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The Unexpected Elf. Synopsis:One holiday season, a desperate store executive, an earnest young man with a dream even he couldn't put into words, a secretly lonely young woman who needed a good friend and didn't know it; they all came together and a special something, or someone was added to the mix. The result: maybe a little magic, the kind that lasts. Jim Torrance was getting very worried. Everything had seemed to be perfectly in place for Williams Town Center Mall's Christmas display at the big box store, Jefford's. Santa, of course, as the centerpiece with a North Pole village, reindeer, candy canes, everything in place and only two hours to go before it opened. What worried him was that one of the elves had quit. To a casual observer that might not seem to be much of a problem, but then that observer didn't understand the intricacies of Holiday marketing. That day's copy of the Wall Street Journal was on his desk and the article about the weakness in the retail markets and the indicies of Consumer Confidence didn't bode well. You see, to say that Jim Torrance was overextended was an understatement. Jim was the head of Jefford's Stores operations here in Williamsville and his yearly bonus, deferred compensation, hell, his very job depended on meeting the analysts' projections for yearly sales. He knew he was perilously close to not meeting those projections unless holiday sales beat or at least met analysts' expectations. One little thing could upset his plans, could send him home with a pink slip, or if he was lucky, just a humiliating demotion. He didn't need an elf to quit just two hours before Jefford's opened on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd had someone to replace that elf. She was one of two attractive young women whose job it was to stand at the entrance to the Santa display and tell kids and their parents, "Oh, Santa really would like to talk to you. Santa does want to know what you'd like for Christmas. Here give me your hand and I'll introduce you to Santa." That's the gist of what the elf would say to the kids. To the parents or grandparents, the elf would indicate which department sold those toys the little ones so greatly desired. It may not have been apparent to the customers, but those elves were crucial to the whole carefully calibrated Santa operation. Jim's problem was that the job of the elf was complicated enough that he couldn't just call a Temp agency and say, "Got any spare elves?" Jim's desperation gave him the impetus to reach for anything that might help him solve this problem. He brought in Joyce Berger, the head of HR at Jefford's, and together they thought of any employee who might fill the bill. Nothing. Everybody was too busy, too - shall we say - generously proportioned, too old, too reticent around children. It was nearly eight a.m. Jefford's would open at nine. What to do? What to do? The two executives sat in stony silence. The air was thick with tension. At that moment Jim Torrance's nephew Bob Richards was arriving at work at Jeffords. I think you know Bob, or somebody like him. Medium, height, medium build - maybe a little thin, actually - medium brown hair, hazel eyes. The quintessential nice guy. Fresh out of college with a business degree. The job in the credit department was for Bob a stepping stone to nowhere. He took it seriously, though. He tended to take everything seriously. Conscientious was his middle name. There was one thing about him, that few people knew. He loved children and dreamt of the day he would be a parent. He'd even volunteered in a daycare center when he was in college. When other people talked about fulfilling their community service requirements by helping homeless people or working in a blood drive, Bob Richards's dream was to help take care of little ones. Oh, yes, he got a few stares. Even in the 21st Century this was still women's work. And he was scrupulously conscious of any childhood molestation issues. He'd always kept on the weather side of that fine line between genuine love for children and something else he didn't like to contemplate. I suppose in later years people might wonder at the confluence of the fates that brought Bob Richards out of the credit department and his uncle, Jim Torrance out of his office at precisely the same moment. Or maybe people would ponder the backward glance that Torrance gave his nephew as he hastened to fulfill whatever clerk's task that took him over to Finance, but it really wouldn't matter. Suffice it to say that Jim Torrance's desperation tipped the balance. He suddenly realized that Bob Richards, his otherwise nondescript nephew had the precise physique for a Christmas elf. "Oh, Bob," he called after the two had exchanged the usual morning pleasantries, "could I talk to you for a minute?" Bob Richards knew that whatever he had to do it wasn't as important as obeying the summons from Jefford's regional vice-president even if he was his uncle. There wasn't an avuncular arm around the shoulder, nor any forced bonhomie in Torrance's request of his nephew. It was an order plain and simple. "Bob, I know that you've wanted to see the retail operation up close. Well, an opportunity has opened up that I'd like you to fill for us. It's in the Christmas display area. Go right down to Joyce Berger in HR and she'll explain it all to you. We're all counting on you, Bob." If Bob Richards heard the desperation in his uncle's tone of voice, he didn't say anything about it. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would be his chance to show the powers that be just how valuable he could be to Jefford's. Little did he know. Joyce Berger's office was smaller than his uncle's office, but sill quite a bit larger than his cubicle. Without intending to, Bob took mental note of it and secretly wondered if an office like this might be his one day. "I'll get right to the point," Joyce began. Any reservations she had about what she was about to ask this young man to do she kept to herself. She knew better than to question Mr. Torrance when he issued a directive. Maybe, the forty-ish woman, whose clothes sense tended more to the severe than the stylish, thought to herself 'this might actually work.' "Bob, we need you to work for the rest of the holiday season in the Santa's village area. You'll be one of the elves. Betty O'Donnell quit this morning and we need someone there right away. Mr. Torrance wants you to help us out and my job is to give you all the support you need. The costume and everything you'll need is right here in this box." "Of course, I'll be only to glad to help, but aren't the elves women?" Bob was trying to think of a graceful way to bow out though he truly wanted to be helpful, but never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever thought that it would come to dressing like a woman. "Bob, yes they are, but we don't have anybody in the store, any woman that is, who could fill in and there's not enough time to train somebody from the outside. Outside of the retail staff nobody knows the store as well as you. It'll be a breeze. Carol Jenkins will be the other elf and will be there with you every step of the way." Joyce had seen Bob Richards looking longingly at Carol and suspected that he secretly carried the torch for Carol, the store's new sales associate. No wonder: Carol, a fresh faced brunette of twenty three, had caught the eye of half the men in the store. "Besides, the costume's pretty unisex anyway. Just think of Will Ferrel in the 'Elf' movie a couple of Christmases ago." With a gesture that he knew better than to question, Joyce ushered him out of her office. Almost not believing it himself, he found his way to the employee's locker room and found Carol, alias Cheery the Elf, waiting for him. Carol had determined to give Jefford's and Williamsville one more chance. She'd followed a former boyfriend here and now it all was nothing more than a sea of unhappy memories for her. Her voice was flat and her welcome no more than perfunctory. "Morning, Bob, the tights and the leotard may be a little new to you, but they should fit; you're about the same size as Betty O'Donnell." Bob nodded numbly. In the locker room he found the leotard and the tights, green leather shorts, the pointy-toed soft leather boots, the little vest and the hat. After a moment, from his side of the door he called out to Carol, "Um, what am I supposed to wear under this stuff?" Carol thought quickly. "Stay there a minute, I'll be right back." A few moments later she reappeared with a packet of panties and a sports bra. "Put these on first and, um, tuck, um, yourself in. Then put the tights and the leotard on over them, then let me see." Bob wasn't sure how many shades of red he turned at these instructions. He thanked God for the fact that he was in the locker room and she was outside. His 'fight or flight' reflex was working overtime, but he could see no alternative. When he'd managed to get all the bits and pieces of the costume on, there was only fifteen minutes to spare before opening. Timidly exiting his locker room refuge, Carol gave him the once over. Well, actually she gave him quite a thorough going over. "There, that's pretty good. You only need a couple of finishing touches and you'll be all set." She reached into her bag and produced a hairbrush and a tube of lipstick. With a few deft brush strokes she managed to make his hair seem less "mannish" as she put it. Putting on his elf's hat she smiled momentarily. "Here, look up and me and purse your lips." Before he could object his lips got a touch of color. At this point Bob was on psychological overload. This self-protecting daze enabled him to feel as if he were watching himself from a distance. There was enough of the conscientious Bob still left functioning, however, to listen to Carol's instructions about where to stand and what to say and, above all else, to smile. The doors opened at the stroke of nine that last Friday of November, and Bob's life was never the same again. If he had been nervous or the slightest bit apprehensive before his new job as a Christmas elf began, it all evaporated at the sight of the mothers and their little ones. Somewhere, somehow, deeply buried in the psyche of Bob Richards was a Christmas elf just waiting to break free. It isn't often true even when people say that somebody "was born to be" one thing or another. It really is just a figure of speech, isn't it? In Bob's case, however, it was true beyond his, or anyone else's expectations. In the first few hours of that very first Friday, amidst the welter of avid shoppers and their small children, often frazzled beyond words, Bob Richards became the Christmas elf. Shy children, tired children, fretful children, even terrified children were calmed by Merry, the elf. For that is what Bob had become. She held their hands and, at first tentatively, then warmly returned their little hugs. Angry and recalcitrant eight and nine year olds, bored beyond words simply wanted to be near her. Oh yes, Santa was who they came to see and to the jolly old man they revealed their deepest Christmas wishes, but it was Merry, the elf they remembered. There was something in her smile, warming, yes, and comforting, too, but somehow penetrating as well. Those bored older children shyly waited for their hugs, too. They didn't know why they felt magnetized to her, but they were. Truth be told neither did Bob Richards. Carol Jenkins, Merry's partner Cheery the elf, felt it too. That warmth. Oh, yes, Carol had seen Bob around the office, had even caught a few of his furtive glances. She was beyond dubious about the idea of Bob taking the place of Betty O'Donnell; she was almost hostile. She and Betty had been a team. But Joyce had promised her that if she could endure working with Bob Richards, there would be a handsome bonus in it for her. But that first day, even in the very first hour Carol sensed something was different. She watched initially in amusement, later in awe as Bob became Merry the elf. The awkwardness has disappeared. Bob was gentle and even graceful with the children. He smiled often at her and made a special point of deferring to her whenever he could. Between visits by the little ones, the two elves chatted when they could and Carol could feel herself drawn to Merry, the elf. Each time she looked over it was as if her eyes were deceiving her. Where there had been Bob Richards in an elf costume, suddenly it was no fellow employee filling in during a minor emergency, but a graceful woman who wore the elf costume as if it were the most gorgeous outfit in the world. What Carol didn't know, what Bob certainly didn't know was that there was more there than met the eye. Oh I know, dear reader, that you are very far past that point when Santa and his elves were anything but a charming story. You've seen "It's a Wonderful Life," "Miracle on 34th Street," and all the other Christmas movies. Perhaps you have children of your own and have watched the enchantment dance in their eyes on a Christmas morning when they believe that Santa Claus has come. "The Night Before Christmas" by Clement Moore might even have been a holiday favorite you've read as a special aunt or uncle. What you may not know, perhaps because in our frenetic world of the Internet and iPod's and global warming we rarely have the opportunity to pause and think, is that there is something out there. Now, I know, that in most of us there is something of the skeptic or perhaps even the agnostic. To us therefore these charming stories are just that: charming stories. And that's fine. As charming stories they fulfill an important function. But for those of us who have seen that first cloud of disillusionment darken the face of a six or seven year old when she realizes that maybe these are nothing more than charming stories, we know that something has been lost, something very precious. But there is. Something. Someone, actually waiting and watching. And at this season of the year, even as the crass commercialism threatens to overwhelm us all, an awareness of that special something creeps into our consciousness. Perhaps it does so to remind us that as cold and cruel as the world is sometimes, we are not alone. Let's leave it there, dear reader. You go ahead and put a name to it. Maybe the religious trappings that some people put on that sensibility make you uncomfortable. No matter. Making you uncomfortable is not my purpose here. I am only a story teller telling you about what happened that recent Christmas season a year or so ago. For my part I'll put a name to it, but that's just me. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'm sorry, just forget about it and skip ahead. Just imagine that the thing I'm going to recount is no more than a shared feeling that the closeness of the Holidays brings out an awareness of just how special each one of us is and how we ought to find ways to be kinder to each other. That being said, for me at least, some very special ones were keeping a careful eye on Bob Richards. These were the ones - oh, let's just call them elves and be done with it - who transformed him into Merry the elf. Along the way they found something in Bob that he didn't know was there. They found out, they knew all along, actually, that Bob was a woman, that it was his destiny to become a woman. And all of this that began to happen that Thanksgiving Friday at Jefford's in the Williams Town Center Mall was their way of helping him along. What Carol Jenkins saw as she watched Bob become Merry the elf was the beginning of that transformation that would make that whole person emerge as she was meant to be. Of course, Carol didn't know that as it began. Neither did the adoring children or their hugely relieved mothers. Carol did have a clue, though when the second or third apologetic mother looked with pleading eyes at Merry and practically begged her to let her child stay at Santa's village with Merry while she tried frantically to complete the rest of her shopping. These mothers knew even before they'd finished asking that Merry would say yes. There was something that Carol saw in Merry's face: a kind of a glow, or something, she wasn't quite sure. It was undoubtedly a woman's look of deep, unspoken sympathy. It was something she caught out of the corner of her eye. You see, Carol was a pretty down to earth sort of person. Although she had a good sense of humor, she wasn't usually the first person who got the joke. Therefore what was happening right before her eyes just didn't comport with the rest of her matter of fact life. Sometime after lunch, Jim Torrance came by Santa's village. He couldn't get too close because there were too many people. The crowd of children was pretty well behaved, too. Torrance had come to the area from his office and so he didn't immediately see where the elves were standing. That meant that he didn't realize what the source of interest was. What he did see was that there was an unusually large number of shoppers crowding each cash register station. That made him breathe just that little bit easier. But he didn't yet connect it with the activity taking place at Santa's village. He returned to his office to a stack of message slips his secretary had left for him. He recognized a few callers' names, and he expected that there would be the usual smattering of complaints forwarded to him that couldn't be handled by subordinates. He began to return the calls and was surprised to hear compliment after compliment. "I just had to call, Mr. Torrance," one woman began, "the new elf in Santa's village - I think her name is Mary or something like that - made my two-year-old's day. He couldn't stop talking about her. I want you to know I'll be doing all my shopping at Jefford's this year." Those comments were music to his ears. He sat back in his chair. He still didn't connect the dots. That wouldn't happen for a few more days yet. Back at Santa's village it was nearing closing time. The river of children and their parents had slowed to a trickle. Although the day had been long, the elation that Carol felt made her less conscious of her aching feet. But Bob Richards had been enjoying the most wonderful day of his life. How many children had come his way he couldn't say. Each one of them was precious to him. What he didn't realize was that each of those children felt the same way about Merry the elf. She was extraordinary. The doors were finally shut and the lights were dimmed. Carol and Merry began to make their way back to the employees' locker room. "That was quite a day," Carol began. Merry could only shake her head in disbelief. Without thinking Carol took Merry's hand. It seemed so natural. She would never have thought so with Bob Richards. Merry responded with a radiant smile that told Carol everything she needed to know. In the space of a single day a special bond had been forged between the two. It would be something that Carol would reflect on. She'd never had a friendship like this before. The person who had become Merry the elf that day was in a state that was beyond elation. It was more than the fulfillment of Bob Richards's wildest dreams. He felt more alive than at any time he could ever remember. But now there was something else. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was definitely there. That night, back in his little apartment he slept like a baby. His dreams were vivid and comforting. Whatever was happening was very good, that much Bob knew. Instead of a large coffee from the corner shop on the way into work the next morning, a mug of fragrant scented tea seemed more in order. Even on that second day he didn't notice the looks that his graceful, almost balletic movements caused among the other customers. Well, he might have noticed, but it really didn't concern him. What he did notice were the women around him. Whereas before his adventure as Merry the elf his looks were of longing for that which would never be his, now his looks were admiring, but of women's clothes, their hair, their makeup. The women in the coffee shop sensed that his looks were anything but threatening. Returning his bright smiles made them feel somehow giddy. In its own subtle way it was even more pronounced at Jefford's. Carol greeted her colleague with a warm hug. She hadn't realized until she saw Merry the elf emerge from the locker room just how much she was looking forward to working with her. If there had been a casual observer there, she might have been forgiven for mistaking the two elves for sisters, so close had they become. The day flew by and although, if anything, it was busier than the day before, it went smoothly. And that was the pattern. Word had begun to spread in Williamsville about Merry the elf at Jefford's. Both elves soon recognized many children and their parents returning for a second or even a third visit. Where mothers had brought their children, now it was the father's turn. Oh, yes, there were the obligatory pictures with the child on Santa's lap, but as many wanted their picture with Merry the elf, as well. The children's radiant smiles were reflections of hers. Jim Torrance was thrilled. The day sheets told the tale. This was going to be the best holiday season in the store's history. There were smiles all around. So small an impression had the old Bob Richards made on his uncle, however, that Torrance didn't even remember that Bob had taken on the role of Merry the elf. That meant, of course, that for several days he didn't connect the success with his relative's efforts. It was his HR chief, Joyce Berger who called his attention to it. "Mr. Torrance, everybody's been talking about the new elf. Bob Richards has been doing a phenomenal job." "No. Yes, That's right. Omigod, I forgot the kid's in the elf costume. My nephew the crossdresser, hah!" Mr. Torrance was not noted for his progressive views on such matters. Joyce felt honor bound to set him straight. "Well, Mr. Torrance, sir, it's not exactly like that. You really need to take another look." Her words seemed to get his attention. "O.k., I'll go over there after my ten o'clock." Even he had to wait until he could get close enough to see the elves in action, so great had the crowd become. Torrance saw his chief of security, his face wreathed in smiles. "Jack, is it always like this?" Torrance was incredulous. "Every day, sir," Jack answered with pride in his voice. "She's a magnet for all the kids... and their parents," he added for emphasis. Before he could get any closer, Torrance noticed that the register stations seemed almost as crowded. Finally he got close enough to see. Both elves, smiling broadly were talking to the children and one of them had two or three toddlers clinging to her legs. She didn't seem to mind, though. Torrance noticed the other elf assisting her and the two of them deftly guiding their little charges towards Santa's sleigh. He could tell that something special was going on; he just wasn't sure what it was. He only knew it was good. And then Merry the elf, with the little ones clinging to her looked in Torrance's direction. Her smile of recognition was so genuine and brilliant that Torrance felt warmed and gratified by it. Torrance was pleased, but there was something else. He didn't notice it right then, but no matter. Somehow or other it had registered with him. You might have said it was that special glow, but there again words are just too clumsy to convey something so subtle, so evanescent as that. The seed had been planted. And it would grow. Just not all at once. Carol Jenkins began noticing things, a few little things, as early as the first week of December. She'd seen Bob Richards's I. D. picture once or twice before hanging on its Jefford's ribbon around Bob's neck. It was typically unflattering. One early morning the two were chatting before the store opened and she happened to glance at the picture. It was definitely changed; she couldn't say how. If she didn't know any better she thought it looked like a woman in men's clothing. She looked again at Bob and noticed a softer, rounder outline to his features. She glanced again at the picture and it was certainly Bob, but it somehow was a more feminine Bob. He noticed her perplexed look and asked her if anything was wrong. Carol was flustered for a minute, but passed it off as nothing. Carol, however, didn't forget it. Later on an odd thought occurred to her. In a quieter moment she looked at Merry and found herself thinking how flattering that little vest looked on her. Flattering, but as a woman's clothes are flattering. Then there was the time Carol was talking to a mother and saw Merry leaning down to put a toddler back into her stroller. Merry definitely had an unmistakably female figure that Carol knew she had never seen before. Merry may not have been a raving beauty, but there was nothing of the man about her. Another time Merry cradled a six month old against her and Carol the angle that the baby was resting indicated that there was more to Merry's chest than there had been before. Merry's hips were wider, too. Then the time that the two were changing at the end of the day. Carol noticed Merry take off her cap and shake out her hair. It was a fleeting gesture, but only one that a person would use who had a lifetime of long hair. Bob Richards's hair had never been long and even Merry's hair was only long enough to be pixie-ish. What struck Carol was that the gesture was natural and unstudied. But Carol was a logical person. She didn't believe in magical transformations. There must be another reason, there had to be. What surprised Carol the most were her own reactions to the changes. Her brain may have been telling her that such things were impossible. Her heart told her that they were perfectly natural. So passed that magical Christmas season just a year or so ago. By the twenty-fourth of December, the picture on the I. D. was that of a woman completely. The name was changed, too. It no longer read Bob Richards, but Meredith Richards, and everybody called her...Merry. There were other changes, too. A group of teenagers from Williamsville District High School (who'd spent more time being Mall flowers than anything else) began volunteering every afternoon after school. They were the Merry helpers as they called themselves. They were joined by some of the skateboarders in the parking lot out back; these gangly boys were Merry helpters, too. The kids from The Hill School, a center for children with various development challenges the next town over, came on a field trip one day, each with an accompanying adult. It was supposed to be one day, but they came back every day for the next two weeks. Mr. Torrance and his family, Merry Richards and her parents hosted a Christmas dinner for all the single store employees not spending the holiday with their families. The post-Christmas sales at Jefford's put the finishing touch on the year for the scores of happy shoppers, the employees who, unexpectedly were thanked profusely by customers and management alike. Oh yes, and Mr. Torrance the sales figures justified his bonus and saved his job. In the new year Merry was offered a job at the Hill School where she was welcomed by everyone and began taking courses for a degree in special education. Within a year Jefford's was closed in a consolidation move with several department store chains. Suddenly finding himself at loose ends, Mr. Torrance was asked to serve on the board of the county hospital; he saw no reason not to. His wife was quietly relieved since he'd turned down all their offers in the past. Carol Jenkins met Jerry Martin and their whirlwind courtship ended in a wedding the following May. Merry was her maid of honor, of course. Carol and she had become like the sisters neither one had. I would like to tell you that Merry Richards was soon married and eagerly anticipating the joys of motherhood herself, but that's not the way things worked out, sadly. I don't think that anybody really understood what was in the mind of that distraught man, Charles Anthony, a father of a former Hill School student. Nor was it clear why he singled Merry out. Perhaps no one will ever know. If we did it might make what I'm about to tell you a little easier, easier for you and easier for me to tell. You see, Merry had stopped in at the Hill School that hot July Saturday afternoon. She loved the school and spent many of her free hours there completing one project or another. She was alone in her classroom. The people at the school were not even sure that she had even met Charles Anthony. But she was there, at the wrong place at the wrong time when Charles burst into her classroom. There's no record of their conversation; the neighbors only remember hearing him shouting something, a gunshot, seeing him on the steps of the school, another shot and it was all over. The outpouring of grief over the loss of Merry was like nothing Williamsville had ever seen. The people who spoke at her memorial service began to notice something, however, as they spoke. As they reminisced a calm almost a peace began to be felt. Their grief was very real, but somehow the spirit of Merry Richards was there in the little church overflowing with townsfolk. Amongst the tears there were the beginnings of smiles and even some gentle laughter. People consoled one another with a kind word or a remembrance of Merry and their feelings of comfort spread through the crowd. It encompassed the Anthony family as well. That poor family felt it too, in their double grief. Thoughts and prayers for Charles Anthony began to be heard as well. The place where Merry's family buried her was just a couple of states over, the little town where she had grown up. The horticulturalist from the state university was asked to explain the phenomenon. It had something to do with micro-climates and the like. I confess I didn't understand the explanation even after I had read it a couple of times. Suffice it to say that at her grave snow melts quickly, the grass stays green and flowers bloom twelve months of the year. The next year The Hill School was renamed The Merry Richards Hill School by unanimous consent of their Board. The Williamsville District High School group, the Merry helpers, decided on their own to volunteer there and naturally they kept the name Merry helpers for that's what they were. Jim Torrance had taken the job of the school's unpaid executive director. He did the occasional odd consulting job for the County government to keep food on his family's table. The idea of making lots of money no longer interested him. A picture of Merry the elf was framed on his desk. There was something else about Jim. He'd seen an ad for a hot line for transgendered youth in the local paper. Not really understanding why he took the training and worked there every Thursday. He became known for his sympathetic, non-judgemental approach; so much so that trans teens, even those who weren't in crisis made it a habit to call on Thursdays because they knew that a particularly sympathetic adult would always listen. One night one of the kids was a little confrontational, "Hey Jim," she challenged, "are you a tranny, too?" He chuckled at that. "No, no, I'm not, but thanks for asking." "Well, then why are you here talking to us?" Without thinking Jim blurted out, "An elf made me do it." "Merry?" the teen asked. At the sound of her name, for the first time in twelve years since his father died, Jim Torrance burst into tears. The teen and the other kids were all very solicitous, but Jim said, "It's o.k. Every once in a while you have to let it out. Merry would understand." Even the kids who had only heard about Merry the elf agreed. It didn't change any of the complexities of their lives, but Jim and the kids all felt a little closer to one another after that. The following spring Carol and Jerry's twins were born: a girl and a boy. They named their son Bob and nobody was surprised when they named their daughter Merry. They understood the name Merry; they didn't know about Bob. But Carol did. She remembered Bob Richards; only a very few people did. Naturally she told her husband Jerry. She remembered a brave young man, whom most people underestimated, who risked ridicule and God knows what else to help without any thought to how it might benefit him. Carol hoped that her children might grow up to be as brave as that. He had exemplified the idea of stepping up to the plate. She thought it would be good to remember that kind of selfless generosity. In a couple of years it was Carol's turn to stand with the twins at another Santa's village in a different store in a different town. It was a struggle for Carol not to be overwhelmed by her memories. The twins were a great distraction and she held them just that little bit closer. 'Help me, Merry,' she prayed silently. It was when she was standing there that something strange happened. As she looked around, she sensed it, felt it rather than saw it. It was a presence. It was so strong that she looked around much as a person does who feels that someone is looking at her. But there was no one looking at her, except of course the children. Then Carol realized what it was. The looks on those expectant children's faces had something special about them. She knew what it was. It was that wonderful, unmistakable glow, the smile of Merry the elf. It made her smile, too. The End.