And Christmas - what a pain.

The door was heaved shut to block out the cold and attempt to force out the chill that had already been let into the house.

But beepers were in high demand. Yeah, this would really bring meat to the table.

And Olga'd be coming home any day now. Maybe she'd make her special, fancy... French stuff.

…Goulache? None of those snails for us!

Big Bob Pataki had just arrived home from another grueling day with those morons who called themselves beeper salesmen.

But he was home now.

And Miriam, well Miriam wasn't so bad - just get her awake for the holidays.

And, oh, the girl.

He heard an angry voice echo in his mind.

"It's Helga, Dad."

Yeah, yeah, why'd she have to be so touchy about it?

It's not like he ever-

"Daddy, daddy!"

A forgotten winter's afternoon over a half a decade ago, and a tiny girl in pink and pigtails that was actually smiling, trying to stand on tiptoes, to not be completely dwarfed in size by her father.

"Look what I made you in pwee-school."

The man before her was occupied, thrusting his strong arms in the air, yelling into the gamble of a brand new cell phone. The latest shipment of beepers had not yet arrived, and Christmas, if they could get this off the ground, should prove to be his new company's biggest profit booster.

"Yeah, yeah honey, Daddy's busy," he waved down to her, not paying any true attention, before returning to the prattling in his ear of exactly what he did not want to hear, "No, now I'm telling you that I made preparations for the snow, so why you fellas didn't-"

Big Bob stood, lost in his own recollections, having been unable, before today, to remember the last time his youngest had called him "daddy," instead of a cold statement of "Dad" or a sarcastic "Bob."

"But Daddy-"

No, Helga, don't-

Frustrated, the little girl raised her voice in a comparable imitation to be noticed by the towering figure above her.

"I MADE YOU-"

Big Bob covered the end of his cell phone with his large grip and said with a small but even stronger elevation of his own voice, "I told you Olga, if we even want to have a Christmas at all, then I have to make money."

The girl had been interrupting his most important business calls for half the day..

"Now go to your room!"

As his phone call began to wind down, Big Bob casually looked down, disdain clear on his face that some bozo company he did business with would deliberately try to sabotage his family's holiday.

The girl had still been looking up to her father at that point, big blue wet eyes wide open and blonde pigtails dangling back like a frightened puppy's ears. As quickly as she was re-noticed, she dropped the construction paper card and took off.

As the conversation slowly ended, the Big Bob picked up the card.

It wasn't so bad for a kid that age...

Tacky red and green and more glitter than the glue could hold – you could even call it ambitious, almost like a chip off of the old block.

He sighed, frustrated.

As he passed through the living room to go up the stairs, he saw a small bundle of pink, huddled next to a large cardboard box of ornaments at the bottom of the Christmas tree.

It really was a nice card…

"Listen, I-"

It was then that all too familiar tone Helga often took with him was first uttered in his little girl's voice.

"My name's Helga, Daddy. Helga."

In both present and past, Big Bob was left speechless for a few moments, unsure of what to do.

"Wanna help put the angel on top of the tree?" Big Bob asked, as he reached downward, bending much younger knees.

"That's Olga's angel..."

"Well, it was Olga's angel. But now we have two angels in this family, and this one for the tree will just have to do, until times are better and Daddy can make us some more money. I know Daddy's been busier lately, but I'm telling ya, Helga-honey, these beepers will make us a fortune!"

He had smiled at her as he fearlessly made that assumption for the future. Fortunately for him, for all of them, it had eventually come true.

He remembered the little girl's wide eyes looking up to him, as he reached down to heft her up onto his broad shoulders.

"Come on, let's put you both up on the tree."

That day was the last time he could remember her giggle.

Nearly in a daze, Big Bob donned his coat and scarf and opened the front door to bear the cold, once again a man on an absolutely essential mission, during the Christmas season.

He would not waste any more time than he already had.

Come three-thirty in the afternoon, he was just barely done his work.

He heard the door shut.

She was home.

"Come here, Helga, I got something to show you," he called his youngest daughter, catching her in the foyer, before she could retreat to her room

Helga raised her eyebrow, in surprise and suspicion, but huffed out the cold from her lungs started to follow her crazy dad into the living room.

"What, did Olga come home?" she asked sarcastically along the way.

"No. Look... I'm sorry," he said, just at the entrance of the living room, "I know I said that when we were a little better off that-"

"What are you talking about Dad? We're fine."

This was just too weird, and what the heck was he rambling on about anyway?

Well, whatever it was, she didn't have to care.

Big Bob gathered his backbone to stop himself from guiltily shuffling his feet and thought of what to say to break the silence quickly; if he'd been in her shoes, he wasn't sure he'd give himself another chance so close to Christmas.

"I put the tree up," he finally said.

"Big deal, so why-"

The nine year old paused as her gaze passed over the tree, following the ivory bulbs up to the top, where a beautiful star sat this year, replacing the angel that had always sat there.

Puzzled, Helga began to ask, "Where's Olga's-"

She never finished her sentence.

The angel sat just barely below the new star, to the left, and a brand new angel, also blonde, sat just below and to the right.

Big Bob couldn't blame her for coming to disregard what he had said so long ago. Rather than ruin it with a bunch of corny words, he came to her side and placed a large hand on the shoulder of his disbelieving daughter, who held back a small uncharacteristic tear, as he pointed up to the new angel beautifully gracing and completing their tree.

"I named that one Helga."

Thank you for reading. Any constructive criticism or feedback you can offer will never go un-appreciated. I know it's hard with the slowing down of this section and all.

Oh, and I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. :)

____

(And eight years after first writing this, well, I'm not sure how some of you guys keep finding this story, but it means so much that some people liked it. Merry, merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you.)