Seasons Greetings A Carol Christmas

The End of It

by Tigger

The sun had yet to rise when Marie slipped down from her third
floor apartment to begin fixing her special Christmas morning
breakfast. Given Carol's imminent departure, and moreover, the
reasons for her being sent away, this would not be the most
joyous of holidays, but Marie was still determined that the
traditions would still be followed.

As she entered the dining room, her sensitive nose caught the
first whiff of "Coffee?" *Blast it!* she thought sadly. *It must
be Jane. Obviously she couldn't sleep because she's fretting
about Carol, too.*

Only it wasn't Jane, Marie soon discovered, it was Carol and she
working some type of dough in a bowl. "What are you doing,
child?" Marie asked, her eyes blinking hard against the sudden
glare of the brightly lighted kitchen.

"Cookies!" the skillfully made up young person said happily.
"It's Christmas Morning and I decided we needed Christmas
cookies." Then, seeing the look of shock on Marie's face, the
pleasure fled from the bright eyes.

It had been a long, painfully-reflective night for young Carl.
The dream had indeed been a catalyst for the retrieval of
memories long suppressed. In the harsh light of those mental
images, his behavior over the past years had shamed him deeply.
He'd been forced to acknowledge that he'd been a thorough-going
bastard, that he HAD been his father all over again, and that
recognition shamed him and humiliated him as nothing Jane
Thompson had done with him ever could do. Obviously, he could
not possibly keep his promise to his dream Mother and to himself
without some significant changes.

Only problem with that decision, Carl had concluded at about four
thirty, was that he didn't know how to be any different. That
was when another of his dream-Mother's words had come back to
him. "If you get your act together and listen to Ms. Thompson,
that is."

That was the solution, he'd decided. Well, he'd learned the easy
lessons already - it was the hard ones he'd resisted by his
ridicule and sarcasm. Now, he. . no, *she* was determined to
become the best student Jane Thompson had ever taught. And since
she'd gone a long way towards messing up everyone's Christmas,
she'd figured the first place to start making amends was by
trying to restore some of the cheer her abominable behavior had
cost Jane Thompson's family. *But from the look on Marie's face,
it appears I have overstepped myself. DARN!* "Umm. . .I guess I
should have asked, first. I'm sorry about the mess, though. I
will clean it up right away!"

Marie had been around Jane's boys for almost twenty years, and
she knew something had changed with this one. Whether this
marked the bare beginning of the long prayed for breakthrough,
she didn't know, but it probably wouldn't hurt to indulge the
child and see what came of it. Besides, Marie had a secret sweet
tooth. "No. . no, child. Keep on as you were going. You're
right. We didn't make cookies this year. Have you found my
special holiday cookie cutters? No? Okay, let's see."

Soon, the French Canadian woman and the girlishly pretty boy were
working side by side, turning out dozens of brightly colored
sugar cookie Christmas trees, snowmen, Santas and angels. As the
last batch went into the oven, Carol (for that is definitely how
Marie was thinking of her), asked Marie if she could make a call
home, to her uncle.

*I guess there is very little purpose to keeping her
incommunicado now that Jane has already decided to send her back
home in two days,* Marie decided. "Use my phone, dear," she
offered as she unlocked her kitchen phone. Determined not to
eavesdrop, all she heard as she slipped from the kitchen was "Hi,
Uncle John, it's me, Carol . .I mean, Carl. Yes, I know it is
very early, but I was wondering if you could help . . "

~------------~

At seven o'clock, Jane came down to find a Carol she'd never seen
before. The outfit was bright - a red corduroy jumper over a
green silk blouse - but the girl had long had the skill to dress
and present herself beautifully when it suited her own purposes.
No, it was her demeanor that was new - that and her attention to
details that had previously been ignored.

For one thing, her hair was done in a very complex array of curls
that required several barrettes (nicely color-coordinated ones,
Jane noted) to hold in place. The arrangement was actually more
suited to an evening gown than her current sassy little outfit,
but it represented the first time the young person had ever made
such an effort on her own. She had even tried accessorizing,
although the fine gold chain bracelets and the necklace tiny
pearls she'd chosen were overwhelmed by the bright holiday
outfit. Still, she had tried, and done fairly well. She
actually looked about as demure and as ladylike as any student
making their first independent dressing. Suspicious, Jane warily
asked, "Yes, Carl? What do you want?"

Carol swallowed hard, and forced herself to make eye contact with
the stern-faced teacher. He. . no, make that *she* had used every
trick *she* had learned in her tenure in Seasons House getting
ready for this moment. *I don't know how to look more girlish
than I do right now,* he. . . *she* thought even as she fought
the urge to run and hide. Only her dream-Mother's words and her
own promise gave her the courage to stand up under that cold
stare. *Think girl,* she told herself sternly. "I was wondering,
Ms. Thompson, that is, I wanted to ask you, do you think we could
go to church?"

Stunned, Jane was momentarily speechless but finally managed a
"Church?"

The shy smile that lit the perfectly and appropriately made up
face was nearly as surprising as the request for church. "Yes,
Ma'am. One with music if that is possible, please."

"With music," Jane repeated, feeling very much like someone had
just pushed her through Alice's rabbit hole. *Okay, who are you
and what have you done with Carl Morris?* she thought.

"Yes, Ma'am. Please?"

*I have no idea what he is up to now, but since I was going to
attend services anyway. . * "All right, Carl, you may go to
church with Darla and me, but let me warn you. Any disruptions,
any acting out and I will call Deputy Beale. I think you can be
very sure precisely how little he will enjoy having to deal with
you when he'd rather be with his family on Christmas morning."

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Jane!" the changeling cheered. "I am very
grateful." She turned to head out of the room, but stopped and
looked back to Jane, but this time was unable to hold eye
contact. Her eyes fell to her own toes, and she literally wrung
her hands before managing to rasp out emotionally, "Oh, and even
though I have that inheritance coming, Ms. Jane? Darla did tell
you about that, didn't she?" Carol looked up in time to see
Jane's sharp nod, then continued. "Anyway, I'd like to stay -
here with you and Marie and Darla - until you think I am ready to
go out on my own. I know you expected to be rid of me, but I
promise to really do my best from now on. My word of honor."

"Stay? Here?" Jane eased down into a nearby chair. "Ummm. . .
.we'll. . well, we'll discuss it. Later. After church."

"Great. Thank you again, Ms. Jane. I'm going to go get ready
for church."

Instinct took over, and Jane-the-teacher momentarily reasserted
herself. "Excellent notion. Change into something more
appropriate for church, please. We leave in forty minutes."
*Let's see how she handles that direction, now.*

"Okay, .. I mean, Yes, Ma'am. And thanks again," Carol told her
just before turning toward the foyer. Still reeling, Jane stood
back up and watched as her 'failure' dashed up the stairs.

When she came back to herself, Jane turned to find a grinning
Marie standing next to her, a plate in her hand. "Christmas
cookie, Jane? Carol made them this morning."

"They don't say 'Eat me', do they?" Jane asked with a wry smile
on her face. "Tell me, Marie. That was Carl, wasn't it? I
mean, that girl who just was here talking to me? Beautifully
dressed and for heavens sake, smiling?"

"One and the same, dear. I was surprised, too. I thought
perhaps you and Donald might have talked to him last night."

"No, we didn't. I checked on him about midnight, and found him
clutching one of his Mother's letters as he slept. You don't
suppose they made the difference after all, do you? I really
expected him to just say 'bah humbug' if I offered them to him
and ignore them as he had ignored everything else we've done with
him. . her."

~---------------~

Jane had refrained from making any comment on Carol's 'Sunday-Go-
To-Meeting' selection, but it had been difficult. Certainly,
with any other junior student, she would have made at least one
or two very pointed observations intended to make the be-skirted
boy want to die of embarrassment. *It certainly wouldn't be
difficult to find things with which to tease him just now,
either,* Jane thought with a smile. Evidently, Carol (*Or was it
Carl?* Jane mused) had decided that the appropriate ensemble for
church strongly resembled the frilly, pink-on-white, overly-
feminine outfit Darla had worn to the train station the
day Carl arrived. Right down to the boxy little veiled hat, the
fussy beaded purse and the opaque white stockings decorated with
pink roses.

*So that is what he. . she would look like as a big sister,* Jane
thought as they went out to the car. *It really wasn't necessary
for her to put on *two* petticoats with that dress. That sort of
thing is really only for in-house practice. And I would not have
insisted on quite so much heel when the pavement might be slick
with ice, but she does look very nice. So, what happens next?*

Walking into the pretty little non-denominational church looking
like Disney's Alice-in-Wonderland going to her First Communion
had been the hardest thing Carol had done in a very long time,
but she'd done it. Being Carol was, she had decided during the
long hours of pointed self reflection before dawn, the first step
in keeping the promise she'd made to her Mother. . . and to
herself. When no one looked at her in shock and disgust, she
relaxed a little. When the singing began, she relaxed totally
and let the music take her away.

Said the night wind to the little lamb,
"Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
. . ."

Jane, still off-balance from the morning's surprises, suddenly
became aware of a slight catch in Carol's voice as she sang.
Turning to look at her student, she was rocked yet again. Carol
was crying - still singing - but crying at the same time. *This
is the first time, since the moment Carl walked off that train,
that I have seen this child in tears. Why???*

Maternal instincts that most junior students would swear were
non-existent overwhelmed Jane, and she gently put her arm about
the sobbing girl who buried her head into Jane's shoulder.

"Child," Jane whispered, "Whatever is the matter?"

"My. . my mom. . .," Carol quietly choked out past the tears,
"she. . .she loved that carol. How could I have forgotten that,
Ms. Jane? What's wrong with me that I could forget something
like that?!?"

"You remembered now," Jane replied gently even as she continued
to wonder *Maybe I should call Bill Beale. I do have Carl's
fingerprints somewhere. I think.*

~-----------~

Jane parked the Lincoln in front of Seasons House and joined the
two girls on the walk. "Where did you learn to sing like that,
Carol?" she asked as they walked up to the walk to the main
entrance.

"My Mom sang with me when I was little, Ms. Jane. I had
forgotten that and I had forgotten the pleasure of singing in the
years since my Mom di. . .since my Mom's accident."

*That is the first time, in my experience, that Carol or Carl has
referred to his Mother as 'Mom'.* "And you just remembered?"

Carol reached out an uncertain hand to squeeze Darla's shoulder
gratefully. "Darla gave me my Mom's letters yesterday. They
sort of jogged my memory for me. . . about a lot of things. And
good old Darley also said something else that struck awfully
close to home."

*Darley?!?* "May I ask what that was?"

"She asked me - not precisely in these words - why I was becoming
the very thing I hated most in the world - my father. I wanted
to tell her I wasn't, but after talking to Mr. Madden yesterday,
and well, after seeing you with the little boy at the hospital, I
realized that was exactly what I was doing."

Jane was still thinking about what to say or do next when Marie
flung the door open waving a piece of paper like a flag before
sweeping an unprepared Carol into a tight hug. "Carol! Your
uncle sent you a fax. You did great, honey."

"What? Why would he send you a fax? Let me see that, Marie,"
Jane ordered.

Her eyes went wide, and then Jane began to read the document in
her hands.

"From: The Office of the Honorable James McIntyre, Vice Chairman
of the Senate Armed Services Committee

To: Office of Legislative Affairs, Department of Defense

Please inform me at the earliest possible date of any reason that
the following personnel cannot be granted humanitarian leave
without loss of rank, seniority, or other benefits, in order to
be with their child who is undergoing radical, hopefully
lifesaving bone marrow surgery at Children's Hospital at
Providence, RI. . . ."

Jane looked up to stare at a suddenly embarrassed Carol. "You
asked your uncle to intervene for Allie's parents?" Carol could
only nod. "Lord, why didn't I think of that? I'll call the
hospital and tell them to have the parents call me. I will make
sure they have tickets and a place to stay if the leave is
awarded. Even if it isn't, thank you for trying, child."

"It wasn't anything difficult, Ms. Jane. My uncle did all the
work, and as you say, it's not a done deal yet."

Jane leaned over and planted a firm kiss on Carol's blushing
cheek. "You tried when you didn't have to try."

"I have important promises to keep, Ms. Jane." Carol said very
seriously before turning to Marie. "Will you be bringing my
lunch upstairs soon, Miss Marie? Singing makes me hungry."

"No, she will not, Carol," Jane said firmly. Carol stared at
Jane, worry filling her eyes until Jane smiled gently. "It would
give me great pleasure, Miss Morris, if you would accept my
invitation to have Christmas dinner with my new daughter and me."

"New daughter?" Carol squealed, her eyes slewing to a broadly
smiling Darla.

"Yes, my daughter. Darla's adoption papers came through
yesterday."

"Way to go, Sis!" Carol cheered, and soundly thumped Darla on the
back, nearly knocking the smaller girl over in the process.
"Oops, sorry," she apologized, looking very abashed. "I am
really happy for you, Darla, because one thing I did learn here
is how much you love Ms. Jane."

"You know it," Darla smiled back, her eyes sparkling. "Momma-
Jane is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Come on, you lot," Marie ordered. "I've got a light tea laid in
the music room to tide you over until dinner."

"Good idea. I think it is time Carol started piano lessons
anyway. Anyone who sings like you do, dear, should be able to
accompany herself on a suitable instrument."

Tears Jane realized were liquid joy started to well again in her
student's lovely dark eyes. "Oh, do you mean it, Ms. Jane? I. .
.I really have wanted to learn. My mom was going to teach me,
but she. . she never got around to it."

"No time like the present, Miss. Now, come along. Oh, and
Marie? If you'd call the travel agency to cancel those tickets
for me? I don't think we'll be needing them. Not right now, in
any case."

"Ms. Jane?" Carol asked, her voice hesitant.

"Yes, Carol?"

"Ummm, if you're going to be 'Momma Jane' to Darla, could I maybe
call you 'Aunt Jane'? Please?"

The look of longing on the young person's face struck at Jane's
hidden soft heart. Fighting for control, she managed what she
hoped was a matter-of-fact smile. "Well, I did tell you that was
an acceptable form of address your first day, did I not? You
were the one who chose to call me Ms. Thompson or Ms. Jane, but
in answer to your question, yes, you may call me Aunt Jane."

Carol's "Thank you," was barely audible. "Excuse me," she said
suddenly, "I have to fix my face." and then fled for the powder
room, leaving the three other women smiling behind her.

Jane watched as Darla and Carol chattered over their tea and
cakes. *There's still a good deal of the old Carl in there,* she
decided, *but for the first time, there is also really a Carol
there, too. And the child is trying, really trying for the first
time. A little too hard, of course, but they all go through that
stage of trying to be perfect. She'll slip occasionally, and I
will be able to use those missteps to begin the healing and
rebuilding process. Oh, thank God, I *haven't* failed her! No,
that's not quite right. WE haven't failed her.*

"Heavens," Carol said later, "But I feel like a combination of
Tiny Tim and Ebenezer Scrooge."

"Oh?" Darla asked. "How so?"

"I want to say "God Bless Us, Everyone,", but then, I feel like
He already has. Except he had Marley, and I have Darley."

"Could we lose the Darley-thing, please?" Darla asked sounding
mightily put upon. "It sounds like the name of a yuppie beauty
contestant with big hair, bigger . . .umm. . teeth and a tiara, or worse, your
favorite mongrel dog."

"Oh, if I must," Carol answered in the same tones.

Jane and Marie laughed with the two young people.

"Merry Christmas, Carol," Darla said softly. "Welcome to the
family."