  We've got one Christmas gift for – somebody – that requires some assembly.  Stan and I can put it together ourselves, but a third person would make it go faster.  May I ask if one of you would be good enough to help us?"

 

Stella said, "That sounds like a guy thing to me.  I'm not much for 'Some Assembly Required'.  I'll volunteer to stay in here.  Ray, love, do you think you could help them?"

 

"Sure – lead the way!"

 

"Well, we'll have to go in –"  Fraser made head motions toward the ferret room.  "Stella, may I ask if you could provide some distraction?"  He pointed downward.

 

Stella bent over, stuck her fingers in her ears, bugged out her eyes and went "BUGGA-BUGGA-BUGGA!!"  The ferrets stared up at her, mesmerized by the sight of a human acting like that, and completely missed the other three humans making a break for the other room.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Stella found watching the ferrets easy.  All three just sat in front of the door to the other room, listening intensely to the voices from the other side.  She had to admit, it sounded intriguing.

 

"Man, this thing is big!  Does it have to be this big?"

"The bigger, the better, Ray."

"Hey, you guys seen – oh, never mind, here it is."

"Stan, could you hold this piece this way – that's fine."

"Sure goes together easy."

"I can't get over how big this thing is!"

 

Finally – "There! Are we ready?" "No, wait, just this… There!  Now it's done!  Let 'em in!"  Fraser opened the door, and the three ferrets rushed into the room…

 

… and stopped, stunned at what lay before them.

It was a monster of a cage – four feet wide by three feet deep, towering almost six feet high.  There were no less than six different levels inside, all connected by ramps and sturdy tubes ideal for climbing.  And attached to it at the top was a wooden sign: KOWALSKI FERRET PATROL – MAIN HEADQUARTERS.

 

There were water bottles and food bowls and high-backed litter pans at different levels all through the cage.  There were hammocks and sleeping tubes hanging at various heights, and three boxes and two tents spotted at various locations for those private times.  And toys! There were toys from top to bottom.  It was Ferret Heaven.

 

The door on the ground floor was open, and the ferrets wasted no time scrambling in to investigate their new home.  Stella shook her head in wonder.  "I have never seen a ferret cage that large before!  Stan, did you have that specially made?"

 

"Yep.  Fraze found this guy online who makes these things to order, so we sent him the specs and here it is.  You know what kind of hours I work, Stel', so I wanted a cage big enough so the fuzzbutts wouldn't be cramped for space if I couldn't get home to let 'em out.  The guy did a great job, just like I asked for, and he's reasonably priced, too."

 

"Looks high-quality.  The ramp and floor covers are nice; I like that color red.  Hey, wait a minute…"  Stella looked at Fraser.  "That's your uniform material, isn't it?  You made those covers yourself, right?"

 

The mountie nodded.  "It's red serge, yes.  Walking around on bare wire is hard on little feet, so some sort of covers were necessary.  I have sources for the material, so I took care of that."

 

The three ferrets were having a whale of a time checking out the cage, climbing from one level to another, jumping off of an upper level to land in a conveniently-placed hammock, crawling through a tube, playing with a nearby toy, crawling in and out of the privacy boxes. Once in awhile one of them would come over to the cage wall and chatter at Stan, as if to say, "Look, Daddy!  Look!  Look!  Look what SANTA brought us!!"

 

The three ferrets hadn't even begun to check out the rest of the room. There were other toys, tents and lots of tubes to play with.  Stan said, "I think these furbutts are gonna be busy for awhile.  Why don't we all go in the other room and open our own presents?"

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Diefenbaker clearly enjoyed his new jacket, which had CHICAGO PD K-9 CORPS printed on the side; Fraser had done a very good job of making a Sam Browne belt to fit.  The wolf loved the junk food-flavored chew bones, much to Fraser's dismay.  "Ray, I have enough trouble with him as it is; this isn't helping."  Ray and Stella managed to look innocent.

 

"Fraze, this is for you – and I'm surprised nobody's thought of it before."  Stan handed Fraser a letter in an oversized frame.  The letter said, essentially:

 

"In recognition of his assistance, valuable and freely given, his bravery, his heroism, his honesty, his friendship, and his support for this city's finest police officers, I do officially appoint Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police an officer of the Chicago Police Department."

 

It was signed by the mayor of Chicago.  And all around were the sigantures of present and former members of the 27th Precinct:  Lt. Harding Welsh; Stan Kowalski; Elaine Besbriss; Jack Huey and Thomas Dewey, the "Duck Boys"; Mort; Fracesca Vecchio (who "dotted" her i's with little hearts); and…  "Ray, you were able to sign this, too? How nice!"

 

"It's a long time coming, Benny."

 

"And Fraze, here's one more thing."  Stan handed him a small wallet.

 

Inside was his Chicago PD badge.

 

Fraser looked at it for some moments without making a sound.  Finally he said, softly, "Thank you.  Thank you very much.  I'm deeply honored."

 

The ferret posters from Ray and Stella went over very well, as did the books.  Ray had taken up a new hobby after moving to Florida – building scale models.  For Stan, he'd put together a black GTO, with a police radio under the dashboard and a video box for "Singing in the Rain" on the back seat.  Fraser's model was larger – a DC-3 on the verge of takeoff, with two men clinging to the wing.  "My goodness, Ray, how in the world did you find out what the aircraft markings were?"

 

Ray shrugged.  "Oh, I got my sources, Benny."

 

Stan gave Stella an edition of Charles Dickens' "Christmas Carol", an extensively annotated version that she hadn't come across before. He gave Ray a radio-controlled car.

 

"Oh, wow – a Buick Riviera!  Pretty good-looking one, too!  But green?  No way it came that way – you painted it this color, right?"

 

"Nope.  That's the color it came with.  Honest Inuit!"

 

It was Fraser's turn again, and he handed out the statues he'd carved out of the scrap lumber.  To the Vecchios, he gave a statue of Lady Justice, with blindfold and finely worked scales.  Ray and Stella got a good laugh when they noticed that the Lady was lifting up her blindfold to peek at the scales.

 

"Stan, for yours I experimented with painting the wood.  I hope it turned out well, but I'm not an impartial judge."  The statue was of two ferrets, standing on their hind legs in a slow dance.  One was a red-eyed albino and the other a petite Champagne.

 

Stan sighed.  "My first two ferrets.  Marge and Gower.  I still miss them…"  He smiled at his friend.  "This is good, Fraze – that's what they looked like, all right.  Thank you kindly."

 

"Okay, you two – a couple of more presents left.  We found these at a crafts show in Georgia, and we couldn't pass them up.  Benny, here ya go.  The guy said he got the colors right."

 

Fraser looked at the nutcracker mountie, and nodded.  "So he did.  The Sam Browne could be a little darker – no, I'm wrong; it's just the lighting.  Now…"  He set the nutcracker down on the table, and dug around in his pocket.  He quickly produced a nut of some sort.  The handle was pumped up and down, there was a charp crack, and pieces of shell dribbled from the nutcracker's mouth.  "Excellent!  Very good workmanship!  This will come in handy!"

 

Ray shook his head.  "Leave it to you, Benny, to be carrying nuts around in your pocket! – Okay, Stan, one more gift, and it happens to be yours.  It oughta be perfect to top that Christmas tree of yours!" Ray handed over a vaguely conical package.

 

Stan opened it and stared.  Fraser looked at the ferret angel and said, "Oh, dear."

 

Ray and Stella frowned at each other.  Stella asked, "Stan, is something wrong?"

 

They barely heard Stan say, "It looks just like her – look at the mask, Fraser."

 

"Indeed.  The markings are virtually identical.  It's uncanny."

 

Stan looked at his former wife and his former identity – his friends – and they were surprised to see that he was almost in tears.  "Did you know? – No, you didn't!  You couldn't know!  It can't be possible! Where did you find this?"

 

"Hey, we just came across it in a craft show, and it just kinda seemed right!  Don't ask me how we knew, but we did!  Are you saying you know a ferret that looks like that?"

 

Stan nodded.  "Yeah… yeah.  We did.  It's a long story."

 

At this point a loud thump came from the other room, followed by what could only be described as somebody cursing a blue streak in Ferretese.  Then Cyd Charisse came into the living room, cheerfully hopping along and chuckling.

 

Fraser said, "I believe that is a sign that it's time to look after the ferrets.  Does everyone agree?"

 

The others realized that the phrase "look after" really meant "play with".  And they were all in strong agreement.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

There were lots of games for ferrets and humans to play: towel rides; blanket toss; tug-of-war; hide-and-seek; climb-on-Diefenbaker; poke-at-side-of-plastic-bag-and-drive-ferrets-inside-nuts; and good old-fashioned Chase-the-Weasel.  Everyone had a great time.

 

But even the most wired weasel will run out of energy eventually. Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse wound up snoozing under a brand-new blanket.  Donald O'Connor didn't join them; he let out with a toothy yawn and crawled into his Daddy's lap, where he curled up and drifted off to sleep.

 

There was peace in the Kowalski apartment; everyone was sitting on the floor.  Stella leaned her head against Ray's shoulder, Diefenbaker lay with his head in Fraser's lap, and they watched as Stan gently stroked his furchild.

 

Stan began to speak.  "I try not to play favorites with my fuzzbutts; I love them all, as if you couldn't tell.  But Donny O here – he's special to me.  Fraze knows why.  It's the way I met this kid."

 

Fraser nodded.  "It was under difficult circumstances."

 

"Yeah.  Real difficult.  You know I've adopted all these kids from the shelter.  Gene and Cyd were cagemates and came in together.  They were fine.  Donald, here, though…"

 

Stan sighed.  "He came in with a girl cagemate, too.  Fraser and I were there that day.  This guy came – real upscale, fancy car, fancy clothes – brought them in in their cage, said they were 'too much trouble', 'interfered with his lifestyle' – usual junk.  Said he would've taken them out of town and let them loose in the woods, but the shelter would save the price of gas.  No kiddin' – that's just what he said.

 

"Those two animals were in horrible shape.  Yuppie-boy claimed they'd quit eating a day or two before, but that was baloney; it had to be more like a week or more.  They were both skin and bones, dehydrated, too.  Filthy, had earmites and fleas.  Toenails needed cutting real bad.  The cage Rich Creep had 'em in was totally inadequate – it was a glass fishtank!  No food bowl, no water.  He hadn't cleaned it out and they had to stand in their own waste.  So they had urine burns on their feet!  Those kids were seriously neglected!"

 

Donald O whimpered – he was having a bad dream.  Stan gently took a paw between his fingers and massaged the foot pads.  It soothed the sleeping ferret, and he calmed down.

 

Ray shook his head.  "That sounds awful.  The creep had nerve bringing 'em in like that."

 

"Oh, that's not all of it!  After he handed over the torture chamber to Kim – the shelter lady – he actually demanded she pay him!  He wanted $100 for the two ferrets and the fishtank!  Said he wanted to get some return on his investment!"

 

"What!?  Aw, man…  I would've given him a return on his investment, all right!"

 

"Yeah, well, I was gonna pound him into the ground, but Fraser grabbed me and wouldn't let go.  Probably just as well.  Fraze stayed cool enough to talk with this creep."

 

Fraser said, "I bargained with the owner – and I use the term "owner" loosely – and got him down from $100 to accepting a promise that I wouldn't let go of Stan until after the man left.  Stan…  I don't know if I've ever told you how hard it was to keep that promise."

 

"I figured that out, Fraze.  You're weren’t exactly cool yourself.  And he did leave without getting any money, so you did good."

 

"Well, I believe it helped that I didn't try to keep you quiet while I was holding you."

 

"Good point – I pretty much made it clear what I thought of him and what I wanted to do with him.  It got him out of there quick.  Then we had the real important stuff to do."

 

"Try and save their lives."

 

"Yeah – try and save their lives.  We couldn't take 'em to the vet; not as weak as they were.  Meds would've put a strain on their systems.  All we could do was try and get some weight on 'em."

 

Fraser took up the story.  "Stan and I spent most of our time at the shelter.  Neither animal was strong enough to eat on their own, so every few hours we had to force-feed them some Duck Soup.  It wasn't easy; they weren't always able to keep it down.  When we weren't feeding them, we just held them – human contact was just as important as the nourishment.  It let them know that someone cared."

 

Stan traced the edge of Donald O's ear with his fingertip.  He swallowed and began talking again.  "The little girl didn't make it. I was holding her when she – when she went away –"  He choked up and couldn't finish.  Nobody said anything as Stan cried.

 

Fraser finally said, "And Stan decided that the remaining ferret wasn't going to die.  He took over his care, and stayed with him all day and all night."

 

Stan nodded.  "Yeah, that's right, Fraze.  I'd lost Marge and Gower; I'd seen neglected ferrets come to Kim's shelter, too late for us to do them much good; I'd just seen this sweet little girl die.  I'd had enough – I decided we weren't gonna lose this guy.  No way, no how!" Stan looked at Ray and Stella, and there was strength in those eyes. "So I fought for his life!  I stayed with him and fed him as much as he could hold.  I held him and I talked to him, I told him to stay with us and grow strong and get to where he could play and have fun like ferrets are supposed to do!  I fought!"

 

Stella said, "It looks like you won, Stan."  Donald O'Connor was a large, handsome sable ferret, with a rich, thick coat.  He was easily the biggest of the three.

 

Stan nodded.  "Yeah, Stel', I won.  But it was just one battle. There's still the war.  We called Animal Control on Mr. Yuppie, but they never found him.  And there are way too many other less-than-human types out there like him; volunteer work at the shelter isn't easy sometimes."  He continued stroking Donald O.  "And there'll be other battles with these guys when they get older, health stuff.  In the long run, those are battles you can't win.

 

"For now, they're all healthy as horses.  Donny here, after what we went through, no surprise I adopted him.  He's doing fine, but he still wolfs his food down – no offense, Dief.  It's like he's afraid somebody will take it away.  I can't say as I blame him."

 

Ray said, "I'd probably be the same way."  He looked at the ferret angel at the top of Stan's Christmas tree; the little light in its paws glowed a soft blue.  Then it came to him.  "Hey, Stan, that girl ferret, the one with Donny – the angel we gave you looks like her, doesn't it?"

 

Stan smiled and nodded.  "Just like her – the mask matches hers exactly."

 

"Whoa – that makes it really special then."

 

Fraser replied, "There's more to it, Ray.  The – individual didn't bother giving these animals names.  Every pet ought to have a name. So, while Stan was caring for the little girl, he named her.   He chose a fine name."

 

Stan said, "Yeah, I thought it fit – she could've been a real sweetie." He looked at the top of the tree.  "I named her Angel."

 

The Vecchios were speechless.  Stan smiled at them and brushed a tear from his eye.  "Stella – Ray – I don't think I can ever thank you enough for my ferret angel.  It'll always mean a lot to me – and to her."

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

Mama Vecchio was planning a huge Christmas dinner that evening.  All of the Vecchio children and children's children were going to be there, plus Fraser, Stan, Stan's parents – and even the Kowalski Weasel Patrol; Mama Vecchio loved spoiling ferrets.  Ray and Stella went on ahead while Stan and Fraser went through the juggling act known as "Putting The Ferrets In The Pet Carrier".

 

As they drove through the light snow, Ray said to Stella, "You know, I keep thinking about that ferret in the Macon pet shop."

 

"She was a sweetheart, wasn't she?  It's a shame that's she's alone."

 

"Yeah, it is.  I've been thinking about driving by there on the way home.  I'd like to get her one more Christmas present, babe."

 

"Oh?  What did you have in mind?"

 

So he told her, and she thought it would be a very good present, indeed.

 

STAVE THE FIFTH

 

Max had great fun all day wearing his new wheel thingy.  The sable ferret ran all over the shelter, from room to room and back again; he played chase games with his furry buddies; sometimes he just stayed in one place and ran around in circles just for sheer joy.

 

Finally it was sleep-sleep time.  Max's shelter Mommy undid the straps on the wonderful wheel thingy and took it off of him.  She placed him in his new hammock, tucked him in with his new blanket and kissed him night-night.  There was a wooden sign attached to his hammock that said KOWALSKI WEASEL PATROL – AUXILIARY STATION.

 

Max sighed and settled himself down.  He was so happy.  His wheel thingy was great; he was free now to run around real fast and could keep up with the other shelter kids.  And now he had a hammie and a blankie of his very own.  They felt so soft, and they smelled of his sponsor Daddy and his Uncle Benny; that made them special.  The hammie was so big – lots of his furry friends could sleep with him!

 

It had been a special day for Max.  The humans had shown him how much he was loved, and it felt good.

 

As he drifted off to sleep, Max realized that it wasn't just the neat things he'd gotten that made the day special.  Something had felt different, like the day meant something important.  He wondered why.

 

Later that night, someone came to him in his dreams.  Max never knew who that someone was, but he knew they were kind.  They explained to him why today was special.  They told Max the story of Christmas.

 

It was a story that Max would never forget.  And he never lost the feeling of joy it gave him.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

In Macon, Georgia, the clerks had played with and cuddled the little albino ferret after closing time.  But soon they had gone home, and now the petshop was dark and quiet.  The little ferret was all alone.

 

She felt lonely, but it wasn't as bad as before.  She had her own krinkle sack and jingly ball toys.  She played by herself for awhile, jumping on the sack and tossing the balls around, enjoying the funny noises they made.  Soon she began to get sleepy.  She crawled into her sack and made herself comfortable; it was so soft and cozy.  She held one of her ball toys in her front paws and began to drift off to sleep.

 

She remembered the people that gave her the nice things.  She liked them.  She hoped she would see them again – or at least meet some other humans as nice as them.

 

Nobody came to this little ferret and told her of the Future. She didn't know what was to come for her.

 

She didn't know that in less than a week's time, she would be far away from the big, lonely petshop, running around and playing in a bright, warm place.  She didn't know that she would soon be having lots of fun running and dancing and chasing a funny little car called a "Buick Riviera".

 

Because she was going to see the nice people again, real soon.  And they were going to give her one more Christmas present, a very special one.

 

They were going to give her a home.

 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

A day or two after Christmas, Stan noticed that the ferret angel looked a little different.

 

At least he thought it looked different.  He wasn't sure.  It may well have been that he hadn't noticed it before; it was quite possible.  He just couldn't be certain.

 

He called the Vecchios after they got back to Florida and asked them, but they couldn't remember it one way or another, sorry.  They had a lot on their minds anyway, what with the baby coming and the new furkid to get used to.  Stan also asked Fraser about it, and he couldn't remember, either.  That was strange, because Fraser had a memory like a steel trap.

 

Stan finally stopped worrying about it.  If the ferret angel hadn't been smiling when he first got it, it was smiling now, and it was a sweet little smile that Stan liked.

 

When he took down his Christmas tree, Stan didn't pack the ferret angel away with the rest of the decorations.  He thought it was one of the best gifts he'd ever gotten, and he wanted to display it year round.

 

Stan placed his ferret angel on the table next to the wooden sculpture of Marge and Gower.  As he told Fraser, the sculpture and the angel were important, because they helped Stan remember his lost kids.

 

On Christmas night, Stan had a dream.  In that dream, a sable ferret came to him.  "Hi, Daddy!"

 

"What – Max?!  Max, is that you??  Are you all right?"

 

"I'm fine, Daddy.  I'm dreaming now, too."

 

"You can walk, Max!  That's great!"

 

"Of course I can, Daddy!  I can run in my dreams!  I can jump – I can dance!"

 

"But – why are you here?"

 

"I'm a healthy ferret, Daddy – except for these silly hind legs.  My time hasn't come yet; I'll be around for a long time to come!  But there are other furkids that have gone on ahead.  I've brought three of them here to see you, because they have a message."

 

And there were three ferrets with Max.  One of them was an albino and another was a petite little Champagne.  A tear rolled down Stan's cheek.  "Marge… Gower…"

 

The third ferret was a little sable girl.  She was dressed in a little white gown, with white wings and a golden halo.  She smiled at Stan, and he cried.  "Angel…"

 

All four ferrets shouted, "MERRY CHRISTMAS, DADDY!"

 

And Angel said, "God bless us, everyone."

 

THE END

MERRY CHRISTMAS

 

DISCLAIMER

 

This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications Corp., CBS and CTV or any other copyright holders of "due South".