Vin switched on the radio, collected his beer and headed onto the porch. He settled in a deck chair, lacing his feet at the ankles. The sun was setting on the horizon and from this position, he had a great view of it.

The rest of the boys were on their way, but had been held up at the office or some such thing. Vin didn’t mind. He enjoyed the solitude of an evening sunset at Four Corners.

The radio announcer chatted happily about the fact that it was Christmas Eve. Vin sighed, his brow furrowing deeply. Christmas wasn’t a happy time in his life.

“And now for a Nat King Cole classic for all of you who love Nat.”

Unconsciously, Vin held his breath. He hoped it wasn’t ‘that’ song, again. For some reason they had been playing ‘that’ song a lot this year… or perhaps he was just extra sensitive to it for some reason. He sipped his beer as the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole’s velvet voice wafted out to him.

Vin grimaced. It was the one Christmas song that struck a chord. Santa had forgotten him more than once. The memory of going to early morning church to thank God for baby Jesus, and then rushing home to the Christmas tree to see what the man in red had left for him was one he still cherished. The security of faith, the joy and excitement of discovery and the smile on his mother’s face used to light up his heart in a way he couldn’t describe. Santa, his mother and Jesus -- the three people in his life who loved him. Of course, at the time, he hadn't known Santa and his mother were one and the same. His Ma had always ensured that Santa left something special for him – the thing he’d asked for. That had stopped when she’d died. He’d spent the Christmas after her death at the orphanage where he’d received a second-hand football. It wasn’t what he’d asked for and at the tender age of five, he couldn’t understand how Santa had got it wrong -- he never had before.

No, not a lot. That year he’d wanted a toy gun. Vin shook his head. He remembered so clearly the shock of receiving the ‘wrong’ gift. He’d tried to explain to the adults at the time that the football couldn’t be his because Santa knew he wanted a gun, but they’d sent him to his room telling him he should be grateful for what he’d received. Vin shut his eyes as he remembered the confusion and pain of that moment. Alone, he’d spent the rest of the day with his face buried in his pillow.

His mother had always helped him pen a letter to Santa. Innocently, he’d continued to do so for two years after he’d lost her. He remembered wanting a train set. He’d seen it at the shops. It was magnificent -- real steam and a horn that you could activate by remote control. Assuming Santa had simply made a mistake with the football, he’d written to Santa the next year asking for the train, but when the man in red ‘got it wrong’ a second time, and some bigger kid told him that Santa was ‘the biggest lie in the world’, Vin had been shattered. There was no Santa… no one who gave a damn about him anymore. No one who personally took an interest in him and who loved him enough to give a gift of love. Vin’s final connection with all of the joy and happiness that he’d had in his life was severed that day when he realized there was no Santa… for if there was no Santa, then odds on there was no Jesus either. In that one dreadful moment, he accepted he was truly alone.

That train set became the symbol of all he’d never had. He’d have given anything to find it on Christmas morning for it would have meant he had someone who cared enough to give it to him. Finally, Santa had stopped coming when he was nine. No more second-hand or ‘incorrect’ gifts given by ‘Santas’ that didn’t know and didn’t care. Every year he would run away to spend Christmas alone, before being dragged back and dumped with another family that was kind enough, but not his. Until the Melhers. They were different, but his stay with them was far too brief and he never told them about the train. And of course Kojay hadn’t celebrated Christmas… perhaps because he had lost all of his family.

Vin sipped his beer. Yeah, he’d envied a lot of kids when he’d been growing up. Not because of their toys, but because they had ‘real’ families. As he’d gotten older, he’d become bitter and finally, indifferent. Christmas was just another day – a day when people with families celebrated their love for each other.

Vin exhaled. He didn’t often think about his father. When he was young he used to wonder what his dad had been like, if he’d loved him, and if maybe his mother had been wrong and his father wasn’t really dead and would one day appear from nowhere and collect him so they could be a ‘real’ family.

Vin was so lost in thought, he didn’t hear the boys arrive. Chris simply appeared, startling him. “Hell, Larabee, you scared ten years off my life.”

Chris smiled. “Sorry we’re late. Ezra had to do some final Christmas shopping.”

Vin snorted. “Did he leave anything in the shops?”

**********

Vin awoke later than he usually did and wandered into the kitchen where he found Chris sitting with a cup of strong black coffee.

“Hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Vin forced a smile. “You too, Cowboy. Where are the others?”

Chris inclined his head, beckoning Vin to follow him. “Waiting to start the present giving. J.D.’s been up since 4:00 am.” Vin picked up Chris’ discarded mug and drained the final few drops. He didn’t enjoy all of this. Outside of a Christmas spent with the Melhers, the only other Christmases he ‘remembered’ with any clarity, were the ones spent with the boys in Katinda during the war… and those weren’t exactly ‘fun’ days.

The moment he entered the lounge room, he knew something was up. It wasn’t only the beaming smiles on Buck’s and Josiah’s faces and exchanged glances between Ezra and Nathan, but also the fact that J.D. was bouncing around him like a pogo stick.

“Whaaaat?” Vin demanded.

“Merry Christmas!” J.D. shouted. The others shared their Christmas good wishes, and the group sat as Josiah read from the Bible. Vin stared out the window. He wanted to beleive and these days he did, thanks largely to Josiah, but the pain of losinig his faith at the age of six still cut deep.

Following the final prayer of thanks, all of the boys began grinning again. They were up to something.

“Can we share presents now?” J.D. asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Ours can wait. Better check and see what Santa brought first,” Josiah chuckled.

“I saw Santa Claus last night.”

Vin smirked. “Really, kid? What the hell were you drinking?”

“Nothing. He left something for you,” J.D. blurted out.

Vin’s right eyebrow peaked and he glanced at Chris for an explanation. Larabee simply shrugged. “Wasn’t my idea.”

Buck grabbed Vin’s arm and dragged him into the hall and toward the library at the back of the house. Vin peered back over his shoulder. The others were following, all looking particularly pleased with themselves.

Vin shook his head and turned to Buck who bounced his eyebrows and flung the door open with all the flair of a carnival performer. Vin looked inside tentatively, expecting some sort of booby trap – like a bucket of water falling on his head.

The library was no more. A huge table that left only a three foot wide corridor around its circumference, filled the room.

Vin blinked. “What the hell…?” Adorning the tabletop was a train set, but this was no ordinary set. There were three different tracks with a separate train on each. The tracks crossed and there were crossing lights and bridges.

Chris stepped up beside his stunned friend. “You happened to mention you always wanted a train when you were a kid. Buck told Ezra and…”

“All of which is unimportant,” Ezra interrupted. “Vin, this is just a starter set - a Bachmann Digital Commander Deluxe. When one starts looking into hobby trains, it is quite involved. You can purchase tunnels and mountains for the locomotives. We thought we’d turn this room into a train room for your collection.”

Vin stared at Ezra as if he was speaking gibberish. Chris squeezed Vin’s shoulder. “You were drunk the other night and let more out of the bag than you probably meant to.” Santa didn’t forget you this year, Cowboy.

Vin swallowed, his cheeks reddening. The repeated playing of Nat King Cole’s song had dredged his memories to the surface, and obviously the alcohol consumed during a few drinks with Buck the other night had loosened his tongue.

Sensing Vin’s discomfort, J.D. started one of the trains. “I think we should go back and get that mountain set we saw. Vin, you should have seen that shop. They had everything you need to make a whole village. I can’t wait to take you there.”

“I liked the old fashioned station and the jail house. I say we go for an old west look,” Buck added, wrestling the controls from J.D. “Get out of the way and let me drive for a while. Look, Vin, this one’s even got smoke and a remote control horn.” Smoke billowed from the engine on cue, the horn echoing above the clatter of the train’s realistic sound.

The lump that had formed in Vin’s throat a few moments earlier, continued to grow.

“Collecting trains can be quite addictive,” Josiah mused, starting a second train. “I think I could get into this.”

All waited for Vin to comment, but he stood silently, shaking his head just a little.

“I’ll go and get some breakfast prepared,” Nathan offered.

“No!” five voices shouted at once.

“I shall prepare breakfast. Nathan, you stay and enjoy the spectacle,” Ezra offered, slipping behind the medic and pulling faces at the others and mimicking gagging. The idea of Nathan’s culinary delights this early in the morning delighted no one.

Vin cleared his throat. “Ezra, wait. I didn’t mean for you to do this and…” He swallowed and licked his lips.

“Ahhh, shut-up and come and play,” Buck chuckled.

Chris nudged Vin with some force, sending him stumbling toward Buck who handed him a set of controls for one of the trains. For several seconds, Vin didn’t move. Everything he’d hoped for was in this room. He swallowed, staring at his companions who were smiling with genuine pleasure – pleasure at having given him something they felt was important to him. “So, Santa dropped this off for me last night, huh?” he whispered.

“Yep. Said he owed you this,” Buck stated, patting Vin’s back.

Vin exhaled noisily as he tried to assail the emotions he was drowning in. His gaze shifted from one to the other of his companions. “Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t thank us. Ole Santa must have got one of those notes you sent him. Better late than never. Now, I reckon if we time it right, we could crash all three trains into one another at that intersection.”

“Buck! Don’t even think about it,” J.D. chastised.

“Too late. I already have and the idea is growing on me.”

“Here, Chris. Take a set of controls,” Josiah offered.

Larabee pursed his lips. “You know, I think Buck’s right. If you start that train from…”

“No.” J.D. cried, appalled. “No one is going to crash them!”

“Look, J.D. If you don’t want to see them crash, close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes! You’ll break them.”

“Chris, get ready.”

J.D.’s eyes grew wide. “Buck! Chris! Don’t.”

“Stop whinging… hey, give that back. J.D.!”

“No. Not if you’re going to…”

Buck began chasing J.D., who held the remote control out behind him as he circled the table with Buck hot on his heels; Nathan and Ezra began arguing about what constituted an appetising breakfast and Vin, Josiah and Chris simply stood back and enjoyed the teasing, arguing and playing.

Laughter filled the room.

Joy filled Vin’s heart.

Early morning church, followed by a gift from Santa and seeing the smiles on the faces of those he loved. It lit Vin's world in a way he couldn't describe.

A real family. That’s all Vin’d ever truly wanted. That was what he now had – the love of God and six ‘Santas’ to, not only ensure he was never forgotten again, but to provide the gift of family he had so dearly wanted. Life was good.

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© December 2006 Brigitta B. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics and I thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.