The Holy Ghost…

December 24th, 1903

Jack crinkled his nose up as he stepped out into the fresh blanket of snow that had come to the city overnight. Not even the natural cleansing could hide the smell of dirt and sweat that reaped from every corner of the city. He was leaving The World building, through the same ornamented doors he had once been thrown out of only four years before. Jack Kelly had become a newspaperman, a no nonsense writer for Joseph Pulitzer himself.

It was Christmas Eve and he felt an odd tug of anticipation in the pit of his stomach. It had been two years since he had last been near St. Mary's church, and it had been two years since he had seen the familiar warm faces of Sister Cecilia and young Shandley Callaghan. Last winter Spot and Jack had followed a construction job down to the Jersey shore and spent the Christmas Season working on a rich family's garden. And though the men had sent a Christmas card, the new fashion in society, to their old friends Jack was worried that Shandley hadn't been satisfied.

It had been different being in an open space as the snow fell, to not fell the omnipresence of the buildings and humdrum of all the people. In the countryside Christmas was a peaceful affair and snow brought with it a sense of renewal. But it hadn't felt right to either Jack or Spot, there had been something missing from their holiday affairs. So as the young man dug his hands deep into his coat, he smiled at the dirty snow and echoing footsteps around him.

Coming to a familiar corner, Jack spotted his curly headed teenage boy. Snipeshooter had shot up in the last few years, standing tall upon Jack's old corner. An older gentleman was buying a paper from the boy and Jack blinked as recognition dawned on him. The white hair, the rosy cheeks, the white beard that reminded him of Shandley's curls all felt strangely familiar to Jack. The man shuffled away down the street and into a little shop at the corner.

"Hey Jacky boy." Snipeshooter smiled putting out a cigarette and pulling out a paper from his stack for his old leader.

"Merry Christmas Snipes." Jack handed the boy a nickel.

"Thanks Cowboy." Snipeshooter pocketed the shiny nickel and bounced lightly on his toes.

"How are the boys treating you?" Jack asked as he checked over the Christmas Eve Edition of his paper. Though his brown eyes traveled down the street every few seconds watching for the familiar old gentlemen to exit the store.

"You know, us Manhattan boys are calm and harmonious." Snipeshooter laughed using a word from a recent article Jack himself had written.

"Yes, yes. You read the papers too sometimes," Jack winked. Suddenly Jack noticed a worn tip of a playing card in the younger boys pocket. He frowned down at Snipeshooter and stared expectedly.

Snipeshooter shifted his weight uncomfortably recognizing his old leader's disapproval. Jack stared pointedly at the boy's pocket and Snipes followed the gaze until his eyes rested on the worn out playing card.

"Well? Are you gambling again then?" Jack demanded. Snipes shamefully pushed the card safety down and out of sight.

"Not much there Jack." Snipes mouth moved nervously to one side as his eyes avoided Jack's face.

"Snipeshooter?" Jack's tone was deep in disapproval.

"Jacky Boy, look here you ain't the leader anymore…" Snipes started in a shabby attempt to control the situation. Jack's face-hardened more at each word.

"Snipeshooter?" Jack sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll stop." Snipeshooter shrugged foolishly.

"You'd had better, I thought we beat the habit out of you." Jack smacked the boy upside the head in a manner befitting to their years of friendship.

"The mice shall play when the cat's away." Snipes shrugged.

"You're the cat now friend, you're the cat now." Jack winked as he turned to start walking away. "Tell the boys Merry Christmas, try not to stay out in the cold too long."

"Yes sir." Snipeshooter nodded as Jack started walking down the street. Jack's pace was quicker than usual as he hurried towards the store that the familiar man had entered. Upon reaching the corner he noticed the store was a toyshop, yellow boxes of crayons and fancy dolls sat in the window display. Jack pushed open the door and a little bell gave a silvery ring signaling his arrival to the shopkeeper.

"Evening sir, we're closing in about ten minutes. May I help you find something?" The old gentleman that had just bought the paper from Snipeshooter was now standing behind the counter. Jack stared at the man, speechless, as he tried to gather his wits about him.

"Sir?" The man prompted.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I just, I came in because, I was trying to…" Jack tried to form a thought as his eyes searched the store for a reason he might have entered.

"Forgot to buy a child a present?" The old man gave a cheery laugh.

"Forgot to buy a present." Jack frowned and nodded.

"Maybe a little girl?" The man came out from behind the counter and walked towards a shelf that was out of Jack's view.

"Well she's not so little anymore." Jack found the words just coming out before he thought about them.

"Well all girls are young at heart. These are all the new fashion, named after our president Teddy Roosevelt." The man held a little stuffed bear in his hand for Jack to see. Jack laughed Teddy Roosevelt was a constant figure in his life, it seemed only necessary to be shown the toy named after his constant savior.

"A Teddy Bear. Yes I read about them." Jack smiled taking the bear in his hand imaging Shandley's face of being brought a present this year.

"You think the young lady would like it?" The man asked moving behind the desk.

"You don't think it's too childish?" Jack asked setting the toy bear on the counter and looking around the store again.

"Not at all. I think she'll love it." The old man let out another silvery laugh and Jack knew he was right.

"How much is it?" Jack asked now nervously. The teddy bear was of course the newest rage in toys and as all fashionable things might be expensive. The old man was already wrapping up the bear and without looking up Jack could see his smile.

"Consider it my bit of Christmas cheer young man. Maybe you can spread some joy this year?" The man pushed the package forward on the counter.

"But sir, I couldn't possibly." Jack started but the man was already magically around the counter and pushing Jack towards the door.

"I really must close and get home to my family. I commit you to God, may he send you a merry Christmas." The man said as he closed the door forcefully behind Jack. As the bell rang and the wood slamming against the frame echoing down the street, Jack suddenly remembered the old man. But as he turned around the lights were already off and the store looked deserted. Jack frowned but started walking away knowing if he dawdled anymore he would be late. He tucked the little package of the bear into his coat and under his arm.

Jack arrived outside another storefront and leaned against the brick building and pulled out a cigarette. It was a habit he had yet to break free of though he didn't spend much time out in the cold anymore. As the darkness of the night settled over everything and light poured out of the homes on the other side of the street, Jack tapped his foot impatiently. A rusty bell rang from behind him and Jack threw the bud of his cigarette down and stepped up on it.

"About time." He stated.

"Well not all of us don't really work Jacky boy." Spot sighed locking the door of the shop. Spot Conlon had started working as a sales boy at a tailor shop and was doing well enough for himself. The two boys were sharing an attic spaced apartment on Cherry Street in one of the newer tenant buildings. But tonight they weren't going home, tonight they were heading to the streets they were born on.

"I got toffee pieces, three." Spot pulled out the wrapped candy from his pocket and grinned.

"I'm impressed you didn't eat any of them." Jack laughed.

"I've got some self control Jacky boy." Spot playfully punched his old friend.

"You bought a paper?" Spot asked noticing the rolled up paper in Jack's coat pocket.

"Always," Jack handed over the old paper and Spot tried to skim the articles under the little light on the street. It was a familiar walk, in a familiar manner and every step was like a shimmering memory or glimpse into a past long forgotten. A newspaper between the two of them was an echo of their newsboy past, of cold nights, giddy friends and violent disputes. And though their faces had aged, Francis Sullivan's idealist bronze eyes still shone with the same delight as they had when he was a child. And Patrick Conlon had never lost the roughish roundness of his face that deceived many to doubt his fierceness. The two boys had lived three different lives and both within their early twenties still moved to return to where their story had begun. The three toffee pieces in Spot's pocket represented the only moments of pure joy that they had experienced in their trial and tribulation filled lives.

The young men turned the corner and the little stone church, St. Mary's came into view. The warmth of the streaming light and carried hushed conversations in a slight Irish accent breath colored into Jack and Spot. The community of American Irish from Kilkenny County had not been lost as first generation children filled its pews. The first Christmas Eve that Jack had stepped into this little church had been in 1884 and nothing had changed since that first mass. He had attended the midnight service every year since his birth, except for two years once in 1897 and 1902. The little stone cathedral was as much part of Jack's Christmas traditions as Christmas trees were for families on Fifth Avenue.

"Did you ever think Jacky boy when you were hiding in your mother's skirts from your rotten father that we would come this far?" Spot asked quietly. Jack snapped to stare at Spot curiously realizing his friend's blue eyes were glued to a young boy a few feet away. The little boy was falling asleep as his boy was leaned into the lengths of fabric of his mother's skirt.

"I think you're mother would have boxed you ears to hear you talk about my father that way." Jack shrugged still captivated by the little boy in his mother's skirts.

"I don't remember her much anymore." Spot sighed.

"I barely remember my mother either. But when I'm here, I can remember her better." Jack pried his eyes away from the boy and started scanning the crowd for his familiar faces. The two young men walked into the church unnoticed and took their usual places in the back of the church.

"Did you see them?" Spot asked turning his head to observe the young family walking into the church.

"No. It's strange they are usually here early. Did you talk to them at all since we saw them last?" Jack frowned watching a group of orphans being ushered in by old Sister Hannah.

"I kept meaning to stop by, but I don't come over this way except for this time of year." Spot mumbled ashamed that he hadn't come. "Have you?"

"Well between working at the paper and checking in on the boys…." Jack started mumbling as the entrance procession started. Sister Cecilia hurried past Jack with a baby in her arms. Jack elbowed Spot to direct his attention to their favorite nun. There was still no sign of the young Shandley Callaghan though. Jack frowned trying to find her, keeping in mind that the girl would be nearing sixteen and not look as he remembered her. But no one had the white blond hair curling at the ends and there were no evergreen eyes that turned to find Spot or Jack.

Spot studied the newer families, the unfamiliar faces that had joined the little community he had come from with a sad hunger. He watched as babies fell asleep in their mother's arms. He watched as fathers flick their toddlers to stop their fidgeting. His memories unfolded before him as the Latin words of the mass lulled around him. He remembered the last Christmas his family was together. His young father had brought home a tiny tree, though the family couldn't afford it. He remembered his thin and pale mother, sick that year covered in a knitted blanket in her rocking chair. The tree had brought light to her crystal blue eyes that now Spot was seeing on the face of every young Irish mother in the church. He smiled as he remembered opening his present that Christmas. A small wooden top that his parents had claimed was from Santa Claus. He had played with that top all morning until he saw his friend Francis crying on the steps of their building.

Spot blinked and the images were gone, as he remembered why he hadn't celebrated Christmas much since that winter. As his hand went into his pocket he smiled again though, this was the first time that Spot Conlon had ever purchased a gift for anyone on Christmas. The almighty leader of Brooklyn had given people gifts before, mostly girls he had seen at one point or another but never anything so personal as the little piece of toffee in his pocket. As he listened to the chanting of old Father O'Reilly, Spot Conlon suddenly understood why he had come back to this little church tucked in the mist of Brooklyn every year since his mother had died. This was where he belonged on Christmas Eve, this is where he the only family he had was at and this is the only place he could be peaceful even for a few hours.

"Amen." The closing of the mass set both men onto their feet. Father O'Reilly winked at them as he walked past them as he had done for years. As the church bells rang ushering in the beginning of Christmas Day, Jack thought he could hear a jolly laughter and silver bells. Waiting for the last child to scamper after his older sister, Sister Cecilia walked towards her lost boys with tears in her honey eyes.

"Francis, Patrick!" She held out her arms for them. Spot shook his head and Jack blew his hair out of his face.

"Spot and Jack, Sister. Spot and Jack." Spot pointed to himself and to Jack. But the nun ignored the young man and ran up to them kissing each on the cheek lovingly.

"Why did you stay away so long? I thought you had abandoned us." She choked back her tears as she ran her hand over Jack's cheek and gripped Spot's hand until his fingers turned red.

"We sent cards last year Sister. You got them?" Jack frowned at her.

"Of course, but fancy writing is not the same as seeing my boys. My little lost boys." She laughed.

"Sister Cecilia where is Shandley hiding?" Spot looked around the nun expecting to see the girl hiding behind the pew mischievously.

"My boys, the child left on the orphan train to be adopted by a family in the west just last week." Sister Cecilia sighed.

"What?" Both boys gasped not expecting to ever come to their sanctuary and not find one of their angels.

"Well come then, I'll explain but pay your respects," Sister Cecilia nudged the boys towards the candles. In a sort of shell shock Jack turned to light a candle for his mother. Spot walked further down to light a candle at a different table. In the hallow silence of the church the men mumbled their prayers as they adding to flickering flames. Jack looked over to Spot and sighed pulling out the little parcel that had been hiding in his coat.

"That was where we first found the little pixie so many years ago." Jack commented. Spot laughed looking down underneath the table remembering the tiny toddler curled up in a peaceful slumber. That's when he noticed the two packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with old shoestring.

"What's this then?" Spot wondered aloud bending down to pick them up.

He picked up an oddly shaped circular package in one hand and another flat package in another hand. There were notes on each package and an envelope still lay on the floor. Jack and Sister Cecilia had moved towards Spot near the front of the church.

"You missed something." Jack crotched down and grabbed the envelope carefully.

"How very odd." Sister Cecilia stared down at the packages in Spot's hands. Spot turned them around and found two notes on each of them.

To the boy who named himself something silly, when he was named after the very saint that drove the snakes out of Ireland. Happy Christmas, Shandley.

Spot stared at the note.

"Did she leave these here?" He asked Sister Cecilia.

"Did who leave what?" Jack hopped up and stared down to read his own note.

To my Santa Claus, you may not know it yet Jack Kelly but you were the reason I kept believing. Happy Christmas, Shandley.

"When did that child do this?" Sister Cecilia looked down to where Spot had found the objects.

Jack had taken his package from Spot and just stared down at it blinking. The year he had meant to bring the girl, his very own spirit of Christmas, a gift for the first time and she had beat him too it.

"What else did you find Francis?" Sister Cecilia asked taking the little envelope.

"Proof for Francis and Patrick." Sister Cecilia read out loud. Spot had taken a seat again at one of the front pews and had started nervously tugging at the string on his present. Jack took his friend's lead and took a seat as well and frowned down at the little package.

"But she isn't here?" Jack demanded again.

"No sweet boy, she was very reluctant to leave but I worried she was getting to old to wait any longer for a good family. Father O'Reilly and I found her a good Irish Catholic couple with a little boy, looking for a girl to help." Sister Cecilia rambled for a second.

"They just wanted someone to take care of their son." Spot whispered starring at the note the girl had written him.

"Now Patrick, don't have such little faith. They would treat her as part of their family, she would get fresh air and live a life better than we could expect for her here." Sister Cecilia rubbed his shoulder lovingly. Jack didn't open his package instead he took the envelope back from Sister Cecilia.

"Proof huh?" He laughed trying to lighten the mood because despite Sister Cecilia's faith, Jack agreed with Spot about Shandley's fate. Jack ran his finger across the crease on the envelope opening the sealed card. He pulled out a little card with an illustration depicting jolly old St. Nick. Jack smiled almost hearing Shandley's voice in his ear, touting about Santa Claus.

"What's it say Jacky boy?" Spot looked over leaning his head onto Sister Cecilia's shoulder.

Jack opened the card and an old article fell into his lap. He tucked the article behind his index finger that was holding open the card.

"You were right Jack. You did say you would visit as long as Santa Claus kept visiting me. So when you didn't come this year, I knew Santa Claus hadn't visited me because you see what I asked for every year was both of you. I want you both to know that I always knew that the toffees were from Sister Cecilia. But belief is something founded in the unseen boys, as you should both know from what you've been taught at St. Mary's for years. Every year that you both came, I knew that Santa Claus had sent me my gift for the year. Because though you two never learned to behave, I always did so that I would get what I asked for my oldest friends. And of course the great Jack Kelly and mighty Spot Conlon would pick the year that I, Shandley Callaghan, had finally found proof of the existence of Santa Claus. You once told me that if it was printed in a paper, that it would be true. So though I know you are World and Journal men, The Sun is still a paper. I left it for you both and maybe Santa Claus will bring us together again one day. Happy Christmas, Shandley." The card was dated in her neat little print as December 30, 1902. The card had been written for over a year, Jack pulled out the yellowed little article and unfolded it.

"She found something in the paper that Denton worked for?" Spot asked curiously holding out his hand.

"Hold on." Jack waved away Spot's hand as he read the fine print of the little paper.

Dear Editor, I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Jack started laughing. The girl with the strongest belief in Santa Claus he had ever meet had finally found her proof in an editorial written for the Sun. Shaking his head he read the words about Santa Claus being like love, generosity and devotion. Jack found himself thinking about the older gentlemen that had given him the plush toy that he still had in his jacket. Generosity, the older gentlemen had told him to spread Christmas cheer.
"Let me see it!" Spot held out his hand for the article until Jack handed it over. Sister Cecilia and Spot read the article together, their heads bent over the little piece of yellowing paper.
"Fairies," Spot snorted at the idea. But Jack knew that even Spot Conlon understood the meaning of the article.

"I wonder when she had the time to do this." Sister Cecilia mumbled. "Or when she snuck the things under there."

Father O'Reilly had re-entered the church and smiled at the picture in the corner of his church. The blond young man warmly leaning his head into the black material of Sister Cecilia's habitat. While her old hand held Jack's rough hand forever covered in ink stains. Family meant whatever you wanted it to, Father O'Reilly had learned that in this industrious city full of lonely strangers trying to make ends meet family was who was there for you when things got tough.

"Come, come my friends we shouldn't stay inside the church. God wants us to celebrate in our own places." Father O'Reilly clapped his hands together snapping them out of their reverie.

"Father did you know anything about this?" Sister Cecilia studied the priest's happy eyes suspiciously.

"The little dear might have told me something about it. But come Sister, we want to know about what our young men have been doing with their lives. Maybe over some tea?" The priest motioned towards the door.

"But without Shandley?" Spot said folding up the paper again and handing it to Jack.

"She would not want us to mar the evening, her favorite of the year, with sadness." The priest laughed at the boys and Jack nodded giving himself a little cross before walking onto towards the door of the church, Spot not far behind. Stepping out into the night, snowflakes started falling from the dark sky. The families had scattered and no one was left in front of the little old church.

She was running down the dark alley, she had fallen asleep and missed the only mass that meant anything to her. She came around the corner slightly slipping on the new ice, but just throwing out her arms to balance herself as she skipped up the stone steps. The light flooded onto the steps and she closed her eyes and stepped into the spotlight.

Jack was looking down at his shoes patting the card that was sitting in his pocket. Taking a deep breath he smelled the crisp air of winter and an oddly strong scent of peppermint and holly that made him look up. A winter angel stood in the door, a glowing girl with perfectly formed curls falling onto her shoulders. Jack blinked as he stared at the figure in the doorway, thin and in a pretty faded green dress. Then her eyes fluttered opened and a pair of evergreen eyes sparkled with frozen tears and before anything was said the girl had wrapped her frozen arms around his neck.

"Shandley?" Jack asked confused. Spot stood shocked as the girl threw her cold arm around his neck and pulled him into their hug.

"Shandley Callaghan! Great angels in the heavens child, I put you on a train last week." Sister Cecilia's hand had come up to her mouth in shock. Father O'Reilly was just laughing joyfully.

"It's the first terribly naughty thing I've ever done in my entirely life and all because of both of you." Shandley cried in Spot's shoulder.

"What exactly did you do?" Jack pulled her arms off from behind his neck. Jack was pulling off his coat and Spot taking his cue pulled off his own scarf. The boys started dressing the now tall Shandley in their own clothing trying to warm the young lady back up.

"I, well, I just couldn't leave so close to Christmas. I just knew you would come this year. I couldn't go where there was no snow, and no St. Mary's and no…" Shandley's teeth were chattering and Spot frowned as he started to rub his hand up and down her arm trying to warm her up.

"What did you do?" Spot demanded.

"I remembered the story, the one you once told me." Shandley looked hopefully at Spot.

"Which one?" Spot's eyes squinted in suspicious. If there was anything that Spot Conlon was use to it was trouble and he could sense that Shandley was building up her courage to a confession.

"The one about birds telling you a story. I knew that you might have had one watching me, it seemed such a likely idea. So after Sister Cecilia left me on the train, I waited until she left the station and I got off the train. And I wandered out onto the streets for the first time in my entire life alone." Shandley wasn't looking at anyone anymore.

"You've been wandering around the city completely by yourself for the last week? Have you any idea how dangerous that was?" Jack's voice had taken on the lecturing tone that had been reserved for his newsies.

"I did get help from a helpful young man, I suspect he was one of your birds Spot. Though he never betrayed the secret, he took me to the Brooklyn Lodging House. I stayed there until tonight, your boys kept me safe. I fell asleep tonight and missed mass." Shandley buried her head in Jack's shoulder as her hand clutched Spot's.

"Why Shandley Callaghan. I would never," Sister Cecilia started but Jack held up a hand to stop her.

"It seems to me you've been saving up all your naughty for this one week." Jack joked petted the girl's white hair.

"I thought he might not bring you." Shandley cried into his shoulder.

"What are we going to do with you?" Spot sighed.

"And you're family that is expecting you, how could you do this?" Sister Cecilia sighed pulling the girl's face out of Jack's shoulder. The image reminded her of many winter eves ago, but this time her little Francis was the protector.

"I sent them a note with one of the other orphans that was going to same town. Letting them know I would be arriving late, and to forgive me the unexpected trouble." Shandley bit her bottom lip trying to keep from crying again.

"This is the strangest feeling Jack." Spot smiled.

"What feeling is that Spot?" Jack played along.

"We've never been the well behaved children," Spot laughed. Shandley looked miserable for a second before starting to giggle.

"Don't tease the child." Sister Cecilia pointed her finger at the boys seriously and looked serious.

"Well there wasn't much harm done, one more Christmas was deserved by these young people. Go along and celebrate each other, I must sleep before the dawn service. Good night dear people, God has sent you a very merry Christmas indeed." Father O'Reilly laughed to himself as he scurried to his quarters. Sister Cecilia still amazed at the happenings of the early morning opened the door to the orphanage's kitchen. As the young people sat down at the table, Sister Cecilia started warming up some tea.

Spot pulled out the three toffee pieces from his pocket and held them out chuckling to himself.

"Seeing as Santa Claus wasn't going to see such a naughty child as yourself, I got us some toffee." Shandley picked up her piece and smiled brightly.

"You haven't opened your gifts!" Shandley cried as she noticed the still sealed packages in the young men's hands.

"What were you doing getting us gifts anyway Shandley, spending money on us…" Jack started but the imploring green eyes made him sigh as he started to open his package.

Jack found a little paper copy of a western penny novel, the type he carried around with him the entire year of the Newsies strike. He smiled laughing at the cowboy on the cover, who looked strangely like himself. While Spot opened the package to find a little wooden top, Shandley was staring at him intently.

"Its like the one you played with the Christmas that I turned four. I don't know why I remembered it so much, but it felt like something special to get you." Shandley looked at him expectedly.

"Of course, a happy Christmas indeed." Spot dashing took up her delicate hand and kissed it lightly in thanks. Jack did the same thing with the girl's other hand and then wiped out a package from his jacket.

"Presents coming out from everywhere tonight." Sister Cecilia laughed.

"We didn't bring you anything sister…" Spot tapped at the table.

"Oh darling boy, I've received the great gift of my children here with me. Even if their means of arriving were questionable." Sister Cecilia said pointedly as she poured tea their tea and handed them each a cup.

"Well go on then," Jack nudged Shandley in the shoulder. The girl clapped her hands and opened the package revealing a little dark brown teddy bear.

"Oh," Shandley gasped as she ran her fingers over the bear adoringly. Two of her fingers stopped at the button eyes and she laughed.

"Why Jack Kelly, what a clever way to make sure I never forget you." She cried pulling the bear into her.

"What?" Jack scratched his head.

"The bear's eyes silly." Shandley stated turning the bear out so that everyone could see the button eyes. One button was a brilliant blue and the other button was a warm coffee brown.

"Well done Jack." Spot nodded in approval of the bear's little trick.

"The strangest thing…" Jack started to tell the story of how he had come by the bear with the shopkeeper that reminded him of the same fellow who had sent the St. Nick book years before. The little group spent hours talking, well into the hours of dawn and watched the sunlight stream into the windows of the little kitchen. Shandley had fallen asleep in the same place she always managed, with her head resting lightly on Jack and her hands clutching not only Spot's hand this time but also her bear.

"Thank you Santa," Shandley squeezed Jack's hand. "And Claus." She tightened her grip on Spot's.

"Are you calling us your Santa Claus again?" Spot whispered to her.

"You're my Claus." The girl yawned.

"What?" Spot laughed softly.

"You're my Claus. Jack's my Santa." She smiled nestling her head more comfortably into Jack's chest.

"I told you she's always liked you better." Spot tried to pull his hand away from her.

"No. Silly. It's because you're the Conlon and he's the Sullivan." She yawned again before falling asleep completely. It was the last time that Shandley Callaghan spent her Christmas Eve in the loving company of Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon. But it was the perfect Christmas moment. She had proved the existence of Santa Claus not only to the skeptical legendry street boys but also reinforced her own faith forever. She would tell this story every Christmas Eve, to her children and to her grandchildren until it became nothing but a story forgotten to be truth.

~Merry Christmas to All, And to all a good night.~

The End