their feet, near the television, watching
Jasper released a burst of concentrated gas, reminding all present, and possibly some of the neighbors, of his presence. Looking rather sheepish, he hobbled up to Megan and nuzzled his head in her lap, leaving a dark puddle of drool all over her Christmas sweatshirt.
“You know,” Megan said to Carl, “a boy Tommy’s age ought to have a dog …”
“Forget it,” Carl said firmly. “Not a chance.”
“Well, it was worth a try.” She went to the kitchen and poured some Alpo into Jasper’s bowl, momentarily distracting him. After the coast was clear, she returned to the sofa.
“I think he’s going to be all right,” Carl said quietly, without explaining. He didn’t need to. Megan knew perfectly well what he was talking about. She had been just as worried about Tommy, how he would deal with the trauma of the past day, the past years. But all the early signs were indicating that he was well on the road to healing. She knew there would be tough times ahead for Carl and his son, but she also had a strong sense that they would be able to ride it through.
“He’s a tough kid,” Carl added. “And very smart. I think he understands more than we realize. Probably has all along.”
“I know he’s happy to be with his daddy again,” Megan said. “I think he feels safe-maybe for the first time he can remember.”
Carl nodded. “He’s a good boy.” He jabbed Megan playfully in the side. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Aw shucks.”
“You’ve made this a wonderful day for us. Thank you.”
Megan smiled. “It has been a wonderful day. I just wish my mother-” She turned away, shook her head. “I’m sorry. Never mind.”
Carl stretched out his legs. “Tell you what. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Megan arched an eyebrow. “Should we ask Tommy to leave the room?”
“Nothing like that. I was thinking-why don’t you and I set up shop together?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Let’s start our own business.”
“I see. One of those lawyer/ex-cop shops.”
“You need to get out of that law firm. You hate it and you know it. It’s killing you, or at least your spirit. You need to set up your own office.”
“With you?”
“Well, I figure you can’t do everything yourself. You’re going to need someone to handle all the administrative tasks. Run errands. Do the gofering. And at some point, once you start building up a caseload, you may even need an investigator. Having an ex-cop around might not be such a bad idea.”
Megan shook her head. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to set up your own firm?”
“No, but what does it matter? As luck would have it, your gofer is fabulously wealthy.”
“I thought you didn’t get any of it until-”
“That’s just around the corner, relatively speaking, in the meantime, I’ll borrow against what I’m going to get in the future. It’ll work, believe me.”
Megan bit down on her lower lip. It was tempting, she had to admit. The chance to get out of the firm, to stop wasting her energy on corporate bigwigs and start helping those who really need help. But it was so uncertain …
“You know, Carl, it would be incredibly risky. Most small businesses crash and burn in the first year.”
“I know it will be tough. But we can do it. I know we can. If we could get through yesterday, we can get through anything.”
Megan stared deeply into his eyes. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe in miracles. But it was so hard…
“I want to turn my life around,” Carl said quietly. “I want to be a good daddy. I want to do good work.” He reached out abruptly and touched Megan’s hand. “But I don’t want to do it alone.”
His words sent a chill down her spine. There was that word again:
“I don’t mean to be rude, Carl, but I think you still have some issues to work through. I think you need serious counseling.”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“You’ll have to give up the booze. And I mean, totally. Not a drop.”
He lowered his eyes. “I’ll-I’ll do my best. I’ve been going to meetings and-”
She nodded. “And now you won’t be doing it by yourself. I know some counselors who are fabulous. A carryover from my priestly days. And of course”-she averted her eyes-“I’ll be around. Anytime you need a little help.”
“Thank you, Megan. So about my proposition?”
“Well,” she said, smiling, “in for a penny, in for a pound. Let’s do it.”
He squeezed her hand tightly. “You won’t regret this.”
The Grinch returned the toys to the citizens of Whoville, and soon the end credits were scrolling. Tommy was beginning to look restless.
“I just wish I had a present for him,” Carl whispered. “I went to the toy store yesterday and tried to buy something, but it was a total mob scene.”
“That’s a shame,” Megan said. “Every little boy ought to have something-” She snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. I have a present for him!”
“You do?”
“Yes. From the man in ballistics. He was going to give it to his little boy, but he wasn’t going to see him at Christmas and-”
“So he gave it to you?”
“Well, I gave him this little plastic bus.”
“Excuse me?”
“It all started with a tacky black-velvet picture of bulldogs playing five-card stud-”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
She shook her hands in the air. “Never mind. It’s a long story.” She jumped up and ran out to her car to get the present. While Tommy was distracted, she slipped the wrapped bundle into Carl’s hands. “I think it should come from you,” she whispered.
“But what is it?”
“Beats me. But any present is better than none, right?”
“I suppose.” He leaned forward. “Hey, Tommy. You haven’t opened your present yet.”
Tommy’s head whipped around the instant the word
“Yes, of course for you. It’s Christmas, remember?” He tossed the gift to Tommy.
Tommy didn’t wait a second. He ripped off the wrapping paper and tore open the box.
“Dad!” Tommy cried. “You found it!”
Carl blinked. “I did?”
Tommy ran forward and threw his arms around his father. “You found it!” He squeezed Carl with all his might, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Carl resisted the urge to shrug. “My pleasure.”
“What is it?” Megan asked.
Tommy was so full of excitement he could barely speak. “It’s the Mighty Movin’ Dino-Fighter. With the Power Pack!”
Carl’s jaw dropped. “It is?”
Megan looked from father to son. “Is that good?”
“It’s exactly what I wanted!” Tommy cried. “But how did you get it, Dad? When we went to Toys
