On our way home from the court, dad asks, “Is your class work up to date, Travis?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m a little ahead in two of my classes.”

“You know how I feel about your missing classes, Travis, but I want you to cut tomorrow and possibly Wednesday if it will not jeopardize your standing.”

“It won’t. I haven’t used any of my cuts.”

“Excellent. I want you to be with me when I take Mike to Country Day to enroll him. They need to understand that you’re assuming the responsibility, at least locally. After we have lunch, we’ll do some shopping for this young man. I believe they have uniforms at Country Day.”

Mike’s little hand grabs dad’s arm so suddenly the car swerves a little. “Don’t do that, Mike,” dad says sharply, “it’s dangerous.”

“I’m sorry, Gran’pop,” Mike says, tears flowing down his cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Mike?” I ask, wiping his face.

He reaches up to hug me. “I don’t want to go ‘way.”

I lean down and hug him. “You’re not going away, babe. The judge said you could live with me.”

“But gran’pop said he was sending me to Country Day.”

I smile at him. “That’s just the name of your school. You'll be going there to school while I’m in school. I’ll take you every morning and pick you up in the afternoon when school is out. You’ll study real hard for gran’pa and me, won’t you?”

"Unh huh," but he doesn’t sound convinced.

When dad has parked and gotten out of the car, I begin to realize how quickly Mike picks up on things. Instead of taking his crutches or holding out his arms to me, he holds them out to dad. When dad picks him up, he wraps his arms around dad’s neck and clings like a limpet. I never believed I’d see a kid bewitch the old man, but Mike seems to have succeeded brilliantly.

"Travis, I’ll speak to the manager about your moving into a two bedroom flat as soon as one comes available. Sooner or later Mike is going to want a room of his own and you must have one to show Hank Eddy or whomever he sends to check on Mike. I know he will check because of your age."

"Yes, Sir."

After lunch dad drives us out to the manicured campus of a small school not very far from the university and just outside the city limits. He parks in front of the bigger of the three buildings and we get out to enter the imposing edifice.

"Is this where Mike will be going to school?" I ask.

"He will be in one of the other buildings. This is the high school and offices," dad says opening the door marked Headmaster.

"May I help you?" The secretary asks after Mike and I are beside dad.

"I wish to enter my son."

She smiles at me. "Of course. And what grade are you in young man?"

"Travis is at the university. I am referring to Michael here. Now, may I speak with the headmaster?"

"He has someone with him at the moment. If you will have a seat he should be available shortly. Have you completed the admittance forms?"

"No. This is not an ordinary situation so I wish to explain it to Dr. Wetherby in detail."

She brings a large brown envelope over and hands it to dad. "This is all of the informative material and forms for parents of new students. You may wish to look at it while you're waiting."

Dad opens the envelope and takes out a couple of forms. He looks them over, then uncaps his pen and begins to fill them out. Mike tells us what school he attended, the little that he did, and answers a few other questions, things we'd not thought to ask him. But there are several things dad shows me that I can't answer nor can Mike, so dad slips the forms back in the envelope.

The secretary says, "Dr. Wetherby will see you now, Mr. Somerville."

Whatever I expected, Dr. Wetherby isn't it. He looks a lot younger than my dad and is built like an athlete. When he looks at dad his smile grows wider. "Judge Somerville, sorry to have kept you waiting, Sir. Please, come in and have a seat."

"Have I met you before, Sir?" Dad asks.

Wetherby blushes. "A few months ago, sir. You spoke at our private school administrator's meeting on changes in the privacy law. Most informative, if I may say so, Sir."

"Oh, yes. Pleased to have been of some help. As far as I'm concerned the changes are idiotic, but I've no choice except to follow them. I will use my own discretion in enforcement, however."

"Of course, Sir. What may I do for you?"

"I wish to enter my son, Michael, immediately. Travis will be acting in loco parentis as he is a student at the university and defacto father to Michael. He is to be contacted first should there be a need. Our primary residence is in Bayboro." My father goes on to explain as much of the situation to Wetherby as he thinks he needs to know.

Wetherby clears his throat when dad finishes. "If I may suggest, I'd prefer not to place Michael in any grade until we've had the opportunity to test him in each subject area. I'll have our counselor for the younger students do that tomorrow morning."

Dad looks pleased. "I expected no less. We will be here at nine."

He picks up Mike with a smile. "Let's go get you some clothes for school, Son."

 It's only when the clerk in the large department store measures Mike's long pants and looks at dad questioningly that we think of his missing leg. Dad tells him to have the pants leg hemmed the same as the other then says he'll pick them up tomorrow afternoon.

"Travis," he says when we're back in the car, "Mike needs to be fitted with a prosthetic limb as soon as possible."

"Why? I mean he gets around fine. Neither you nor I thought of it until that man said something." 

"True, but he'll want to be able to play with the other kids his age and it will make it easier for him to carry his books and other materials at school." He reaches over and pats Mike on the head. "Would you like a new leg, Mike?"

"I can get a leg?" Mike asks in an unbelieving voice.

"Of course. I expect you will learn to use it quickly."

"Does it take long to grow?"

Dad seldom talks while he's driving so he says, "Tell him, Travis," as he backs out of the parking space.

I put my arm around Mike and squeeze gently. "You can't grow a real leg, Mike. But you can get one made of plastic and stuff that's almost as good. How about that?"

"Yeah!" His smile goes almost from ear to ear.

Dad smiles at me over our dinner. "When Mike's table manners improve I'll take you to my club some evening. I'll depend on you to teach him, Travis."

"Yes, Sir." I'm beginning to realize that being a parent isn’t all fun and games, but I'd not give Mike up for anything.

Just as we're finishing our meal dad's cell phone goes off. He scowls and answers, looking thoroughly annoyed by the time he puts it back in his pocket.

"Travis, I have to be in my court tomorrow morning. Will you take Mike to Country Day and be able to pick him up afterwards?"

From dad's expression I'm glad I'm not the one to be facing him in court tomorrow. "Yes, Sir. I have only one class and a lab so I will be out by noon."

"Excellent. I will call you tomorrow evening, so listen to everything Wetherby mentions regarding Mike. If there's any problem I will be back Wednesday to take care of it. I want to sit down with you and go over your schedule to see how it will work with you taking Mike to school and picking him up."

"The only problem is my Wednesday lab. He gets out at 3 and my lab is not over until 3:30 so I'll be about 45 minutes late. Couldn't he go to the library or something?"

Dad nods. "I'm pleased to see you thinking ahead, Travis. Mention it to Wetherby when you go to get Mike tomorrow." He glances at his watch. "I'm going to leave now. I'll see you here Wednesday, so I'll pick up Mike at school for you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Come tell gran'pop goodbye, Mike," he says to Mike, holding out his arms.

In an instant Mike is clinging to dad. "You coming back, Gran'pop?"

Dad smiles. "I'll pick you up from school Wednesday, how's that?"

Mike hugs him. "I love you, Gran'pop."

"I love you, too, Mike. Be a good boy and behave in school."

To my surprise I also get a hug from dad, as he leaves.

The next morning I dress Mike in his navy-blue shorts and pale gray shirt, he's already put on a black sock so I tie the shiny black oxford on his foot. The stump of his right leg is longer than his shorts. It's not ugly, but I place a black sock over it to give balance to his appearance, however he looks so adorable I grab my digital camera and take a picture of him to e-mail to dad.

We eat breakfast at my favorite little restaurant and I take him on to school. He's reluctant to let me leave, but the secretary is nice and assures him I'll be waiting for him at lunchtime.

My own classes speed by, but I have a bit to catch up on so I'm a few minutes late getting back to Country Day. When I don’t see Mike, I go into the office. The secretary directs me to the counselor's office where I find Mike sitting in a corner. His face is dirty, streaked with tears, and his shirt is torn. The counselor is talking to him quietly without any apparent response.

"Mike?" I say.

He scrambles up and hops across to me holding out his arms. I grab him in a tight hug as he begins to cry.

"What's wrong, Mike?" I ask.

"I hate this place. They're mean."

I console him for a few minutes and look at the counselor. "What happened?"

 

"I really don’t know. One of the teachers brought him in, but he wouldn't tell me."

I know dad won’t accept this as an excuse. "Not satisfactory at all. I want to know in detail what has taken place. Until I do, Mike will not return."

"Young man, you are in no position to make demands."

"We'll see. I don't think you want my father here."

I put Mike down so he can get his crutches and we walk over to Wetherby's office. "I want to see Dr. Wetherby," I tell the secretary.

She looks at Mike with a shocked expression and picks up her phone. Wetherby comes out quickly. "Travis, correct?"

"Yes, Sir. I want to know what happened to Mike."

He looks at Mike. "Good heavens. Come in my office."

I sit down and Mike sits on my lap.

"Has Mike told you anything?" Wetherby asks me.

"No."

"I'll talk with the counselor. The morning was spent testing him in the subject areas, but I believe he was sent to lunch with the first group who would be his age."

"Mike, did this happen at lunch?" I ask.

He nods.

"What happened?"

He's calmed enough by now to answer. "Some boys laughed at me. Said I'm a baby and I can’t go here cause I don't got but one leg. They kicked my crutches and I fell down, and my lunch went on the floor, and a mean lady yelled at me." He starts to sniffle again.

I look up at and stare at Wetherby until he stammers, "I … I'm not certain how this could happen."

"I hope you're going to find out. My father will be here tomorrow wanting answers."

Wetherby pales and drops his head in his hands. "Oh, dear God," he mumbles.

I press on. "How did Mike do on his tests? Dad will be calling me tonight."

Wetherby sits back up and picks up his phone. A few minutes later his secretary comes in and hands him a sheet of paper. Looking at it for a moment he sets it down and looks at me.

"By age Mike should be in the second grade, but some of his tests are borderline so I suggest we put him with a tutor at the beginning level and advance him when he's secure in the basics."

"I'll tell dad, but it sounds reasonable. I'd like to be kept up to date on his progress so I can tell dad when we talk." I put Mike down and stand. "I assume Mike will begin classes tomorrow when dad brings him in."

"No!" Mike yells and wraps his arms around me. "I hate this place!"

"We'll talk about this with gran'pop, okay?" I tell him. "Let's go home and get some lunch."

When Mike doesn't want to eat anything, but keeps sniffling and hanging onto me I think of what our cook used to give me when I was unhappy. I put Mike down on the sofa and tell him I have something good and go pop two mugs of milk in the microwave. As soon as they boil, I pull them out and stir in instant Nestle hot chocolate mix then sprinkle the top with a few miniature marshmallows. The moment I coax Mike into tasting his, I know I've found his comfort food. I have to warn him a couple of times not to burn his tongue but he's one huge smile.

"That was soooo good, Trav," he says when he finishes.

I wipe his chocolate moustache mouth with a paper napkin. "I like it when the weather's cold or I'm unhappy. It's our special treat, okay?"

He hugs me and tells me that he's hungry now.

When dad calls that evening and I tell him about Mike he doesn't explode as I expect, instead he calmly and coldly says, "It won't happen again. I'll be there early enough to take Mike to school myself. Then we'll see you as soon as you're out of class. I'm pleased you went directly to Wetherby with this, Son."

To my surprise, dad arrives while Mike and I are eating breakfast. He has a cup of coffee while he's holding Mike on his lap and talking to him softly. I get a hug as I leave and dad follows me down with Mike. He drives off at the same time as I.

My mind wanders a bit during the first lecture for I'd love to be a fly on the wall of Wetherby's office. I have to stifle a snicker when I think of Wetherby possibly wetting his pants from fright if dad gets started. I saw it happen to one poor schmuck in dad's courtroom.

I get home as soon as possible from my lab. Dad looks like always and Mike runs to greet me. I hug him and put him back down.

"Travis, find something for Mike to wear that's presentable but easily washed. We're going to have lunch and then he has an appointment with a prosthetist. Making a mold of his stump is likely to be messy."

"Yes, Sir." Mike follows me into the bedroom and takes off his school uniform while I dig in the dresser drawers. A good pullover shirt and a pair of worn jeans should do.

"Aren't you excited about getting a leg?" I ask when he seems reluctant to dress.

"Gran'pa said the man's gonna put some stuff on my leg and I got to stand real still for a long time. Will it hurt?"

I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. "I don’t think so. And maybe you can sit instead of stand."

"You gotta go with me," he says.

"I will. I've got to learn about it so I can help you learn to walk on it."

He seems satisfied and we go to the restaurant I like for lunch. After we've ordered, I ask dad, "How did it go this morning?"

Dad gives a little smile of satisfaction. "Quite the way I expected. Mike pointed out the young man who pushed him and Wetherby and I had a little discussion with him in private. The young man was rather belligerent until I mentioned his father, whom I happen to know on a professional basis. I now doubt there will be any further occurrences of similar nature. I also met the tutor assigned to Mike and she has an excellent record for bringing students up to standard. Mike appeared to respond positively to her so I'm certain he will be functioning at grade level very shortly, at which time Wetherby will move him into the appropriate classes."

As we eat our lunch, I can tell that Mike is getting a little apprehensive about his appointment with the prosthetist. I reach over and pat his hand.

"Smile, babe, in a few days you'll have a new leg and can do what all the other kids do at school."

"It won't hurt, will it?"

I shake my head. "No way. It'll take some getting used to, but then you won’t even think about it."

He doesn't look convinced, but finishes his lunch without asking anything else. His grip on my hand gets tighter as we near the professional center.

Almost as soon as we register, a young guy who doesn't look much older than I comes into the reception room and looks at Mike with a big grin. "Hey, dude, I'm Nathan, let's go see what I can do for you."

He looks at dad when the three of us stand. "We naturally allow parents with a young client but not siblings. You," he looks at me, "will have to stay here."

Mike presses against me and dad looks at the guy and says firmly, "Michael wants Travis with him and he will be. So will I."

"But …"

"But nothing. We stay with Michael or we find a more sympathetic firm to deal with."

The guy shrugs. "Very well."

I can tell it's inconvenient for Nathan to examine Mike while he's sitting on my lap, but I can't get Mike to sit beside me. I'm pleased when Nathan tries to make a game of it with Mike and I feel Mike begin to relax.

Mike almost goes to sleep in my arms while we're waiting for the cast of his stump to dry. Nathan uses the time to give dad his recommendations for a leg and shows him an example he's working on for an adult. It's a plastic foot with a metal rod up to a plastic socket. He recommends a silicone-liner type suspension system for comfort with a lot of activity.

Mike wakes when Nathan eases the cast free and examines it. "You're a good dude," he says to Mike, "you stayed so still we got a perfect one on the first try." He sets the cast aside, wets a cloth with warm water at the sink, then washes Mike's stump.

He pats Mike on the head. "Let's go make an appointment with Sherry for when you get your new leg."

"Don't I get it now?" Mike asks in a disappointed voice.

"Sorry, dude. I've got to make it for you. It's your leg, so it's got to be special. It'll take me a while to make it just right for you, okay?"

"Yeah." Mike grins at him.

"I'll try to be here for the appointment, Travis, but if I'm not, make certain you keep it." Dad says when we're in the car.

"I bet Mike won't let me forget."

"Mike," dad asks, "is there a movie you wish to watch at home?"

"Can I see Harry Potter?" He begs.

"You haven't seen it?" Dad asks in surprise.

Mike shakes his head. "Unh, unh."

"Then we'll stop at a video shop. Isn't there one near your flat, Travis?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And why hasn't Michael seen Harry Potter?"

"He has, Sir. I took him to the movie, but it was the second movie. I haven’t had time to get the first one for him, but he has the first book of the series."

"I hear everyone talking about it and how much their kids enjoy reading the books and seeing the movies. We'll get them for him. I want him to have something to do while you and I have a talk, Son. It's time you understood some things."

"Yes, Sir."

Mike is beside himself when we come out of Barnes and Noble. Dad has bought him every Harry Potter book beyond the first one, which he already has, and a DVD of each movie released as well. He placed a special order for the rest of the books and movies as soon as they're released.

We make one more stop on the way home, the liquor store where dad gets another bottle of Canadian to keep at my flat. A sure sign we'll be having a serious talk.

As soon as Mike has the movie playing, dad mixes his drink then a much weaker one for me. When he fixes me a drink I know our talk is going to be ultra serious. He and I sit down at the kitchen table and he begins.

"Travis, there are some things I should have told you before now. I'll try to answer any questions you have, but hear me out first. To begin, I'm sure you have wondered why your mother is not more affectionate towards you and, by extension, Michael."

Dad looks me straight in the eyes. "You may well wonder why your mother and I married. On my part it was entre into an old established and highly respected law firm of which your grandfather was senior partner. Because I was fortunate enough to graduate from law school cum laud and invited to join his law firm, I was well positioned to take a place in high society which gave continuity to your mother's social position. For that reason, primarily, your mother never wanted to be bothered with having children, Travis. I insisted and you are the result, but after that one time, your mother and I slept apart in separate rooms." Dad blushes slightly. "I have sought my sexual release with a professional who has a very select clientele."

My mind spins! My old man with a whore? Cause he's sure put enough of 'em in jail.

"From the first, your mother was quite popular with the wives of the senior members of the firm, so our marriage couldn’t have been better for my career.

"I know I didn't take a lot of time with you when you were a kid and I've no real excuse. You always seemed so self-contained and I was so busy working day and night to progress in my career that I didn’t think you needed me. Now I can see that was an erroneous conclusion." He smiles at me. "I'm not trying to make up for the past, Travis, I can't as you well know, but I do plan to be a part of your and Michael's lives from now on, if you will let me. I love you both very much, Son."

I can't help the tears that stream down my face as I get up and hug my father. He hugs me back and kisses me on the forehead, then pulls back and wipes his eyes with his handkerchief.

Dad polishes off his drink and stands. "I'll leave now, Travis. Keep me posted on Michael's progress and I'll see you in two weeks if not before."

"Yes, Sir. Thanks for the talk, Father. I really feel good about everything now."

Dad hugs me close. "You're the kind of young man I always prayed you would be, Travis. Don't ever change."

He kisses me on the forehead again, then Michael, and leaves.

For the next two weeks I have to take the Harry Potter books from Mike in order to get him to study in the evening and go to bed at night. He complains long and loudly to dad on the phone only to have dad tell him that I did the right thing and if he doesn’t behave he (dad) will cancel the order for the rest of the movies. Mike comes quickly into line and gives me very little trouble after that.

After I pick up Mike at Country Day and we enter our flat, I see dad watching the news channel on our TV. He looks up as we enter. "Did you forget, Travis?"

"Forget what, Sir?"

He looks at his watch. "Michael is supposed to be fitted with his leg in an hour."

"I guess I did, Sir. I had a humongous test in English today. We'll be ready soon as we change clothes."

Mike is excited as he follows Nathan when we walk back to the fitting room. Once Mike's seated on a chair, Nathan takes a silicone liner from a pack and shows Mike how to roll it on his stump. Mike complains it's too tight, but Nathan tells me it must be quite snug if it is to hold the leg securely.

"You won't notice it after you wear it a little while, Mike."

"Where's my leg?"

"Here it is." Nathan lifts a leg unit from the cabinet top behind Mike and hands it to him.

"That don't look like no leg," Mike says.

"Not a real one, but this one is hi-tech. You've got something I'll bet none of the other guys at school have. They're gonna be envious. Let's try it."

He slips the socket over the liner and shows Mike and me how the pin on the end of the liner holds it in place. Then he lifts Mike down to the floor and holds him up. "Let's see if you can walk over to the bars and then walk alone just holding on to the bars so you don’t fall."

Mike stumbles along with Nathan doing most of the work. By the time he's standing at the parallel bars holding on, he's crying loudly. I rush over and hug him to me.

"What's wrong, Mike? Does the leg hurt?"

He lifts a tear-streaked face to me. "It don't work an' I want to walk like other guys."

I look up at Nathan who is now patting Mike on the back. "Nobody makes it work the first time, Mike, and you haven't had your leg for some time now, so you've forgotten how to walk with two legs and your stump has lost of necessary muscle tone. But if you practice you'll learn fast. I'll show Travis what to do and he can help you at home, too."

I find out I have to bring Mike in each afternoon to work in therapy until he learns to use the leg. When he whines, I tell him I'll paste a gold star on his socket each afternoon he walks a step or two on his own. Nathan grins and pulls a sheet of small Harry Potter figures. "These are stick-ons, Mike. They have a special adhesive that makes them easy to remove from the plastic socket whenever you want. I'll let you put one on your socket each time you walk the length of the bars without falling."

Mike's face lights up and we convince him to walk out of the building with his leg on and using his crutches though I have to catch him a couple of times when he fails to swing his new leg forward enough to clear a step.

With tears in my eyes, I watch Mike struggle the next afternoon to make the new leg support him without falling when he lifts his real leg. Despite the coolness of the room, there are beads of sweat on his forehead and I ignore the looks of the therapist whenever Mike swears under his breath. In fact, I'm proud of him for not cutting loose loudly. His swearing is something we work on constantly. Fortunately he hasn't used much bad language at school.

I finally lean down and let him swing into my arms then kiss him. "You're working too hard, love. Relax and take it easy."

"I want this fuckin' thing to work like Nathan said it would, damn it, but it won't do nothin'," he yells in frustration.

I hug him close. "You've got to build up some muscle in your stump, too. It's going to take time, but I'm proud of how hard you're working."

"I'm tired, I wanna go home."

I see the therapist nod at me so I tell Mike to put his jeans back on, he works out in shorts, and we'll go. The next morning when I mention he might want to wear it to school, but he says there's no need if it doesn't work.

I pick him up after school and we go for another session with the therapist. In place of the woman therapist he had yesterday is a good looking guy looks not much older than I. He grins at Mike and says, "I hear you cussed your leg 'cause it don't work." His grin grows. "I used to cuss mine, too," he pulls up his pants leg and shows us he has a leg similar to Mike's, "now I run, play ball, do anything I want. Want me to show you how?"

"Yeah!" He really has Mike's attention.

He removes Mike's leg and slips a knit sock over his stump. It's attached to a cord that runs over a pulley on the wall and down to a weight. After Mike is standing on his crutches, he shows him how to swing his stump back and forth, pulling the weight up and down.

"I know he'll get tired of this quickly, but it's the best way to build up the muscles in his stump so he can control the leg. I'll give you the stump sock he's wearing and you can get all the rest of this stuff at the hardware store. Find some place at home to rig it up like this and make him exercise several times each day. It won’t be long before he can use the leg, then he won’t need to do this." The guy says to me. "You can also encourage him to use the leg with his crutches so he can get used to the weight of it and swinging it back and forth."

"Enough, buddy," he says to Mike. After he's replaced Mike's leg and steadied him between the parallel bars he urges Mike to walk. When Mike makes a couple of steps by himself, the guy high-fives him and grins when I hand Mike a Harry Potter on his broomstick sticker to stick on the stump socket.

Mike hugs me. "I done it, Trav."

I hug him back. "You sure did, and you got a Harry Potter to prove it. Let's get some ice cream on the way home to celebrate."

"Yeah!"

Since Mike likes this guy, as do I, I ask, "Can you be Mike's therapist all the time he needs one?"

He nods. "Mike's assigned to me, I just happened to be out on business yesterday. My name's Andy, by the way."

"Travis. And thanks."

Before we leave the dairy bar where we stop for Mike's reward, I pick up a box of ice cream bars to use to reward Mike when he does his exercises at home. Call it bribery if you want, but I remember what worked for me.

By the end of the week Mike can actually walk across the room. A little unsteadily to be sure, but he makes it and his grin goes from ear to ear.

"I did it, Trav!"

I hug him. "I'm so proud of you, Mike. You want to wear your leg to school now?"

He shakes his head. "Unh, unh. I want to walk good when I go to school."

"Okay. I know Andy is going to be proud of you, too. See if you can use it until we go to bed."

Now that he's discovered he can make the leg do pretty much what he wants, he does his exercises without being reminded and uses the leg from the time he comes in from school until we go to bed. Friday of the next week, Andy says we can abandon the stump exercise with the pulley and for Mike to use the leg constantly as he's walking reasonably well now.

"You wear that leg to school on Monday, okay dude?" He tells Mike.

Mike grins. "Yeah."

Andy pulls off the white lab coat he always wears and puts on a sports coat, then looks at Mike. "You ready, dude?"

Mike looks puzzled. "What for?"

"Didn't I promise to buy you a banana split the day you graduated from therapy?"

Mike shakes his head, so Andy looks at me.

"I don't remember that either," I tell him.

Andy slaps his forehead. "How could I forget to tell you that, Mike, I must be getting old." He reaches down and takes Mike's hand. "So let's go. I can use one myself."

He actually meant it! It's not far to a drug store that still has a soda fountain and the three of us walk there. Andy lifts Mike to the stool and orders three banana splits. Considering that it's a little after five, this will play hell with our supper, but I don't care, Mike deserves it for working so hard without much complaining.

It dawns on me Sunday night as I'm laying out Mike's school uniform that tomorrow is the day they change into long pants, so I lay out Mike's gray slacks.

I can only shake my head as I watch Mike walk into the school on two legs. I'm happy for him, but he doesn’t look like the beautiful little kid with a neat mid-calf stump that I rescued a few months ago. In a way he looks funny with a right pants leg extending to the floor and filled. It's lucky I'm a packrat and didn't throw away the right shoe when I bought him new shoes for school.

Part 3

After Mike had gotten accustomed to school and settled down, I set a routine that made it relatively easy for me to get my study done and make a home for Mike. His midterm report is so good dad calls and praises Mike and me for over an hour.

"I'm delighted you were so quick to recognize Mike's potential and place him in a situation where it can be brought to full maturity, Travis. I can hardly wait for your Thanksgiving holiday. I will be down for you Wednesday as soon as your last class is over."

"Thanks, Dad. Ah … how about mother?"

"I believe there's some progress, Travis. Don't expect an effusive welcome, but it'll certainly be warmer than it has been. She was very pleased with Mike's report. I assume things are still quiet?"

"Yes, Sir. Since he's had the leg and they've shifted to long pants nobody even thinks of it. He's acting his age now and talking a lot better."

"Excellent. I'm proud of you, Son."

Wednesday is a light day for me, only two lectures in the morning. I figure Country Day will be out early so I arrive there just after eleven-thirty the day before Thanksgiving. The kids are in assembly so I'm waiting in the lobby outside the office when dad comes in.

"Dad!"

He comes over and hugs me. "I decided not to wait so I came to pick Mike up since I wasn't sure what time you'd be out of class."

"We got out on time."

"Why don't you ride your motorbike back to your flat and I'll be there as soon as Mike is out."

"That'll be a lot faster and he won't have to ride in the cold."

"Exactly." He pats me on the back. "Run along and we'll see you as soon as Mike is free."

I can tell from experience that dad wants to have a talk with Wetherby so I head back to our flat. I secure my bike and finish packing the one mid-sized suitcase with everything Mike and I will need for the weekend. I'm about to drop it by the door when dad and Mike come in.

"Look, Trav, gran'pop came to school for me!" Mike says excitedly.

"Sure did. Go put your books away and let's go."

When we're riding with dad, it has become common for Mike and me to sit in the front seat with him. Traffic is heavy, but dad still finds a moment to reach over and pat Mike on the leg.

"I'm proud of the way you have matured so quickly, Mike," dad tells him.

I know this is a reference to the fact that he's been working with the tutor and is easily doing work a year beyond his grade level. As a result, he will enter the third grade for the second half of the year.

"I like Mrs. Stevens. She makes learning fun like Trav does."

"Very good."

Mother greets me with the usual peck on the cheek and even manages to give Mike a quick one. I'm hoping this means she's finally warming up to him.

Mike drags me up to the playroom to run the trains. If he can't be outside, this and reading are his favorite pastimes. If tomorrow is a nice day, I'll go blading with him after dinner. We'll both need the exercise after the spread I know mother will have the cook prepare. I just hope she doesn't have any of their boring friends over to eat with us.

I tell Mike at his bedtime that if he's awake before me he can play games on my computer until I get up. I plan to sleep in and I know mother won't want him downstairs without me to watch him. I just wish she'd relax and love him like dad and I do, but how can I expect that when she's never been affectionate to me.

When I open my eyes my clock reads 9:45. I stretch and see Mike playing computer games quietly. "Mike?"

He jumps up and hops across to jump in bed with me to play. On holidays I love to horse around with him, lifting him with my feet under his waist and swaying him back and forth. When he drops to the bed I tickle him as he tries to tickle me. This is the same kind of fun I used to have on Sunday mornings with my dad after he moved into a separate bedroom away from mother. I've told Mike to play with dad. But he's still wary of him in the mornings. I guess because dad can be grumpy before he has his first cup of coffee.

I wash up and get dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, dressing Mike the same. We'll go out to blade after Agnes gives us some breakfast. It's amazing to watch Mike on blades. He's quickly learned to use his prosthetic leg without stumbling. He loves the slight rise in our long driveway because he can fly down without effort. The street dead-ends just beyond our drive so the only cars using it belong to someone coming to see us.

I'm about ready to call it quits when I have to fly down the drive and grab Mike. There's a big Lincoln coming up our street. The driver blows the horn and waves at me; I recognize my godfather and his wife. Guess they're eating with us which is great. 'Uncle' Matt is cool for an old guy, tho Aunt Gert almost smothers me when she hugs me. Poor Mike is going to get it, I know.

This means Mike and I have got to get showered and dressed pronto. He whines as I pull him up the drive to the back door.

Half an hour later Mike and I have showered together and I'm trying to tie his tie against his tugging at it and yelling, "I don’t wanna wear it." After I put mine on he relents and looks so gorgeous I grab him in a hug and kiss him.

"Mush," he mumbles and wipes his cheek with the back of his hand.

The folks are in the living room having a sherry when we go down. I take Mike over to Uncle Matt. As I expected, I get bear-hugged, then Uncle Matt asks, "And who is this handsome young man, Travis?"

Fortunately dad speaks up. "Matt, meet Michael. Legally he's Katherine's and my son, but in effect Travis is his father, brother, playmate, and whatever. Certainly it was Travis who rescued him from the pure hell he was living in." Dad comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "I've never been more proud of Travis and I still am with the remarkable way he's raising Mike."

"Oh, honestly, you men! Bring that precious child over here and let me see him, Travis."

Mike has solemnly shaken hands with Uncle Matt and I take him by the hand and lead him over to Aunt Gert because he's shy around women. She immediately smothers him in a hug, turning him loose when he starts to squirm.

"Katherine, he's absolutely adorable! I do admire you for taking on the raising of another child at this point in your life."

I see mother raise her eyebrows. "Oh, he lives with Travis and goes to Country Day. This is strictly between Trav and Travis."

Aunt Gert shakes her head. "He's just too precious! I don't see how you can stand not having him here all the time." 

"Really, Gert, I simply haven’t the time or energy to try to keep up with a child that age, but as irregular as this whole affair is, it seems to have had a most salutary effect on Travis."

Aunt Gert shakes her head again. "Travis is so mature that I'm certain anyone would benefit from association with him."

"Trav is fun. I love him," Mike pipes up.

Aunt Gert smiles and pats him on the head. "I'm sure you do, darling. I love Travis, too, and so does his Uncle Matt, so I'm sure we will love you, too, once we get to know you."

We're saved by Agnes appearing at the door and catching mother's attention. Dinner is served.

Once again Mike steals the show. Agnes has just served the first course and mother has picked up her cocktail fork to begin when Mike folds his hands, bows his head and says, "Thank you, God, for Trav and Gran'pa and letting me live with Trav. Amen."

I glance at dad to see him wipe a tear before he says, "Thank you for reminding us all to be thankful, Michael." Dad bows his head as do the rest of us and gives a nice prayer, ending, "… and thank you for giving Travis the wisdom to recognize the need of another and bringing us Michael to love and raise. May he always remind of us of our duty toward others when we would forget. Amen."

Mike is on his best behavior at dinner, impressing even mother with his manners. After dessert has been finished, Mike and I are excused to do what we wish. Mike has his tie off before we reach the foot of the stairs.  We change back into jeans and go out to skate some more.

Mike and I are both worn out from our blading and play. I fix us a couple of turkey sandwiches and some milk, then take him up to my room to watch the Macy Christmas parade I recorded earlier. When he falls asleep, I put Mike in my bed and quickly join him.

No sleeping in today. Christmas trees always come in early the Friday morning after Thanksgiving and dad and I always go to the garden center to pick ours out. I don't tell Mike why I wake him, just that we are going to eat breakfast with dad and go somewhere.

I get us dressed and down to the breakfast nook. Dad looks up from the paper and I shake my head.

"Hi, Mike," he says, "I'm glad you got up early because you and Travis and I have some important business this morning."

"What, Gran'pa?"

"Why we've got to go find a big Christmas tree to put up in two weeks. You want to be all ready for Santa, don't you?"

Mike's eyes get huge. "We gonna have a Christmas tree for real? And Santa will come?"

Dad smiles. "Of course. Doesn't he always?"

Mike shakes his head. "He never come to our house for a long time. Papa said there weren't no Santa. It was all bull."

Dad holds out his arms and pulls Mike onto his lap. "Your old papa didn't always tell the truth, Mike. Santa always comes to this house to see us and I know he'll come special for you this year. He told me he would. So you've got to decide what you want him to bring you."

"Really? Let's eat so we can go!" Mike hugs dad and gets down so Agnes can set dad's plate down.

A cold front had come through last night, so we're all bundled up well. In his cords, black leather boots, padded jacket, and a colorful knit watch-cap pulled down over his ears, Mike looks like one of Santa's elves. It's all he can do to sit still while dad is driving us to the garden center.

"Ah, Judge Somerville, I have several trees set aside for you to look at. The boys have just finished unloading the truck."

Dad nods. "I'm sure they'll be up to your usual standard, Bill, but I need a particularly nice one this year for this young man." Dad puts his hand on Mike's shoulder.

Bill grins. "I'll do my best. You follow me, young man, and we'll find a perfect tree for you."

We go through the warehouse where bundled trees are stacked against the wall to the far end where the few tall ones are. Bill calls two guys I figure are high school seniors or college students over and they cut the twine binding a tree and thump it against the floor to make the branches fall out. Dad walks around it holding Mike by the hand, then says, "What do you think of this one, Mike?"

Mike looks overwhelmed at the size of the tree. "I … I dunno, Gran'pa."

Dad nods and the boys lay the tree aside and open another. To me it looks really good. There's a gap in only one place and we can always put that side against the wall.

Before we choose, they have opened seven trees. "These are the best of the ten foot trees," Bill says.

Dad nods and asks the boys to hold up the tree I thought nice and then another, comparing the two. I like them both so I shrug.

"What about it, Mike? You like this one?" Dad asks, pointing to the one I like best.

Mike nods.

Dad nods at Bill. "That's it. Now, how about a six or seven foot tree."

"Two?" I ask dad.

"Yes. Your mother will have the big one done as usual, but I think you and Mike might enjoy having one in the den to decorate yourselves and that's where Santa will leave his presents this year." Dad winks at me. "Your mother will complain, but having this one will mean Mike can have fun Christmas morning. Frankly, I plan to enjoy it, too, and I hope you will."

I know dad has never been thrilled with the big professionally decorated tree mother always has in the living room. Too, she always complains about the mess unwrapping Christmas gifts makes, so it's never been a happy brawl like in a lot of homes.

We pick a pretty well shaped seven-foot tree. Mike still hasn't taken it in that he and I will decorate the little tree when we come home on Christmas break. Dad pays for the trees and we go back home. Bill will deliver them later and set them in water on our patio.

Sunday is the first Sunday in Advent, so I dress Mike, then myself, and we accompany mother to church. I can see she has doubts about Mike, but I guide him through the Mass. He apparently knows the last hymn and sings out in a pure soprano voice. It's so beautiful I shiver in delight and mother actually smiles down at him. I see several of the choir members glance at Mike during the recessional.

"I'm so pleased you decided to accompany me today, Travis. Michael has a beautiful voice. I had no idea that he would know Lo He Comes." She smiles again. "He certainly gave Marjorie Reynolds something to equal. She thinks no one has a voice to match hers." Mrs. Reynolds is the paid soprano soloist and not one of mother's favorite people. One look at mother's face tells me she's plotting something. I can only wonder what, but I know it involves Mike.

After dinner dad drives us back to our flat. Mike and I both have classes tomorrow and my exams are coming up in another week.

When Mike gets out of school each day, we get some type of exercise, usually blading if the day is nice. After supper we study. Mike has been given second semester third-grade work with which he's doing well, but he does have to study some. I'm laying in for my exams.

We're just in from school when the phone rings. I almost drop over from shock when it's mother asking if I have my keyboard with me. When I tell her I do, she says she's faxing a letter and a piece of music that Mike is to learn to my advisor's offfice. It's from Paul Daven, our church organist. She says goodbye and hangs up, leaving me wondering.

The next morning at school the secretary hands me an envelope just before my first period begins. At my break, I go to the library and read Paul's letter. He tells me to look at Von Himmel Hoch in our worship book. It's short but has fourteen stanzas and he plans to use it for the Christmas Eve processional. There will be all sorts of instrumental accompaniments and one stanza a cappella during the processional itself. He's composed a descant for the thirteenth stanza that he wants Mike to sing, and on the last stanza he will play a free accompaniment. Just thinking of that gives me a shiver of pleasure. Mother hates it when he improvises, but I love it. Anyway, I'm to teach Mike the descant as if I didn't have enough on me with final exams.

When I get home I look up the hymn and it's in the key of C so no problem for me to play. I try the descant and put it with the hymn in my mind - wild! Looking at some of the notes, a high C and an E above, I know Mrs. Reynolds can't reach either. I have to snicker, mother is planning a not so subtle revenge with Mike's and Paul's help.

I go pick Mike up at school and tell him I know what he can give mother for Christmas. He shrugs uncaring, not that I blame him, but smiles when I ask if he wants to learn a new Christmas song.

He's as quick picking it up as he is with everything else. After a few rehearsals, he can sing the descant perfectly without my playing more than the hymn alone. It's gorgeous and his sweet voice soars in angelic power and beauty. I can hardly wait to hear him rehearse with Mr. Paul.

I take Mike to the mall two different afternoons to do our Christmas shopping and literally have to drag him out because he's so captivated by it all. It's with reluctance I give him twenty dollars and let him go in a smaller store while I wait outside. I know he's buying my gift and wants to surprise me. There's little I want, but no matter what he gets and how bad I hate it, it'll be the most wonderful gift I ever received. It will be because of the big smile he gives me when he comes out of the store clutching a bag tightly in his hand.

Exams finally over for me, Country Day doesn't have exams, I pack our things and bring my motorbike up to the flat, standing it on a thick layer of newspapers in case of an oil drip. Mike chortles at the thought of my getting away with something against the rules, but no way am I leaving my bike in the parking lot for over three weeks.

Dad picks us up just after we've eaten lunch and reminds Mike that there is a tree waiting to be decorated when we get home. Mike is so excited he bounces on the seat until dad tells him he has to be still or get in the back. Traffic is heavy with students leaving for the holidays.

I get our bags unpacked then go down to the family room. Dad is moving a chair and points to a lamp table that I help him move out of the way. Mother is watching with an exasperated look.

"Really, Trav, the tree in the living room is quite sufficient. I can't understand why you insist on having one in here as well."

Dad smiles at her. "This one is for Mike and Travis. Santa will leave his gifts under this one and there'll be no mess in the living room for you to fret about."

"Oh, well, if you insist." She says and goes to her morning room for a cup of coffee and to look at her mail which Agnes just brought in.

Dad is tall enough to reach the top of this tree easily so he strings the lights while Mike holds them for him. Meanwhile I'm sorting out the ornaments, old ones I love from my childhood but haven't seen since mother insisted on having a decorator do the big tree.

It takes into the evening for us to get all the ornaments on the tree because Dad or I tell Mike the story of each of the special old ones. Then dad adds, "Tomorrow we'll go to the Christmas shop, Mike, and let you choose some that will be special to you because they come from your first Christmas with us."

His little face beams and he hugs dad. "Thank you, thank you. I love you, Gran'pa."

I must admit I enjoy looking through the Christmas shop as much as Mike, but one look at the prices on the limited edition ornaments leaves me gasping. I mean sixty bucks for a glass ornament that could shatter in a heartbeat? Mike is constantly drawn back to a Santa about six inches high. His robe is dark green trimmed in white, His face and hands are a pale gold while his beard and hair are white containing a little silver glitter. To me it's one of the more subtle ornaments in the collection.

"Gran'pa," Mike says pointing to the Santa, "that's the one I want."

"Good choice, Son." He shows me the price - twenty dollars. "I think you can find a box of ornaments you might like over there." Dad points to the boxed sets at the base of an artificial tree decorated with those from the boxes.

Mike picks smaller brightly colored balls, most with indented centers. They'll go well with what we have on the tree already.

When dad takes Mike's choices to the counter he asks the clerk if they have a way of marking the specialty items. When she says they do, he hands her the Santa and asks that Mike's name and the words 'First Christmas' and the date of the year be placed on the bottom.

From there we drive to the mall, but on the way Mike tells dad when he sees a bike shop and begs to look at the bikes. Mike is in the shop by the time dad and I are out of the car. He's running his hand along a dark blue bicycle. He looks up at me.

"Trav, if there is a Santa Claus, I hope this is the bike he brings me."

I look over his head at dad and he winks back at me with a smile, then says to Mike. "I'll bet Santa already has a bicycle just like that in his sleigh ready to bring to you on Christmas morning."

"You think so, Gran'pa?"

"I'm almost certain because one of his elves told me you have been a very good boy, work hard in school, and never give Travis any trouble. Boys like that are the kind Santa always comes to see."

"I hope so."

Back in the car, dad says to me, "Travis, I have never allowed you access to the funds in your trust, but I happen to know your mother wants an emerald dinner ring she saw at Barden Jewelers. I have that set aside, so I'm suggesting that you and Mike buy her the matching earrings using some of that money."

"I'm glad it's something she really wants. Maybe she'll like 'you know who' a little better."

"Considering the price, she should be wildly enamoured of you both."

The jewelry purchased, we are strolling through the mall when we pass a hobby shop. One of the clerks is running a radio-controlled car in the center of the mall. Mike is immediately captivated. With an audience, the young man makes the car do all sorts of things, Mike squealing in delight. Dad looks at me, I nod my head and he takes Mike by the hand, promises him a treat, and walk on while I dash into the shop to buy one of the cars for Mike.

I meet them at the pastry shop where Mike is having a cup of hot chocolate and an apple turnover while dad drinks his cappuccino. There is a pile of packages on the spare chair. I add my purchases to the pile and start on the cappuccino and apple turnover dad bought for me.

"All done, Son?" He asks me.

"Yes, Sir. I've got a few things to wrap yet, but I'm mostly ready."

"Who's gonna help me?" Mike asks plaintively. "I can't make things look pretty."

"I'll help you," I tell him, "and you can help me with some."

"If it's something you don't want Travis to see, I'll try to help you, but I'm not very good," dad says, putting his cup down. "Ready to go home and hang those special ornaments, Mike?"

Mike jumps up. "Yeah!"

The tree looks really pretty when we finish. I like it better than the big tree because this one belongs to us and is not some professional's wet dream. I go up to my closet and bring down a few things I've already wrapped to place under the tree.

Mike immediately picks one up and starts to shake it, but dad takes it from him. "No, no, Mike. We don't cheat at Christmas. You can find out what's in all the packages Christmas morning."

"Just one?" Mike pleads.

Dad shakes his head. "Not a single one. If you’re real good perhaps you can open one after we come home from church on Christmas Eve."

"But that's so long."

"I think Travis can keep you entertained. Maybe it'll snow and we can build a snowman."

"I wish it would!"

The next day Mr. Paul calls and asks me to bring Mike to the church to rehearse the descant after church on Sunday, some of the choir is staying to work on the processional since the choir will be bigger than usual and the hymn stanzas are short. I know the soloists will leave as soon as Mass is over.

I practice with Mike at home a couple of times Sunday morning and we get to the church just as people are leaving. While the choir are disrobing, Mr. Paul plays Von Himmel Hoch through once, then asks Mike to sing the descant. That precious voice soars through the building silencing the few people remaining. At the conclusion Mr. Paul beams at Mike.

"Wonderful young man! You sang it exactly as I heard it in my mind when I was writing it. We'll practice with the choir in a minute and you will lead the procession. When you come into the chancel I want you to come stand beside me just where you are now."

"But I want to sit with Trav," Mike says.

"You sing well enough, Travis. You can robe and walk in right behind Mike. I'll reserve those two places next to me." The choir members are beginning to filter back in. "Mike, I want you to process with Travis but I don't want you to sing at any time. The purity of your voice will be difficult for the women to sing against. You are to sing only the descant on Christmas Eve."

Since I had been the Bible bearer, then crucifer, while I was in high school, guiding Mike in the procession is no big thing. Mr. Paul is happy, so Mike and I go home for dinner.

At the table mother is unusually chatty. "Mike, darling, I am so pleased with you. Paul said you sing like an angel and Travis did a fine job of teaching you. I'm looking forward to the Christmas Eve service like never before."

Mike smiles at her shyly and resumes eating.

When we get to church Christmas Eve I take Mike to the choir room so we can robe, but Mr. Paul says, "I've changed my mind, Mike. Because of the number of musicians, the chancel will be crowded, so Travis, I want you and Mike to sit with your parents on the center aisle end of the third pew, as always. Mike can sing the descant from there as his voice is strong enough. Then the sopranos won't have to sing against him for the rest of the service. Remember it's stanza thirteen. Mike, I'll point at Travis and he'll tell you when to sing. He can see me from where you'll be sitting." Mr. Paul winks at me. "No sense in pissing Mrs. Reynolds off any worse than she will be. In fact, I hope this makes her leave, I've had all her prima donna act I can take."

I make a mental note to watch her when Mike sings. It should be funny. Mike and I join our parents, Mike sitting next to the aisle. Mike is busy looking around and we enjoy the half-hour organ and harp concert before Mass begins.

The lights go out, the church completely dark, then Pastor processes down the aisle carrying the Christ candle and reading the preface; he is accompanied by two acolytes. When he reaches the chancel, the acolytes light their torches from the Christ candle and light the altar candles, then the advent wreath. Mr. Paul plays the introduction to the processional at full organ, then brings on the antiphonal organ alone as the first three stanzas are sung from the back before the procession begins. A brass quintet accompanies the fourth stanza and the organ comes back in as the procession begins. The hymn doesn't seem long with all the variations in registration Mr. Paul uses for each stanza. We finish stanza twelve and I whisper, "Okay, Mike." I see Mr. Paul signal the choir to sing softly and on the third note Mike begins the descant singing loudly enough to create echos.

Mrs. Reynolds looks devastated, her mouth is open, but I can tell she's not singing. Her eyes keep sweeping the congregation to see who is singing the descant. I suddenly hear a sniffle and mother is wiping her eyes. The moment the descant ends, she grabs Mike in a tight hug and kisses him on the forehead. The people standing near us are looking at Mike and silently applauding. Mr. Paul has the organ wide open and his grin goes from ear to ear.

The Mass is as special as Christmas always is and Mike and I sing loudly on all the hymns. His voice seems to inspire the choir because they sing better than I've ever heard them before.

The moment Mass is over a man standing near us says, "That had to have been planned by Paul. Young man you have the voice of an angel and I'll be asking Paul to let us hear more from you."

So many stop to speak to Mike that Mr. Paul has finished the postlude and joined us before they've all spoken to him. "Perfection, Mike! You were wonderful! I could hear you singing all the way through the service and it sent chills up my back. I dream of having a choir of boys with voices like yours. I know I can't, but I hope you'll sing a solo on occasion." He pats Mike on the head. "Have a Merry Christmas, Mike, you, too, Travis."

By the time we're home Mike's euphoria has worn off and he can barely stay awake. I get him undressed and the moment he hits the bed he's asleep even before I can give him a kiss on the forehead. I tuck him in and go back down to help dad be Santa. We lay out several small things we've bought in front of the wrapped gifts. I run out to the garage and bring in the bicycle, wiping off the tires so there'll be no dirty marks on the carpet. Dad places it partially behind the tree so it's not immediately noticeable. With that done, dad puts his arm around my shoulders and hugs me, before fixing small glasses of eggnog for us both.

We sit together on the sofa and quietly enjoy the beauty of the tree before the chaos that will occur when Mike wakes up. Dad reminisces a bit about the years when I was young and believed in Santa, and the joy it brought him. He wishes me the same joy with Mike.

It seems I've hardly gotten to sleep when Mike's tugging at my arm. "Come on, Trav, let's see if Santa came!"

I manage to shake myself awake enough to hit the bathroom and do a quick wash up. I send Mike to do the same and lay out some nice clothing for us both. Being properly dressed for Christmas breakfast is a must. It's dad who breaks mother's insistence we eat first then have Christmas. She relents and Mike rushes into the family room and stops short.

"Look, Travis! Santa did come!" Immediately he flops down on the floor and begins to play with a toy or two. Dad tells him to take a gift from under the tree, read the name on the tag, and hand it to the proper person. Once that gift has been opened and admired another one is handed out.

When Mike opens the remote controlled car he yells in joy and hugs me. I reach for the batteries and put them in, so he can try it. When it bumps a table leg rather hard, mother suggests he save it to run outside.

Mother actually cries when she opens the tiny velvet case and sees the emerald earrings from Mike and me. She hugs him tightly saying how thoughtful he is and how he thrilled her last night. Considering she spoke kindly when his car hit the table, dad and I know she's finally on her way to accepting Mike, which is the best present I could have. With the way dad's sitting on the floor by the tree, Mike hasn’t yet seen his bike. The gifts have all been opened and dad gets up, saying, "Michael, I can’t believe you missed Santa's big gift." Dad rolls the bike out.

Mike just stares at it then starts to cry. "Santa is real! I wanted it so bad!" He holds the bike and strokes the seat.

"After breakfast Travis and I will take you out and let you ride it," dad tells him.

It's with real regret that Mike and I go back to our flat the day before school starts again. It's been a Christmas in which my prayers were answered and one I doubt Mike will ever forget. Now the New Year awaits us.

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