Chapter 24

HOLIDAY HOBGOBLIN

Christmas shoppers spilled out of stores and flowed into waterways of pedestrians streaming down the sidewalks of lower Midtown Manhattan. On Lafayette Street, storefront windows displayed small forests of carefully placed poinsettias.

If there were any storybook church bells ringing, you couldn’t hear them for the honking of taxi horns and an exchange between two cabbies that didn’t quite dovetail with the spirit of the holiday. Epithets were tossed back and forth across the two lanes of traffic, as were several hand gestures that transcend the divides of culture and language.

The Ghost of Christmas Present was not here with Ebenezer Scrooge at his side to sprinkle his magic, glitter dust on the two cabbies, and cause them to merrily shake hands and then go off arm in arm in search of a Christmas goose and plum pudding. The Ghost of Christmas Present was standing in a courthouse hallway nearby, wearing a jacket and tie, having just finished telling Abe McManus the truth.

“Boyo, oh boyo,” Abe said as he took an uneasy seat in a wooden chair along the wall.

“I thought you should know how I’ve made my money this month.”

“Thank you for telling me. I wished I’d known earlier. You would have saved me a journey into my conscience. That’s what I get for looking at myself in a beer mirror.”

“You wouldn’t have taken my case.”

“I would have offered pro bono to the other side.”

“I did what I had to do to keep my son.”

“By dressing up as a holiday hobgoblin?” Abe said, his voice carrying through the halls of justice.

“I was the Ghost of Christmas Present, the very first embodiment of Father Christmas—”

“Save it. Just tell me, who else knows about this?”

“She does,” Patrick said, nodding to Rebecca, who entered the courthouse hallway clutching her briefcase and walked past them without a nod.

“The caseworker?” Abe said as he shook his head. “Does she have any film of you? Any eyewitnesses who can identify you as this Ghost of Christmas Present?”

“None that I know of.”

Abe’s mood rose. But then Patrick’s dipped. “Unless she’s talked with any of the staff, patients, or patients’ relatives who were in the hallway of St. Genevieve’s Hospital yesterday morning.”

“You didn’t.”

“My son asked that I walk him to the operating room as the Ghost.”

“You know you’ve undone yourself?”

Patrick sat with the truth of it. “Maybe I meant to. Who am I to keep my son all to myself in an apartment where I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay the rent or utilities?”

“You said you had a new job.”

“But how long will that last, the way the world’s turning these days? Until Easter? The Fourth of July? Then what do I do? Hit the streets as Peter Rabbit or Uncle Sam? Forget it.”

Patrick rose and straightened out his jacket and tie. “If my boy ends up hating me after what Ted tells him, so be it. I’d rather have Braden turn his heart against me for allowing his mother to die than for his heart to turn against his own body because he wasn’t getting the right care. I’ve been selfish to think otherwise.” Patrick looked down the hallway at an approaching group of people. “He’ll be safe with Ted Cake.”

And indeed, it was Ted Cake who approached with Mila and a couple of lawyers in tow. The two met eyes for a second, and then more than a second as neither one would blink and look away from the other.

“Good morrow, good sir,” Patrick said as Ted was just about to pass by. The older man hesitated for a second, looking back at his former son-in-law for a bewildered second, but then briskly walked on into the courtroom followed by Mila and the lawyers.

“What was that?” Abe said.

“Just a greeting from an old friend. If the truth’s going to come out, it might as well come out now.”

“Listen to me. Silence your tongue now if you’re hoping for any kind of visitation. If they truly can confirm that you’ve been prancing around the streets in a velvet robe and wreath around your head for money, the only time you’ll spend with Braden is once a month under the eyes of a court-ordered supervisor. Do you understand?”

Patrick nodded.

“Now let me do the talking and, for the love of Braden, keep the Ghost of Christmas Present inside the book and outside this court.”

Abe headed into the Family Courtroom followed by his client.