Holiday - 2007

Winner Holiday Short Story Contest

CJ Mouser

Christmas in Vegas

Fran clutched her daughter's tiny hand until the child
complained.

"Mama!" Kayla wiggled her fingers, trying to escape
her mother's grasp.

"Sorry, baby."

The steady stream of traffic along the highway made
Fran intensely nervous, which translated into a death
grip on her 4-year-old daughter.

"Mama, I'm cold, and I'm hungry!"

Now that Kayla had begun to complain, it seemed she
could not stop. It was just past midnight in Las
Vegas, and they had been chased from the cardboard box
behind the grocery store that had been their
unofficial home since early December. The store
manager had been anything but sympathetic.

"I told you if I caught you out here again, I'd call
the cops. They're on their way."

Thankfully Fran knew the short cuts and hidden
passages around the city better than the police did.
Now if she could just find a place for the night ...

With a burst of confidence, Fran raced across the
8-lane highway, tugging Kayla in her wake. A backpack
filled with their meager belongings bounced against
her back and she mentally cursed the store manager for
not giving her time to collect the two mission-issued
blankets that they had been sleeping under since Tom
disappeared.

"Mama, slow down!"

The child's little shoes slapped the pavement
pitifully as she stumbled, trying to run as fast as
her mother. The child was normally as spry and
graceful as a deer, but the layers of clothing she
wore to head off the chill of the desert night and to
make traveling faster and easier, slowed her down.

"Kayla! You have to keep up!" Fran snapped, and then
sighed with relief as she and Kayla safely reached the
opposite curb. Kayla yawned, and murmured her
discontent at having been rousted in the middle of the
night and Fran's heart lurched in her chest as she
fought back tears. She bent and lifted her daughter to
her hip. "I can carry you for a little while, okay?"

The yawning jaw of a dark alley ahead beckoned, and
Fran made her way toward it, hoping the alley was as
empty as it appeared. Christmas music played softly
somewhere off in the distance and Fran suddenly
remembered that Christmas was less than a week away.
Kayla had gone back to sleep, her soft, warm breath
tickling Fran's neck as she snored softly.

A male voice drifted out of the darkness of the alley
and Fran's senses were suddenly on high alert.

"There's a place here," the voice whispered, and Fran
froze. In her experience, nobody did anything nice for
free. Nobody did anything out of the kindness of their
heart ... everything had a price.

She moved away from the voice without replying; better
to pretend she hadn't heard than risk a confrontation.

"Look ... I ain't gonna hurt ya," the voice insisted.

Fran stiffened; these were the exact words that a man
used before he turned right around and hurt you
anyway.

"I'm leaving for awhile," the voice continued,"and I'd
just as soon you stayed here, so nobody will steal my
spot."

There was a shuffling sound and a shadow, darker than
the gloom of the alley fell over Fran, and she hated
how small it made her feel.

"There's a couple blankets and a foam mattress. You
won't find anything better. If you stay here, then I
won't have to tote this stuff around with me." A large
hand wearing gloves with the fingertips cut out, came
toward Fran in the darkness. It might as well have
been a rattlesnake for the impact it had on Fran.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, and the hand instantly
withdrew.

"I was just going to introduce myself," the voice said
apologetically, "name's Jed. I'm from Houston."

The shadow moved away and Fran breathed a sigh of
relief.

"So, do we have a deal?" Jed asked. "Will you take
care of my stuff if I let you use it? Promise not to
go off and leave it before I get back?"

Fran stood like a statue, considering. The thought of
a soft mattress and warm blankets whispered to her
like a siren song.

"I'll even leave Joe with you, he won't let nobody
mess with you."

Fran heard the sound of a dog's toenails on the
concrete and then a cold nose pressed itself against
the back of her left hand. The invisible dog whined as
if to prove to her that he offered no threat. If only
it hadn't been dark, if only she could see the man ...
see his eyes, because his eyes would tell her what he
was really thinking. Kayla chose that moment to
whimper and shiver in her sleep.

"All right," Fran said, finally, "but if you mess with
me or my daughter, I swear ..."

"You'll what ... ?" the voice challenged, and then Jed
chuckled. "If you're gonna threaten someone, you
oughta at least know what you're threatening them
with."

Fran listened to Jed's footsteps as he moved away.
"Stay, Joe," he said softly and the dog whined again.

After getting her daughter settled, Fran lay down
beside her, grateful for the warmth of the dog who
stretched out against her back, and despite her fears
and worries, was asleep before Jed's footsteps faded
into the darkness.


Fran woke the next morning to the sounds of traffic,
the smells of cooking food from a nearby restaurant
and the immediate, and bone-chilling knowledge that
her daughter was missing. Gone too, was the dog, Joe,
leaving her back exposed and cold.

"Kayla!" she cried, as she felt around in the
blankets, hoping that she'd somehow simply overlooked
her sleeping daughter's form. A man who leaned against
the opposite wall of the alley with an empty liquor
bottle in his hand, gazed at her quizzically, and then
grinned a toothless grin, and pointed.

Fran's eyes followed his outstretched hand and there
at the mouth of the alley sat Kayla with a large man
in a tattered overcoat, and a German Shepherd with a
grimy blue bandana tied around its neck. Jed and Joe,
Fran surmised, and she felt her anger rise and heat
her face like the first rays of the morning sun. She
scrambled to her feet, and hurried to Kayla's side.

"What did I tell you about staying with me?" Fran
ground out as she grabbed Kayla by the shoulder and
shook her.

"Hey, hey ... easy now," Jed murmured, and Fran got
her first look into his eyes. They were a startling
shade of green, like the moss on the north side of a
tree or new clover in the spring. His face was square
with a firm jaw, and Fran tried to guess his age as
his eyebrows knitted slightly in amusement tinged with
understanding. "She's fine ... we didn't want to wake
you, but now that you're up, are you hungry?"

"Mama! Mr. Jed brought us biscuits and milk!" Kayla
sang as she struggled out of Fran's grasp. "Let me go,
I'm feeding Joe!"

The child was breaking off bits of stale biscuit and
feeding them to the dog, who took each morsel with
graceful patience.

Jed stood and stretched, while Fran fumed.

“Well, I've got things to do,” Jed announced, and Joe
trotted to his side and stood, a silent canine sentry,
poised to follow his master. “I don't know what you
ladies have planned for today,” Jed said, “but if you
can stay here and mind the home front, I'll bring back
supper.”

“Mama, we can, can't we?” Kayla begged.

Jed turned his brilliant green eyes on Fran
expectantly.

“I ... I don't ... I was planning on going to the
Christian Ladies Shelter, to see about getting a bed
for Kayla and I.”

“You're too late. If you wanted to sleep there tonight
you should have been there last night to ensure a
spot. It's not the best system in the world. Look, for
some reason the cops leave us along here, but if I
leave and take all my stuff, someone else will claim
my spot, and it's a good spot. The further back in the
alley you go, the worse it smells. If you stay here
and guard the spot then we can all sleep here
tonight.”

“Mama, I don't want to go to the shelter again,” Kayla
whined, “I want to stay here with Jed!”

Fran thought of the relative pleasure of one day not
spent walking around feeling the stares of pity and
disgust from passersby. The gift of spending one day
knowing that she wouldn't have to beg for money or
food to feed her daughter.

“All right, but this doesn't mean we owe you
anything,” Fran snapped.

“Perish the thought,” Jed quipped, and then he leaned
down and gazed into Kayla's brown eyes, “see what you
can do about making her smile while I'm gone, will
ya?”

“Okay!” Kayla agreed and then impulsively hugged Jed's
neck. “Thank you for the biscuits and milk.”

Jed stood and winked at Fran. “Nice manners,” he said,
and then he was gone.

Kayla spent the day running up and down the alley
finding a dozen things to do to keep herself occupied
as Fran shook out the blankets, folded them and then
rolled up the mattress. There was a rucksack nearby
filled with odds bits of clothing and Fran emptied it
out, shook the sand out of the bottom and proceeded to
refold and repack everything that was in it. Unlike
her backpack, there was nothing in the rucksack that
hinted at who Jed was. Aside from a ragged, jade cross
at the end of a length of frayed yarn, there was
nothing personal ... the items inside could have come
from any used clothing thrift store.

After neatening Jed's things, Fran dumped out her
backpack and began to tidy hers and Kayla's
belongings; Kayla's Teddy bear, her pink hairbrush,
and the odd bits and pieces of the only reminders of
better times. Her hands fell on the framed photo that
she carried of her and Tom and Kayla at Virginia
Beach. The photo spoke to better times ; they'd had a
home, a decent car and friends. They'd had a life. The
type of life that comes before crack cocaine finds its
way in and shatters any illusion of normalcy. She
gazed at the photo and tried to remember what it had
been like before Tom had abandoned them. Memories
flitted in and out of her mind and she pored over each
one, like a woman with leprosy picks over her scabs
and wounds, never letting them close, never letting
them heal. Where was he now? Had he found a place
where crack flowed like wine at a Roman feast? Had he
been arrested? Was his body somewhere out in the
desert ... waiting to be discovered by a hiker only to
be planted in a grave marked with a John Doe marker?

“Mama! Mr. Jed is back!”

Fran was startled to find that she had been sitting as
still as a statue as day crept into evening. How long
had she been sitting there staring at the fragments of
her life?

As Fran began to shove items back into her backpack,
Joe trotted up and began to lick her face, offering an
ecstatic greeting that made Fran giggle despite her
morose thoughts.

“Stop ... crazy dog!” The more Fran tried to push the
dog away, the more determined he became to heap his
dog joy upon her. He arched his back, his rear end in
the air and wagged not only his tail, but his entire
south end while he attacked with his tongue, his head
darting in and out, deftly dodging Fran's hands. Kayla
threw herself into the mix, her squeals of delight
warming Fran's heart as the dog turned his lavish
attentions on her and licked the child's face and
neck.

“Now that,” Jed said, as he eyed Fran's smile, “is a
sight for sore eyes.”

He smiled, and Fran noted that he had perfect,
straight white teeth. Under the grimy stocking cap he
wore on his head, his face glowed with an almost
ethereal quality. Fran was captivated again by eyes
that were the color of fresh, growing things, or
grasshoppers, or the rippling waters of Emerald Bay.

“Looks like you've been busy,” he remarked as he
studied the area and the neatly stacked blankets.

“It was something to do,” Fran admitted.

“Well, we need to hurry, they'll be here soon,” Jed
said. He squatted and began to unload items from the
large plastic bag he carried.

“Who'll be here soon?” Fran queried, and Kayla rolled
over and stared at Jed as he lined food items across
the end of a blanket that he'd spread on the concrete.
There were two loaves of 3-day-old bread, a tin of
canned ham, a jar of pickles and a box of crumbled
holiday cookies.

“The others,” Jed said simply, and nodded in the
direction of a woman who had suddenly appeared at the
entrance to the alley. She was dressed in typical bag
lady fashion, and was pushing a shopping cart that was
heaped with a variety of odd and ends that spoke to a
nomadic existence.

The woman smiled and nodded at Kayla, ignoring Fran
completely, and handed Jed an unopened gallon jug of
drinking water.

“The drug store,” the woman muttered, “they threw it
out because it was sticky on the outside. I washed it
off ... poof! Good as new.”

Directly behind the woman, was the man that had been
in the alley when Fran woke up that morning. In one
hand he carried an empty liquour bottle, in the other
he carried a bag of smashed and sticky marshmallows,
which he laid on the blanket at Jed's feet.

As the sun sank into the western sky they came, one
after the other like ghosts in ragged, tattered,
clothing, while Kayla stared with round eyes.

“Look at them all. Who are they, Mama?”

“They're homeless, honey.”

Each one carried some item of food or drink, and
deposited it on the blanket on the ground.

“Are we homeless, Mama?”

Fran's heart constricted and she swallowed around the
hard lump in her throat. How did she go about
admitting to her little daughter, who looked to her
for everything, that she had allowed them to become
street people? She thought of her own mother, who had
turned her down flat when she called, looking for a
place to stay.

“But, Mom ... we have no place else to go.”

“Your father and I told you that if you married that
boy, you were on your own. You've made your bed, now
you must lie in it.”

Fran gathered Kayla into her lap and kissed her cheek.

“No, honey, we're not homeless. We're waiting for a
miracle.”

Jed's head came up, and he smiled at Fran.

“It's the season for miracles,” he said, and winked at
Kayla, who giggled and accepted the sandwich that Jed
offered, and bit into it hungrily.

By midnight the alley was filled with sleeping bodies.
A fire burned in a metal can and Kayla slept, one arm
thrown over Joe's neck, while Fran stood at the fire,
trying to find enough warmth to take the cold knot of
worry from the pit of her stomach.

“We're a family you know.”

Jed's voice came out of the darkness and Fran jumped
slightly. She had thought everyone was asleep but her.
He nodded at the sleeping forms. “We look out for each
other, and we help each other. I'm glad you found us,”
Jed said.

“I'm glad I did, too,” Fran admitted honestly.

They stood together, their hands dangling near the
dancing flames, their faces orange and rust in the
glow of the fire.

“What are you going to do, Fran? You can't live like
this forever.”

“Don't you think I know that?”

You tell me what to do, she thought. You tell me how
to fix this.

“You can do anything you want, you know, if you want
it badly enough,” Jed said.

“Big talk coming from someone who is in the same boat
as I am.”

Jed smiled, and once again Fran was help captivated by
his face. She forced herself to look away, blushing
furiously.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was my choice
to live this way?”

Fran scoffed. “Why would anybody choose to live this
way?”

Jed was silent for a few moments and then he shrugged.


“Do you see old Pete lying over there? The one who
always has the bottle in his hand? He's in his 70s and
he's schizophrenic. He has no one, and he needs
someone probably worse than anybody. I do my best to
help him. That bottle he carries is always empty. He
stopped drinking when I showed him that it was making
his condition worse.” Jed smiled again. “When he first
saw you he told me that you were an angel.”

Fran hugged herself and frowned. To her, Pete had been
just another old drunk, looking for his next bottle.

“And Mable over there, lost her home to a fire. She's
been on the streets for almost 5 years now. She has no
other place to go.”

Fran gazed at the still form that was the woman who
brought the gallon jug of water, and frowned. Jed went
on, calling each of them by name, telling her their
stories.

“Willie over there, at the mouth of the alley, has
Alzheimer's. We all look after him.”

“And you do this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Let's just say I kind of fell into it ... and
besides, they look after me, too. And Joe.”

“You said you were from Houston ... how did you end up
here?”

Jed, shrugged. “I'm from Houston of late, I'm from
everywhere, really.”

“Everybody is from somewhere,” Fran said, “where is
your family?”

“I don't have family.”

“You have to have family. A mother and father?”

“They've been gone a long time.”

“Aunts .. uncles ... cousins?”

“My parents were never married ... I don't know who my
relatives are or where they are.”

“You have to have someone ...”

“I do,” Jed said, softly. “I told you, they,” he
nodded at the alley, “are my family. You and Kayla are
my family. Anyone who needs help becomes my family.”

“Well, we didn't need your help, you needed our help,
remember? To watch your things.”

Jed chuckled, “Okay,” he said simply.

“I think we should get some sleep,” Fran said, and
turned to walk away.

“You go ahead, I'll be along shortly.”

Fran wandered over to the mattress where Kayla was
sleeping and slid in beside her. The cold desert night
had penetrated her bones, and she was chilled
throughout. She shivered as she pulled the blankets up
over her arms, and tucked her chin into the crook
between Kayla's neck and shoulders. Just before she
closed her eyes she glanced back to the fire and
watched as Jed bent down and knelt on the cold ground.
Then he folded his hands together before his chin, and
began to pray.

Days went by while Fran and Kayla got to know the
alley people. Without exception, she found that they
had no other recourse but to live on the streets. Jake
Hall was a diabetic, and his medicine was so expensive
that he couldn't afford to pay rent and utilities.
Elizabeth Haley had lost her home when her apartment
building was bought by a casino and torn down to build
a parking garage.

“Sometimes I sleep on the fourth level, right where my
apartment used to be. If I close my eyes and hold my
breath so I can't smell the motor oil, I can pretend
that I'm still living there.”

One after another, they told her about their losses,
while Jed walked the city looking for whatever they
needed most at the moment. Sometimes it was scraps of
wood for the fire barrel, sometimes it was food, or
more blankets. He amazed them all by somehow finding
whatever it was that was needed.

Five days before Christmas, Jed returned to the alley
carrying a plastic bag and deposited it at Fran's
feet.

“What's that?”

The alley people began to gather around as Fran picked
up the bag and held it on her lap.

“Just open it,” Jed urged, and the onlookers murmured
encouragement.

Fran opened the bag and found a dark blue dress in her
size, and a pair of matching shoes.

“It's your size isn't it?” Jed asked hopefully.

“Well, yes, but what do I need with clothing like
this? It's not like I have anywhere to go ...”

At that point Pete handed her a scrap of newspaper. It
was a section of the classifieds with one item
circled, which Fran read out loud;

“Case worker needed for county homeless program. Must
be
compassionate and nonjudgmental and willing to work
closely
with indigents. Must have high school diploma.
Experience
preferred, but will train.”

Fran folded the paper and gazed at Jed. “What is
this?”

“What does it look like? It's an opportunity. An
opportunity for you and Kayla ... to get off the
streets. You graduated high school, right?”

“Well, yes! But I can't do this job!”

“Why not?” Elizabeth pressed. “Why couldn't you?”

“I have no experience with this kind of thing,” Fran
argued.

“Experience!” Pete scoffed. “You have the best
experience there is! You've lived on the streets! You
know what needs to be done. You could help!”

“They won't hire me!” Fran objected. “They must have
hundreds of applicants for this job.”

“So, that's it?” Jake Hall grumbled. “You won't even
try?”

Fran gazed down at Kayla's upturned, hopeful face.

“Mama? You'll try, won't you? Show them you'll try,”
Kayla said, her little chin firm as she gazed up at
her mother.

“Well, I suppose there's no harm in trying ... the
worst they could do is say no.”

The next morning Fran stood at the mouth of the alley.
The dress and shoes fit her perfectly. Elizabeth had
used Kayla's little pink brush to do Fran's hair in a
very professional topknot and for the first time in
months, Fran found a little of her self confidence
returning. She knew deep in her heart that she didn't
stand a chance against other more professional people
who had college educations, and ... homes.  But she
also knew that she didn't stand to lose a thing by
trying. She didn't know what she would do if they
hired her, what she would wear ... how she would keep
herself clean. She would have to worry about that if
the time came to worry about it. She stepped out onto
the sidewalk and with one look back at Kayla, who was
perched on Elizabeth's lap, she walked away.


By the time Fran returned the sun had begun to sink
into the western sky. Willie and Kayla were building
the fire in the barrel and Kayla raced to her mother's
side.

“What happened, Mama? Did they want you to work for
them? Why are you cryin', Mama?”

The alley people surrounded her, and Fran stared at
them helplessly.

“They hired me!” Fran squealed. Kayla began to jump up
and down like a joyful Jack-in-the-box, while the
others applauded.

“Pete!” Fran cried, “did you know that you can get
your medicine free? The local pharmacy has a program
for people over 65, and you qualify! And Willie! They
have an inpatient program for people with Alzheimers!
You can have free medical care and a free place to
live!”

“Who has Alzheimers?” Willie demanded, and everyone
laughed.

“And Elizabeth! There are grants for people like you,
who have lost their homes for reasons beyond their
control!”

Kayla went on to tell them about the new food kitchen
that was in the planning stages, the traveling
physician program and the clothes closet for women who
are trying to get back on their feet.

“They know that I'm homeless!” Fran said excitedly. “I
decided that honesty was the best policy, and they
gave me a voucher for the clothes closet and a
furnished apartment to stay in rent free for 3
months.” Fran bent down and picked Kayla up and kissed
her. “Tonight, you sleep in a bed, sweetheart! You'll
have a bath in a real tub and a meal at a real table.”

Kayla squealed with delight, and Fran hugged her until
she complained. “They gave us food from the food
pantry and soap and shampoo ... we won't need anything
until I get my first paycheck,” Fran said. “Where is
Jed? I can't wait to thank him.”

“He said he had something to do,” Jake Hall replied.
“He said he might be gone a few days. He left me his
bedroll.”

Fran's heart sank when she realized that Jed was like
the wind; he may come back and he may not ... most
likely not. But she couldn't allow herself to be sad
at the moment. She had too much to think about. She
needed to find out what the alley people needed and
make a list of ways that she thought she could help
each one of them.

She gathered hers and Kayla's things and said her
goodbyes. The key to the apartment lay in her pocket
and she marveled that it was the very key to hers and
Kayla's futures. She had already visited the clothes
closet and left two bags of clothing for her and Kayla
in the apartment. The job and all the help she'd
received was the best Christmas gift she could have
hoped for.

“I won't forget any of you,” Fran said to the alley
people. “ I'll be back as soon as I get settled into
my office.”

“Her office,” Elizabeth said and nudged Mable, “did
you hear that? She has an office!”



The apartment was modest but clean, and Kayla spent
the first few minutes doing what any excited child
would do under the circumstances; she bounced on the
bed while Fran went into the kitchen to muster
something up for dinner.

It was when she reached into the cabinet for a box of
macaroni and cheese that she found the envelope.
Inside was a note and even though she had never seen
Jed's handwriting, she knew instantly that the note
was from him. As Fran removed the note, the jade cross
she'd found in Jed's rucksack tumbled into her palm.
Fran held the note in trembling hands and read ...

They say that the Lord helps
those who help themselves, and you
are a classic example. Never forget
the people that you have been hired
to help. Never forget what it's like to
be homeless. There is one last thing
you must do. The first test of your
new life is at 1313 River Street.

All my best ...

Jed



The next morning Fran got Kayla ready and took her to
the woman's shelter day care center.

“Will you be all right?” Fran asked her daughter
nervously. “It will only be for a few hours, sweetie,
while I am at work.”

“Uh huh ...” Kayla said absently; her attention was on
two other little girls who were sitting in the floor
playing with a toy kitchen.

Fran's nervousness passed as Kayla left her side
without a look back, and wandered over to where the
two other little girls smiled at her, and Fran watched
as Kayla sat down and picked up a plastic pot and
spoon, preparing to help cook a plastic meal.

Fran went to her office where she was given
orientation on her duties, some materials and contact
information for local services,  and then she was
basically left alone. Just before lunch she remembered
the note from Jed and she pulled it out of her pocket
and studied it. The address was just down the street
... she could visit during her lunch hour and solve
the mystery of “her first test.”


The building was a nondescript brown brick with double
glass doors in the front. Fran reached for the door
handle and found the door locked. A moment later a
buzzer sounded and Fran heard a click and knew that
the door had been unlocked. She stepped into a tiled
foyer and walked to the reception desk.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, and Fran
stood there mutely wondering what to say; she had no
idea why she was there.

Finally she reached for the note in her pocket -- it
was the only tie she had to the place -- and handed it
to the receptionist. The woman scanned the note, and
then smiled.

“Jed,” she said, and smiled dreamily. “Doesn't he have
the most gorgeous green eyes? Like ... like ...”

“New clover,” Fran supplied, suddenly making up her
mind.

“Yes, new clover! That's it! Well, anyway, you need to
go down the hall to room 125.”

“What's in room 125?”

“If Jed wanted you to know, I suppose he would have
told you,” the woman replied mysteriously.

Fran wandered down the hall to room 125 and then
paused with her hand on the knob. She could hear muted
male voices inside and had no idea what she was
preparing to interrupt, but she had been sent there,
so she turned the knob and entered the room. At a
table in front of her sat four men; three in hospital
gowns and one in a business suit. Two of the men had
their backs to her. The room, other than the scant
furnishings and the four men, was empty.

“Yes?” the man in the suit asked.

“I ... I was sent here,” Fran stammered, “I'm not sure
why.”

“Well, neither am I -- this is a drug rehab for men,
we don't take women here.”

As Fran spoke, the man nearest to her began to turn in
his chair, slowly at first, and then he whirled around
abruptly, and for the first time in months, Fran found
herself face to face with her husband, Tom.

As Fran stared, Tom's eyes welled with tears and he
began to sob.

“I thought I lost you! How did you find me?” he
wailed.

“I ... I ... Tom?” Fran was frozen in place, she
couldn't think, much less form a coherent sentence.

“Yes, it's me!” Tom stood and walked toward her, his
hands out in front of him like a blind man.

Fran thought of the hours, days and weeks that she and
Kayla walked, searching for Tom. Praying they would
find him, and that he wouldn't be in the morgue. And
now here he was, pale and thin, but standing before
her ... his hands capturing hers, his face leaning in
close, she thought, to kiss her, but then his lips
reached not her lips, but her ear.

“You gotta get me out of here!” he hissed, “I'm losing
my mind!”

“What?” Fran went as rigid as a cold, steel, I beam.

“I'm gonna go crazy -- you gotta get me out of here!”

Fran's eyes met those of the drug counselor and he
stared back, his face expressionless.

“You can sign him out,” the man said dubiously, “but I
don't recommend it. He's only been here a week. He's
still in denial that he has a problem. You take him
out now, and he'll go right back to his old tricks.”

“You shut up!” Tom screeched, pointing a shaking,
boney finger, and Fran blanched.

“I don't need your advice, thank you,” Fran said
coldly. “I don't need your help.”

The man in the suit shrugged, and Tom's face split
into a wide rictous grin.

“Thanks, Baby, let me just get my stuff ...”

“And I don't need you, Tom,” Fran said, as she pried
her hands out of Tom's grasp and stepped back. “In
fact, I've never needed you, I just didn't know it.
You threw us away, Tom, for a drug, for a high. You
left us alone not knowing where we were, or if we were
safe or hungry or cold. Your addiction may be an
excuse to you, but to me it was an escape from your
duties as a husband and a father ... and if you did it
once, you can do it again, and I won't go through it,
again. I certainly won't put Kayla through it.”

“But, Baby, I'm sick ...”

“Yes, you are, and you probably always will be. I know
that, now. I hitched my wagon to a falling star, Tom,
and as you fell, you took us as low as I am ever
prepared to go. I have a new chance now, and I can't
let anyone or anything jeopardize that. I wish you the
best.”

Fran turned to reach for the doorknob, leaving Tom
standing there with his mouth hanging open.

“Merry Christmas, Tom. Here's hoping your next one
will be better. But whether it is or not, it will not
include Kayla and me.”

Fran stepped back into the hallway and closed the door
behind her. Her heels clicked as she walked down the
hallway and waited until the buzzer sounded, and then
she let herself out into the crisp, cool, December
air.

Somewhere in Vegas in a warm, clean room, her daughter
was playing with other children and not worrying about
where her next meal was coming from. Somewhere in
Vegas, the homeless were waiting for her to help them
find their way. Somewhere in Vegas, a man who made it
all come together was looking for a ride out of town,
because anyone who needed help became his family and
there were people who needed help everywhere.

Somewhere in Vegas someone was hanging another star on
top of another Christmas tree, because Christmas was
only a few days away, but at her apartment, the tiny
tree that she and Kayla had rescued from the side of
the road because it was too small and missing
branches, stood in the corner by the door.

At the top, dangling from a grimy piece of yarn, was a
ragged, jade cross, and Fran vowed that no matter how
big or expensive her Christmas trees were in the
future, this cross would always have the place of
honor ... at the top, because as long as she lived she
would never forget the man with eyes the color of new
moss ... anymore than she could forget her first
Christmas in Vegas.