"Hey," Tony said, "where's Santa?"

Andrew laughed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, and he and Tony grinned at each other as if they shared a secret.

After that, there was the cleaning up to do, and then it was time for Andrew to go to bed. Once again he went without protest, but he came back in his pajamas to lay his Christmas stocking at the foot of the tree, right beside the train.

Tony wished him a gruff "Merry Christmas, kid." Karen went off to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. When she came back, Tony was on his knees beside the train track, the electrical plug in one hand.

"Well," he said, looking up at her, "shall we see if it works?"

She knelt down beside him, trying to quell the nervousness inside her. "I guess we'd better…"

Tony put the plug in the socket and turned on the switch. The engine made a churring sound and lurched forward an inch or two. Karen's breath caught; she put her hand over her mouth to hold back a cry of joy.

And then the engine stopped.

Tony swore softly, tinkered with the connections, the track, the engine, and tried again. Again the engine churred, moved a little way along the track and then stopped. While Karen waited in agonized suspense, heart thumping, he tried it again and again. And finally sat back on his heels, shaking his head.

"I guess that's it," he said, his voice husky and muffled. "I've done everything I know how to do. It's just… not going to work." His head was bowed, his broad shoulders slumped with dejection and defeat.

Seeing him like that, her own disappointment, and Andrew's, seemed unimportant. Oh, but his pain… his pain was more than she could bear. It filled her up and overflowed. She touched his shoulder and said brokenly, "Oh, Tony."

He turned in a rush and caught her in his arms. They held on tightly to each other, both whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry." Karen felt the tremors deep inside him as he spoke. "I know how much you wanted-"

"Shh," she said fiercely, "it's all right."

"I'll get it running, if it takes all night. I'll start from scratch. I must have missed a connection somewhere."

"Hush." She took his face between her hands and looked into his eyes. "It's all right. Andrew will understand. You didn't make any promises. He knows you tried." He gripped her wrists and looked away, but she pulled him back. "Oh, Tony," she whispered, while tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, "it doesn't matter. Don't you know that? It doesn't matter. I know it's happened quickly, but I don't care. I love you…"

For a long moment he looked at her, his eyes so dark and intent he seemed angry. Then he closed them and pulled her into his arms. "You love me?" he said wonderingly. She nodded. After a moment she felt him take a deep breath. "I have something for you. I was afraid to give it to you. I figured you weren't ready for it yet. I know it's too soon, but… " He let go of her and leaned back so he could reach into his pocket.

"What's this?" Karen said with a watery sniff as he placed the small velvet box into her hands and opened it for her.

"Just what it looks like." His voice was gruff, more so than she'd ever heard it.

"Oh, Tony… " She touched the shining stone with a wondering finger and began to cry again.

"If it's too soon, just say so. I'll wait until you're ready."

"It's not-oh, Tony, I know I love you, but… I'm scared. I'm afraid."

"What?" he said gently, brushing the tears from her cheek. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid-" she took a deep breath "-of losing you."

"Hey," he said with a shrug and a lopsided smile, "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you don't know that! You can't tell me nothing's ever going to happen to you! Don't make promises you can't keep!"

Now it was Tony who held her face in his hands, refusing to let her go. He felt the tension in her as she fought him, fought herself, her own fears and feelings. "I can't promise you I'm never going to die," he said slowly, roughly, the words hurting inside him. "But I can promise you that I'm going to love you, and Andy, too, until the day I die. That's all I can do. That's all any of us can do, isn't it? Love each other as much as we can, for as long as we have?"

For a long time she looked at him, her blue eyes shimmering with love and tears. "Yes," she whispered at last, "I guess it is."

This time, when he kissed her, she didn't fight it. He felt the leap of joy inside her, and then the melting surrender… and finally the growing and merging… the oneness that he knew would last a lifetime.

When he carried her to bed, neither of them thought of Andrew, or the train, or Christmas. But later, deep in the night, Karen stirred and whispered against his shoulder, "What was that?"

"Hmm," Tony murmured, "what was what?"

"Didn't you hear that? I heard… bells."

He chuckled. "Not me. I was too busy feeling the earth move."

Her arms tightened around him, and for a minute or two they didn't say anything more. But presently she murmured, "I'm sure I heard something. Don't laugh, but it sounded just like sleigh bells."

"Well," Tony said, laughing, "it is Christmas." And then, seriously, "Do you think it could be Andy? Maybe I'd better go."

"No!" Her arms tightened again. "Please, stay a little longer. Just a little longer… "

"As long as you want me to," he said, and kissed her again.


"What's that?"

"Oh no," Tony groaned, "not again."

"No-listen," Karen insisted. "There it goes again. It sounds like-but it can't be!"

"It is," Tony said, sitting up in Karen's bed and dragging a hand through his hair. They looked at each other and said it together, joyously, incredulously. "The train!"

"It can't be," Karen was muttering as she scrambled out of bed and began opening dresser drawers.

"It's morning, Christmas morning. I don't believe this." Tony was pulling on his clothes, looking for his shoes. "I didn't mean to stay. God, Karen, I'm sorry. What's he going to think? Is that really the train?"

It was. They stumbled out of the bedroom, tousled but fully dressed, to find Andrew kneeling in front of the Christmas tree with his stocking across his lap. The train was chugging merrily around the Christmas tree, around Andrew, its whistle shrill and joyful in the coolness of the morning.

"Look!" Andrew said when he saw them. "It works, just like you said it would. I knew you could do it, Tony- I knew it!" He looked about as happy as it was possible for a kid to look and still stay anchored to the ground. Reserved, Tony thought, his heart just about full to bursting with his own emotions. Just like his mother.

"Merry Christmas," Karen whispered, slipping her hand into Tony's. "I guess… miracles do happen sometimes, don't they?"

All Tony could do was shake his head.

Andrew glanced at them, at their clasped hands, and asked in his direct, matter-of-fact way, "Are you going to get married?"

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again. Karen burst out laughing. "Yeah," Tony said gruffly, "I guess we are. Is that okay with you?"

Andrew shrugged. "Sure." He was suddenly very busy with the train, so his voice was muffled when he asked, "So… are you going to be my dad?"

The little boy's head was bowed; his neck looked slender and vulnerable. Tony put his hand on it and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah," he said, "I am."

"Cool," said Andrew. He suddenly gave the locomotive a push and turned in a rush. Tony caught him in a quick, hard hug. Over the boy's head he sought Karen's eyes and found them resting on him, shimmering with love, reflecting the soft Christmas lights.

Epilogue

"Guess what," Andrew said as he sat down to breakfast on the day after Christmas. "Mr. Clausen's gone."

"Gone?" Karen picked up the box of Crispy Oats, looked at the new mouse-nibble on the corner, sighed and set it down. "Has he gone somewhere for the holidays? Do you know when he's coming back?"

Andrew shook his head. "I think he's moved away."

"Strange," Karen murmured. "How do you know? Did Mrs. Goldrich tell you?"

Again Andrew shook his head; his mouth was full of cereal. "Nope. This morning I went to see him. I knocked, and the door opened. So I peeked in."

"Andrew!"

"Well, he was gone, anyway. All his stuff's gone, too." He shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he's moved away."

Karen gave him a long, searching look, thinking it odd that he didn't seem upset, or even very surprised. She was sure Andrew had been genuinely fond of the old man.

"Maybe I ought to go and see," she said, worried now. All sorts of possibilities presented themselves. Mr. Clausen was old-what if he'd had a heart attack, or a fall? What if he were lying helpless and ill-or worse? "I'll go check," she said decisively. "Just to be sure. You stay here."

Andrew just looked at her over the tops of his glasses. "I told you-he's gone."

Andrew was right; the tiny garret apartment was cold and empty. From where Karen stood in the middle of it, she could look out the dormer window at the backyard, where patches of snow still clung to the shady places under the sycamores and along the north sides of fences. No longer lovely, pristine white, it now seemed gray and lifeless-abandoned, like the apartment.

"I wonder why," she said aloud, rubbing at the goose bumps on her arms. "Why would he leave like that, without a word to anybody?"

"Maybe," Andrew said, coming quietly behind her, "he left because it was time."

"Andrew, I told you-" She stopped herself. "What do you mean, 'it was time'?"

"Christmas is over," he said with a shrug. "Maybe it was time to go home."